AFTERSHOCK Read online

  "He's also stubborn as hell," he said. "Just like his daughter."

  Amber laughed, then shook her head at herself. Distance, she reminded herself. She needed to keep her distance.

  Never an easy thing with this man.

  She set a sleepy Taylor in motion by gently pushing the swing. "Is this why you called, to list my failings?"

  "I grew up with five sisters, I know better than to list a woman's failings. But I could give you a full list of your positive attributes if you'd like. I have a most excellent memory."

  Her breath caught. Laughter faded, replaced by a needy emptiness she didn't want to face. "It was a long time ago. It's best forgotten."

  "I'll never forget."

  Her hand stilled on Taylor's swing. "You think about sex far too much."

  "Well I'm red-blooded, aren't I?"

  "Yeah." He most definitely was.

  "But I've told you, it was far more than just sex. Let me prove it to you."

  His voice alone could convince her. She could only be thankful he wasn't here in person to add his smile, his eyes, his incredible hands to the magic.

  With a sigh, she set a kettle of water on the stove. She needed tea, her own personal comfort drink. "What did you want, Dax?"

  "To talk."

  About their kiss? About the fact she'd nearly let it go much further than a kiss? "About?" she asked cautiously.

  "Lots of stuff."

  Could he really have called just to talk? With her?

  "But let's start with your father."

  Her stomach clenched. Of course not.

  "He'd like to see Taylor sometime. I told him that was entirely up to you."

  "I've offered to take her to him before," she said coolly.

  "He wasn't ready. He is now."

  "I suspect you had a great deal to do with that."

  "I thought you'd be happy."

  She should be, should also be grateful, but instead she only resented the fact that Dax had accomplished overnight what she hadn't been able to do it in a year's time. "I'll think about it," she said, knowing she sounded prim, polite. Difficult.

  "Fair enough," he said, accepting her answer so quickly she felt suspicious.

  With good reason.

  "I have another favor. This one's a toughie."

  She'd nearly forgotten to be leery of him! How had he done this to her, gotten her to actually almost trust him? "I don't care to be pushed into a decision about seeing my father."

  "My favor has nothing to do with your father. I wanted you and Taylor to come with me to a barbecue tomorrow night. At my parents."

  She blinked and drew a careful breath as her brain struggled to shift gears. "Why?"

  "I don't know, maybe because you're the mother of my child?" He laughed at her silence. "It's not a death sentence. You go, you eat, you smile, you laugh— Wait … it doesn't hurt you to laugh, does it?"

  "Sometimes." But she did it anyway as she sat at her table. "I'm sorry. I thought … well, never mind."

  "You thought I was going to railroad you into doing something you don't want to do."

  Yes.

  "For the record," he said, his voice solemn now. "I would never, never, do that."

  "Never is a long time, Dax."

  "Yes."

  "What will happen if we disagree about something?"

  "What do you mean?"

  She bounced up again, stalked the length of her kitchen. "You'll expect me to do things your way."

  "Haven't you ever heard of give-and-take?"

  "You expect me to believe you'll let me do things my way?"

  "Yes! Look, I know I don't hold back much. I have a wide range of emotions, and I'm afraid I have a temper, too." His voice gentled, became disturbingly intimate. "But I'd never hurt you, Amber. It's not a stretch for me to make that promise. It shouldn't be a stretch for anyone to make you that promise."

  "Yeah well, you'd be surprised."

  "I wish we were having this conversation in person. So that I could touch you while I tell you all this."

  Heat, the kind he always seemed to cause within her, warmed her from head to toe. "That's … probably not wise."

  "When I touch you, you let down that guard. When I kiss you, you let go even more. You let me see the real you."

  She took a deep breath because suddenly she couldn't seem to get enough air, but the yearning deep inside her didn't fade.

  "I like that real you, Amber."

  She let out a disparaging sound and sat down again. "I never know what to say to you."

  "Say you believe me. That you believe in us."

  "There is no us."

  As if he heard her panic, he softened his voice even more. "Us as in Taylor's parents."

  "That's all."

  "That's the most important," he agreed. "For now. You and Taylor, you can depend on me, Amber. That's a promise, and I've never broken one yet."

  No one had ever made her a promise and kept it.

  "What do you think, Amber? Can I pick you and Taylor up tomorrow night. At six? You'll have a great time."

  "Another promise."

  "Absolutely."

  She swallowed hard, fighting her vulnerability with every ounce of strength she possessed. It helped to glance over and see Taylor sleeping peacefully. Happy and content. "Tomorrow, then," she whispered, and hung up before Dax could question the quiver in her voice.

  Drawing in a deep, cleansing breath, Amber beat back her emotions. It was a lifelong habit.

  Then she fought her fears the best way she knew how, with food. Lots of it.

  * * *

  The next night, at nearly six o'clock, Amber stood in a bra and panties contemplating her closet. She'd been looking at her wardrobe for an embarrassing hour now. "A barbecue," she muttered.

  What did one wear to such an event?

  Jeans, she decided, with a shrug that would have told anyone watching that she couldn't care less.

  But she did care, too much. She wanted to look good for a man she hadn't wholly decided to let herself care for.

  She slipped into the jeans and stared at herself. They were too tight, thanks to her just - given - birth - three - months - ago body, but she didn't own a larger size.

  Fine, so she wouldn't wear jeans. With another shrug, she yanked them off. But her khakis had some sort of stain on them, one that could be directly related to Taylor. Her wool trousers were far too dressy.

  Dressy, she could have handled. But this was a family party. Silk and stockings weren't required.

  And wasn't that just the problem?

  She tossed her wool trousers over her shoulder to join her other discarded clothing on the floor and stood in front of the mirror. "It's not the clothes," she admitted out loud. It was the evening ahead that had her nerves in a riot.

  There.

  She'd admitted it.

  Her bout of anxiety had nothing to do with where she was going, it was who she was going with.

  Dax did this to her, damn him, caused this butterfly dance low in her belly. "And the mess in this room is his fault, too," she decided, looking around at the cyclone she'd wrought. Nearly everything she owned was in a pile on the floor.

  The doorbell rang.

  She froze. "Oh my God." Galvanized into action, she threw on a denim skirt and shoved her arms into a white button-up, long-sleeved shirt. Last minute panic time was over. She'd have to make do as she was.

  Her usually perfectly groomed hair was wild. So were her dark eyes. She had no idea where the flush on her cheeks came from, but it made her look … young. Too young.

  And the shirt, good Lord. White had not been the wisest choice, only emphasizing her new bra size.

  The doorbell rang again and she dashed out of her room, past the second bedroom where Taylor lay sleeping and down the hall.

  Her heart was pounding.

  No rush, she told herself, and purposely stopped to draw in a deep, calming breath. She was fine.

  Just fine