A Daddy for Her Sons. Raye Morgan

kidding. Even you wouldn’t be nutty enough to go out with that guy voluntarily.”

      “Even me?” His words stung. What did he think of her, anyway? Her eyes flashed. “Just how nutty am I, Connor?”

      He reached out and grabbed her hand, gazing at her earnestly. “Will you stop? Please?”

      She glanced back, her bottom lip trembling. Deep breaths. That was what she needed. And no matter what, she wasn’t going to cry.

      “So where have you been all this time?” she asked, wishing it didn’t sound quite so petulant.

      “All what time?” he said evasively.

      “The year and a half since I last saw you.”

      Her gaze met his and skittered away again. She knew he was thinking about exactly what she was thinking about—that last time had been the day Brad left her. Neither one of them wanted to remember that day, much less talk about it. She grimaced and played with her spoon. The waitress brought their order so it was a moment or two before they spoke again.

      “So you said your business is doing okay?” he noted as he spread his napkin on his lap.

      “Yes.” She stared down at the small dish of ice cream she’d ordered and realized she wasn’t going to be able to eat any of it. Her throat felt raw and tight. Too bad. It looked creamy and delicious.

      He nodded, reaching for a fork. It was pretty clear he wasn’t going to have any problem at all. “What business?”

      She blinked at him. “Didn’t you know? Didn’t Brad tell you?”

      He shook his head and avoided saying anything about Brad.

      She waited a moment, then sighed. “Okay. When Brad left, he took the electronics business we had developed together. And told me I might as well go out and get a job once the babies were born.”

      He cringed. That was enough to set your teeth on edge, no matter who you were.

      She met his gaze with a touch of defiance in her own. “But I gave birth to two little boys and looked at them and knew there was no way I was handing them over to someone else to raise for me. So I racked my brain, trying to find something I could do at home and still take care of them.”

      He nodded. That seemed the resourceful thing to do. Good for her. “So what did you decide on?”

      She shrugged. “The only thing I was ever really good at. I started a Bundt Cake Bakery.”

      He nodded, waiting. There had to be more. Who could make a living baking Bundt cakes? “And?”

      “And that’s what I’m doing.”

      “Oh.” He frowned, puzzled. “Great.”

      “It is great,” she said defensively. She could hear the skepticism in his voice. “It was touch and go for a long time, but now I think I’m finally hitting my stride.”

      He nodded again, wishing he could rustle up some enthusiasm, but failing on all fronts. “Okay.”

      The product Jill and Brad had developed together had been a bit different from baked goods and he was having a hard time understanding the connection. Jill had done the bookkeeping and the marketing for the business. Brad had been the electronic genius. And Connor had done some work with them, too. They’d been successful from the first.

      With that kind of background, he couldn’t imagine how the profits from cakes could compare to what they’d made on the GPS device for hikers to be used as a map App. It had been new and fresh and sold very well. He wasn’t sure what he could say.

      He looked up across the restaurant, caught sight of someone coming in the door and he sighed. “You know how legend has it that everyone stops in at Rickey’s on a Saturday night?”

      Her eyes widened warily. “Sure.”

      “I guess it’s true.” He made a gesture with his head. “Look who just walked in. Mr. Mambo himself.”

      She gasped and whirled in her seat. Sure enough, there was Karl starting in their direction. He was coming through the restaurant as though he thought he owned the place, giving all the girls the eye. He caught sight of her and his eyes lit up.

      Her heart fell. “Oh, no!”

      CHAPTER TWO

      AND THEN, KARL’S jaunty gaze fell on Connor and he stopped dead, visibly paling. Shaking his head, he raised his hands and he seemed to be muttering, “no, no,” over and over again, as though to tell Connor he really didn’t mean it. Turning on his heel, he left so quickly, Jill could almost believe she’d been imagining things.

      “Wow.” She turned back slowly and looked at Connor accusingly. “I guess he believed your cockeyed story.” She put a hand to her forehead as though tragedy had struck. “Once he spreads the word, my dating days are done.”

      “Good,” Connor said, beginning to attack his huge piece of cherry pie à la mode. “No point wasting your time on losers like that.”

      She made a face and leaned toward him sadly. “Are they all like that? Is it really hopeless?”

      “Yes.” He smiled at her. “Erase all thoughts of other men. I’m here. You don’t need anybody else.”

      “Right.” She rolled her eyes, knowing he was teasing. “You’d think I would have learned my lesson with Brad, wouldn’t you?”

      There was a catch in her voice as she said it. He looked up quickly and she knew he was afraid she might cry. But she didn’t cry about that anymore. She was all cried out long ago on that subject.

      Did he remember what a fool she’d been? How even with all the evidence piling up in her daily life, she’d never seen it coming. At the time she was almost eight months pregnant with the twins and having a hard time even walking, much less with thinking straight. And Connor had come to tell her that Brad was leaving her.

      Brad had sent him, of course. The jerk couldn’t even manage to face her and tell her himself.

      That made her think twice. Here was Connor, back again. What was Brad afraid to tell her now?

      She watched him, frowning, studying his blue eyes. Did she really want to know? All those months, all the heartbreak. Still, if it was something she needed to deal with, better get it over with. She took a deep breath and tried to sound strong and cool.

      “So what does he want this time?”

      Connor’s head jerked back as though what she was asking was out of line. He waved his fork at her. “Do you think we could first go through some of the niceties our society has set up for situations like this?” he asked her.

      She searched his face to see if he was mocking her, but he really wasn’t. He was just uncomfortable.

      “How about, ‘How have you been?’ or ‘What have you been up to lately?’ Why not give me some of the details of your life these days. Do we have to jump right into contentious things so quickly?”

      So it wasn’t good. She should have known. “You’re the messenger, not me.”

      His handsome face winced. It almost seemed as though this pained him more than it was going to pain her. Fat chance.

      “We’re friends, aren’t we?” he asked her.

      Were they? She used to think so. “Sure. We always have been.”

      “So …”

      He looked relieved, as though that made it all okay. But it wasn’t okay. Whatever it was, it was going to hurt. She knew that instinctively. She leaned forward and glared at him.

      “But you’re on his side. Don’t deny it.”

      He shook his head, denying it