Читать книгу: «The Baby Bonus»

“This Is My Baby, Cole,”

Regan said.

“Mine. I’d already planned on being a single mother, which is why I went to be inseminated. I have no intention of shuttling my child back and forth between me and the father. That’s not what I want for my baby.”

“Our baby,” he corrected her. “And I agree completely.”

“Does that mean you…that you will relinquish your rights and let me raise the baby?”

Her words hit him like blows. After all, it wasn’t the first time he hadn’t been found good enough, he reminded himself. In her eyes, for a child to have no father would be preferable than to have him as one. “Sorry to disappoint you, princess, but that’s not what I had in mind. I think a child belongs with both parents.”

“But that’s not possible.”

“Sure it is. All we have to do is get married.”

Dear Reader,

Twenty years ago in May, the first Silhouette romance was published, and in 2000 we’re celebrating our 20^th anniversary all year long! Celebrate with us—and start with six powerful, passionate, provocative love stories from Silhouette Desire.

Elizabeth Bevarly offers a MAN OF THE MONTH so tempting that we decided to call it Dr. Irresistible! Enjoy this sexy tale about a single-mom nurse who enlists a handsome doctor to pose as her husband at her tenth high school reunion. The wonderful miniseries LONE STAR FAMILIES: THE LOGANS, by bestselling author Leanne Banks, continues with Expecting His Child, a sensual romance about a woman carrying the child of her family’s nemesis after a stolen night of passion.

Ever-talented Cindy Gerard returns to Desire with In His Loving Arms, in which a pregnant widow is reunited with the man who’s haunted her dreams for seven years. Sheikhs abound in Alexandra Sellers’ Sheikh’s Honor, a new addition to her dramatic miniseries SONS OF THE DESERT. The Desire theme promotion, THE BABY BANK, about women who find love unexpectedly when seeking sperm donors, continues with Metsy Hingle’s The Baby Bonus. And newcomer Kathie DeNosky makes her Desire debut with Did You Say Married?!, in which the heroine wakes up in Vegas next to a sexy cowboy who turns out to be her newly wed husband.

What a lineup! So this May, for Mother’s Day, why not treat your mom—and yourself—to all six of these highly sensual and emotional love stories from Silhouette Desire!

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

The Baby Bonus
Metsy Hingle

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Jimmy and Julie Hingle,

my darling son and his lovely wife,

and their very special “Baby Bonus,”

Caroline Josephine Hingle

METSY HINGLE

celebrates her tenth book for Silhouette with the publication of The Baby Bonus. Metsy is an award-winning, bestselling author of romance who resides across the lake from her native New Orleans. Married for more than twenty years to her own hero, she is the busy mother of four children. She recently traded in her business suits and a fast-paced life in the hotel and public-relations arena to pursue writing full-time. Metsy has a strong belief in the power of love and romance. She also believes in happy endings, which she continues to demonstrate with each new story she writes. She loves hearing from readers. For a free doorknob hanger or bookmark, write to Metsy at P.O. Box 3224, Covington, LA 70433.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Prologue

“I’m pregnant?” Regan St. Claire repeated, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. She stared across the desk at her aunt, New Orleans’ noted fertility specialist, Dr. Elizabeth St. Claire. “You’re sure, Aunt Liz? I mean there’s no mistake?”

The older woman shook her silvery-blond head and smiled. “I’m sure. Ran the tests myself—twice. You’re definitely pregnant, dear. Based on the date I performed the insemination procedure, you’re just shy of five weeks along.”

Regan squealed with delight. Too excited to sit still, she shot to her feet and raced around the desk to hug her aunt. “I’m going to have a baby! A baby,” she said again in awe, dancing them both around in a circle.

“Regan, child. Slow down,” her aunt admonished, laughter in her voice.

“I can’t. I’m too happy,” she countered, tears of joy stinging her eyes. Even now she could hardly believe that a diagnosis of endometriosis and possible infertility had spurred her down this path that had resulted in a…a miracle. Because that’s what this baby was. A miracle. “I’ve wanted a baby for so long. Ever since…” Ever since she had miscarried her first child—Cole’s child—all those years ago.

