Rodeo Bride. Myrna Mackenzie

first lesson.”

      Prim schoolteacher? Dillon couldn’t help thinking that with Colleen’s generous curves, prim was the last word that came to mind.

      A strange, small sound suddenly filled the air. Automatically Colleen and Dillon both glanced down at her baby monitor.

      It was the first time Dillon had heard his child’s voice. “He’s crying,” Dillon said with wonder.

      “Yes. And that’s going to be your first lesson.” Colleen held the door open. “You’re going to hold your son,” she said as Dillon brushed past her. The combination of her low, husky voice and the prospect of finally meeting his child face-to-face nearly made Dillon’s knees buckle.

      He’d faced disasters in his life, business barons and scenes in battle he’d prefer to forget. He had been suited to what he’d face in business and in battle. He had been trained and at least partially prepared for them. Nothing, he thought, had prepared him for the responsibility of molding a life that was so young and fragile.

      He really was going to be dependent on Colleen, this woman he found far too intriguing. Bad move. He didn’t do intriguing anymore, so somehow he had to learn all she could teach him as quickly as possible. Once he and Toby were on their own, they could sort everything else out and forget that this woman had ever been a part of their lives.

      Everything about Dillon was too big, Colleen thought as she led him back to Toby’s room. He was tall, his shoulders were broad, his hands were big with long fingers, his legs were long and wellmuscled. Even with the limp, he seemed powerful and strong and she felt small. She never, ever felt small. That had been her mother, her charming, petite, pretty and utterly helpless mother, who had not passed along her genes to gawky, awkward, big-boned Colleen.

      All of her life she’d wanted to be small. And now? Now, with Dillon behind her, dwarfing her, she just felt vulnerable. More awkward and self-conscious than ever. As if she’d just now realized that she was a woman. And all because Dillon, with that warrior’s body of his, was most definitely a man.

      “This way,” she said, feeling instantly stupid.

      Dillon chuckled, and Colleen felt her neck growing warm. “You’re right. I guess I didn’t need to direct you. You’ve been in here before,” she conceded.

      “And then there’s the crying,” he said dryly.

      She couldn’t help herself then. She laughed, too. “Your son does have a good set of lungs.”

      “Does he…does he cry often?”

      She stopped, turned, and nearly ended up right against Dillon. Close, too close to that muscled chest. Colleen tipped her head up. She never tipped her head up to a man. She never got that close. “Babies cry.” Her voice came out in a whisper, slightly harsh. She cleared her throat. “Toby probably cries less than most. He’s a happy baby.”

      “I wasn’t criticizing.” Intense blue eyes stared into her own. She struggled for breath. “I just didn’t know. I wouldn’t even know what was normal for a baby. No experience.”

      Somehow she managed to nod, her head feeling oddly wobbly on her body. She needed to back away, to quit staring into those mesmerizing eyes. She was making a fool of herself. That was so not acceptable.

      Colleen took a step backward away from Dillon. It wasn’t far enough. She still felt locked in that blue gaze.

      One more step.

      He lowered his gaze slightly, turned down the intensity. “So, he’s happy?”

      Ah, back in safe territory. She managed a small smile as she turned back and began moving toward the room again. “Come see. He’s especially cheerful and cuddly when he first wakes up. As long as he wakes up on his own timetable, that is.”

      She stepped through the doorway and Dillon came up beside her. Toby was on his stomach, and as soon as he saw Colleen his crying turned to a soulful whimpering. His gaze slipped over to Dillon, and a look of distress came over his face.

      Dillon sucked in a visible breath. Colleen felt for him. A man’s first meeting with his child should be a wondrous thing, not a sad one.

      “He’s scared of me.”

      “He hasn’t seen many men, and you’re a rather large one. You have a deeper voice. You might need to soften it and speak more quietly at first to keep from startling him.”

      Toby was visibly upset now.

      “I’ve made him cry more. You should pick him up.”

      “Ordinarily I would,” she agreed, “but right now we need to soothe him without upsetting him, and if I pick him up and then turn him over to you, he’ll howl for sure.”

      “What should I do then? I don’t want to hurt him or scare him more than he is.”

      Colleen didn’t really know. She loved babies. She particularly loved this baby. Still, she ran on pure instinct most of the time the same way she did with her horses or other animals. She had always had terrible instincts where men were concerned; awful luck. She’d made very bad decisions or had others’ bad choices thrust on her, but this was one decision she couldn’t afford to muck up. Despite the fact that Dillon was going to take Toby away from her soon, she couldn’t sacrifice the child in a lame attempt to make the man retreat.

      “Stay close to me,” she told Dillon. “Toby’s used to me, and he’s…well, he’s very young. Maybe if he associates you with me, an extension of sorts, he’ll accept you more quickly.”

      “Will that work?”

      “Maybe.”

      She heard what sounded like a low curse and looked to her side.

      “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll have to train myself not to do that. I’ve been living the life of a soldier too long.”

      Colleen nodded. She couldn’t begin to imagine what his life had been like, what kind of hell he had been living in when his leg had been damaged so badly. And she didn’t want to. She was doing all this for Toby, she told herself. Not for Dillon.

      But as she moved toward the crib, she slowed enough so that Dillon could stay with her without lurching too much. Reaching the crib, she turned to Dillon. “I’m going to soothe him a bit. Just stay close, speak quietly and don’t make any sudden movements.”

      Dillon didn’t answer. His gaze was locked on his child.

      She reached down and stroked her thumb across Toby’s cheeks, smoothing away the tears that were rolling down his tiny face. “It’s all right, sweetheart,” she said. “This is your daddy. He just wants to meet you.”

      Quietly, quietly, she spoke, she caressed, she slowly felt Toby begin to relax. He stopped crying.

      “All right, you touch him now,” she told Dillon. “Gently.”

      And suddenly she was very aware of how close she and Dillon were standing. His warmth was up against her. She breathed in, and the scent of his aftershave filled her senses, pungent and male and…her hand trembled slightly.

      Dillon reached out and placed his big hand next to hers. Toby was small, and Dillon’s thumb brushed against her fingers.

      Colleen felt suddenly dizzy. Every nerve ending in her body snapped to attention. She swallowed.

      “I’m going to let go now,” she whispered, turning to her left. She looked up and found her lips only a breath away from Dillon’s.

      Don’t feel. Don’t even dare to think of him as anyone who could ever be important to you, she ordered herself. Men had brought her nothing but pain. Her father who had taken risks and had died suddenly, breaking her heart. Her stepfather and stepbrother who had verbally abused and taunted her, making her life a misery. The man who had pretended to love her, but had really loved her land and had left her for a wealthier woman.