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of his dusty boots. The sensual curve of his mouth was a reminder of deep, hot kisses that could rock her to her soul.

      But the look on his face, so cool and neutral and composed, was worrisome. Harlan Patrick’s emotions were usually right out there for anyone to see. Only when she looked into his eyes did she detect the fire of complete and total fury. That’s when she knew that not only had he seen the tabloid, but he’d also realized that Amy Lynn was his.

      That left her with a quandary. She could fold right now and throw herself on his mercy or she could stand up to him the way she’d been doing since their first playground scuffle so many years ago. Her first rule in dealing with him had always been to get the upper hand and hang on for dear life. It was the only way she knew to deal with a steamroller.

      â€œHow did you get in here?” she demanded, every bit the haughty superstar.

      â€œUnfortunately for you, the security guard’s a fan. He never even noticed me. Be glad I wasn’t a stalker, sugar, or you’d be in a heap of trouble.”

      She had a feeling in his own way, Harlan Patrick was every bit as dangerous as any stranger about now. “I could have the guard in here in a flash if you start stirring up trouble,” she threatened. “Nobody gets backstage without a pass, and Chester has a very jittery trigger finger.”

      â€œNow, darlin’, why would I want to stir up trouble for you?” he asked in a patient tone belied by that hard glint in his eyes.

      She refused to be taken in by the deceptively mild question. Skepticism lacing her voice, she asked, “Then this is purely a social call? You just happened to be in Montana and thought you’d drop by to catch the show? We’re just a couple of old friends getting together to catch up?”

      â€œCould be.”

      â€œWhy don’t I believe that for a minute?”

      â€œGuilt, maybe?”

      He looked her over so thoroughly, so knowingly, that it took everything in her not to bolt or spill her guts, pouring out the whole story behind her decision to keep Amy Lynn a secret from him. She forced herself to wait him out.

      â€œSo, tell me, Laurie,” he began eventually, “anything new in your life?”

      Oh, he knew, all right, she thought, listening to this cat-and-mouse game of his. She could have strung him along for another minute or two, maybe more, but why bother? Now that he’d found her, they were going to hash this out sooner or later. Hopefully they could get it over with right here in her dressing room. It was a hell of a lot better than having it out at the hotel, where Amy Lynn was already fast asleep with Val watching over her.

      She looked him straight in the eye and forced his hand. “Come on, Harlan Patrick, spit it out. You saw the tabloid, didn’t you?”

      His gaze locked with hers. “I did.”

      There was that neutral tone again. It was maddening. “And?” she prodded.

      â€œAnd I want to know why the hell you kept my daughter a secret from me?”

      There was the blast of temper she’d been expecting, the confirmation that he’d guessed it all. Laurie didn’t bother trying to deny the truth. In fact, she was glad it was finally out in the open. The secret had been weighing her down for months now, ever since the home pregnancy test she’d taken had turned out positive. She hadn’t been able to go near Los Piños so her mama could see the baby for fear of Harlan Patrick finding out that she’d deceived him. At last she could put all of that behind her. She told herself she should be grateful, but all she felt was a gut-wrenching sense of fear.

      â€œI made a choice,” she told him quietly. “You and I had said our goodbyes. We had finally admitted once and for all that it wouldn’t work with me being on the road all the time and you chained to that ranch you love so much. How could I tell you that there was a baby on the way?”

      â€œHow could you not tell me?” he countered in that same patient, lethal tone. “Did you think for one second I wouldn’t want to know, that I didn’t deserve to know?”

      â€œNo, of course not, but—”

      He was on his feet now, pacing, agitation replacing patience and calm.

      â€œBut nothing,” he said, whirling on her.

      He grabbed her arms, clearly fighting the urge to shake her. With any other man she might have been afraid of the look in his eyes, but she knew Harlan Patrick as well as she knew any human on earth. There wasn’t a violent bone in his body. Even now, he had a tight rein on his temper.

      Then again, as far as she knew, he’d never been tested like this before.

      She looked into his eyes and saw beyond the outrage, saw the genuine hurt and anguish, and that was her undoing. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

      â€œI’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”

      He regarded her incredulously. “Couldn’t you have called me, talked to me? There was a time when we brought all our problems to each other. We could have worked something out.”

      â€œWe’d said our goodbyes,” she repeated. “I couldn’t go stirring things up again, not when there were no easy answers. It wouldn’t have been fair.”

      â€œFair?” he all but shouted. “What was fair about not telling me I had a baby on the way? What was fair about you going through a pregnancy all alone? What was fair about letting our little girl start her life without a daddy?”

      â€œI did what I thought was best for all of us,” she insisted.

      â€œWhat you thought was best,” he mocked. “You didn’t even give me a chance to come up with a solution.”

      â€œWhy should it have been your problem, your solution? I was the one who was pregnant.”

      â€œWith my baby, dammit!” He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, then said more calmly, “We could have figured it out together.”

      â€œAnd done what? You’d be miserable away from White Pines. And I can’t live there. It was as simple as that.”

      â€œWe could have worked it out,” he insisted with the stubborn conviction that was pure Adams. It didn’t matter that they’d run into the same brick wall a thousand times before.

      â€œAnd they’re always telling me I’m the romantic,” she said with a rueful sigh. “This time there wasn’t a happy ending, Harlan Patrick. Trust me.”

      â€œTrust you,” he hooted. “That’s a laugh.”

      He regarded her evenly and took a step closer. He was near enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the pure masculine scent of him. He reached out and ran his knuckle along the curve of her cheek, setting

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