Read Online Cowboy Daddy by Susan Mallery - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Susan Mallery
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go back with him, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to talk to your father.”
Laurel gave him a quick glance, then gathered her bags together and escaped through a door at the end of the room. When she was gone, silence filled the elegant salon.
While she was trying to figure out what on earth to say to Jake, Anne glanced around. The suite was obviously expensive. She figured a three-night stay would be more than her mortgage payment for an entire month. The huge parlor held two couches, a large entertainment unit, a wet bar by the powder room, two blue wing chairs and a dining room set in the far corner. Big windows filled one entire wall, giving a perfect view of downtown Houston. She stared out past Jake and figured if she was standing right by the window and looked to the left, she would be able to see her office building. She wondered if he knew that.
“I had no idea what she was thinking,” she said when it became obvious he wasn’t going to speak.
Jake turned away from the window, but he didn’t answer. He walked over to the wet bar and pulled open the refrigerator. After removing two cans of soda, he popped the tops on both of them, then handed her one and sat on the floral-print sofa across from the entertainment center. He stretched out his long jean-clad legs and rested his cowboy boots on the coffee table. He hadn’t worn his Stetson for their shopping trip, but despite the omission, he still looked like a cowboy come to the city.
She’d always been a sucker for a man who could fill out a pair of button-fly jeans. There was something lethal about the combination of hard man and soft denim. Even with the crisis Laurel had thrust upon them, Anne found herself itching to rub her hands up and down his thighs. Denim could transfer body heat just about better than any material she knew. That’s why she never wore it. The fabric was too much of a reminder of her weakness. Cowboys. She took a long drink of the cold soda and wondered if the day could get any worse.
“She’s only thirteen,” he said at last. He leaned his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes. Lines of stress and pain tightened around his mouth. “I can’t let her go.”
“I’m not asking you to. I swear I didn’t know what she was going to say.”
He tilted his head forward and looked at her. Something dark and untrusting swirled in his brown eyes. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
Anne turned away and started walking around the room. A couple of teen magazines lay scattered by the dining room table. Pumps and athletic shoes formed a pile by Laurel’s bedroom door. An oversize T-shirt bearing the likeness of a popular cartoon cat was slung over one of the wing chairs. Anne touched it.
“I don’t know her,” she said, stroking the nightshirt. “We’ve talked on the phone three or four times. We’ve met twice. I don’t know why she thinks you and your wife stole her from me.” She looked at him. “I never said anything about that. We’ve never even discussed the adoption. I give you my word.”
“I don’t know you well enough to know if your word means a damn thing.”
He wasn’t making this any easier, but then he wasn’t trying to. She drew in a deep breath and tried to stay calm. “I’d wondered why Laurel wasn’t asking any of the hard questions. Now I know the reason.”
“Hard questions?”
“You know. Why did I give her up for adoption? Why didn’t I try to find her? That sort of thing. I was pleasantly surprised she was so accepting.”
“At least one of us is happy,” he said sarcastically. “Guess it’s all going your way. Don’t expect it to last. I don’t know where Laurel got her ideas, but you and I both know she wasn’t stolen out of her mother’s loving arms. You decided to give her up.”
He spoke the truth, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Still her discomfort would have to wait. Laurel was what mattered. She walked over to the sofa and sat on
“I’m going to talk to your father.”
Laurel gave him a quick glance, then gathered her bags together and escaped through a door at the end of the room. When she was gone, silence filled the elegant salon.
While she was trying to figure out what on earth to say to Jake, Anne glanced around. The suite was obviously expensive. She figured a three-night stay would be more than her mortgage payment for an entire month. The huge parlor held two couches, a large entertainment unit, a wet bar by the powder room, two blue wing chairs and a dining room set in the far corner. Big windows filled one entire wall, giving a perfect view of downtown Houston. She stared out past Jake and figured if she was standing right by the window and looked to the left, she would be able to see her office building. She wondered if he knew that.
“I had no idea what she was thinking,” she said when it became obvious he wasn’t going to speak.
Jake turned away from the window, but he didn’t answer. He walked over to the wet bar and pulled open the refrigerator. After removing two cans of soda, he popped the tops on both of them, then handed her one and sat on the floral-print sofa across from the entertainment center. He stretched out his long jean-clad legs and rested his cowboy boots on the coffee table. He hadn’t worn his Stetson for their shopping trip, but despite the omission, he still looked like a cowboy come to the city.
She’d always been a sucker for a man who could fill out a pair of button-fly jeans. There was something lethal about the combination of hard man and soft denim. Even with the crisis Laurel had thrust upon them, Anne found herself itching to rub her hands up and down his thighs. Denim could transfer body heat just about better than any material she knew. That’s why she never wore it. The fabric was too much of a reminder of her weakness. Cowboys. She took a long drink of the cold soda and wondered if the day could get any worse.
“She’s only thirteen,” he said at last. He leaned his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes. Lines of stress and pain tightened around his mouth. “I can’t let her go.”
“I’m not asking you to. I swear I didn’t know what she was going to say.”
He tilted his head forward and looked at her. Something dark and untrusting swirled in his brown eyes. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
Anne turned away and started walking around the room. A couple of teen magazines lay scattered by the dining room table. Pumps and athletic shoes formed a pile by Laurel’s bedroom door. An oversize T-shirt bearing the likeness of a popular cartoon cat was slung over one of the wing chairs. Anne touched it.
“I don’t know her,” she said, stroking the nightshirt. “We’ve talked on the phone three or four times. We’ve met twice. I don’t know why she thinks you and your wife stole her from me.” She looked at him. “I never said anything about that. We’ve never even discussed the adoption. I give you my word.”
“I don’t know you well enough to know if your word means a damn thing.”
He wasn’t making this any easier, but then he wasn’t trying to. She drew in a deep breath and tried to stay calm. “I’d wondered why Laurel wasn’t asking any of the hard questions. Now I know the reason.”
“Hard questions?”
“You know. Why did I give her up for adoption? Why didn’t I try to find her? That sort of thing. I was pleasantly surprised she was so accepting.”
“At least one of us is happy,” he said sarcastically. “Guess it’s all going your way. Don’t expect it to last. I don’t know where Laurel got her ideas, but you and I both know she wasn’t stolen out of her mother’s loving arms. You decided to give her up.”
He spoke the truth, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Still her discomfort would have to wait. Laurel was what mattered. She walked over to the sofa and sat on