His Daughter...Their Child. Karen Rose Smith

She was the manager of the Rocky D, a big spread outside of the town limits. He used their horses for his wilderness excursions. He liked Jenny and knew she was trying to lighten up the atmosphere between him and Celeste. But he doubted if anything could do that.

      “Come on,” Jenny encouraged them again. “It’s nineties music at its best.”

      Maybe dancing with Celeste would throw her off her game … would divert her attention … would transport them into small talk instead of conversation about her and Abby.

      “Do you want to dance?” he suggested. Yet as soon as he asked, the thought of holding Celeste in his arms made his gut clench. What had he gotten himself into?

      As Celeste gazed at Clay’s ruggedly chiseled face, his unruly dark brown hair, her stomach almost did backflips. He’d never known it, but he’d been her one and only crush until her extroverted sister had swept him away. Celeste hadn’t had a chance. She’d made peace with that fact a long time ago. But tonight wasn’t about the past. It was about her future with Abby.

      “Sure, I’ll dance with you,” she answered, her heart racing because so much was on the line tonight.

      When Clay’s arm went around her, she felt as awkward as a teenager and wondered what was going through his head. Was he remembering the hikes they’d taken on Moonshadow Mountain before he’d dated Zoie? What about the after-school gatherings when chocolate milk was the beverage of choice? Even then, though, the zing had been between him and Zoie, and Celeste hadn’t known how to make him really look at her.

      He left enough space between them so she could look up and study his expression. But his steady gray eyes told her nothing. Tall and muscled, yet lean, his body so close to hers caused her throat to tighten and her mouth to go dry. Ever since Zoie’s departure, Celeste had waited and waited and waited for a signal from Clay that he was ready for her to be a part of his daughter’s life. But he hadn’t given her one. So she’d planned to use this reunion as a stepping-stone to get to know the little girl.

      “Who’s with Abby tonight?” Celeste asked, hoping fireworks wouldn’t erupt at that question.

      “My mom.”

      That was a surprise. Violet Sullivan was a society matron, and the way she’d felt about Zoie, Celeste had been afraid she wouldn’t take her granddaughter under her wing.

      “Does she babysit often?”

      “She watches Abby while I work.”

      Celeste apparently couldn’t keep her surprise from showing because Clay added, “After Zoie left, she stepped right in. She said those young babysitters Zoie used didn’t know the first thing about taking care of a child.”

      It was hard for Celeste to imagine Clay’s mother as cuddly and warm. She’d always seemed so forbidding and proper, so against Clay’s dating Zoie and hanging around with Celeste because they were from the wrong side of the tracks.

      Silence fell over them as the music swelled, bringing back memories of high school dances, a ride home in Clay’s car before he and Zoie left to spend time together, hours listening to music on her Walkman in her and Zoie’s small bedroom above the bar where their mother worked.

      Clay’s arm tightened as a couple brushed past them. The dance floor seemed to shrink until there was just the two of them. Her breath caught and she knew she should push away. But the scent of Clay’s cologne, the feel of his body against hers, created sensations she hadn’t felt—hadn’t let herself feel—for a very long time.

      Clay’s stubbled jaw tensed, and she expected him to put more space between them again, but he didn’t. Instead, he asked, “Are you still working for that graphic design firm in Phoenix?”

      Work. That should be easy to talk about. “No. I went out on my own and have a client list now. I create websites for businesses. Do you need one?” she asked teasingly.

      “I’ve always been busy enough with word of mouth and ads in the right places that I didn’t have to worry about that.” He was a tour guide who led excursions around the area traveling mostly to nearby Flagstaff, north to the Grand Canyon, and south to Sedona. Miners Bluff, too, pulled in its share of sightseers who were curious about this former copper-mining town.

      She guessed he wanted to lead the conversation away from Abby. But she wanted to dive right in while they were face-to-face. “Designing websites makes me portable. I can do it from anywhere. I don’t have to live in Phoenix.”

      “Celeste …”

      She heard the warning note in Clay’s voice and knew she couldn’t postpone the reason she’d come to the reunion any longer. “I want to see Abby. I want to spend time with her.”

      Clay’s booted feet stopped moving for a moment.

      They were still in the midst of dancing couples. Out of the corner of her eye, Celeste barely registered Mikala Conti dancing with Dawson Barrett, Riley O’Rourke smiling down at Brenna McDougall, Chief of Police Noah Stone leaning against the wall, watching them all.

      After what seemed like eons—during which Celeste didn’t know if Clay was going to break away or resume dancing—his hand tightened on hers, and he guided her away from the other dancers to a shadowed corner which, for the time being, was empty of classmates.

      There he confronted her. “What do you want?”

      The protective fierceness on his face should have scared her, but it didn’t. This was Clay, the boy she’d known in high school, the young man who’d married her sister, the adult who had taken Zoie back after an affair, who’d tried to save his marriage by starting a family.

      “I want to get to know Abby. I’d like to be a part of her life.”

      It was obvious Clay was greatly troubled by that idea and she suspected why.

      She realized she had to give Clay a few minutes to think about her request. As they stood there close, yet not touching, she realized her attraction to Clay that had begun in high school had never gone away. She’d buried it as far down into her heart as she could. She’d never for a minute considered it would rise up to bite her now when she least expected it … now when she wanted Abby to be her only concern.

      Finally Clay broke the silence between them. “All right.” He checked his watch. “Abby might still be up. Why don’t you come see that she’s safe and loved? Then you can go back to Phoenix.”

      He was purposely misunderstanding what she wanted, which was to see Abby regularly. But she wasn’t going to propose that now when he was giving her this opening.

      “Let’s go,” she said before Clay could change his mind.

      Clay was aware of the swish of Celeste’s skirt as she preceded him up the lit walk to his house, a log home nestled among Douglas firs and aspen. He must have been certifiably crazy to ask her back here. Holding her in his arms, something had happened to him. Maybe because he hadn’t been with a woman since before his separation and divorce, his body had responded to her. Whatever the reason, he’d felt an arousal he hadn’t wanted to feel.

      Perhaps she’d leave after this visit and his life would go back to the normal he was trying so hard to find.

      “It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” she said with an almost shy smile as she glanced at him over her shoulder.

      The motion caused her shawl to slip, and he automatically reached for it. As they’d left the school, the July night had turned cooler, and she’d slung the delicate, crocheted wrap around her. Every movement of Celeste’s was graceful and natural. He’d always noticed that when they’d hiked. Zoie’s movements had been more frenetic, some calculated to entice, others just meant to gain notice.

      Clay lifted the end of the shawl over her shoulder. His hand brushed her hair, which felt as silky as it had looked when they were dancing. That same ripple of sensual awareness coursed through him again, and he mentally swore, frustrated