As though reading her thoughts, her aunt offered her hand. Regan clasped it, drew strength from the woman who had filled the role of mother for nearly all of her twenty-nine years. “Honey, it’s still early days,” Aunt Liz cautioned. “That tiny life inside you has a long way to go before he or she makes a debut.”

“I know,” Regan replied, her smile slipping a notch as she recalled her last pregnancy. She’d been seventeen and madly in love with Cole Thornton. As if it were only yesterday instead of twelve years ago, images of Cole filled her mind’s eye. Cole working in her family’s garden, sweat glistening on his sun-darkened skin, muscles rippling across his bare shoulders as he sank a shovel into the soil. Cole lifting his head, swiping the midnight hair from his face and staring at her out of those silver eyes.

There had been something wild and dangerous in his eyes when he’d looked at her. He’d been so different from the boys she knew—so serious and driven, so much smoldering passion. She’d been drawn to him instantly. After getting to know him, she’d admired his strong sense of honor and determination to make something of himself. But it had been the yearning to belong that she sensed in Cole that had stolen her heart. Making love with him had been as elemental as breathing to her. When she’d become pregnant, he had insisted they marry—just as she’d known he would. Convincing him to elope had been the tricky part. Yet, even after all this time, she remembered those magical days as his wife—days when she’d been so sure their love was strong enough to survive anything.

Until her world came crashing down, and she’d lost both Cole and their baby.

“…and I just hope that…that I’ve done the right thing. You mean the world to me, Regan. All I want…all I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

Something in her aunt’s tone snagged Regan’s attention, pulled her from thoughts about the past. “I am happy, Aunt Liz. You’ve given me the one thing in the world that I want most—a baby…or at least the chance to have a baby.”

A worried frown chased across her aunt’s brow. “As wonderful as a baby is, it only fills a part of your life. What about a husband? Someone to share your life with? Don’t you want someone to be a father to this baby, to make more babies with you?”

Regan sighed at her aunt’s simple assessment of all the things missing in her life. “You didn’t need a man to make your life complete, Aunt Liz. Neither do I.”

“We’re not talking about me, dear. Besides, I did have someone once. Someone I was foolish enough to let go. I’m an old woman now, with most of my life behind me. But you…you have most of your life still ahead of you. Don’t waste it. Don’t settle for memories and regrets.”

“I’m not wasting my life,” Regan insisted.

“Are you sure? I can’t help remembering the last time you were pregnant. How happy and in love you and Cole were, and when the two of you got married—”

“Our marriage was a mistake. We were too young to know what we were doing.”

Her aunt’s frown deepened. The brown eyes so like her father’s pinned her. “You were old enough to know that you loved each other, to conceive a child together. I’ve often wondered if your father hadn’t insisted on that annulment—”

“Daddy did what he thought was best,” Regan countered, a lump forming in her throat. She turned away, stared out the window, hugging her arms about her as though it could somehow stop the ache that always came when she played the game of what-ifs. What if she had gone to Cole and told him about her father’s threats to have him arrested because she’d been underage unless she annulled the marriage? What if she hadn’t lied to Cole, hadn’t said she didn’t love him? What if…

“Honey, I know you loved your father. He was my brother, and I loved him too. But that doesn’t mean I was blind to his faults. He wasn’t perfect. Sometimes he made mistakes, judged people unfairly. He was wrong about Cole. And he was wrong to interfere in your marriage, to force you to make a choice.”

“What’s done is done, Aunt Liz. We can’t go back.” Determined to lock the painful door to the past, she turned around to face her aunt. “What matters is the future. This baby is my future.”

“You’re right,” her aunt said, sliding a worried glance to Regan’s stomach. “I just hope that whatever happens…”

Suddenly alarmed, Regan placed her hand protectively on her belly. Fear curled like a fist around her heart. “Aunt Liz, is there something you haven’t told me? Is there…is there something wrong with my baby?”

“No. Oh no, child. Nothing’s wrong with the baby.”

“Then what is it? Why the long face?”

She shook her head, gave her a tight smile. “I guess I’m just worrying that maybe I’m as bad as your father because I’m the one interfering in your life now.”

Relief washed through Regan. “You haven’t. You’ve given me a priceless gift.”

“But what if—”

“No what-ifs,” Regan insisted. “Everything’s going to be fine. Just wait and see. This time absolutely nothing’s going to go wrong.”

