Baby, I'm Yours. Karen Templeton

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today, twenty grand can go a long way when you have a child to take care of.”

      Kevin narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t that stupid, either. Or that much of a fool. He knew damn well that Pippa would be more than taken care of, whether Kevin agreed to go along with Victor Booth’s plan or not. He’d be very surprised if the trust fund wasn’t already set up. Besides that, though, the old guy wasn’t about to jeopardize his granddaughter’s welfare to get back at Kevin. And after talking things over with his own father, he felt a lot more certain that while Victor might make noises about hauling Kevin’s ass into court, his chances of gaining custody weren’t all that great. Because the minute Victor brought up Kevin’s past, he’d be asked how he knew. And the minute that came out, it’d be pretty clear he’d deliberately kept Pippa’s existence a secret.

      Sure, maybe Kevin’s record wasn’t exactly stellar, but he hadn’t used for more than a year, he would be taking Pippa into a stable environment—at least, one stable enough for all reasonable purposes—and, oh, yeah, he was Pippa’s father. He would submit to the DNA test to shut the old man up, but he wasn’t worried about the outcome. God knows, Robyn may have had her issues, but Kevin and she had been virtually living together for the month before they broke up. He’d bet his life the baby was his.

      However, he’d also be lying if he said twenty grand wouldn’t come in handy. He could invest it, use it as a nest egg to maybe start his own renovation business. Sure, part of him wanted nothing to do with Victor Booth’s money. But another part of him felt like, you know, the dude owed him. Pride was all well and good, but there was a fine line between pride and idiocy.

      And at least, if he was in residence, nobody could play the “he hasn’t been part of the child’s life” card against him.

      Kevin slid his hands into his front pockets, looking Victor straight in the eye.

      “You swear that after a month, I can take her? No arguments, no threats?”

      “You have my word.”

      “Oh, I’ll need more than your word. I want this in writing, signed and notarized. About the money, too.”

      Victor’s eyebrow raised, like he didn’t expect Kevin to be that much on the ball. “Then…you won’t mind if I add a paragraph stating that if you backslide, even once, we get her back?”

      “Not at all. Because that’s not gonna happen.” Kevin extended his hand. After a moment Victor took it.

      And Kevin prayed like hell that this time, he’d made the right decision.

      Chapter Four

      Trailed by Gus the Ever-Faithful, Julianne followed Kevin outside, as though she was in one of those dreams where her limbs seemed to have minds of their own. She only went as far as the end of the walk, however, watching helplessly as he continued walking to that pathetic excuse for a truck, only vaguely wondering—or caring—what had happened to the rental car. In the mauve light, an almost chilly breeze rustled the cottonwood leaves, released the broom’s heady, spicy scent. “I swear I had no idea that was coming,” she finally croaked out, hands fisted in her dress pockets.

      He turned, smirking. “Even though it was originally your idea?”

      So much for hoping he’d missed that part of the conversation. Dear God, if he had any idea what had motivated her initial suggestion…“Only your staying with us. The money thing was all Dad.”

      “And right now you’re thinking, Nice to know he can be bought.”

      Gus let out a soft, whiny woof. Frowning, Julianne glanced down the street at that woman who clearly used her poor golden retriever as cover for her snooping. Then she looked back at Kevin. “If he’d offered you twenty grand to leave Pip with us altogether,” she said, knowing Ms. Snoop was too far away to hear, “would you have taken it?”

      “What?” he squawked. “I wouldn’t’ve left her behind for a hundred times that. Are you nuts?”

      His indignation made her smile. “Then you’re not a man who can be bought. Bargained with, maybe, but not bought.”

      The truck door groaned when Kevin swung it open. “No matter how you look at it, this is a crappy situation.” His gaze, opaque in the dusky light, drifted to hers, “And nothing’s gonna change in a month, which makes it even crappier.”

      “Why do you say that?” she said, propelling herself onto the sidewalk, a thousand thoughts jostling for position in her brain. Gus stayed behind, benignly observing the retriever. “Why couldn’t you find work here? Permanent work, I mean. A place of your own. I know it’s not ideal, but…between what you want and what Dad wants, maybe there’s a compromise?”

      A slight smile poked at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe there is. Like you said, I’m a man who can be bargained with. As long as there’s no question about my daughter living with me, I don’t suppose where I—we—live matters.” Then the smile stretched. “But let me get this straight—you thought I should stay in the house, only then you changed your mind—”

      “Actually, it was Dad who shot down the idea,” Julianne said quickly, playing the conversational equivalent of three-cup shuffle. “So technically he changed his mind.”

      “Man,” Kevin said, frowning slightly, clearly trying to figure out which cup hid the truth. “He really must be desperate. Considering that whole I’m-scum thing.”

      “It’s not that bad,” Julianne murmured, suddenly much warmer than the temperature warranted.

      “Yeah, it is. But it’s not like I can’t relate. Your father and I might be on opposite sides here, but we both want what’s best for that little girl. If his gut’s churning over this half as much as mine is…I just get where he’s coming from, that’s all. What I can’t figure out, though, is you.”

      Julianne flinched. “Me?”

      “Yeah. First, why you took my side when you obviously don’t want to give Pippa up any more than your father does. Second, why you looked like you’d just been hit over the head with a frying pan when your father came up with his little ‘deal.’” His eyes turned into slits. “Call it a stretch, but I’m guessing you’re not all that hot on the idea of me being around.”

      Not a stretch at all, she thought, then said, “What I want is neither here nor there. I defended you because somebody had to. Because Dad’s grief over losing Robyn has made him completely myopic. He wants somebody, anybody, to be the bad guy here. And unfortunately you walked right into the line of fire. And Robyn…well. We already covered that ground.”

      She shivered. “Still. I may be willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Not by a long shot.”

      Irritatingly, one side of his mouth lifted. “Message received,” he said, then finally slid behind the wheel, slammed his door, drove off. He was all the way to the end of the block before Julianne realized her knees were locked in place.

      She unlocked them, went back inside. Her dad was in his office, at his computer. Probably working. He hated being interrupted. Ask her if she cared.

      “Geez, Dad,” she said, plopping into the armchair across from his desk. Gus collapsed at her feet, worn-out. “A little warning

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