Be Mine at Christmas (8 page)

He tried to focus on the act of breathing. He kept seeing Stephanie that night, her triumphant smile as Danielle had wept—and he felt sick.

He’d gotten her pregnant. He’d fathered a child at sixteen. And now that child was twelve years old and didn’t know who her own daddy was.

N
OTHING HAS TO CHANGE
.
Those words seemed to echo in Matt’s head long after Angela left. They were so ridiculous. If what Angela had told him was true, if Kayla really belonged to him,
everything
had changed. Regardless of the way Kayla had been conceived, he couldn’t simply go on as if he didn’t know he had a daughter.

He’d get tests, of course—for his own peace of mind. Stephanie was the one behind this, and he didn’t trust her one bit. But he was fairly sure DNA would confirm what he’d just been told. Kayla was his. Stephanie had been so obsessed with him, he doubted she’d so much as looked at another boy that entire year. And when he pictured Kayla, he could see the family resemblance. It was a wonder he hadn’t noticed it before. Or maybe not. Why would he? He’d never even entertained the thought. Not after one incident he could hardly remember. And not after such a long silence.

I want to find my daddy….

Still at the window, Matt shoved a hand through his hair.
I’m your daddy.
The reality of that was
overwhelming. And yet he felt a strong sense of responsibility. He had to tell Kayla. He couldn’t let a child of his go through life feeling lost and unloved.

But how did he explain what had happened? And where did they go from here?

He needed to call Angela, get her to come back so they could talk. Now that the initial shock was beginning to wear off, he could see that she was in a difficult situation, as well. She wasn’t to blame for Stephanie’s actions thirteen years ago. And yet she was standing in for the absent parents, taking care of a child who wasn’t even hers.

His
child.

He wasn’t convinced he’d ever get used to the idea.

Reaching for the cordless phone, he dialed the hotel. No answer. He tried her cell.

“This is Angela Forrester. I’m out of town until after the holidays, but if you’ll leave your name and number, I’ll return your call as soon as I can. If this is an emergency, please contact my assistant, Lisa Burton, at Pierpont Realty.”

The beep sounded in Matt’s ear. “This is an emergency, but your assistant can’t help me. I need you. I’m sorry if I didn’t react the way you’d hoped I would. I admit that I’m still…reeling. But I need to talk to you, to discuss this. Can I come over? Or if you find that too threatening, you can come here.”

Frustrated, he punched the off button and was about to toss the phone across the counter when it rang.

“Thank God,” he muttered and answered immediately, although caller ID said Unknown. He
assumed Angela had her cell number blocked. But it wasn’t Angela.

“I have a collect call from Stephanie Cunningham.”

Matt stiffened.
Stephanie
was calling him? After thirteen years of silence? That scared the hell out of him. He hadn’t even decided what he was going to do about Kayla and already Stephanie was back in his life!

“Will you accept the charges?” the operator asked.

He cursed silently to himself but agreed. Then Stephanie’s voice came across the line.

“Matt, don’t listen to her,” she said in a rush. “It’s a lie.”

He expected to feel a wave of intense hatred, especially now that he knew the real consequences of what she’d done to him, but he didn’t. A variety of other emotions surged through him instead—anger, pity and disgust. He’d never imagined Stephanie as part of his future. Had he just stepped into some alternate reality?

“
What’s
a lie?” he asked, pacing in agitation. Sampson whined, obviously sensing something wrong, but Matt ignored him.

“You don’t need to give Kayla any locket. She’s not yours. She’s from…someone else, a—a guy I met after I left Virginia City.”

Matt wished he could believe her—so his life would return to normal. He almost asked her for Kayla’s birthday so he could compare the dates. But he didn’t need to. The hard edge of desperation in Stephanie’s voice told him she was the one who was lying. And now that he’d heard the truth, there was
no hiding from it. “What are you hoping to gain by telling me that?” he asked.

“I’m doing you a favor. You’re off the hook. You’re not the father. Tell Angela she has to come home now. She—she can’t leave me here. She can’t take my child away from me.”

So he wasn’t the only one frightened by recent developments. They were all scared, he realized. His involvement upset the delicate equilibrium. And yet Angela had risked it.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“None of your business,” she said, but he could hear others talking in the background—“Get off the phone, bitch. I get to make my call, too”—and imagined her in jail or some sort of community shelter.

