don’t go! You can’t go!”
He gazed at her, impatient to make his escape. “Karen, this is no good. It’ll only lead to trouble for us if I stay and work with you. You saw that just now. You know it’s true.”
“You have to help me find Livie,” she insisted. “It—it’s your responsibility.”
He frowned at her, his hand now on the knob directly behind him. “And just how do you figure that?”
She didn’t answer him. She didn’t know how to tell him what he needed to hear. He was still frowning at her.
“You’ve been holding something back. What is it?”
As usual, the expression on her face must be giving her away, she thought. And he would be shrewd about reading people’s expressions. As a P.I., he would have to be. He waited, and still she couldn’t bring herself to tell him. She simply didn’t know where to begin a revelation that was so potentially explosive. His shoulders lifting in a little shrug, he turned to go. But she couldn’t let him walk out that door! Desperation inspired her with the opening she sought.
“Devlin, wait! There’s something I have to show you!”
To her relief, his hand fell away from the knob. He even drifted toward her again a few steps. “All right, show me.”
She reached for her purse. “I told you at Dream Makers that I don’t carry a photograph of Michael,” she explained quickly, extracting her wallet and flipping it open. “But I do carry a photo of Livie.”
He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, impatient again. “Karen, if you think showing me a picture of your kid is going to move me to—”
“Just look, will you?”
She came forward to where he stood, extending the open wallet. He took it and glanced down at the photograph inside the clear plastic sleeve while she watched his face, waiting for some sign of awareness. There was none. Not yet.
“Her hair wasn’t curled for the picture,” she said, trying to help him. “It’s naturally wavy, and even darker than it looks here. And her eyes—you can’t tell in this—but her eyes are a dark blue.”
“Uh-huh.”
He wasn’t interested. He hadn’t seen.
“Not like Michael’s blond hair and gray eyes,” she said, striving to encourage his recognition.
This time there was a flicker of suspicion on his face. He looked up, catching her gaze. “How old is your daughter?”
“She’s small for her age. I sometimes wonder if the asthma—”
“How old?” he demanded gruffly.
“Livie just turned three.”
“Which means she was born before you married Michael Ramey two and a half years ago.”
“Michael is her stepfather, Devlin,” she told him softly. “Not her natural father. He adopted her after we were married.”
Devlin’s gaze dropped again to the picture in his hand. He stared at it for a long time, a muscle twitching in his square jaw. And while she waited, she clasped her hands together below her breasts in that familiar pose she unconsciously adopted in moments of intense anxiety.
When she thought she couldn’t endure another second of his silent scrutiny, he lifted his gaze. There was disbelief in his eyes. “It isn’t possible. We took precautions.”
“Yes, and sometimes even the most careful precautions fail.”
“Are you sure that she’s mi—”
“Don’t say it,” she cut him off, her anger stirring, “because there was no one else!” Did he think she was so devious, so unprincipled that she would lie about his being Livie’s birth father just to enlist his help in finding her?
Uttering a savage obscenity, he snapped the wallet shut and slapped it down on the counter beside him. An action which could have been rejection or simply rage. Then he looked at her with those stormy blue eyes, his face rigid with accusation while fear swelled inside her.
She could bear his anger. If he never forgave her, she would understand and accept it. What terrified her was the possibility that he would utterly deny his daughter or, just as bad, surprise her by demanding rights she wasn’t prepared to surrender.
“And just when,” he growled, “were you planning to tell me about her? Or, if I hadn’t turned you down just now, would you have ever told me at all?”
“How could I tell you before now? You made it altogether clear back in Aspen that you wanted no part of fatherhood.”
“After knowing me only a month, how the hell could you be so certain exactly what I wanted or didn’t want?”
“Six weeks,” she corrected him. “We were together for six weeks.”
“Yeah, well, that makes it even worse.”
“It was long enough to realize that the responsibility of parenthood horrified you.”
Like it might have horrified the man who had fathered her, Karen thought. The man who had never been there for her. Had he learned of her existence and rejected her, leaving her mother a single parent? The possibility had haunted Karen her entire life. It was why she had turned to Michael Ramey to provide a father for Livie.
“I wasn’t the one who ran away from Aspen,” Devlin reminded her bitterly. “That was you, Karen. Remember?”
“Yes, I know. And I should have contacted you when I got back here and learned I was pregnant, but…”
“What?”
“Weeks had passed by then. And there’d been nothing but silence. You hadn’t made any effort to reach me, so I could only suppose you didn’t care.”
“And that’s reason enough not to inform me I was going to be a father?”
“No, it wasn’t. I admit that. And it wasn’t morally right to let all this time pass without ever telling you about Livie. But I wanted things to be perfect for her, not her life getting split between Colorado and Minnesota. No complications like that. Just one solid home, one family and one father who cared. It was a mistake, and I’m paying for it now.”
“I’ll tell you another mistake you made,” Devlin informed her, his voice hard and unforgiving. “You went and assumed that, if you told me now about my kid, there’d be no way I could refuse to go out there with you looking for her. You were wrong.”
Karen’s heart dropped like a stone when he abruptly swung around and slammed out of the house.
Chapter Three
Devlin’s rental car was parked out at the curb. A sporty white sedan. Karen could see it through the window of the
