What Makes A Father. Teresa Southwick

care of. The fact is, you never cross my mind. In case that’s not clear enough, there is not a snowball’s chance in hell I would ever consider taking you back. You abandoned me once. I won’t give you a chance to do that to me again.”

      “I wish you’d reconsider. We were good together. At home and at work.”

      Dwayne must be desperate, Mason thought. After what she’d just said it was clear she’d made up her mind.

      Annie’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, now I get it. And the verdict is official. You’re a conniving weasel dog and I don’t ever want to see you again.”

      “Annie, please. I really need this—”

      “Oh? I needed you,” she said. “And you couldn’t get out of here fast enough then. I’d like you to do that now. Just go.”

      “Annie—”

      Mason had seen enough. He moved next to her. “The lady asked you to leave.”

      Dwayne’s ingratiating performance disappeared. “What are you going to do? Throw me out?”

      “If I have to.” Mason stared at him and knew the exact moment the moron realized it was over.

      “Your loss, Annie. Remember that.”

      “In my opinion, I dodged a bullet,” she snapped back.

      Without another word, the creep left and slammed the door. Hard.

      Mason and Annie looked at each other and said at the same time, “The babies.”

      They hurried down the hall to check on them but Charlie and Sarah were still sleeping soundly. In unison, they heaved a sigh of parental relief then quietly backed out of the room and returned to the kitchen.

      She met his gaze. “So, that happened.”

      “He’s determined. I’ll give him that.”

      “Yeah.” She closed her eyes for a moment, as if erasing any vision of Dwayne from her mind. After letting out a long breath she said, “I could have called him much worse than a weasel dog.”

      “Me, too, but that was pretty descriptive.”

      “It was a compliment compared to what I was thinking. He’s lucky I didn’t throw something at him.”

      Mason studied her face and realized he had never seen her furious. The cleansing breath she’d taken hadn’t cleansed anything. There was more. “What else did he do? Besides leave you at the worst possible time.”

      She met his gaze. “The last thing he said before bailing on me was that raising some other guy’s brats wasn’t what he’d signed up for.”

      “Son of a bitch—” Mason felt the words like a body blow. He didn’t like the guy but Annie had at one time. He couldn’t imagine the scope of betrayal she’d experienced. Now he was furious, too. “Good thing you threw him out. I’d have tossed him over the railing.”

      Surprisingly, she laughed. “That’s a very satisfying image.”

      “What did he mean about working well together?”

      “He’s a graphic artist, too. It’s how we met, collaborating on a job.”

      So they had something in common, spoke each other’s language. “And when he said he needed this? Any idea what that was about?”

      “He’s employed by a rival firm. My guess is that they’re in competition for this big contract I’ve been working on. If I took him back, he’d have access to my team’s creative direction and could take steps to counter in their own presentation.”

      “So he wanted to steal from you,” he said, seething with anger.

      “That’s my guess.”

      “Prince of a guy. Just oozing integrity. Damn right you dodged a bullet.”

      “Wow,” she said. “Don’t sugarcoat it. Tell me how you really feel.”

      “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings.” That was completely sincere. He would never hurt her. Not deliberately. But he couldn’t hold this back. “I just have to ask. What the hell did you ever see in that guy?”

      Her hazel eyes turned more green than gold. It was a clue that he’d crossed a line. Her next words confirmed that he’d said something wrong.

      High color appeared on her cheeks. “It’s really easy to be on the outside looking in and draw conclusions. I’ve known you, what? Fifteen minutes? Yes, we share the babies and you’re their father. Calling them brats makes him lower than pond scum. But I get to say that. You don’t get a say about my personal life, especially for something that happened before I met you.”

      “Annie, I—”

      She held up a hand. “Now is not a good time to talk. I have another bag of stuff to bring inside. I’ll get it,” she said when he was about to offer. “I’m embarrassed by what just happened and taking it out on you. I need the exercise to shake off this unreasonable reaction.”

      Without another word, she walked out the door. Mason let her go even though every instinct was pushing him to go after her. But moments later he heard her cry out just before a scream of pain. He rushed outside and looked down. Annie was in a heap on the cement at the bottom of the stairs.

       Chapter Four

      One minute Annie was walking down the stairs, the next she was falling and desperately reaching out for something to stop the downward plunge. Something stopped her, all right. It was called cement. A jarring pain shot through her right leg. She cried out just before it took her breath away. Moments later Mason was there.

      “Don’t move,” he ordered.

      “Fat chance,” she managed to choke out. “Knocked the…wind out…of me.”

      “Where does it hurt?” He ran his hands over her head and down her body. “Did you hit your head?”

      “No. My leg.”

      After helping her to a sitting position, he gently touched her knee and shin. Searing pain made her cry out. “Ow!”

      He slid her sandal off and put two fingers on her ankle, a serious expression on his face. Apparently he noticed her questioning look because he said, “I’m checking the pulse—blood circulation.”

      “Why?”

      “Make sure nothing is restricting it,” he said.

      She was almost afraid to hear the answer but asked anyway. “What would be doing that?”

      “The bone.”

      Yup, she was right. Didn’t want to know that. Then he checked her foot and dragged his thumb lightly across the arch. It tickled and she involuntarily moved, sending a sharp pain up her leg.

      “Ow—” She gritted her teeth because she wanted so badly to cry.

      “Do you have scissors?”

      “Kitchen drawer. What are you—?”

      But he was gone and she heard his footsteps racing up the stairs. He was back in less than a minute with her heavy shears in his hand. He positioned them at the hem of her slacks.

      “You’re going to cut them?”

      “Yes. I’m concerned about swelling. They’ll do it at the hospital anyway. I think your leg is broken.”

      “No. I don’t have time for that.”

      He met her gaze, and his was serious and doctorly. “You’re going to have to make time. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

      “Can’t you brace it with a couple of tree