Finding Her Prince. Robyn Donald

to answer, but her car was in the driveway. He knew she was there.

      After a deep, bracing breath, she opened the door. “What part of ‘back off’ did you not get?”

      Resting his hands on lean hips he answered, “And what part of ‘that doesn’t work for me’ did you not get?” One dark eyebrow lifted as he looked down at her. “Do you always answer the door like that? Hello to you, too.”

      “Hi. Why are you here?”

      “We need to talk.”

      Cindy folded her arms over her chest and wished her hair didn’t look like rats had nested there and her cotton shorts weren’t quite so short. And quite so cotton. They were practically see-through.

      “I have nothing to say.”

      “Then you can just listen.”

      She wished he didn’t look quite so yummy and tempting in his worn jeans and white cotton shirt. The long sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing wide wrists and strong forearms. Since when had cotton become the sexiest fabric on the planet? In his case, if it was just a little more see-through she might catch a glimpse of his broad chest, and that would be really nice.

      Pulling herself together with an effort, she said, “I don’t want to listen. Go away. I’m looking for something to eat.”

      She started to shut the door, but his hand shot out and he flattened his palm against it.

      “Let me take you out,” he offered.

      She glanced down at her no-one-should-see-this-in-public attire. “Do I look like I’m ready to go out?”

      Something hot and primitive flashed through his eyes as his gaze lazily drifted over her. “Then we can stay here.”

      “I’m not prepared to feed company.” Did her voice sound as breathless and needy to him as it did to her?

      “That’s code for you’re broke, right?”

      “It’s the week before payday.” Her whole life felt like the week before she got paid.

      “So we’ll order pizza. I’ll buy,” he added.

      That was a really bad idea. The last time he’d been in her house they’d had sex and now she was pregnant. She wasn’t sure if something worse could happen, but she wasn’t willing to take the risk.

      Before she could figure out a way to turn him down, he said, “I can see the wheels in your head turning and before you use up any more mental energy, you should know that I’m not taking no for an answer. Just look at it as a meal you don’t have to pick up the tab for. My treat.”

      He was a treat, all right. That’s what worried her the most. But it didn’t look like he was going away without getting what he wanted. She wasn’t sure if his persistence was endearing or annoying, but at least she’d get a free meal out of it.

      “Okay. I’ll change my clothes and we’ll go out.”

      “While you’re at it, how about changing your attitude?” he called after her.

      She heard the humor in his voice and couldn’t help smiling. He wasn’t giving her much of a choice, so she might as well make the best of it. The prospect of not sitting home all by herself and fretting about how she was going to make this baby thing work did lift her spirits.

      Besides, what could happen in public?

      Nathan sat across from Cindy in a diner near the hospital and watched her hide behind a large menu the waitress had delivered when taking their drink orders. If it wasn’t the week before payday, there was a better than even chance Cindy would have told him to stuff a sock in his dinner invitation. He hadn’t worked that hard for anything since his internship.

      Determination had served him well then, but he’d need more than that to deal with this woman. She had a chip on her shoulder as big as Nevada and somehow he had to separate her from it. The challenge got his juices going.

      Sooner or later she would figure out that he wasn’t going away.

      “Have you been here before?” he asked.

      “No. Have you?”

      “Yes.” It was handy when he was working.

      The restaurant had a black and white tiled floor, red Formica tables and matching upholstery on the chrome stools at the counter. Waitresses wore red and white pinstriped uniforms to go with the retro look. It wasn’t Capriotti’s, which was kind of the point. That romantic atmosphere had landed him in this complicated mess. Now that he thought about it, he’d worked pretty hard to get her to have dinner with him that night, too.

      And now she was pregnant.

      Wrapping his head around the reality wasn’t easy, especially when she looked as slender as the night he’d held her in his arms. She’d changed into a pair of denim capris, but he really missed the shorts that left her legs bare. And the short, knit top that let him have flashes of the naked flesh beneath. Neither outfit gave a clue about her condition, yet he didn’t doubt that she was telling the truth. Funny, but her prickly attitude and the order to back off landed squarely in the confirmation column. She wouldn’t do that if she were trying to pull a fast one.

      There was zero romance here in this diner, but he could still smell the intoxicating scent of her perfume, and that cranked up a yearning in his gut that had nothing to do with food.

      He blew out a long breath. “So, what are you going to have?”

      “I don’t see peanut butter and jelly,” she grumbled from behind the menu.

      “How about a cobb salad?”

      She peeked around the tall plastic and met his gaze. “Really? Salad? You promised me dinner, not gerbil food.”

      “PB&J is dinner?”

      “In my world.” She ducked back into hiding.

      “Okay,” he said patiently. “What looks good to you?”

      “Banana cream pie. With a pickle,” she added.

      “If that’s representative of your current dietary choices, no wonder you’re nauseous.”

      Again, she peeked out from behind the menu and gave him a sassy look. “Just wanted to see if you were paying attention.”

      Ignoring her seemed to be a challenge he was unable to meet no matter how determined he might be. “I guess I passed the test.”

      “Yeah. But I was serious about the pie.”

      “That’s a lot of empty calories,” he warned.

      “Don’t get your stethoscope in a twist.” She put the menu down on the table. “It just sounds good. That’s not what I’m getting. The doctor told me about the pregnancy weight parameters. Twenty-five pounds or so.”

      The perky waitress—Jayne her name tag said—returned with their drinks. Coffee for him. Water for Cindy. “So what can I get for you two?”

      “Club sandwich. Wheat bread. No cheese. Side salad with oil and vinegar.” She handed over her menu.

      “Hamburger and fries,” Nathan ordered, doing the same.

      “You’re going to hell,” Cindy muttered.

      Jayne wrote on her pad and smiled brightly. “Coming right up. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

      He needed to let Cindy know he had her back. Unlike his father, he was someone a woman could depend on. If the waitress could rustle up an order of trust, there’d be a really good tip in it for her.

      When they were alone again, he looked across the table. “So, how do you like Rebecca Hamilton?”

      “She seems like a good doctor.” Cindy removed the paper from her