The Texan's Contract Marriage. Sara Orwig

Ashley, glancing at her and trying to politely include her.

      “Yes. When he was born, I had to learn fast. Camille hired a nurse for the first month, so she taught me quite a bit. Being his nanny right now is a good job to have.”

      “And I help manage my sister’s career,” Stephanie interjected. “We love Noah very much.”

      Her tone was polite, but Marek’s caution returned. Her glacial dark blue eyes held a warning, which reemphasized what he guessed was worry about his claims on Noah. For the first time, it occurred to Marek he might not ever have easy access to his nephew.

      It was obvious the sisters were not in agreement about sharing Noah with his paternal relatives.

      “It was nice to meet you,” Ashley stated. Stephanie merely nodded perfunctorily, and Marek was certain about her feelings toward him. At the door he couldn’t resist turning to glance back at Noah, who was playing with a rattle, kicking his legs and enjoying himself.

      Marek’s glance rested only briefly on Stephanie, who glared at him. Her mouth was set in a hard line. Marek followed Camille into the hall.

      “I take it your sister Stephanie doesn’t share your feelings about allowing Noah to know the paternal side of the family. I couldn’t get a reading on what Ashley felt.”

      “Don’t worry about Stephanie. Noah is my child, and I want you to know him. I told you, I want him to know the Rangels and ranching. I want you as an influence in his life. Ashley is all right with letting you see Noah.”

      “I’m glad,” he said, “because we all want to know him. It’s startling to me to look at him. There’s something about him that really resembles Kern.”

      As they walked toward the front, he caught another whiff of the perfume she wore. When they passed the room with the piano, he glanced inside. “Is this where you practice your voice lessons?”

      “Yes. It’s an office of sorts, too. Stephanie wanted an office this spring to work on taxes. Noah disturbs her sometimes, so this room is the farthest from the nursery. I study languages every day, trying to improve my grasp of Italian, French and German. Wherever we go, I take my own furniture, so that’s why we have such a minimal amount. I like having my own bed. But I rent the piano. I can’t practice in a hotel.”

      “Good idea. I don’t blame you. It sounds like it works out well,” Marek said, thinking she must not have much time in her life for Noah.

      In minutes they were in his black limousine, headed toward the airport. He sat facing her. “I feel as if my life is changing and I don’t have control over the changes,” he said. “That’s unusual. I’d like to work out something before you leave Texas. Something that’s permanent as far as seeing him periodically,” he added. He’d like to see more of her. She interested him and seemed different from other women he had known.

      “We may have to have those lawyers yet,” she replied.

      “Let’s try to work it out between us,” he urged, thinking she had a flair for the dramatic in her manner and her dress. Once again, she stood out with her midnight hair secured with a blue scarf and her deep blue dress that emphasized her lush curves and narrow waist. Her startling pale blue eyes were a vivid contrast to her thick, black lashes.

      He had never associated with women in show business, much less in opera. She was an unknown in many ways. His gaze rested on her full, enticing lips. What would it be like to kiss her? His question startled him. He hadn’t noticed any women in a personal way since losing Jillian, but Camille was bringing him back into the world without any effort to do so. She had been forthright, businesslike about Noah. Yet his physical response to her was becoming more personal. “I have a lot of resources. I have a plane available at all times. Most of the time I can come and go as I please. We should be able to adjust schedules,” he said.

      “We’ll try. I might be out of the United States some of the time.”

      “Let’s take it as it comes,” he suggested, wondering whether they could ever work out an acceptable plan for sharing Noah. “Tell me about your life,” he said, his curiosity about her growing. “I’m sorry I don’t already know about you, but I haven’t been into opera.”

      She smiled at him. “Then I believe you are in for a treat, but that’s because I love it. You will either love it or not care for it at all. To me it’s the most beautiful music possible.”

      Her enthusiasm made him smile. “So you’ve always dreamed of this career?”

      “Yes, actually. I started singing early and began voice lessons when I was young. Now, looking back, it seems like forever.”

      He listened while she talked about growing up in Saint Louis and singing, and he wondered about her past. When she paused in her talk, he leaned closer.

      “Have you ever been in love?”

      “Not really. I thought I was in college, but it was never that serious. I really haven’t had much time for a social life since.”

      “Maybe you should take some time.”

      She laughed. “With a baby now? I don’t think this is the time. There’s no room for romance in my life. A baby plus an opera career—those would send anyone running.”

      “Maybe running with you, but not from you—take another look in your mirror.”

      “Thank you,” she said, smiling at him. “Seriously, I haven’t given a lot of thought to what I’ll do in the future. I need to start looking into schools for Noah.”

      Marek smiled. “You have time.”

      “It flies past, and I may pick a school where he has to go on a waiting list.”

      Marek’s thoughts shifted to Noah. He had to think of a way to keep the baby in the family. He couldn’t sit by while she went to France or Germany or Italy for a year and took Noah with her.

      He took Camille to a quiet, elegant dinner club in Houston. The decor was dark blue, with dark walnut paneling and dimmed crystal chandeliers. It was a place he had gone often, and he felt they would not be disturbed by fans or his friends, but he had forgotten about the dancing. There was a small dance floor; out of courtesy he felt he needed to ask her to dance. he remembered holding Jillian in his arms, laughing at something she had said. He didn’t want to dance with this woman who was so alive and who made him feel so alive.

      He realized he had ceased talking during dinner.

      “You’re thinking about your fiancée,” Camille remarked. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss. It’s understandable for you to think about her. My guess is that you both came here to eat occasionally.”

      “You’re right. Sorry if I got distracted. That’s past, but there are moments it comes rushing back. Would you like to dance?”

      “You don’t have to dance,” she said, smiling. “This is fine.”

      Relieved, appreciating her understanding, he wanted to accept her reply and forget dancing, but he had to pick up the pieces and go on with life. He stood. “C’mon. It’ll do me good to get out there and move around.”

      It was the first time he had danced since he had been with Jillian. He took a deep breath and focused on Camille, smiling at her.

      “You really don’t have to dance if you’d rather not,” she said gently, startling him.

      “It shows that much?” he asked, focusing on her more intently.

      “Maybe a little. I can also imagine,” she added gently.

      “Do you like to dance?” he asked, leading her to the dance floor.

      “Yes, but if you want to stop, I’ll understand why.”

      He took her lightly into his arms. “You’re sensitive to other people,” he said, studying her large, thickly lashed eyes. “You look