Daddy with a Deadline Read online

  Trent clenched his fists, unable to believe what he’d just heard. What kind of an idiot had his friend become? “Brad would have changed his mind,” Trent said, hoping to ease the anguish on her face. “He came from a great family and would have been a good father.”

  “I’d like to believe that. But I’ll never know.”

  Anger made Trent’s blood pressure spike. How dare Brad have hurt his wife so deeply? He’d married a beautiful, caring woman—a woman he’d treated abominably.

  “Let’s go,” Annie said quietly. “You can’t sit here drinking tea all afternoon.”

  She reached for the check but Trent beat her to it. “My treat.”

  Annie tugged on the bill. “No way. You rescued me and I’m buying lunch.”

  Trent tugged harder. “I can’t let you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I haven’t done one manly thing since I walked into this place. If I pay the check, I’ll leave with my masculinity intact.”

  A slight smile tugged at Annie’s mouth, and she released the check. Then she reached across the table and to Trent’s shock covered his hand with hers. Annie’s touch made his throat go dry, threw his heartbeat out of synch, and kicked his pulse into high gear.

  “I misjudged you this morning,” she said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You mean when you accused me of being an attacker?”

  “I didn’t understand. I’m sorry.”

  Trent nodded. “You’re forgiven.”

  Annie’s hand on his was sending electrical currents sparking through his body, as his pulse whirred like a runaway top. If he didn’t watch himself, this woman would throw more than his heartbeat off-kilter.

  Danger signs, he realized. The red flags were definitely waving.

  Dawn had had a similar effect on him. Her touch had caused a revolution inside him. He would have done anything for Dawn. But all she’d wanted was his bank account.

  Suddenly the room seemed stifling. Trent had to get outside, where he could breathe. “Are you ready?”

  Annie nodded. But the minute she moved her hand, Trent missed her soft touch.

  As he walked Annie to his truck, Trent knew he was in over his head. Would one ride and lunch in a tearoom fulfill Brad’s request? Hardly. His friend had asked for weeks of help. And tasks Trent couldn’t imagine performing.

  He might have managed if Annie Samuels were unattractive and difficult. But she was lovely, and gentle, and far too enticing.

  As he drove Annie home, Rosa’s words returned to haunt him. You owe your friend this favor. They’d rung true when she had said them and still did. If he continued this assignment, he’d have to corral his emotions. He tamed wild horses. Surely he could control his feelings.

  Trent walked Annie to the door. While he needed to leave, he couldn’t quite pull away, so he dropped into the porch swing. “Sit down a minute.”

  She shook her head. “It won’t hold me. My couch groans every time I sit down.”

  “This swing is sturdy. It can manage all four of us.”

  The rosebush beside the porch perfumed the air. But when Annie settled beside him, her scent tantalized Trent far more than the flowers. She smelled sweeter than an April morning.

  Trent forced his thoughts back to business. “I’ll let you know what Wes says about your car.”

  Annie sighed. “I’m praying for minor injuries.”

  A breeze ruffled her blonde curls. Trent wondered if they were as silky as they looked. He reached out to touch one but stopped himself in time.

  “There’s something you could do for me,” she said. “If you have a few minutes.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’d like Mama’s rocker in the nursery. But I can’t carry it upstairs myself.”

  “I’ll move it anywhere you like. Do your folks live around here?”

  “I don’t have parents. My father left when I was born and Mama never remarried. She died when I was twelve, and I went to live with my aunt and cousins. Life was never the same without Mama.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It hurts less now. But I still miss her every day.”

  They swung awhile in silence. Then Trent said, “Let’s move that rocker.” He stood and, without thinking, reached for Annie’s hands to help her up. The moment their fingers linked, the ground beneath Trent quivered. And their gazes locked tighter than the gate on his corral. Trent couldn’t feel more breathless if he’d been bucked off Wildfire.

  Thank goodness Annie pulled away and led him into the house.

  Doing something concrete like moving furniture was safer than swinging with Annie.

  Or talking with Annie.