Briefly, the temptation to take Stephanie at her word, skip the paternity test and pretend he’d never met Kayla reasserted itself. He didn’t need to be part of this mess, did he? It wasn’t his fault. Angela would take care of Kayla. She’d be fine.

And yet…

He focused on the statue he’d brought home from the station, the one Kayla and Angela had given him for Christmas. It was a fireman rescuing a child.
Safe from imminent danger.

With a mother like Stephanie, what child needed him more desperately than his own?

“I’m sorry, Stephanie,” he said. “But there are going to be some changes.”

“What changes?” she cried.

His eyes still on the statue, he drew a deep
breath. “If Kayla’s mine, I’ll be taking care of her from now on.”

A
NGELA’S HEART BEGAN TO RACE
the moment she heard Matt banging on her door. What now? She’d managed to avoid his calls, but she could hardly let him wake all the other hotel guests at one o’clock in the morning.

Dropping his quilt, which she’d been hugging around her since she’d finished packing Kayla’s and her belongings, she hurried across the room and opened the door to find a rumpled-looking Matt.

“Let me in,” he said, his voice terse, his eyes intense.

Angela didn’t want to. She regretted telling him about Kayla and longed to go home, to pretend that what they’d said and done here in Virginia City had never happened. Tomorrow night was Christmas Eve, but she’d drive straight through. She couldn’t wait.

“Matt—”

He peered over her head at the luggage. “It’s too late to run,” he said.

Someone across the hall peered out, wearing a disgruntled expression, and Angela quickly waved Matt inside.

“I’m not running. I’m—”

“Heading home.” He glowered at the bags. “Two states away, which probably sounds like a pretty safe distance.”

“I thought maybe we should…you know, take the next few weeks to consider the situation. You can call me in Denver when—”

“I’ve considered it,” he interrupted.

The determination in his voice sent terror shooting through Angela. He had something to say already? She’d only left his place a couple of hours ago. “What have you decided?” she whispered.

He reached over to run his thumb along Kayla’s name, which was embroidered on the backpack she’d brought for her beloved books. “I want her. She’s mine. I’ll take care of her from here on out.”

Tears sprang to Angela’s eyes. “Matt, wait. Please, I…” The lump in her throat choked off her words. She wasn’t sure what to say, anyway. She knew Kayla wanted her father more than anything and that Matt would be good to her. She also knew he could offer her a loving extended family, the roots she craved and greater protection from the influence of her mother. The distance alone would be a plus, because Stephanie couldn’t stop by every time she was down and out and wanted money for drugs.

Angela should let Kayla go, shouldn’t she? But the thought of driving home without her, of packing up all her belongings and shipping them off, broke Angela’s heart. She’d hoped to convince Matt that they could share Kayla, despite the thousand miles that separated them, but the words wouldn’t come. It wasn’t a realistic idea, anyway. One of them would have to play a very minor role in Kayla’s life. And she knew which one that should be.

She breathed deeply, trying to absorb the pain, and felt his hand at her elbow.

“You okay?” he murmured.

Fresh tears fell as she looked up at him. “No,” she said. Then his arms went around her, as his quilt had a few minutes earlier, and his mouth touched hers in a kiss that spoke of warmth and comfort—but quickly changed to driving passion and escalating need.

M
ATT WOKE UP IN
Angela’s bed. He could smell the clean scent of her hair, feel the softness of her bare skin as she continued to sleep with her body curled into his side, and knew that he’d gained more than a daughter last night. He wanted Angela, too. He wasn’t sure how they were going to work out the logistics—where they’d live and who would change jobs—but he was hoping she’d marry him so they could become a family.

He smiled wryly at the thought of that. A
family?
A week ago, he hadn’t even had a girlfriend.

He adjusted the quilt they’d used to cover themselves, the quilt he’d given Angela for Christmas, and his smile widened. Just when he’d begun to think it would never happen…

“You’re awake?” Angela murmured.

He’d been cautious with his movements so he wouldn’t disturb her, but now he slid his hand up over the curve of her hip to her breast, as he’d wanted to do ever since he’d opened his eyes.

