Harper Allen - Covert Cowboy

“Who is it?”

Marilyn found herself hoping her unanticipated caller was her brother, Josh. Throwing his hat into the political ring seemed to have brought out the stuffed shirt in him and although his recent engagement had loosened him up a little, she was pretty sure the gubernatorial hopeful for the State of Colorado would be none too thrilled with his sister’s pregnancy being flaunted front and center where the electorate couldn’t help but see it.

Except her mystery guest wasn’t Joshua. Even though he didn’t identify himself, she’d heard those burnt brown sugar tones often enough in her dreams these past three months to recognize them immediately.

“Let me in, cher’,” the voice on the other side of the door drawled. “That way you get to tell me to go to hell to my face.”

She’d been planning to contact Connor Ducharme tonight, she thought hollowly. It seemed now she wouldn’t have to.

TRUST HER Beacon Hill upbringing, Marilyn told herself ten minutes later. Grandmother Van Buren had always haughtily held that a real lady never admitted to an awkward situation, and it seemed her lesson had sunk in. On the sofa across from her, Con balanced the bone-china cup of tea she’d offered him on a carelessly crossed knee, and so far neither one of them had been crass enough to tell the other to go to hell.

But she had no illusions. She’d seen the flicker of reaction in his eyes when she’d opened the door and he’d seen she was pregnant. Beneath the veneer of civility they were like two prizefighters circling cautiously, each waiting for the starting bell to ring.

No matter what his original reason for coming here, the possibility that he could be the father of the child she was so obviously carrying had to be in his mind. She needed to dispel that idea before it took root. She knew next to nothing about the man, but it wasn’t inconceivable that he might be attracted to the notion of playing daddy on a part-time basis, and she had no intention of standing by and letting that happen.

No child of mine is going to grow up caught between two worlds, and never fitting fully into either one, Marilyn vowed fiercely. Grandmother Van Buren’s rules of etiquette be damned, it’s time to get a few things clear here.

But she’d left it too late. Before she could speak he beat her to it.

“You once told me you were a coward, cher’.” Leaning forward, he set his cup and saucer on the large Moroccan leather hassock she used as a coffee table. Under dark brows his green gaze held hers and his mouth quirked up wryly.

“Truth is, it’s me you should pin that label on. No matter what you said you wanted at the time I shouldn’t have left things the way I did between us, but every time I thought about contacting you I lost my nerve. I took advantage of the situation that night. It wasn’t anything I felt too proud about the next day, and I figured you’d have every right to slam the phone down on me if I called.”

His self-deprecating honesty took her by surprise. “We both know it wasn’t that simple,” she said slowly. “I pretty much threw myself at you that evening in my office. I accept half the responsibility for what happened.”

She hesitated, and then went on, her heart in her mouth. “This—” she spread her fingers wide over her belly “—isn’t a result of what we did together, in case you were wondering. I know we were insane enough not to take precautions that third and final time, but the dates don’t work out. I would have already been pregnant when we—when we—”

She floundered to an halt.

“When we made love, cher’?” Taking her by surprise again, he shook his head. “Hell, I know I’m not the father, sugar. Tony Corso is, isn’t he?”

Her brother had asked her that same question, but in a furious tone of voice. She’d refused to give him an answer, knowing full well that her silence would seem to him to be confirmation of his suspicions, and since she’d had no intention of telling Josh that she’d slept with a stranger his assumptions had suited her just fine.

As Connor Ducharme’s same assumption should, she told herself. She didn’t want him to wonder if he was the father of her baby, so why should she feel even the slightest pinprick of disillusion that he was so easily bowing out from the position?

“Tony’s the father,” she agreed tartly. “But what made you so sure you weren’t in the running even before I told you, Detective? Was it a smidge of relief on learning that if anyone’s going to get slapped with a paternity suit, it’s not going to be you?”

The green eyes across from her darkened. As if he felt suddenly restless, Con got to his feet and took a few steps into the middle of the room before halting beneath the mobile swaying gently above. His hands in his pockets, he tipped his head back to look at it.

“I never understood men who needed to get their asses hauled into court before they’d pay support, honey,” he said softly. “I always saw children as a gift. I’d like a whole houseful of them, with a mama to go along with them.”

Still looking up at the mobile he went on, his tone devoid of emotion. “But that’s not in the cards for me. I know I’m not in the running, cher’, because I can’t be in the running. An illness when I was a boy took care of that particular possibility for me.”

She stared at him. “But how can that be?” she began unguardedly. Before she could continue he turned to her.

“Just the luck of the draw, I guess,” he said, his jaw tight and his gaze unreadable. “From what I’ve been told, the consequences could have been a lot more serious. Does Corso know he’s going to be a father?”

There was an added watchfulness in his gaze as he waited for her answer. This was the reason he’d sought her out, Marilyn realized suddenly. He was still hunting Tony Corso. This was an official visit.

But of course it was, she told herself a heartbeat later. What had she expected—that he’d brokenly confess she’d haunted his sleepless nights, that his search for Corso was just an excuse to see her again, that he’d fallen hopelessly in love with her during those few hours they’d spent together and he hadn’t been able to stay away?

She was a damn lead in his investigation. Their unplanned tryst in her office had been an unforeseen perk to him, nothing more.

She didn’t owe Con Ducharme anything.

“Tony and I slept together once,” she said flatly. “He wasn’t the love of my life and I obviously wasn’t his, since the next day I found he’d not only walked out on me but on his job at Mills & Grommett. No, he doesn’t know I’m pregnant, and if I knew where to find him, I still don’t think I’d tell him. But Tony’s not planning on being found, Detective.”

“Something’s happened.” His gaze narrowed. “When I first came to you asking about Corso you made it clear that you didn’t believe he was guilty of any criminal conduct. Now I get the feeling you wouldn’t put anything past him. When did your opinion change?”

Why couldn’t the man have stayed in New Orleans? Marilyn thought hopelessly. What she was about to tell him would have been hard enough over the phone as she’d planned. She wasn’t sure if she could go through with it in person.

But she had to.

“Today,” she said. She looked down at her lap, not wanting to meet his eyes. “Because today I realized beyond a doubt that when Tony left Mills & Grommett so hastily he helped himself to a severance bonus from the company…except what he took from M & G went way beyond the fraud you told me he’d committed in Louisiana.”

“That fraud I told you about—” he began, but she didn’t let him finish. The next sentence was going to be the worst, she knew. Best to get it out as soon as possible.