His boots scuffed lightly at the floor.
She tossed her head back, lifted her chin in her best attempt at regal composure. If he wanted to deal with her, it would be as two mature adults, no games, no stooping to base animal attraction to put her at a disadvantage. “Listen, cowboy, I know what you’re up to.”
His shoulder brushed against the curls trailing down her neck from the knot of hair atop her head.
A wolf, that’s what he reminded her of, she decided. “I am not the same woman you shared a bed with a couple years ago.”
“Yes, I can see that now.”
About time. He’d spent at least one night in tangled passion with her sister, after all. Obviously, that was enough to help him see how very different they were, how very un-Ophelia-like and unappealing to a man like him Josie was.
“Yes, you’ve made a mistake, all right,” she said. “A big one. I am not—”
“I got it. Not the same woman. You think I don’t see that?” He slid his gaze over her, quick and businesslike, as if he were sizing up the marbling on a slab of pot roast before he tossed it in his shopping cart.
Marbling. As in fat. She shook her head at where her mind had immediately gone. Of the many ways she had been made to feel inferior to her sister, being a full size larger than Ophelia, was one Josie couldn’t shake. And all local jokes about never trusting a skinny cook didn’t really ease her discomfort over it, either. Now she couldn’t help feeling self-conscious under this man’s scrutiny. She found herself folding her arms over a stubborn pout of a tummy no amount of killer crunches had ever diminished.
He put his hand lightly on her back.
Josie gasped. She raised her hand to push him away and found muscles tight as steel beneath her fingertips.
His touch, warm and gentle, almost a reverent caress, belied the strength within the man. She lifted her gaze to his.
“How could I have not seen it? It was clear the moment I laid eyes on you,” he murmured. “You aren’t the same woman.”
“No, I’m not.” It sounded almost like an apology, she realized too late. This time she did push his arm away from her.
He let it fall easily to his own side as if she had had no effect on him whatsoever. “And you sure don’t look as good as the last time I saw you.”
Accustomed as she was to unfavorable comparisons to her sister in the attractiveness department, this man’s assessment stung like a backhanded slap to her self-esteem.
She hung her head. “I’m not surprised you’d think—”
He dipped his head and his eyes searched her face. “You look better.”
“Better?” she squeaked, cleared her throat, then matched his smoky whisper in depth and volume. “Better?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He nodded. “Motherhood becomes you.”
She smiled. Maybe this guy wasn’t a total jerk after all. He knew who she was and had picked up on the one thing in which she had outshone her vivacious twin. Motherhood did become Josie.
She managed a modest smile. “Thank you for noticing. I know we have a lot to deal with, but it’s good to know you can see how important being a mom is to me.”
“Oh, yeah, I can just guess how ‘important’ motherhood is to a girl like you—” a sudden change came over his features; a hardness rang in his tone as he wrung out the rest “—Ophelia.”
Yeeoow. Now she knew how those football coaches felt when the player dumped a tub of ice on them to celebrate a victory! She peeked to make sure that the baby was still sleeping, then turned with a flourish to face this cowboy-biker-Burdett creep. “How can you not know who I am?”
“I could ask the same of you. Do you know who I am?”
“Of course I know who you are,” she whispered back, closing in on him to keep her voice from disturbing her child. “You are the man who, if he doesn’t get out of my bedroom this instant, will be explaining himself to the whole Mt. Knott Police Department, every last one of them a close personal friend of mine.”
His mouth lifted in a one-sided sneer. “I’ll just bet.”
She spun quietly around to snatch the only picture she had of herself and her twin from on top of her dresser. “I know them all from going to school here. From working year after year alongside their moms and sisters and wives and friends at your family’s factory. I know them from serving them meals at my own diner.”
Confusion registered in his ominous expression. His gaze flicked downward to the framed photo, then up to her face as if asking if she expected him to understand what she wanted to show him.
She tugged it up higher for his inspection. “That’s Ophelia.” She jabbed her finger at the girl in the forefront of the photo with her hands up and her hair in her counterpart’s face. “That’s me. Josie.”
“Josie?” He shook his head. “Who is Josie?”
“Josie is me, pal. The woman who is kicking you out of here before we wake my baby.” She shoved at his shoulder to prompt him to get moving.
“For the baby’s sake, I’ll go, but just so we can sort this whole mess through somewhere else.”
“Agreed.” She ushered him into the hallway, pulling the bedroom door firmly shut after them.
“And for the record, ma’am,” he said, stopping short in front of her so that she could neither move past him or retreat.
“What?” she asked, trying to sound as brave as she had felt while defending her son.
“For the record…” He leaned down close until his face loomed before hers, his eyes demanding her total focus. “That little boy asleep in that crib in there—”
She held her breath.
“—is my baby.”
Chapter Two
“Go on home. I’ll be all right.” This woman, this spitting image of Ophelia Redmond only…softer, gave the babysitter a comforting pat as she nudged the wide-eyed gal out the front door.
Adam stuffed two fingers of each hand into his back jeans pockets and shifted his weight to one leg. Softer or not, that tangle of red-blond curls with the honest eyes and mama-tiger-protecting-her-cub ferocity stood between him and his son. He didn’t like that. Did not like that one bit.
And Adam was determined he would not like her, either. He’d come for his son and that left no room for anything but cold indifference toward the woman who wanted him to relinquish his parental rights.
Josie shut the door and turned to him, a smug expression on her pretty face. “I’d ask you if you wanted some coffee, but seeing as you’re not staying long enough to—”
“I take it black,” he told her. “The coffee, that is. In a mug, not some wimpy little teacup.”
Her eyes cut straight through him like two burning coals. They shone with emotion and life that he’d never seen in her twin’s gaze. Not that it mattered, of course. As far as he was concerned, Josie Redmond was the enemy.
“And piping hot,” he added, enjoying tweaking her anger a bit more than he really should have allowed himself.
She took in one long, deep breath, held it, then let it out, slow—real slow. “Anything else?”
“With sugar.”
“Do tell.”
“Yep.”
“Well, I like mine decaf. Instant decaf.”