One

Absolutely everything seemed to be going wrong, Regan admitted as she retraced her path from the ladies’ room to her office at the rear of the jewelry salon. Pressing a hand to her still-queasy stomach, she eased behind the worktable where her jeweler’s tools, an assortment of gems and several pieces awaited her attention.

“Come on, Slugger,” Regan pleaded, smoothing her palm over her still-flat belly. “How about giving Mommy a break here? Morning sickness is called that for a reason. These tummy hijinks are not supposed to happen in the afternoon, too.” She certainly hadn’t expected the morning sickness to plague her long and late into every day, as had been the case during the two weeks since she’d confirmed her pregnancy. Nor had she expected her energy level to dip so drastically that it rivaled New Orleans’ below-sea-level position along the Mississippi River. Sighing, Regan shook her head. This pregnancy was so different from the last one, she thought, and immediately regretted the comparison as memories of the miscarriage came flooding back.

Squeezing her eyes shut a moment, Regan pressed a fist against the ache in her heart—an ache that time had dulled but never quite healed. She sucked in a breath and tried to banish the pain that always accompanied thoughts of that sad time in her life. Things were different now, she reminded herself. She was different. She wasn’t a starry-eyed girl unexpectedly pregnant with her lover’s child this time. She was a woman, without any foolish illusions about love. This pregnancy was the result of planning, not passion. And in just over seven months when she held her baby in her arms, she would have everything she wanted, everything she needed.

What about a husband? Someone to share your life with? Someone to be a father to this baby?

Her aunt’s words replayed in Regan’s head, taunting her. Ruthlessly, she shut them off. Aunt Liz was wrong, she assured herself. She didn’t need or want a husband. All she needed was her baby, a child of her own to hold in her arms, to give all the love she had stored in her heart. Patting her tummy, she whispered, “Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll be just fine. You’ll see. You won’t even miss not having a daddy because I’m going to be the best mommy possible. I promise.”

The wink of diamonds caught her eye, and Regan glanced at the jewelry spread out before her in various stages of completion. Becoming mommy of the year would have to wait a bit longer, she decided. Right now, she had work to do—work that the store desperately needed if she hoped to make the mortgage payment on time this month. Thoughts of the hefty mortgage made her frown, and, not for the first time, Regan wished she had taken a few business courses along with her classes on gem-cutting and grading. Heaven knows she certainly could have used even just a little of what she had once considered the dull business know-how during this past year. But then, she’d had no idea she would ever need to worry about things like fiscal management and market share and interest rates. She certainly had never dreamed that she would find herself in a financial mess and in danger of losing the store that had been in her family for five generations. And while she’d managed to hang on so far, she wasn’t out of the woods by any means. Flicking on the work light, she repositioned the sketch she’d made of a ring, but her thoughts drifted once more to her finances.

You should have told me we were in trouble, Daddy. Why didn’t you at least let me try to help?

But she knew why her father hadn’t told her, Regan admitted. He had been protecting her—as he always did. Anger sparked anew as she recalled the dual shocks of her father’s sudden death and the discovery that Exclusives was on the verge of bankruptcy. But on the heels of her resentment came guilt. She had no right to be angry with her father—not when he’d given her so much. After all, it had been her father who had introduced her to the magical world of gems and nurtured her dreams of designing. Maybe he had been overprotective at times, but only because he had loved her. And he had been there when she needed him, had helped her pick up the pieces of her life when she’d lost both her baby and Cole. She owed it to her father to make the store solvent again, to pass on the legacy to her own child someday. And she would, Regan vowed. “I won’t let you down, Daddy,” she promised.

Swiping at the tears that seemed to surface so easily these days, Regan picked up the ring she’d been working on before her dash to the bathroom. “What do you say, Slugger? No more shenanigans until I finish this piece. All right?”

When her stomach had remained calm for a full five minutes, Regan grinned. Evidently, she and Slugger had worked out a deal. She glanced at the sketch and then at the ring and frowned. Running a fingertip along the gold band, an anniversary gift for one of the store’s best clients, she studied the piece with a critical eye. The four-carat Burmese ruby at the center of the ring was exquisite, she conceded, admiring the brilliant luster of the stone, the way it caught and reflected the light. Despite its size and origin, the silk effect, or straw inclusions, so common in rubies were so faint they were invisible to the naked eye. The diamond baguettes flanking either side of the blood-red gem set off the ruby perfectly. The ring was beautiful, and the customer would be very happy with it. Yet, Regan itched to replace the ruby with the fiery green emerald locked in the safe.