  Or touching Annie.

  He’d do well to remember that.

  Trent still didn’t understand that quiver. There must be more earth tremors in this part of Texas than he had realized.

  Annie led Trent to the basement, where he hoisted Mama’s rocker onto his shoulder as if it were a toy. “Lead the way,” he said.

  He followed her to the nursery. “Will you put it under the window?” she asked.

  “How’s that?”

  “Great. I like it there.”

  “Go ahead. Give it a test-drive.”

  Annie dropped into the chair, trying to forget that just moments ago she and Brad’s childhood friend were swinging on her front porch. The man exuded strength and masculinity. And his musky scent stirred longings in Annie. Longings she didn’t want to experience.

  She’d better squelch them, and fast. Hadn’t she endured enough heartache during her marriage to Brad? Annie vowed to keep her distance from this cowboy. Good thing the rocker only held one passenger.

  “Do you know the sex of the twins?” he asked.

  Annie shook her head. “That’s like opening your presents before Christmas.”

  Trent’s chuckle held warmth and resonance. His deep voice made the unfurnished nursery feel less empty. Everything in Annie’s life was empty these days. Especially her heart.

  He glanced around the room. “I don’t know much about babies, but shouldn’t the little tykes each have a bed?”

  “The end of the school year gets busy. I haven’t bought them yet.”

  “Have you picked them out?”

  Annie felt a jab of annoyance. With all the hospital bills to pay, she couldn’t afford baby furniture. A fact she hated to admit even to herself.

  “I’ll pick them out soon. The babies can sleep in something small at first. Even dresser drawers.”

  Trent’s brows arched and his eyes widened. “Dresser drawers? You must be joking.”

  Annie’s annoyance kicked up a notch. “It’s temporary, I assure you.”

  Trent stroked his chin as he surveyed the walls. “If one or more of the twins is a boy, you can’t let him sleep in this pink room.”

  She narrowed her eyes at the impertinent cowboy. “The room is salmon. Not pink.”

  “Definitely in the ballpark.”

  Annie bit her lip in an effort to control her temper. “If either or both babies are boys, it’ll be more than a year before they recognize colors—much less associate them with a gender. I’ll paint the room later,” she said, enunciating every syllable. Hopefully her dismissive tone would stop this interrogation.

  “So you’re going to let the little guys sleep in dresser drawers in a girly bedroom? That doesn’t seem right.”

  Annie’s pulse picked up speed, and she rocked faster. The domineering man hadn’t heard a word she’d said! She fought off the urge to shake those broad shoulders and shout, “Earth to Trent Madison! Earth to Trent Madison!”

  Instead, she bit her lip again and tried not to strangle him. “Let me get this straight. You think I should climb a ladder in my condition to slather paint on the walls? So newborns won’t be offended by the color of their room?”

  Trent stopped pacing and stared at her. “Of course not, woman! I’ll paint the room for you!”

  Another sh
ocking pronouncement from this tough-as-nails cowboy. Brad had never fixed anything. Or painted anything. Maintenance and repairs had been Annie’s territory.

  The fury inside her was tinged with gratitude. “Sorry,” she said. “I can’t let you do that.”

  He set his jaw and glared. “Give me one good reason why not.”

  At any moment the sparks sizzling between them would erupt into forest fire. The cowboy needed to leave now. And return to his ranch.

  “First of all, I won’t accept charity,” she snapped. “And second of all...” Annie paused. The overbearing man flustered her so, she could scarcely think.

  “You pay for the paint. Then it’s not charity. What’s second of all?”

  Annie couldn’t tell Trent the real reason: that it felt wrong for a stranger to pick up the pieces of her shattered life. Besides, if Brad wasn’t interested in his children, why would another man be?

  She crossed her arms over her shelf of a tummy. “I just can’t, that’s all.”

  To his credit, Trent didn’t overreact. “When you do paint the room, what color will you choose?”

  “A sunny yellow for the walls with white woodwork. And I’ll hang pictures of giraffes, and pandas, and monkeys.”

