Daddy in the Making - By Crystal Green Page 0,2

gritted comment that nearly set him back on his heels.

This was the woman in his fragmented memories, right? The limpid-eyed lady who’d begun to appear to him recently at night, giving him pleasant dreams. The one who’d been so happy to be in his bed.

He showed her the necklace, the R split in half across his palm. She sucked in a breath, but then, as if she was real good at recovering quickly, that breath turned into a small laugh.

“You came here to return this?” She was still talking quietly enough so that her voice didn’t carry. “Better late than never, I suppose.”

Return it? Why had he taken it in the first place? He thought that maybe he should apologize about something, but he wasn’t sure just what it was he would be sorry for.

“Can we talk?” he asked. “I need—”

“Talk? That’s a good euphemism.” She laughed again, taking up a pile of paper and neatly straightening it on the desk. “I’ll tell you what, cowboy—you just keep that trophy of yours and we’ll call it even.” She nodded at the necklace he was still holding. “You’ve had it for going on four months, anyway.”

Four months. She would’ve been here, at the St. Valentine Hotel, during his fateful trip.

He glanced down at the necklace again. The letter R. Then he looked up at her name tag.

Rita.

Except, on the tag, her name in cursive was one continuous string, unlike the separated necklace. Unlike his life now.

She called over a young clerk who was straightening a rack of brochures, and once she was manning the desk, Rita walked to the far end of the structure, to a quiet corner where the desk still barred her from him. Conn could hear Emmet clearing his throat as he left him behind.

Conn peered over his shoulder at his brother, who was awkwardly standing there with a “So? What gives?” expression. But it might’ve also been a “Told you this woman was just as temporary as the others” look.

Conn jerked his chin toward Rita, conveying that he still had a lot to take care of and that maybe Emmet should read some of those framed articles on the wall to pass the time. Emmet shrugged and wandered off.

As Rita shuffled papers, probably wishing Conn would think she was too busy to continue talking, he didn’t take her none-too-subtle hint.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” he said softly, not wanting to make a scene. Strangely, that woman-luring charm his brothers had commented on still came easily to him when not much else did. “But I could really use your help.”

He added a smile for good measure. He had a feeling it had worked a million times.

“My help?” She didn’t look up at him. “Are you asking me for a place to stay the night again? A warm bed? A willing woman who doesn’t know any better than to listen to your promises?”

Oops.

“Begging your pardon,” he said, “but I hope you’ll believe me when I tell you that I don’t know anything I said to you that night. There’s a good reason I came back here, and it wasn’t to return a necklace.”

Eyes narrowed, she waited for him to go on.

He leaned his elbow on the desk, setting his hat down on it. Even from this distance, she smelled like berries and vanilla, and he nearly closed his eyes as the scent traveled through him, warming him deep down. It was as if he hadn’t ever forgotten this part of her, even though the memory had just reemerged.

But he shook himself out of it. Good God, he didn’t have time to be sniffing around a random woman who was no doubt one of many more. He needed to talk to her, not to get her into bed again.

“This is going to sound odd,” he said. How did a guy get around to telling a woman something that amounted to the lamest excuse in the world? Why would she even believe him?

But what else was he going to say?

He was still holding her necklace. “I’d really like your help in... Well, first off, I need to know when we...”

“Did it? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

All right. That was one way of getting over the awkwardness. She was just as forthright as his brothers.

“I wish I were kidding,” he said. “I had some business at the Hervy Ranch about a half hour away in July—”

“I know. You were dealing with livestock. You told me that right before you talked me