“Your mommy’s crazy, Slugger,” she muttered. Selling the ruby would be the smart thing to do, not to mention far more lucrative since it was a more expensive stone. But the part of her that had always been drawn to the magic of the stones rather than to their monetary value kept seeing the emerald nestled between the diamonds. The fact that the heart stone, as the emerald was known, would be all the more fitting for the occasion only compounded her desire to use it. Regan sighed again. Not only was she crazy, she decided, pushing back from her worktable, but she was a lousy businesswoman to boot. Walking across the room, she unlocked the vault and retrieved a black velvet tray of gems. She’d just placed the tray on her worktable when the intercom on the desk behind her buzzed.

“Ms. St. Claire?”

Turning, Regan hit the speaker button on the phone. “Yes, Amy,” she replied, wishing the new receptionist would call her Regan as she had asked her to do.

“There’s a Mr. Cole Thornton here to see you.”

Regan froze. Suddenly the air backed up in her lungs. Her stomach did a nosedive, and the room began to spin. Her knees wobbly, she sank down onto the chair beside the desk and tried to suck in a breath.

Cole Thornton. Here in New Orleans. To see her? After all this time?

Twelve years had passed since that horrible day when he’d looked at her with ice in his gray eyes as he’d lashed out at her before leaving town. He’d never spoken to her again. Not once. But she had never forgotten him. How could she when the city that had once shunned the dirt-poor young Cole was so eager to claim the successful real-estate mogul as one of its native sons? She’d lost count of the photos she’d seen of him at various business and charity functions over the years—the snippets of gossip about his latest acquisitions, the lavish parties he attended, the glamorous women he dated. As far as she knew, until now, he’d only returned to New Orleans once. Recalling her brief encounter with him on that one occasion still stung. Just remembering his cool indifference, the way he’d looked right through her sent a stab of pain through her. No way did she intend to put herself through that kind of anguish again. Especially not now.

“Ms. St. Claire? Should I send Mr. Thornton in?”

“No,” Regan shot back. Swallowing past the tightness in her throat, she assured herself that this rush of emotion she was experiencing was due to her pregnancy and had nothing to do with any lingering feelings she had for Cole. “Please give Mr. Thornton my apologies, Amy, and tell him I’m unavailable. Oh and, Amy, I’d appreciate it if you’d hold my calls,” she said before severing the connection.

Feeling a bit unsteady, Regan returned to her worktable and sank down to her stool. Think of work, she commanded herself. Work had been her refuge twelve years ago. It would be her refuge now. Besides, she reminded herself, she had a baby on the way and a staff who needed her to make sure Exclusives stayed afloat. Intent on removing the ruby from its setting, Regan didn’t even bother looking up when she heard the door open a few minutes later. “Whatever it is, Amy, I’ll deal with it later. I don’t have time right now.”

“Then I suggest you make time.”

The tool fell from Regan’s fingers and clattered noisily on the marble tabletop, at the sound of the voice that had once sent shivers of longing up her spine.

“Ms. St. Claire, I’m sorry,” a nervous Amy said as she rushed in behind Cole. Her eyes shifted anxiously from Regan to Cole and back again. “I tried to explain to Mr. Thornton that you couldn’t see him—”

“And I assured Amy that you would see me,” Cole replied.

“It’s all right, Amy,” Regan told the young woman in a voice that belied the fact that her heart was slamming against her ribs. “I’ll handle it.”

Amy didn’t need to be told twice. She scurried out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her. And as she watched the other woman escape, Regan fervently wished she could do the same. Bracing herself, she met Cole’s gaze.

“And just how do you plan to handle me, princess?”

Regan gritted her teeth at his use of the pet name he’d saddled her with years ago. Trying to instill ice in her voice she asked, “What do you want, Cole?”

His eyes darkened, gleamed a liquid silver, sparking memories of the nights she’d lain naked in his arms. He arched a brow. “Should I consider that an invitation?”