  Now why had she blurted that out? She’d lain awake every night picturing how she’d like the nursery to look if money were no object. Which it certainly was.

  “I think a boy or two would like a yellow bedroom.”

  “So glad you agree. I’ll paint the room later. Much later.”

  Trent shrugged shoulders broader than they had any right to be. “Hey, Annie, it’s your call.”

  “You’re right. It is my call.”

  “I’m meeting a client at four,” Trent said as if reading her thoughts. “Sorry if I upset you. I tend to speak my mind.”

  With considerable effort, Annie bit back a retort. She got up, which also took considerable effort, and walked Trent to the door. The sooner this man disappeared, the better.

  But then a new emotion hit. Guilt.

  The cowboy had been kind and helpful. He’d picked her up, helped her with Eloise, taken her to a tearoom for lunch, and hauled Mama’s rocker upstairs. And how had she repaid him? By barking at him for thinking the nursery needed two beds and a coat of paint!

  The man stirred such a barrage of emotions that Annie had forgotten her manners. She owed him. Plain and simple.

  “Do you have lunch plans on Saturday?”

  “Why? Are you feelin’ guilty for dragging me to that tearoom?”

  His grin revived the laugh lines around his gray eyes and appealing mouth. And made him sexier than ever.

  “You offered to go. And it’s not guilt,” Annie fibbed. “I just want to...”

  Trent’s overpowering presence so intimidated Annie that she forgot what she was going to say. Just looking at the man made her light-headed.

  “You just want to what?”

  “To, um, thank you for your help.”

  “No thanks are required.”

  Great! He’d just turned down her lunch invitation cold. She lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes. “If you don’t want to come for lunch, that’s fine with me.”

  “I said no thanks are required. But I’d like to come for lunch.” Once again he sounded sincere.

  Annie’s fickle hormones did a happy dance. “You would? How does noonish sound?”

  “Noonish is good.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Are you plannin’ to feed me more scones?”

  “I haven’t planned the menu. You’ll have to wait and see.”

  “Guess I’ll take my chances. See you Saturday.”

  A surge of happiness welled inside Annie—something else she hadn’t experienced in ages. For once she had another person to cook for.

  OK, an adult male.

  OK, a handsome adult male. But Trent was Brad’s childhood friend, and repaying him was the civil thing to do.

  “What can I bring?” Trent asked.

  “Just yourself.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “That’s enough.”

  Actually, it was more than enough. While Annie wasn’t sure she’d survive another meal with the cantankerous cowboy, she’d do her best. She’d cook him one tasty lunch before being consumed by motherhood.

  And she would manage just fine. She’d squelch these crazy emotions Trent stirred inside her. And after evening the score, she’d never see the man again.

  Annie sighed. Who was she kidding? Keeping her attraction to Trent Madison under wraps was going to be a king-size assignment.

  CHAPTER 3

  ANNIE HEADED FOR the screened-in porch, prepared to make a dent in her growing stack of bills. As she settled into a wicker chair, a clap of thunder boomed and rain began pelting the house. If Trent hadn’t rescued her, she might have been caught in this downpour.

  As Annie wrote check after check, her mood plummeted along with her bank balance. She sighed as she made a small payment to Anderson’s Funeral Home. Her life had turned out far differently than she had planned. When the phone rang, she hurried inside.

  “Hello again. It’s Trent.”

  Annie’s heart jumped to attention faster than an army recruit. “Oh, hi,” she said, trying to squelch her reaction.

  “The news about your car isn’t good. Sorry.”

  Annie rolled her eyes as Trent enumerated Eloise’s multiple ailments. “Wow. Are there any parts of my car that still work?”

  “A few. Have you considered trading it in?”

  “I have other debts to pay first. Maybe next year.” At this rate, there’d be nothing left of Eloise by next year!

  “Most of the problems are maintenance related,” Trent assured. “If Wes puts on a fuel pump, I can do the rest.” To Annie’s amazement, he quoted a minimal price for the fuel pump.

