He knew what he was doing. His life for the past ten years had been immersed in real estate—big real estate, big deals. This was nothing. It should be a piece of cake. C.J. was in financial trouble and he planned to make a very nice offer for the ranch. He was prepared to be fair, generous, even. He wasn’t out to cheat anyone. His mother seemed to think emotional ties would make it hard for her to sell, but he had his doubts. When faced with the facts, he was pretty sure he would be able to make her see the light.
If he could return to Italy with the deed to the ranch in one hand and Gino’s baby in the other, some of the heartbreak that shadowed his mother’s eyes might fade a bit. That was his hope.
The baby was crying again. He paced the floor for a few minutes, then gave in to the urge to go into the nursery they had rigged up in the smallest bedroom of this lavish hotel suite and see what was going on. Mrs. Turner, the nanny, was sitting in the rocking chair, reading a mystery novel. Meanwhile, Jamie was turning bright red as he cried his little heart out.
“The baby’s crying,” he pointed out sharply.
Mrs. Turner looked up and nodded, glaring at him. “It’s good for him to cry. It develops his lungs.”
He was nothing if not skeptical, but he hesitated. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” She gave him the supercilious smirk he was growing to hate. “Why else would they have that ability?”
He gritted his teeth. “I thought it was so they could let people know they needed help.”
She smiled as though he were a poor fool who knew nothing about children. “That’s only part of it. You can’t baby them, you know. You mustn’t spoil them, even at the infant stage. It’s best to encourage them to grow and stretch themselves. You wouldn’t want the poor dear to fall behind in development, now would you?”
He wanted to argue, but he had no ammunition. What did he know about this, anyway?
“I suppose you know best,” he grumbled, turning away. But the picture of Jamie’s little tragic face, all twisted with grief, staying in his mind.
Back out in the living room, he went to the folder where he was keeping his papers and pulled out the certificate that was meant to guarantee the expertise of the nanny. Maybe he should give the school that issued it a call. He frowned. Or maybe he should just call Cari and see what she thought.
His hand was already on the telephone receiver when he stopped himself. No, he couldn’t do that. He had to break all ties with the woman. That was the only way he would ever get her out of his head. He couldn’t let himself think about Cari and her sweet, pretty face. He’d set his sights on charming C.J. and that was where they had to stay. Swearing, he reached for the cotton to put in his ear and started out to join Tito on the balcony.
The Copper Penny where Cari worked was just off the interstate. A mix of locals and tourists patronized the trim little café. She liked the early afternoon when the hectic lunch crowd had dwindled down to a few housewives lingering over coffee and the assorted cowboys who came in from riding fences at some of the nearby ranches. The easy camaraderie was what she liked best about her job. It was pretty much the same group of cowhands that came in every day. One by one, most had tried to hit on her, but in a relaxed, friendly way that never got serious. She could swat their propositions aside like a mama dog controlling her puppies. Few took offense, and those that did were easily joked out of it.
Today Cari wasn’t doing any joking. Her mind was on other things and she poured coffee and took orders with a distracted air. The men she served were a blur to her. Her thoughts were full of Max.
“I’ve just got to think about him as much as I can now, so I can be done with him and get him out of my head,” she told herself impatiently. It was a plan, but she wasn’t at all sure it was a plan that was going to work.
She’d known from the moment he’d walked into the club that he was absolutely the wrong man for her. Too tall, too handsome, too arrogant, too sure of his right to command the attention of everyone there.
Her husband had been like that in a way. Well, not so tall, not so handsome, and not so full of self-confidence. But he’d had the arrogance down pat. Brian had mostly been frustrated in his attempts to take charge of the rest of the world. He’d had a bit more success in boxing her in with his small life and visions. And he’d managed to make her life miserable because of it.
The autocratic husband was the worst kind, as far as she was concerned. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted another man in her life at all, but if she did decide to try another relationship, it sure wouldn’t be with a man like Brian. Or Max, for that matter.
“That’s why Randy is so perfect for you,” Mara had pointed out when she’d stopped by to see her and try to explain how she’d ended up on a date with the wrong man. “You’ve really got to get to know him. You’ll have to date him more than once to really give him a chance.”
“Oh, Mara, I don’t know. After what happened last night …”
“Listen, you owe it to him. The poor guy spent hours waiting for you at the club.”
“No he didn’t. Not from what he told me. And anyway, he should have left after half an hour or so. I would have.”
“In fact, you did.” Mara gave her an exasperated sigh. “He was so excited about meeting you, of course. And now he’s got to be wondering what all that meant. You’ve got to be nice to him and really give him a chance.”
Cari had to hold back a smile. Mara was pushing a little too hard for this. That meant she’d begun to doubt it was going to work out. Oh, well. Cari would give it a shot. That was all she could do.
A new customer had come in and was about to seat himself at the counter. When she turned and saw it was Max, she gasped and almost dropped the coffee urn she was carrying. He gave her a halfhearted grin and shrugged. She put down the coffee and caught her breath. She’d never imagined he might show up here.
He was wearing slacks that fit his muscular body like a glove, bulging in all the right places, and a silky white shirt open low at the neck. He hadn’t shaved and his face looked stunningly sexy with a day’s worth of dark beard.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded in a voice just above a whisper. She didn’t bother to ask how he’d found out which of the city’s hundreds of coffee shops she worked in. She knew his answer to that one. His people knew how to find these things out. Something told her he would always find her if he wanted to, and she wasn’t sure if that was a promise or a threat.
Max looked at her in wonder. She had her thick blond hair tied back, but little curls were breaking free all around her face. She wore a stiff, starched uniform, baby-blue with white lacy trim and a white lacy apron, sensible white shoes and a perky little hat. She looked for all the world like an exceptionally adorable matron in a fantasy children’s ward. He half expected to see friendly cartoon characters bouncing along behind her.
“I came because I need to talk to you,” he said. “You’re the only person I know who knows anything about babies.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked quickly, a tiny flare of alarm shivering through her. “Has something happened?”
“No, nothing. Jamie’s fine. Just fine.” Max hesitated. He knew he sounded defensive and that made him frown more fiercely.
“Then what’s wrong?” She shook her head in bewilderment.
“Nothing. Well, something.”
He shook his own head, trying to figure out how to express the discomfort he felt with the childcare he’d arranged without sounding like a candidate for a mental clinic. Maybe what he’d seen was normal. Maybe he was being a crank. But maybe, just maybe, Mrs. Turner was a lousy nanny. He just didn’t know the answer.
He sank down into the stool at the counter and turned up the cup. She moved