Color flashed up Regan’s cheeks, and she cursed her fair skin when she saw his lips twist into a smile. “Hardly,” she replied. Oh God, it simply wasn’t fair. At thirty-three, Cole was even more handsome now than he’d been at twenty-one. His hair was shorter, but just as thick and still as dark as midnight. There were faint lines etched at the corners of his eyes that hadn’t been there twelve years ago, lines that made him look harder, colder, she thought. But his eyes were still that same incredible shade of gray capable of going from frost to molten silver in an instant. His long lean body didn’t sport any extra pounds that she could detect, and she’d lay odds that the muscles beneath his designer shirt and suit were still as hard as steel. Unable to stop herself, she stared at his mouth—the mouth that had kissed her with such hunger, had tasted every inch of her body, had whispered promises of love.

“You still blush like a schoolgirl, princess,” he told her. “How is that possible?”

Flustered, Regan stood. “I don’t have time for games, Cole. I have a business to run. So why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

His mouth hardened a moment, but instead of answering, he perched himself on the edge of her table and picked up the ring she’d been working on. “Far be it from me to waste your valuable time. After all,” he said, looking from the ring to her, “I know firsthand what a high priority you place on business. That’s why I’m here. To discuss business.”

The word business hit Regan like a slap. Immediately she recalled the gorgeous redhead who had accompanied him to the fundraiser at the city’s aquarium last year. Regan’s business, her primary business, was designing one-of-a-kind rings for Exclusives. Her throat grew tight. He couldn’t possibly expect her to design a ring for his lover, she told herself. Not even Cole would be that cruel.

Unless he felt he had a reason to be cruel. And, in Cole’s eyes, he believed he had a reason. He thought she had betrayed him. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t. He’d never believed her when she’d come to him later and tried to explain the reasons she’d had their marriage annulled, that she’d done it to save him. The result had been the same. She’d hurt him, had ripped his pride to shreds at a time when pride was all he’d had. What better payback than to commission her to design his future wife’s wedding ring? Regan stared at the ring in Cole’s hand and recalled the day he’d placed a thin gold band on her finger and promised to love her always. Always had only lasted ten days. Pain sliced through Regan, razor-sharp, at the memory. Deserving or not and no matter how badly she could use the sale and publicity, she refused to subject herself to that kind of misery. “As I said, I’m very busy. I’ll get my assistant to help you.”

“Like hell you will!” Quick as a snap he was off the table and in her face. “I’m not dealing with any assistant on something this important. I’m dealing with you, princess. And only you.”

Staggered by his sudden shift from cool control to white-hot fury, Regan took a step back. Emotions tumbled through her at breakneck speed, and she recalled the other two times she’d seen Cole in the grips of a temper like this—the day she’d told him she wanted an annulment and the day she’d told him she’d lost their baby. She drew in a calming breath. “I’d like you to leave.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “What’s the matter, princess? Changed your mind again? It’s a little late for that now, don’t you think?”

Regan frowned, confused as much by Cole’s remarks as by his hostility. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and, to tell you the truth, I don’t really care. I just want you to go.”

“Not a chance.”

Regan’s pulse danced uneasily at the steely determination in his voice. “Then you leave me no choice but to call the police and have you removed,” she said with more conviction than she felt. She started toward the phone, when suddenly Slugger decided he hadn’t finished playing games for the day. Her stomach dipped. A wave of nausea rolled through her. “Excuse me,” she mumbled, and tried to move past Cole before she lost what was left of her lunch in front of him.

Cole blocked her path. “I don’t think so. Not until we talk.”

“Get out of my way,” she commanded, fighting back the nausea climbing up her throat. “I mean it, Cole. Get out of my way, or you’re going to be sorry.”

“Sorrier than you were twelve years ago when you realized what a mistake you made by marrying a poor bastard? Oh, I forgot, my being a bastard isn’t quite so bad now that I have money, is it?”

For a moment the dots in front of her eyes cleared, as the full measure of his bitterness hit her. Regan blinked back the tears of anger and hurt stinging her eyes. “Go to hell.”

“No thanks, sweetheart, I’ve already been there once because of you. And I have no intention of going back. In fact, now that you’re pregnant, I—”

The shock of his words hit Regan like a punch, and on its heels came another wave of nausea. She clamped one hand over her mouth and used the other to shove past him. Cole caught her shoulder, pulled her around to face him. Then it was too late. She upchucked all over his expensive black shoes.

