The Baby They Both Loved. Nikki Benjamin

Getting past her anger and hostility would be a challenge, but one he was ready to face. He hadn’t been able to think straight earlier. But he was ready now to present his case to her in a calm and deliberate manner.

      With an odd sense of anticipation—all things considered—Simon walked the short distance back to the diner, savoring as best he could the lovely day. The sun had begun to warm with the first taste of summer heat, in counterpoint to the still-crisp, cool air coming off the snow-covered mountains of Glacier National Park, reminding him of how much he’d longed for just such days after the long frozen winters of his childhood.

      He hadn’t minded trading months of ice, snow and subzero temperatures for the mist and drizzle of Seattle…until now. He had forgotten how invigorating late spring and early summer could be in this quiet town he’d once called home. But he would remember now, and come back more often. In fact, his parents would insist on it so they could see their grandson.

      Having no doubts at all that Mitchell and Deanna would welcome the new addition to their family with open arms, Simon strode into the Dinner Belle Diner with renewed confidence in his mission. He was more determined than ever to sort things out with Kit. He would let her know, too, that he’d be making arrangements to take over Nathan’s care. He didn’t want her to be overburdened any longer.

      Fewer people remained in the diner than when he’d first stopped by, and none gave him more than a cursory glance as he walked through the door again. He saw immediately that the playpen was empty. Kit no longer stood behind the counter, either, but Simon fully expected the ding of the bell above the door to bring her out of the kitchen. Instead, a slightly older woman bustled into the dining room to greet him, her blond hair bouncing around her shoulders.

      Simon recognized her after a moment as the diner’s longtime part-time waitress, and met her startled look with a slightly sheepish smile.

      “Hey, Bonnie Lennox, good to see you again.” He greeted her in his most cordial tone.

      Seeming unable to help herself, Bonnie smiled, too, as she paused by the counter.

      “Well, hey to you, too, Simon Gilmore. I thought I saw you sitting outside in that fancy black SUV parked at the curb a few doors down the street. What brings you to the Dinner Belle Diner?”

      Though her tone was friendly, as well, the look Bonnie gave him was weighted heavily with reserve.

      “Back to the Dinner Belle Diner, actually. I was here a little earlier as you may have heard from Kit,” he said, testing the waters.

      “She did mention that you’d stopped by,” Bonnie admitted, her face flushing slightly at being caught out.

      “Unfortunately, we didn’t get off to a good start, and then I bolted like a scared rabbit. Finally got my head together, though.” He allowed his smile to widen encouragingly. “Could you let her know that I’d really like to talk to her again if she’s not too busy?”

      “Well, I’m not sure that’s possible.” Bonnie hesitated, hands clasped at her waist. She looked as uncomfortable as she sounded. “We’re a little shorthanded today and folks are going to be coming for lunch real soon—”

      “It’s okay, Bonnie, I’ll talk to him,” Kit said, appearing suddenly in the kitchen doorway, holding Nathan in her arms. “George is here now. He can finish up the lunch prep.”

      Simon had suspected that Kit had been lurking just out of sight in the kitchen, and he couldn’t blame her for it. Now eyeing her openly as she spoke to Bonnie, he tried to measure how receptive she might be.

      She hadn’t changed a lot in the years since he’d last seen her, but she had changed in ways that were definitely distinctive. She had cut off her mouse-brown, shoulder-length hair, highlighted it with threads of honey-blond and now wore it sensibly short and fashionably spiked. No longer hidden by a heavy fall of hair, her fragile features stood out in a striking way. Her wide green eyes, especially, were lovelier than he remembered. She had never been plain, but now she was truly pretty. She seemed much more confident, but also, understandably, much less lighthearted.

      “We can talk upstairs, although I’m not really sure it’s necessary.”

      With all-too-obvious reluctance, Kit finally met Simon’s gaze, the look she gave him one of grudging tolerance. Then she headed toward the staircase that led up to the apartment above the diner where she had lived with her mother.

      Simon had been up there a few times in the past, but always with Lucy, never on his own.

      “Oh, I’d say it was necessary,” he said.

      He understood and accepted her suspicion of him. But he meant her no harm, as he intended to prove to her soon enough. He was there to help her, not hurt her.

      “I can’t imagine why.” She ducked her head as she led the way up the creaking wooden steps.

      “Don’t be coy, Kit. It doesn’t become you,” he advised, suddenly tired of sparring with her verbally.

      “I’m not—” she protested.

      “You are,” Simon stated unequivocally. Then, his gaze now on Nathan, peeping over Kit’s shoulder at him with bright, inquisitive eyes, he added, “But just so you know for sure, I’m here because of Nathan. He’s my son and I’ve come to collect him.”

      Already halfway up the steps, Kit faltered as he spoke. Luckily he was able to catch her as she stumbled and save her from a bad fall. Hands on her forearms, he steadied her gently as she tried to regain her balance. The look she gave him—glancing back at him—held more hostility than gratitude. But still, combined with the feel of her warm, soft, bare skin against the palms of his hands, it sent an unexpected jolt zinging through him.

      Reflexively he tightened his grip on her, the urge to pull her closer seeming to come out of nowhere almost more than he could resist—just as the urge to kiss her had been earlier. Contrarily Kit responded by jerking free of his grasp with something akin to a snarl. Then she continued up the steps without another word or another glance in his direction.

      His male ego slightly bruised from her prickly retreat, Simon trailed after her, trying to keep his overactive libido in check. Good thing she’d had sense enough to shrug him off or he would have likely done something stupid. He had no idea what had come over him, but he had to be crazy to even consider hitting on Kit Davenport, especially under the circumstances. Yet for the time it took him to reach the top of the stairs, his eyes glued to her slender derriere, Simon Gilmore could think of little else.

      Only when they were face-to-face again in the living room of the modestly furnished apartment, and Nathan gurgled and waved his teddy bear at him in seeming invitation, did Simon give himself a firm mental shake.

      He wasn’t there for Kit. He was there for his son, and it was time to let her know it in no uncertain terms.

       Chapter Three

       K it had anticipated that Simon would return to the Dinner Belle Diner. She just hadn’t expected to see him again quite so soon. Since he hadn’t come back immediately after their initial confrontation, she had thought she’d have at least a day or two to marshal her resources before he showed his face at the Dinner Belle again. In fact, she had counted on at least having a chance to talk to Isaac Woodrow, the local attorney who was working with her to finalize Nathan’s adoption.

      Kit had been sure that Isaac would be able to calm her fears regarding Simon and any rights he might choose to claim. Because Simon couldn’t possibly have any rights at all where Nathan was concerned—not to Kit’s way of thinking, at least—and certainly not at this late date.

      He had heartlessly abandoned Lucy during her pregnancy even though he’d known she was carrying his child. And he hadn’t done anything since then to indicate that he’d given his own child the slightest bit of thought. Then he’d popped back into town and strolled into the diner, cocky as could be, ready to be welcomed home like a hero rather than the cowardly jerk he’d proven himself to be.

      As