The Baby Surprise / The Father for Her Son. Cindi MyersЧитать онлайн книгу.
swallowed, and his lips curved again. “Stonechurch Vineyards merlot. The silver label Special Reserve.”
“You saw the bottle on the counter,” she guessed.
He shook his head. “My parents run the winery. Or maybe I should say that they used to run the winery. My sister, Hayden, took over most of the operations a few years back.”
The revelation that she was drinking wine his family had made was as surprising as the realization that he had a family. It just wasn’t something she’d thought about until he’d mentioned wanting to take Emma to California.
It was difficult enough to admit that this man might be the little girl’s father, that he would have a legitimate legal claim to custody of the child who had taken complete hold of her heart, but she’d never considered that he might be able to offer her so much more than his name. That he had parents who could be Emma’s grandparents, a sister who could be her aunt and maybe even an extended family who would want to be part of her life.
But all she said was, “I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“Three of them, actually,” he told her.
“You’re one of four kids?” She thought about how busy she was just chasing around after Emma. “Wow, that must have kept your parents busy.”
“I always tease Hayden—she’s the youngest—that they didn’t have more than they could handle until she was born because that’s when they finally quit.”
“What is her response to that?”
“That the real reason they stopped having children was that they’d finally had the perfect one.”
It was the affection she heard in his voice as much as his response that made her smile. “She’s the one who works at the winery?”
He nodded.
“What do your other sisters do?” she asked, genuinely curious about the siblings she’d only just realized he had.
“Lauryn is a doctor and Jocelyn is a college professor.”
“And you fly planes,” she noted, thinking that his parents definitely hadn’t raised any slackers.
He nodded. “It’s all I ever wanted to do.”
“Why the military?”
“I heard a rumor that chicks dig a guy in uniform.”
She smiled because she knew it was the response he expected. And because she didn’t doubt for a minute that he’d found himself the object of countless affections, though she wouldn’t assume that had anything to do with the uniform. Because even out of uniform, in only a pair of unzipped jeans, he was all too appealing.
She took back her glass of wine and swallowed a long, bracing gulp.
“What about you?” he asked. “Did you always know you were going to be a lawyer?”
“No,” she said. “In fact, I was in my second year studying geology when I had to vacate the apartment I was renting because it flooded. I ended up staying with a friend and the landlord took me to small-claims court to sue for nonpayment of rent.
“Of course, there was no way I could afford a lawyer to defend against the claim, so I started researching the law myself. In the end, I countersued for breach of contract, pointing out that I couldn’t be expected to live in an apartment that was eighteen inches underwater.”
“And you won,” he guessed.
She nodded. “That’s when I decided to go to law school.”
He shifted so that his knees were almost touching the side of her chair. The denim looked faded and worn and a lot softer than the rock-hard muscle that flexed beneath the fabric. Good Lord, just looking at the man’s quads had her heart pounding inside her chest and her fingers itching to touch. Instead, she curled them tighter around the glass.
She finished off her wine and stood up so that the lounger was between them. “And that’s where I met Olivia,” she reminded him—reminding both of them—of her close friendship with the woman who had been his lover and had likely given birth to his child.
“I cared about Olivia,” Zach told her, standing to block her access to the door. “I wouldn’t have been involved with her otherwise. But I wasn’t in love with her, and she wasn’t in love with me.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Your relationship with Olivia really isn’t any of my business.”
“And yet you keep throwing her name out whenever the topic of conversation touches on anything remotely personal, as if you’re deliberately putting up barriers between us.”
“She was one of my best friends.”
“Are you afraid that she would disapprove of my being here?”
She shook her head. “According to the letter you showed me, she wanted you to have the chance to get to know Emma.”
“I’m talking about my being here with you.”
“You’re not here with me,” she denied.
He smiled at that.
“I mean—you’re here and I’m here,” she explained, conscious of the heat suffusing her cheeks. “But we’re not together.”
“What if I want to change that?”
She shook her head again. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
He took a step closer. “Well, apparently, we have a difference of opinion.”
She lifted a hand to ward him off and sucked in a breath when her palm came into contact with his bare flesh. He was every bit as solid and warm as he looked, and she wanted—more than anything—to lean closer, to press herself against him, to feel the hard length of his body against hers.
“Zach.” She’d meant to speak his name as a warning. Instead, it sounded like a plea.
He took the empty wineglass from her hand and reached around her to set it back on the table. Then he lifted his hand to her face and gently cupped her cheek. The gesture was so unexpected, so tender, she nearly sighed.
“I just want to kiss you,” he said and brushed his thumb over the curve of her bottom lip, slowly, sensuously.
“Definitely not a good idea,” she said, all too aware that the breathless tone of her voice contradicted her words.
“Another difference of opinion,” he said easily, and lowered his mouth to hers.
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