Stunned, Cole stood frozen for several seconds. As he battled through the anger that had gripped him at Regan’s dismissal, he registered her paper-white pallor, the beads of sweat dotting her brow.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, a horrified expression on her face, before she broke free and fled.

“Regan, wait,” Cole shouted, charging after her. He skidded to a halt when the bathroom door swung shut, barely missing his nose. He pounded on the door with his fist. “Regan!”

“Go away!”

Concerned, he twisted the doorknob, found the thing locked. “Open the door, Regan.”

“Go away!”

Not a chance. Liz hadn’t told him that she was sick. Regan never got sick—at least not that he could remember. Even during her short pregnancy years ago, she hadn’t suffered so much as an hour of morning sickness. She hadn’t been sick a single day—until the miscarriage.

Suddenly the idea that Regan and his baby could be in any danger had the blood chilling in his veins. Damn! He should never have baited her the way he had, recalling the way the color had drained from her cheeks when he’d lashed out at her. He washed a hand down his face, shamed by his actions. Worse, he was scared. If something happened to her or the baby, it would be his fault. His insides suddenly churning, Cole raised his fist but forced himself to tap on the door, gently this time. “Princess? Are you all right?”

When she didn’t answer, Cole knocked again. Guilt and worry played havoc in his mind as he envisioned Regan lying on the bathroom floor helpless, maybe in pain. “Princess, can you hear me?” he asked, growing more anxious by the second. “Unlock the door. Let me in so I can help you.”

When she still failed to respond, the knot of fear in his stomach balled into a fist. Cole tried the doorknob again, gave it a menacing twist. Then he heard it—that terrible wretching sound of someone being sick. On the heels of that came a soft moan and then the sound of running water. He shoved at the door, contemplated kicking the thing in. “Are you all right?” he demanded, nerves making his voice sharp, his temper short. “Dammit, Regan, answer me.”

“I’m all right.”

But she didn’t sound all right. She sounded as weak as a newborn kitten. Sucking in a calming breath, Cole attempted to rein in the jumble of emotions racing through him. “Open the door, princess,” he coaxed, deliberately gentling his voice even though inside he felt raw, violent. “I know you’re sick. Please…open the door. Let me help you.”

“I don’t want your help,” she tossed back with more spirit than he’d expected. “I just want you to leave.”

Too bad, Cole thought, gritting his teeth. No way did he plan to leave—not until he was sure that she was okay. And the baby, he amended. After all, the baby was the reason he was here in the first place. Raking a hand through his hair, Cole sighed. According to Money magazine he was a smart man, a virtual business genius. So how the devil had he gotten himself into this mess? How the devil had he let himself get tangled up with Regan St. Claire again?

The answer was simple—Liz, his oldest and dearest friend, the woman who had taken a street-smart, angry punk under her wing and given him a chance to be something more. He owed her more than he could ever repay in one lifetime. But hell, this time Regan’s aunt Liz had gone too far.

And whose fault is that?

His, Cole admitted. Because he had only himself to blame for getting into this fix in the first place. After all, he knew how clever Liz was, and he also knew how much the woman loved her niece. Liz had known exactly which buttons to push to convince him to be Regan’s sperm donor. And idiot that he was, he’d fallen right into the trap….

“Forget it, Liz. If Regan needs a sperm donor, you’ll have to find someone else. Maybe one of those uptowners with the mile-long pedigrees.”

“Fine,” Liz agreed easily.

Too easily, he thought. The woman was as sharp as a tack and never gave up that easily. Narrowing his gaze, he looked at her, knowing instinctively she was up to something. “I mean it, Liz.”

“I said okay, didn’t I?”

“But?”

“But what?” she asked innocently.

Cole sighed. “Whatever it is you’ve got up your sleeve isn’t going to work.”

“You make me sound like a scheming manipulative woman.”

“That’s because sometimes you are, but I love you anyway.”

She sniffed, tipped up her nose.

“Why don’t you just spit out whatever it is you’re up to?”

“I’m disappointed in you, Cole Thornton. I never thought you’d let pigheaded pride stand in the way and stop you from having the one thing you’ve always wanted.”