  “Thank you, but I can’t expect you to fix my car.”

  “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t willing. Now stop arguing. I’ll tell Wes to put on the fuel pump, and we’ll get moving.”

  “But...”

  “No buts allowed,” he insisted. “At eight months pregnant, you need reliable transportation.”

  He had her there. And while Annie would love to solve this problem herself, she couldn’t. Even Tune-Ups for Dummies wouldn’t make an ounce of sense to her.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. I’ll pick up your car from the garage tomorrow, do the work, and drive it over in time for lunch on Saturday.”

  Annie felt pulled apart. While she didn’t want to rely on Trent, she did need transportation. And she couldn’t be independent without a car.

  “Trent?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks. A lot.” She sighed inwardly, realizing her obligation to the man had just quadrupled. She’d better cook the cowboy one fantastic meal.

  “You’re welcome. See you Saturday.”

  While Annie tried to keep all her balls in the air, they ricocheted wildly around her. Trent had bailed her out again, but this had to stop. Once her financial ducks all faced forward, and the twins arrived, she’d manage without assistance.

  Trent revved up the Honda and the engine purred. With Wes’s diagnostic skills and Trent’s maintenance ability, Annie’s car would live on.

  He grabbed the hose from the garage and washed her car. Then he polished the chrome till it shined. Not bad. The little Honda looked downright presentable.

  When he’d called Annie with the update, she’d sounded discouraged. As Trent headed to the house to shower, he picked some roses. Maybe flowers would put a smile on Annie Samuels’s pretty face. He found a vase in the pantry and added the roses.

  After showering, Trent pulled on jeans and a green shirt and splashed on some aftershave. He whistled as he headed toward the delightful aroma wafting from his kitchen.

  Rosa pulled a batch of cookies from the oven. “You sound happy.”

  “I am happy. What kind are you
making?”

  “Oatmeal chocolate chip. Your favorite.”

  “Great. I’ll have some when I get back.”

  “So you’re going to the lady’s house for lunch?” Excitement glimmered in Rosa’s dark eyes.

  “No big deal. Annie wants to thank me for fixing her car.”

  “So it’s ‘Annie,’ is it?”

  Trent glared. “I’ll call her ‘Mrs. Samuels’ if you prefer.”

  “No need, Mr. Trent. ‘Annie’ is fine. ‘Annie’ is just fine.”

  Annie Samuels was just fine, Trent realized. Actually, she far surpassed fine. The woman dazzled him with her sun-blonde hair and eyes as blue as a Texas sky. Just looking at her brought him pleasure.

  Pleasure he had no right to feel. And wanted no part of. It had taken him a year to get past the pain of Dawn’s betrayal. And the bitterness still lingered. He was only doing payback for a friend, he reminded himself. A friend whose family had made his own childhood bearable. And while he’d honor Brad’s request, he felt like a bull in a china shop.

  “See you later,” he told Rosa.

  “Wait a minute. Were you taking these to Miss Annie?” Rosa held out the flowers, and her grin blossomed into a full-fledged smile.

  Caught in the act, Trent thought. He almost said the roses weren’t for Annie but didn’t. He grunted an answer, grabbed the flowers, and strode out of the kitchen.

  The fact that he left with roses in hand would fuel Rosa’s fire. And elevate her matchmaking attempts to new heights. Trent groaned. Where had his peaceful, solitary life gone? And how could he get it back?

  “Anybody home?” called a masculine voice.

  Annie wiped her hands on a dish towel and hurried to the door. There stood Trent Madison clutching a bouquet of yellow roses. The cowboy looked every bit as good as the first time she saw him: tall, dark, and way past handsome.

  You shouldn’t be noticing, her conscience chided.

  “Come in.” Annie pushed open the door and Trent ducked inside. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I’m starving.” When he handed her the bouquet, Annie couldn’t breathe. She looked at the lovely blossoms and felt a surge of warmth. In their four years of marriage, Brad never once brought her flowers. She was lucky if she got a birthday card.