“Aren’t you tired?” she asked, covering a yawn. “We were up all night.”

“I feel good. What about you?”

She gave him a sexy smile. “Fishing for compliments?”

He chuckled. “You kidding? Your screams were enough. I’m surprised our neighbors didn’t complain to the management.”

“I didn’t scream that loud!” She tried to sit up in mock outrage, but he pressed her back, too busy enjoying what his fingers had found.

“Okay, but you groaned a lot,” he said. “I loved it. And the way you looked at me right before you—”

She tried to brush his hand away. “Do we have to go over the details?”

“Why are you embarrassed?” He laughed as he moved her beneath him. “I told you I loved it. And the marks on my back will heal.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t leave any marks on your back!”

“Yet,” he said. “There’s always this morning.” He kissed the indentation beneath her ear. “And the morning after.” He kissed the pulse at her neck. “And the morning after that.” He let his mouth drift lower, enjoying the fact that he could so easily make her quiver.

“No, I’m going home today…remember?” She gave a little gasp on that last word because he’d hit his real target.

“It’s the holidays,” he said, blowing cool air on the breast he’d just suckled.

She was getting lost in his lovemaking. He could tell. But she fought it. “So?”

“So you’re spending Christmas with me.”

“Trying to get another gift out of me?” she teased.

Leaving her breast, he kissed a trail down to her navel. “No, something better.”

“What’s that?” she asked, but he knew she was having a difficult time concentrating. He was making sure of it.

“A promise.”

“What…kind…of promise?”

He didn’t answer. He was too busy.

“Matt!” Her hands clenched in his hair.

He wasn’t sure if she’d said his name by way of question or encouragement. But she seemed pretty interested in holding him right where he was, so he guessed she’d been encouraging him—and waited until just the right moment to answer. When her eyes closed, and her muscles tensed, she said his name again, only this time with power and more than a little urgency, and when the moment passed, he told her what he really wanted.

“Marry me.”

A
NGELA SAT IN THE
living room of Matt’s parents’ home, enjoying Christmas morning. Outside, sunlight glistened on the snow and the world around them appeared crisp and bright, silent and peaceful. Inside, Christmas music played softly in the background as Sherry handed out mugs of hot chocolate and Kayla helped Matt’s two younger cousins sort the Christmas presents, which they planned to open in a few minutes. Angela had brought some gifts for Kayla, so Kayla had a small pile of her own,
but Matt had something far better waiting for her. Today was the day she’d get exactly what she wanted for Christmas: She’d learn the identity of her father.

“You nervous?” Matt murmured. He’d been sitting next to Angela since she and Kayla had arrived a few minutes earlier.

Angela nodded. “Dying. You?”

“Yeah.”

He seemed excited. He also seemed intent on making them a family. Angela had asked him not to mention the possibility to Kayla. She needed more time to think. She had a home and a career in Colorado. Pulling up stakes and moving back to Virginia City was a big decision. Especially so soon. And then there was Stephanie…

When Matt had told Angela about his conversation with Kayla’s mother, Angela had made some calls, trying to locate her. It was so difficult to give up hope. She’d thought maybe Stephanie was ready to get clean at last. But when she’d finally made contact with the shelter where Stephanie had been staying, she’d been told that a man named Jaydog had picked her up late last night.

That was where the trail had gone cold. Stephanie was probably right back on the streets, doing anything she could to feed her addiction. Angela had been through the cycle enough times to know that—and yet she felt so guilty for loving Matt, for wanting to be with him. Could she really move back to Virginia City with Stephanie’s daughter and agree to marry the boy Stephanie had wanted so desperately?

She didn’t think so.

“He’s asked her to marry him,” Angela heard Sherry whisper to Ray, Ray’s wife and Claudia, her sister, in the kitchen. “Can you believe it? He’s in love!”

Angela glanced worriedly at Kayla, afraid she might overhear. But Kayla didn’t even look up. She was too busy burrowing under the tree.

“What did she say?” came Ray’s murmured response.

“She’s thinking about it.” Sherry lowered her voice, but Angela could still make out the words. “So be really nice to her.”

Evidently, Matt had heard his mother, too, because he squeezed Angela’s hand and Angela couldn’t help laughing softly to herself.