Christine Pacheco - Hart's Baby

Zach had moved closer to his mother, the brothers forming a semicircle of protection around her.

“I don’t see a resemblance,” Zach stated firmly, lips tightened.

“All babies look alike to me,” Nick agreed.

Tears threatened for the second time that day. Had she made the right decision by coming here? She’d debated whether to seek out Billy’s birth father or not. But she knew how awful it was to grow up without a father.

Embarrassment had forced her to skip the annual Girl Scout father—daughter dance. Instead, she’d stayed home and tried to pretend it didn’t matter. But it had. Kids needed to know they were loved and wanted by their parents.

Selfishly she knew that a big part of her had wanted to keep Billy all to herself. But that would have been the wrong thing to do.

So why did doing the right thing now seem so wrong?

Zach’s gaze collided with hers and he held it for ransom. A speculative gleam dominated his eyes, and his jaw was set in a firm line. Clearing her throat, she looked away, but she was pulled, against her will, back into his hypnotic stare.

What was it about him that so unnerved her, made her lose her poise and calm? She’d faced angry parents, skeptical administrators, stubborn kids. None of those experiences prepared her in the least for the chilly condemnation that emanated from Zachary Hart.

Finally Margaret spoke, shattering the spell. “Now that the introductions are over, we’ll go in for dinner.”

Staying away from Zach in the close quarters of the dining room proved difficult. Margaret had strategically placed herself at the foot of the table, leaving Zach at the head. No matter where Cassie chose to sit, she would be next to him.

Zach pulled back her chair. Already experienced at holding a baby while accomplishing a host of other duties, she took her seat, placing her free hand on the chair to wiggle it closer to the table.

A jolt of electricity seemed to zap her when Zach’s fingers skimmed her shoulders and he bent toward her to say, “Allow me.”

He took far too long in pushing in her chair, and his touch lingered over her, unfurling ribbons of awareness through her. Dam it, she couldn’t afford to notice him, didn’t dare succumb to his charms and become distracted.

Stilted conversation played about the table, making Cassie wonder if it wouldn’t have been better if she’d taken Zach’s suggestion to stay in town. In her fight for Billy’s heritage, she hadn’t factored in the cost to herself. The baby was too young to understand the tension that zinged around him, but she was far from immune to its effects.

And while the meal dragged on for Cassie, Zach, in spite of his numerous faults, expertly played the role of attentive host.

It was the enthusiastic and loving interaction with his family that shocked her most. As coffee was brought in by the housekeeper, he leaned back, listening attentively to stories Nick told about the booming construction business in Denver.

This new side of Zach, one totally at odds with the one he’d shown in his office, was alternately alluring and frightening.

After coffee, Nick asked if Cassie needed a lift to town.

“Cassandra is staying here,” Margaret said firmly, sliding her cup and saucer toward the middle of the table. “If you’ll excuse us,” Margaret said to Zach and Nick, “we ladies will be in the parlor.”

Cassie adjusted the sleeping Billy as she tried to find the best way to rise from the table. Zach stood before she did, pulling back her chair and offering a steady hand.

His fingers cupped her elbow, and the unsettling sensation of attraction curled through her once more, chasing awareness into the base of her stomach and spreading lower with tantalizing, dizzying warning.

Her legs felt wobbly and weak. Warmth seeped into her. She moved a fraction of an inch, but his grip remained firm.

“Need any help?”

“No,” she lied. Then she compounded it by adding, “I’m fine.”

Right then she realized Zach’s tender masculinity posed a far greater threat than his hostility ever could.

And, she thought as want wound through her, his gentle courtesy might prove her undoing.

Three

“You’ll wear a hole in the wood.”

Zach, unaware he’d betrayed the tension coiled in the pit of his stomach, responded to his brother’s statement and stopped drumming his fingers on the oak dining room table.

He turned away from the doorway, but Cassie’s womanly presence still lingered there, mixed with the scent of her wildflower perfume. It had remained behind, a tantalizing tease.

“She’s getting to you,” Nick stated, reaching behind him to the buffet and grabbing two mugs. Shoving aside the porcelain their mother always insisted on, Nick poured two cups of coffee and pushed one toward Zach.

Without thinking, he took it and wrapped his hands around the stoneware.

No doubt Mother had orchestrated the past few minutes...better than any Hollywood director. She was a master at getting what she wanted. And she wanted the boy she already thought of as her grandchild to be a part of this family.

None of this would have happened if Cassie hadn’t shown up, unexpected and uninvited. Damn it. Damn her.

And why did she have to be so appealing? If she had been a shrew, he could have sent her on her way, despite his mother’s objections. But with haunted eyes, desperation in her tone and honesty in her demeanor, he was hardpressed to deny Cassie a single thing.

“I don’t like it,” Zach said flatly.

“No,” Nick agreed. “I don’t imagine you do.”

“So what do we do about her?”

“Throw her in the street,” Nick suggested mildly.

“Go to hell.”

A few beats of silence marked the hostility in the air. Then Nick spoke. “So that’s how it is.”

Zach hadn’t experienced an urge to throw a punch at his older brother in a dozen years. Right now, though, a telltale tingle itched in the tips of his fingers.

“Been a while since you were wound up about a woman.”

Zach’s jaw tightened. “I’m not interested in Cassandra Morrison.” The words were flat and hollow—a lie wrapped around the truth.

He was interested and, just as certainly, shouldn’t be.

At one time Zach had had a weakness for women. Smaller, more vulnerable than he, he’d wanted to shelter them, care for them. Trouble was, trust had been shattered into tiny pieces when his wife slept with another man, betraying his trust. He’d walked away wiser, perhaps bitter. He’d never let another woman close.

Even if the instinct hadn’t been destroyed, he’d already determined Cassandra wasn’t weak, nor was she vulnerable. She stood tall and strong. Sure as winter followed fall, she didn’t want anything resembling protection from him. Fact was, maybe she needed to be protected from him.

“Mother’s certain this kid belongs to Chad.”

Nick nodded. “And you’re certain he doesn’t.”

Zach’s sigh came from the diaphragm. Plowing his fingers through his hair, he admitted, “Hell, Nick, I don’t know.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“Chad’s no saint, but he wouldn’t turn his back on his son. His son. None of us would.” Standing, he said, “I’ve got an investigator’s report in my office.”

Wordlessly Nick gathered his mug and followed.

After handing the tattered folder to Nick, Zach settled behind his desk, watching as a mirror expression of his own reaction played across Nick’s features.

Nick closed the folder and nodded. “The father could be anyone.”

“Yeah. But the birth certificate lists Chad as the father.” That knot of tension tightened in Zach’s shoulder again. “And you heard Mother, the kid looks like Chad.”