Con vaguely remembered hearing an infant’s shrill cry sometime during the night, but the sound must have been absorbed into some dream. Still, it had made him wonder again why Kenny had chosen someone with a baby to keep him company during the Phoenix Open.
Although the baby couldn’t be more than a few weeks old, so she wouldn’t have been around at the time.
And Kenny had probably been dazzled by Lucy’s sparkling energy, which Conner had to admit was even more enticing after a full night’s sleep. This morning she wore her wild curls pulled severely off her face and a conservative white shirt tucked into khaki slacks, as if dressed for a job interview, but there was still no hiding her vibrant, vivid beauty.
“No kidding,” he muttered, wondering if she was seriously planning a job interview at this hour of the morning. “I guess you didn’t need coffee to wake up, huh?”
Lucy grinned apologetically as she shouldered the pink diaper bag resting on the table beside the front door. “There isn’t any coffee,” she told him. “I quit drinking it while I was pregnant, and the past week I’ve been getting it at the diner.”
Oh, hell. “Where’s the diner?”
“Emma and I were just on the way there,” she answered, which made him remember that she’d mentioned a weekday shift someplace. “The bus comes at eight, so—”
“I’ll take you,” Con offered, bracing himself for more time with the baby. “As long as I can get a cup of coffee there.”
Starting coffee was her first task of the day, Lucy assured him, because she had the place to herself for lunch setup until the owner arrived at nine. So within a remarkably short time he found himself at the polished plastic counter of an old-fashioned diner, taking his first, sustaining gulp from the thick white mug she handed him.
“You’re a lifesaver,” he told her as she poured another mug for herself and pulled a handful of flimsy paper placemats from under the counter. “I have to remember to pick up some coffee on the way home.”
“Next best thing to a baby when you need to wake up,” she agreed, deftly spreading placemats from the far end of the eight-seat counter to his side, where the baby carrier rested. “Isn’t it, Emmie?”
The baby responded with a perfectly timed coo, jubilantly waving her fists from the depths of her carrier. It was easier than he’d expected, Conner realized, watching Emma’s look of rapt attention—a wide-eyed fascination he hadn’t remembered from last night. “She’s a morning person, huh?”
“Yeah,” Lucy agreed, tweaking her daughter’s fist with a smile of pure enjoyment, “and I don’t know where she gets that.” She picked up her coffee, then rested the mug on the counter so she could look at both the baby and him as she took her first sip. “I’ve always been a night person, and her dad…” She shrugged, as if Emma’s dad was the type who had never watched a sunrise. “Well, you know Kenny.”
Kenny?
Conner almost choked on a mouthful of coffee. That piece of news, delivered so offhandedly that Lucy evidently viewed it as common knowledge, explained a lot. His brother’s abrupt departure for Asia, Lucy’s haunted look when she mentioned that Kenny had already paid her, and most of all the reason she’d been offered this house-sitting job in the first place. But for Kenny to install her in the family home and then just walk out…
“Does he know about Emma?” Con demanded.
Lucy’s eyes darkened with what looked like a flash of hurt. “I haven’t talked to him since March,” she answered flatly. She picked up the baby, who was still waving both fists, and cradled her gently against her shoulder without meeting Con’s gaze. “He didn’t want her, and I don’t want him involved.”
But if Kenny had said he didn’t want Emma, which wasn’t hard to believe, then he’d obviously known about the baby. And while it was bad enough to walk out on a woman, it was something else altogether to ignore a child.
You did the same thing, remember?
“Well, even so,” Con observed, moving from the shaky ground of threatening emotion to the reliable bedrock of fact, “he’s got some responsibility, here.”
It wasn’t until Lucy’s posture stiffened that he realized he’d struck another sore spot…either that, or a source of fear. Not that Kenny would ever demand visitation rights, but maybe Lucy didn’t realize that.
“Not actually raising Emma,” he hurried to explain, “but at least paying his share.”
The explanation didn’t seem to make much difference in the rigid set of her shoulders. “I don’t want that, either. Just leave it alone, all right?”
“But…”
She turned the baby even closer to her, so that Conner could see nothing of his niece but a soft pink blanket, and glared at him. “Emma is mine, and I don’t need anyone else getting involved!”
Making things better would be a serious challenge, he realized, considering that no one except himself was unhappy with the status quo. Kenny obviously hadn’t cared to follow up on his child, and Lucy just as obviously didn’t want any assistance.
In fact, she seemed almost panicked at the very idea.
“All right,” Con said. A courteous withdrawal was always a safe delaying tactic, and it might take a while to locate Kenny on the Asian tour. Meanwhile, he would have to arrange for child-support payments until his brother showed up. But before he could find an acceptable way of phrasing such an offer, Lucy surprised him once again.
“I mean it,” she insisted, facing him across the counter with such intensity in her gaze that he wondered for a moment whether she had guessed his plan. “As far as Kenny’s concerned, I could’ve gotten rid of her and he’d be fine with that. So he’s got no business in Emma’s life—and neither do you.”
“All right,” Conner repeated, more loudly this time. “Lucy, I hear you. I won’t fight you for the right to change her diaper.”
For once, he saw, he’d hit exactly the right note, and he was rewarded with her sudden, sheepish smile. “Okay, then,” she said, giving Emma another gentle squeeze before returning her to the baby carrier, taking another gulp of coffee and picking up a handful of flatware. “I didn’t mean to jump on you like that. I just…”
“You’ve just got this thing,” Con finished for her, “about taking care of yourself.”
She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, as if searching for some trick in his statement. But she evidently didn’t find anything to disagree with, because she gave him another smile…the kind, he imagined, that would make anyone within view feel suddenly lighter. More energized. “Exactly,” she said, laying a white-handled spoon, fork and knife on the first placemat to his left. “So, what are you doing today, anyway? Playing golf?”
It was a reasonable question, Conner acknowledged, gulping the last of his coffee a little faster than he’d meant to and forcing himself to concentrate on business instead of her smile. Why else would a Philadelphia lawyer spend the holiday season alone in Scottsdale, if not to soak up the sunshine on a resort course?
“No,” he answered, moving to the coffee machine to refill his mug and gesturing a warm-up offer at her. “I came here to get some work done.” Not to mention a fierce desire to escape the memories of Christmas at home. “I figured I’ll turn the dining room into an office for the next six weeks. What about you?”
She looked surprised at the question, which reminded him that she was already planning today’s move—a move she’d better forget, Conner realized, because he couldn’t very well throw his brother’s baby out of the