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at.
She chose a wing chair near a fireplace that the Founding Fathers had probably gathered around to discuss exactly how far they wanted to go with this Constitution thing.
The baby was still fidgeting. He waited for her to shift him to a more comfortable position, but she didn’t do it. She almost seemed to have forgotten she was holding him. He hoped that meant she was nervous.
She didn’t look nervous.
The love seat creaked ominously as he settled back into it and extended his legs. If he didn’t say something soon, he’d look like a complete fool. “How are they? The girls?”
“You know how they are. I’ve been sending regular reports.”
The baby wriggled. He wondered where she’d stashed Button. He’d give anything to see that little baby girl again—change one of those stinky diapers, have her drop some drool on him, receive one of her I-love-you-more-than-anybody smiles. “A report isn’t the same as seeing for myself. I’ve missed them.”
“I’m sure you have, but that doesn’t mean you can bounce in and out of their lives when you want. We have an agreement.”
This wasn’t going the way he’d hoped. The baby whimpered. “I understand that, but . . .” Although she was still thin, that gaunt look she’d had when they’d first met was gone. He was relieved . . . and disappointed. Some part of him wanted her wasting away for him.
As if Nealy Case would waste away over a man.
There was only one thing to do, and it flew in the face of every ounce of testosterone in his body. He drew a deep breath. “I’ve missed you, too.”
She didn’t look impressed.
He retrenched. “I’ve missed you and the girls.”
Another whimper came from the blue sleeper. The baby kept trying to get his arms free, but she had too tight a grip. Mat couldn’t stand it anymore, and he leaped up. “Give me the kid before you strangle him to death!”
“What—”
He whipped up the little guy and put him to his shoulder. The kid relaxed right away. He smelled good. Like a boy.
She narrowed her eyes, then tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair. “What happened with the results of the DNA tests? My attorney’s asked for a copy several times, but he still hasn’t received one.”
Oh, man . . . Busted. He’d torn up the envelope he’d received from the lab in Davenport without ever opening it. “Me either. I guess the lab misplaced it.”
“Misplaced it?”
“It happens.”
She tilted her head, studied him closely. “I know how important this is to you. Maybe the tests should be done again.”
“Are you crazy? Do you want to put Button through something like that again? I guess it’s easy for you to say because you weren’t there. You didn’t see the way they held her down!”
She gazed at him as if he’d lost his mind, which was so close to the truth that he had to turn his back on her and head for the fireplace.
“What are you doing here, Mat?”
The baby’s head settled against his jaw. He glared at her. “Okay, here’s the way it is. I screwed up, all right? I admit it, so let’s put it behind both of us and move on.”
“Move on?” Cold as a flock of Presbyterians in an unheated church.
“Because, the thing is, it’s the future that counts.” Was it hot in here, or was it just him? “We need to look ahead and not behind us.”
Everything about the stare she leveled at him reeked of aristocratic disdain. He suddenly felt as if he were wearing a red satin bowling shirt and gulping down a kielbasa. It was time to cut to the chase.
“I need to know how you feel about me.”
“That’s what you wanted to talk to me about?”
