Underfoot. Leanne Banks

with her mother and that was primarily because Hilda was eighty-one and had nowhere else to go. “No. Hilda has enough to do and you have a full schedule with bridge and charity.”

      Her mother turned silent and her lower lip began to quiver. “You don’t trust me to take care of Madeline.”

      Trina immediately felt split in opposing directions. While Aubrey treated Maddie with grandmotherly indulgence, Trina wasn’t sure when that might change to critical intrusion, and she was determined to protect Maddie and herself from the attitude she’d endured during her childhood and adolescence…hell, make that most of her entire life. “That’s not true,” Trina said, trying to be diplomatic. “I asked you to keep her tonight for me, didn’t I? But everyday care is different.”

      Her mother opened her mouth to protest and Trina shook her head. “I’ve had a long day at work and I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Thank you for taking care of Maddie tonight.”

      “But you should listen to me—”

      “Mother, we’ve been over this. You may be my mother, but I am Maddie’s mother, so what I say goes.”

      Her mother pressed her lips together in disapproval. “You never listen to me. I may as well go home. Good night,” she said and stiffly walked out of the room.

      Trina heard the slam of the front door and winced. Her stomach twisted in a knot and she closed her eyes to take a deep breath. It was all about control, her counselor had told her years ago, and her mother couldn’t stand not having control.

      She grabbed the mail her mother had brought in from the kitchen counter and went to the den to collapse onto the couch. Bills, advertisements. She fanned through the envelopes and paused at one that was handwritten. A letter, and the return address wasn’t family. She opened it, and the salutation nearly gave her a heart attack.

      Dear Kat, How about a blast from your past? I’ll never forget the time we had together in Myrtle Beach. I’m getting out of prison soon. We should get together. Write back. Affectionately, Stan

      Trina stuffed the letter back into the envelope and rushed to the kitchen to throw it in the trash can. She stared at the trash can for a moment then washed her hands with antibacterial cleanser and rinsed them thoroughly.

      She never wanted to see the man again in her life. Mistake didn’t cover what she’d done with Stan Roch. Nineteen, stupid and rebellious, she’d married the man. She’d obtained a divorce six weeks later, but only after he’d been hauled off to jail for armed robbery.

      Standing in the complete quiet of her home, she wondered which was worse, having her ex-husband, who happened to be an ex-convict, show up wanting to resume the relationship. Or having to tell a man that he was the father of her six-month-old daughter.

      

      SINCE WALKER HADN’T STOPPED since five that morning, he could only squeeze in a cell call to Trina’s voice mail with the message that he would drop by to talk with her after a lunch meeting.

      Finding the PR receptionist reading a celebrity gossip magazine at her desk, he cleared his throat. No response. “Is Trina Roberts around?”

      Dora glanced up at him blankly, then pulled an earpiece out of her ear and smiled. “Sorry. The local radio is running a contest for a cruise and I thought I’d give it a try. Sounds sweet, doesn’t it?” she asked and gave him a wanna-come-with-me look.

      “Yeah, sweet. I was looking for Trina.”

      The assistant’s face fell. “Oh, she took a late lunch. I think she said something about visiting her baby.”

      Walker blinked. “Baby?” he echoed, surprised. No, shock was a more accurate description.

      The assistant nodded. “Yeah. You didn’t know? I’m surprised because you know she’s still carrying a little baby weight and she’s got terrible circles under her eyes. Hello? A little concealer goes a long way.” She sighed and shrugged. “But I guess she’s overwhelmed being a single mom. Lord knows I’d never do that.”

      Baby? Single mother? Walker tried to digest the information. He just didn’t see Trina as the motherly type. He remembered her as a mix of warm but sophisticated, sharp and together. “When did, uh—”

      “Oh, Maddie’s six months old. And she is cute as a button. For a baby. But, you know, she’s still a baby and they cry and poop and are really demanding.” The assistant turned around in her chair and glanced out the window. “Oh, look, Trina’s taking her for a stroll. I guess you could catch up to her if you really want. Or I could get you a cappuccino and keep you company.”

      “Thanks for the offer,” he said. “But I’m running short on time. I’ll head outside.”

      The assistant pouted. “Okay, but make time for a little break next time you come around.”

      “Have a good day,” he said and walked toward the elevator. The assistant was clearly making an offer. If she weren’t working for Bellagio, then he might take her up on it. Walker was unopposed to hot, uncomplicated sex, but after his relationship with Brooke had muddied the waters with Bellagio, he figured he’d better stay away from the Bellagio honeys at least until he was on firmer ground.

      He took the elevator down to ground level and walked to the side of the building where he saw Trina pushing a stroller. With the sun shining brightly, the temperature in the midseventies and a slight breeze rustling through the trees, he supposed it was a good day to take a baby for a stroll. Not that he would ever have to do that kind of thing.

      “Hey, Trina,” he called as he caught up to her. “Trina,” he said again when she didn’t respond.

      She came to a dead stop and turned to look at him. Her face drained of color. “Walker?”

      He stared at her. “Hey, I didn’t mean to startle you. The assistant told me you were out here.”

      Her eyes wide with fear, she gave a little nod. “Dora.”

      He shrugged. “Yeah, Dora. She told me you had a baby. How come you didn’t tell me?” he asked, looking curiously at the stroller. His gaze landed on an infant with a blue barrette holding a wisp of carrot-colored hair in a topknot that stood straight up. She made singsong noises and moved her head from side to side. He smiled. “She’s cute.”

      “Um, thanks,” Trina said and bit her lip.

      She was giving off a very weird vibe, he thought and frowned. “Are you okay?”

      She took a deep breath and seemed to be trying to collect herself. “I had hoped to do this differently,” she said. Meeting his gaze, she gave a choky kind of laugh. “Actually, I had hoped to never have to tell you.”

      “Tell me what? That you had a baby? I’m surprised, but other people do it all the time.”

      She took another breath, looked away and then met his gaze again. “Maddie is yours,” she said.

      Walker stared at Trina. The distant sounds of car horns blowing and engines humming along with the baby’s babbles through the periphery of his brain. He couldn’t have heard Trina correctly. “Excuse me?”

      “I said Maddie is yours. You are her father.” She looked at him silently. “Do the math. She was born nine months after that night you and I…”

      He swore. “You think I got you pregnant that one night we had sex?”

      “I know you did. I have the evidence.”

      Walker shook his head, wondering why she was trying to pin the pregnancy on him. Did she need money or something? “I’m sorry if you think it’s me. But it can’t be,” he told her.

      “Yes, it can and it is,” Trina said, exasperation creeping into her tone. “But don’t worry. I don’t expect anything from you. That’s why I didn’t tell you when you were in Paris.”

      His circuits scrambled