was no help. Every time the baby cried, he stuffed cotton in his ears and went out on the hotel room balcony, plunked himself down into a plastic chair and tried to sleep. But Max couldn’t sleep. His existence was caught up in this baby for now, and that was all he could think about.
That, and Cari Christensen. She was the one person he knew who could help solve a lot of his problems. But he had to forget about her.
He’d come to Dallas with two clear goals in mind. First, he’d wanted to find Sheila and discover if the baby she claimed she had was really Gino’s. That was pretty much in the works. He had no idea where Sheila was, but when you came right down to it, that didn’t matter. He had the baby. And he would soon know the truth about the baby’s parentage.
He’d never been a baby person, never been around the little things. And he hadn’t expected to feel much of anything for this one. Babies were nothing but potential people—little blobs of flesh and noise. Puppies had more personality.
But the funny thing was, he’d felt something of an instant connection when he’d seen baby Jamie. One look at that little face had torn a hole in his heart. He was as sure of this as anything—this baby was his brother’s.
When word had come that Gino had died in the crash of the plane he was testing out, Max had felt his world tilt on its axis. His big brother had been his guiding star all his life. For a long time, he’d thought he might never feel joy again.
But he’d had to suppress any overt mourning, because his mother’s despair had been so deep and so complete it had taken all his effort to pull her out of what he was afraid could have developed into a suicidal impulse at any moment. And now, to think he might be able to bring her Gino’s baby—the thought took his breath away. He couldn’t allow himself to get too invested in this until the tests proved the connection. But he was pretty sure what the results would be.
His other goal had been to find a way to wrest the Triple M Ranch from the daughter of his mother’s old rival. That wasn’t going so well. But he hadn’t really concentrated on it as yet, so there was plenty of time to figure out ways to succeed there, too. He’d contacted Celinia Jade, or C.J. as he preferred to call her—and she didn’t seem to mind—who came across as something of an airhead at first. But in no time at all, he’d noticed a sharp turn of mind that sent up warning flags. The woman might talk like she had nothing in her mind but fluff, but underneath there was a steely sense of purpose. She knew what she wanted, and she wasn’t going to be easy to snow. He might have more trouble there than he’d anticipated.
They had made plans to try to meet again tonight, same time, same place. This time he was going to make damn sure he had the right woman. No more screwups. He was going to be pure Mediterranean charm and solicitude. The woman wouldn’t know what hit her.
He knew what he was doing. His life for the past ten years had been immersed in real estate—big real estate, big deals. This was nothing. It should be a piece of cake. C.J. was in financial trouble and he planned to make a very nice offer for the ranch. He was prepared to be fair, generous, even. He wasn’t out to cheat anyone. His mother seemed to think emotional ties would make it hard for her to sell, but he had his doubts. When faced with the facts, he was pretty sure he would be able to make her see the light.
If he could return to Italy with the deed to the ranch in one hand and Gino’s baby in the other, some of the heartbreak that shadowed his mother’s eyes might fade a bit. That was his hope.
The baby was crying again. He paced the floor for a few minutes, then gave in to the urge to go into the nursery they had rigged up in the smallest bedroom of this lavish hotel suite and see what was going on. Mrs. Turner, the nanny, was sitting in the rocking chair, reading a mystery novel. Meanwhile, Jamie was turning bright red as he cried his little heart out.
“The baby’s crying,” he pointed out sharply.
Mrs. Turner looked up and nodded, glaring at him. “It’s good for him to cry. It develops his lungs.”
He was nothing if not skeptical, but he hesitated. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” She gave him the supercilious smirk he was growing to hate. “Why else would they have that ability?”
He gritted his teeth. “I thought it was so they could let people know they needed help.”
She smiled as though he were a poor fool who knew nothing about children. “That’s only part of it. You can’t baby them, you know. You mustn’t spoil them, even at the infant stage. It’s best to encourage them to grow and stretch themselves. You wouldn’t want the poor dear to fall behind in development, now would you?”
He wanted to argue, but he had no ammunition. What did he know about this, anyway?
“I suppose you know best,” he grumbled, turning away. But the picture of Jamie’s little tragic face, all twisted with grief, staying in his mind.
Back out in the living room, he went to the folder where he was keeping his papers and pulled out the certificate that was meant to guarantee the expertise of the nanny. Maybe he should give the school that issued it a call. He frowned. Or maybe he should just call Cari and see what she thought.
His hand was already on the telephone receiver when he stopped himself. No, he couldn’t do that. He had to break all ties with the woman. That was the only way he would ever get her out of his head. He couldn’t let himself think about Cari and her sweet, pretty face. He’d set his sights on charming C.J. and that was where they had to stay. Swearing, he reached for the cotton to put in his ear and started out to join Tito on the balcony.
The Copper Penny where Cari worked was just off the interstate. A mix of locals and tourists patronized the trim little café. She liked the early afternoon when the hectic lunch crowd had dwindled down to a few housewives lingering over coffee and the assorted cowboys who came in from riding fences at some of the nearby ranches. The easy camaraderie was what she liked best about her job. It was pretty much the same group of cowhands that came in every day. One by one, most had tried to hit on her, but in a relaxed, friendly way that never got serious. She could swat their propositions aside like a mama dog controlling her puppies. Few took offense, and those that did were easily joked out of it.
Today Cari wasn’t doing any joking. Her mind was on other things and she poured coffee and took orders with a distracted air. The men she served were a blur to her. Her thoughts were full of Max.
“I’ve just got to think about him as much as I can now, so I can be done with him and get him out of my head,” she told herself impatiently. It was a plan, but she wasn’t at all sure it was a plan that was going to work.
She’d known from the moment he’d walked into the club that he was absolutely the wrong man for her. Too tall, too handsome, too arrogant, too sure of his right to command the attention of everyone there.
Her husband had been like that in a way. Well, not so tall, not so handsome, and not so full of self-confidence. But he’d had the arrogance down pat. Brian had mostly been frustrated in his attempts to take charge of the rest of the world. He’d had a bit more success in boxing her in with his small life and visions. And he’d managed to make her life miserable because of it.
The autocratic husband was the worst kind, as far as she was concerned. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted another man in her life at all, but if she did decide to try another relationship, it sure wouldn’t be with a man like Brian. Or Max, for that matter.
“That’s why Randy is
