Daddy By Choice, by Romance Author, Marin Thomas

Harlequin American #1050
ISBN: 0373750544
January 2005
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Daddy By Choice

JD wasn't sure if it was the bright sunlight bouncing off the petite blonde or off the sparkling silver rental car that blinded him as he swung his black Ford truck into a parking space outside Lovie's caf�. Whichever, both the lady and the car looked out of place among the dusty, battered ranch vehicles lined up and down Main Street in Brandt's Corner.

Because of the oppressive West Texas heat wave, he shifted into Park and left the motor running to keep the air conditioner on. Without it, the temperature inside his truck would spike to a hundred degrees in sixty seconds flat, and he was in no hurry to get out.

He had some lookin' to do first.

A suit in the middle of July? He shook his head at the blonde's outfit. Pinstripe, no less. She wore her honey-colored hair in a fancy twist at the back of her neck, revealing a clean profile. Evidently, she got her haughty air from the high cheekbones.

The slight bump in the middle of her narrow nose created an interesting contrast with the too-delectable-for-kissing pink mouth. Sunglasses concealed her eyes, but he imagined them a cool hazel or gray. His attention shifted south. Petite, yes, but by no means boyish. The suit showed off her ample attributes to perfection. Wondering if his mirrored sunglasses distorted the mouth-watering curves, he slid the rims down and peered over his nose.

Nope. The lady was a looker.

A couple of local ranch hands strolled by, tipping their hats in greeting. Instead of the customary smile or nod, she lifted her chin and tapped the toe of one expensive leather pump against the pavement.

Uppity little thing.

All of her, from her wardrobe to her demeanor, boasted privileged life. Privileged meant money. Money meant trouble.

His gut twisted. Since yesterday's phone call from this woman, his insides had festered as if he'd swallowed a handful of rusty fence nails.

Fear.

Fear of the unknown--the worst kind. He'd rather sit on the back of a rank rodeo bull than go head to head with her. Too bad he didn't have that option.

He shut off the ignition, left the truck and headed toward the enemy. His right boot slid across a patch of gravel, and she turned at the scratchy sound. He stopped a few feet away. Up close, he noticed several streaks of burnished gold running through her hair. He'd never seen so many shades of blond on one head.

Showing no surprise at his appearance, none of the nervousness choking his airways, she straightened her shoulders and tugged the bottom of the suit jacket. The stuffy outfit shouted attitude a mile away. Fine with him. Ms. Corporation would discover soon enough he had his own share of attitude and then some.

She removed her sunglasses and the air whooshed from his lungs. Blue. Brilliant blue. Eyes the exact color as. . . He pushed the thought aside and focused on the light brown eyebrows scrunching to create an intriguing wrinkle across the bridge of her nose.

"Usually when someone hangs up on you, it's a hint they're not interested in anything you have to say. What part of my hangin'-up business didn't you understand, lady?"

Perching her fists on her hips, she glared. "Isn't hanging up on a person a little immature for someone your age?"

The purr of her husky voice gut-kicked him. Exactly one hour after he'd slammed the receiver down, cutting this woman off in mid-sentence, she'd called again. The second time, she'd left a message on the answering machine, stating her intention to meet with him and supplying every damn detail of her travel itinerary.

Like he'd send out a search party if her plane went down?

He'd listened to the information on the recorder once before deleting the message but hadn't remembered her voice sounding as intimate as lovers tangling on silk sheets. He took off his sunglasses, crossed his arms over his chest and stared her straight in the eye. "I wasn't interested in anything you had to say yesterday and I'm not interested today. So, you can put your shapely little fanny in that fancy rental and head back to Chicago." He hoped she'd sputter and stomp away at his rudeness. Fat chance.

Flashing a smug smile, she insisted, "Oh, I believe you'll be more than interested in what I have to say." She slipped a white envelope from her purse, stepped forward and shoved her five-feet-nothing right in his face. "I'm not leaving until we discuss this." She flicked the paper under his nose.

When the corner of the envelope poked his left nostril, he clenched his jaw to keep from flinching. The afternoon sun was hot enough to burn a hole through his shirt, but if the lady wanted a standoff, then by God, he'd give her one. He smirked and waited for her to melt into a puddle of frustration. He didn't have long to wait.

A soft huff escaped her mouth and she lowered the envelope. He'd won the first round.

Or so he figured....



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ISBN: 0373750544
By: Marin Thomas
Imprint and Series: Harlequin American
Copyright �: 2005
By: Marin Thomas
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The edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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