Who Will Father My Baby?. Donna ClaytonЧитать онлайн книгу.
she’d had to face reality. Dane Buchanan hadn’t been interested in her in the least.
But that kiss…
How could he not have been as affected by it as she had been?
She sighed and gazed over at the map unfolded on the seat beside her. She still had a lengthy drive ahead of her.
To have discovered that he was still in the state had been a surprise. Lacy had explained to Sharon that Dane had the kind of intelligence that would have made him a hot commodity to businesses worldwide. If she remembered correctly, his major had been in one of the sciences. It would be easy to imagine him scouring the rain forests of the Amazon, hunting a cure for cancer. Or nestled away in a laboratory, inventing a new and phenomenal synthetic drug to be used as therapy for Alzheimer’s patients.
Stories about him had raged through the students like a fire gone wild all those years ago. Lacy had been terribly curious. She’d been bold, too, even as a freshman. Her brassy confidence had her asking the senior out for coffee…an offer he’d surprisingly accepted. For hours they had talked while their coffee had grown granite cold.
Dane Buchanan, she’d learned after playing a tough game of twenty questions with the young man, had earned an academic scholarship to an Ivy League university. However, he’d chosen to attend a local college in Richmond in order to be near his ailing father. That information alone had been enough to melt Lacy’s heart. He was president of the senior class, led the debate team to victory and was voted MVP of the football team. His dark good looks as well as his prowess on the football field led to his being approached by a New York modeling agency, and Lacy hadn’t blinked an eye when he’d told her he’d turned down their offer for work. He simply hadn’t seemed the type to flash his smile in front of a camera for money. Lacy smiled at the memory, his obvious embarrassment over the solicitation had been quite charming.
In that one short evening she’d spent with Dane in the café, she’d come to the conclusion that it would be easy for a girl to lose her heart to such a guy. He was everything a girl could want. He had brains. A ton of compassion. He was handsome as the devil. And when they had kissed good-night, Lacy had thought her toes were going to curl up into the arches of her feet!
Soon after that kiss, he’d mysteriously disappeared from the campus for nearly two weeks. And when he’d returned, it was as if their kiss had never happened.
Yes, he spent time with her in the library. On several occasions. He was always friendly, but at the same time, he never initiated contact, no matter how transparent she had made her own desire to date him.
Then a weekly newsmagazine had picked up Dane’s all-around success story. The journalist had dubbed him the Perfect Man, and Lacy had had to agree. She’d considered asking him out on another date, but before she could, final exams were upon her and she never found the opportunity. He graduated. Left the school. And she never saw him again. End of story.
Surely he was married, Sharon had warned Lacy. And she’d had to agree. He probably was. And his wife was certain to have been a Miss America contestant who had given birth to a brood of beautiful children.
Still, something inside Lacy had her braving Friday-evening rush hour in order to drive into rural Virginia to see the man. Maybe—just maybe—Dane Buchanan would live up to his Perfect Man title and become the perfect father. For her child.
“Let’s go into town for dinner tonight.”
Dane Buchanan glanced at the slate-gray sky and then leveled his gaze onto his father-in-law’s whiskered face. “Looks like rain, Alva. Weatherman’s calling for a downpour. You know how that creek is. We should be here to check the herd. Besides, I’ve got two steaks thawed in the fridge for us.”
“Aw, we have steak every Friday,” the older man complained as he latched the door of the barn. “A little rain never hurt nobody. Let’s chance it. Live a little. Couldn’t you go for a plate full of Lottie’s cheesy lasagna? I feel like some Italian food tonight.”
Dane dipped his head, suppressing a smile. He loved the way Alva said that word…with a long I, like in idea. The whole population of Italy would probably have taken offense. But of course Alva meant none. He was simply a good-hearted southern boy who spoke just like everyone else below the Mason-Dixon Line.
He suspected Alva’s hankering for pasta had less to do with lasagna and more to do with his wanting Dane and Lottie to have a chance to “keep company.” His father-in-law would probably be surprised to discover that Dane had figured out his plan, but Alva had been trying to fix him up for the past year. Before Lottie, it had been Cindy at the post office. And before Cindy, it had been Lorraine, the organist at the local Methodist church. It was clearly Alva’s opinion that Dane had been a widower long enough.
It was peculiar, Dane thought, that the father of the woman he’d married, the woman who had died so tragically because of his stupidity, would be doing everything possible to nudge other females into his path.
“Oregano upsets my stomach,” Dane told Alva. “Upsets yours, too. And Lottie uses the herb rather liberally in her cooking. You know that.”
“We could ask her to fry us some hamburgers. I’m sure she would.” He nudged Dane with his elbow. “I think she’s kinda sweet on you.”
Dane just shook his head. “Steak and a baked potato will do me just fine. And I’ve got chocolate pudding for dessert.” He pushed himself away from the fence and stretched the kinks out of his back, knowing full well his father-in-law would never be able to resist his favorite sweet. “But you go on into town, if you want.”
“Nah, that’s okay,” Alva yielded. “Steak sounds good.” His grin made his mouth go crooked, his eyes glisten. “I didn’t know you made pudding. I’ll just run on home and grab a shower. I’ll be at your place in thirty minutes, so go ahead and fire up that grill.”
Both men turned at the sound of tires crunching on gravel.
“Didn’t know you were expecting company.”
The candy-apple-red sports car had Dane’s eyebrows drawing together with curiosity. “I’m not. You?”
The short exchange was silly, really. The men worked side by side every day. They had no secrets. If Alva was going to entertain a visitor, Dane would have known about it and vice versa.
The car came to a halt in front of Dane’s brick rancher, about a hundred feet from where the men stood outside the door of the utility shed. A woman emerged from the automobile and made straight for the house, the sun haloing her short, flaxen hair.
“Woo-whee!”
Alva whispered under his breath, although at this distance there was no chance the woman could have heard him.
“Cute little thing, ain’t she?”
Cute was an accurate description. But little? Dane nearly chuckled. Her body was as curvaceous as a country road, seeming to invite a man to meander along the soft hills and valleys. And she was tall. With yards of tanned, shapely legs that tapered into sexy ankles.
Suddenly the August air became so hot he thought it just might scorch his lungs…if he could remember to pull a lungful of the stuff into his chest, that was.
“I’ll take your stunned silence as a yes.”
Alva laughed softly and gave Dane another poke with his elbow, breaking what could only have been described as some kind of strange, mesmerizing spell.
“She’s most likely selling something,” he grumbled. Dane did his best to hide the embarrassment he was feeling at being the butt of Alva’s humor. “Probably wants me to buy a set of encyclopedias, or some magazine subscriptions, or life insurance.”
“Well, boy,” Alva advised, “you’d best go take care of the matter. I’m off to find a cool shower and some clean clothes.”
His father-in-law’s comment made Dane suddenly aware of the dirt on his jeans, the dust coating his