“Dax-”

Taylor, tired of waiting, let out another warning cry. She still had a grip on Dax’s shirt, and with a kick of her legs, she tugged. Dax grimaced and unsuccessfully attempted to untangle Taylor’s fist. “She’s got chest hair in that fist,” he said, pained.

Good. But Dax’s second wince reached her, and with a sigh, she stepped close. “Let me help-”

Their hands touched, his big and rough, hers small and elegant.

The connection was startlingly electric, and given the way Dax went suddenly still, he felt it, too.

They stared at each other stupidly.

Ever since the earthquake, Amber had convinced herself that their undeniable attraction was a direct result of the death threat they’d been under.

Another untruth, it seemed, because there was no threat of death here, and that almost chemical heat between them existed strong as ever.

It was easier to stand and busy herself with loosening Taylor’s little fist than to meet Dax’s unwavering gaze. Only problem-now she was face-to-face with him, mere inches away, touching his shirt and chest with a familiar intimacy that made thinking difficult.

“Care to share that thought?” he wondered. “The one that’s making you blush?”

Her fingers faltered. “No.”

“Chicken,” he taunted softly.

Her lips tightened, and she might have given him a frosty comment, if she hadn’t noticed his breathing wasn’t any more steady than hers.

Mercifully, Taylor’s name was called from the front desk.

Amber looked up at Dax. He looked right back.

“I need to take her in,” she said softly, holding out her hands for the baby.

Dax didn’t relinquish her. “I’m coming.” His face had hardened into the stubborn expression of a man with a fight on his hands.

But she had no intention of giving him one. She didn’t intend to keep Taylor from him, nor did she want to hurt him in any way.

“And then we’re going somewhere to settle this,” he said firmly.

At that, her good intentions faltered. Memories crowded her, unhappy ones. Always, her father’s word had been law. Roy had turned out to be much the same way. All her life, she’d told herself someday things would be different, and now they were.

No one was the boss of her. Not even the man she’d had a child with. She’d share Taylor with Dax because it was the right thing to do, but she’d never let him run her life.

“Settle this?” she repeated evenly, as though her heart hadn’t settled in her windpipe. Would he try to take Taylor away from her? Would he tell the courts she was an unworthy mother, just as her own mother had been? “What do you mean by that exactly?”

“I mean that this is far from over.”

“Yes, but-”

“Taylor,” the nurse called again, and without another word Dax turned, and still holding Taylor, headed toward the waiting nurse, leaving her to follow.

She hated that, mostly because she had never trusted anyone to lead the way for her before, and yet, that very lack of trust had led directly to the trouble she now found herself in.

BY THE TIME they got to Amber’s condo, Dax’s head was spinning. He had so many emotions running through his mind he was amazed he could even speak. He didn’t ask, but simply followed Amber inside.

He couldn’t take it all in.

He had a baby.

He was a father.

And then there was Amber herself. Her artfully cut, shiny dark hair still came only to her chin. Her even darker eyes were huge in her face, and full of haunting secrets.

But he thought she was the most attractive woman he’d ever been with. He’d always thought so, from that very first day.

Certainly his daughter was the most beautiful baby he’d ever laid eyes on. He’d held her through her doctor’s appointment, staring in stunned amazement at her scrawny little limbs and rounded belly, watching enthralled at the way she screwed up her face with fury when the nurse undressed her.

She had a hell of a temper, he’d noted with some amusement, and none of her mother’s cool control. No, his baby girl was all McCall, wearing everything she felt right on her sleeve for the world to see.

And she was his. His.

He was a father. He was a father. Dear God, he was a father.

Honestly, he didn’t know whether to dance or cry, but could have easily done both. “Excuse me,” he said, moving past a startled Amber into her living room, and folding his liquidy legs, he carefully set Taylor-still in her carrier-on the couch. He sank down next to her and just stared at her.

“Dax?”

“I’m a father, Amber.”

She sighed. “Yes.”

The hesitation in her answer reminded him she hadn’t come to him. He’d happened upon her. The betrayal, even for a woman he didn’t really know, cut deep. Dax wasn’t perfect, not even close, but he was honest to a fault and expected others to be as well. He’d never have thought Amber capable of this.

“I want to understand,” he said, still looking at his baby. “But for the life of me, I can’t.”

“Understand?”

“Why?” He lifted his head. “How could you not tell me?”

The question, or maybe his face, had her unbuckling Taylor and pulling her into her arms, possessively, protectively, so much so that it was painful to witness.

She actually looked hurt, afraid…and he didn’t understand.

He was the wronged party here!

“The reasons don’t seem to make much sense now,” she admitted, kissing the top of Taylor’s head.

“Try me.”

“All right.” She was in control now, her voice smooth, her gaze steady. “What we had was a fling, Dax. Neither of us wanted more, or would have wanted to drag it out.”

Why that infuriated him, he couldn’t have said. Maybe because he’d so foolishly looked for her afterward. And then ached for so long at her disappearance. “Speak for yourself.”

Her gaze floundered but she remained outwardly calm. “All right. Long after it was over, and a full month into my vacation-”

“Vacation. Don’t you mean your Leave-From-Life?”

“-I discovered I was pregnant,” she finished without looking at him. “I tried to contact you. You didn’t call me back.”

“I didn’t get your message.”

“I’m sorry. I knew I had to try again, but I…” Her jaw tightened. “There are no excuses really. I was wrong. I’m sorry for that, so very sorry.” Something haunting flickered across her face. “I was used to being alone, so it seemed rational to do this alone, too.”

Dammit, he absolutely didn’t want to see that flash of vulnerability, didn’t want to be touched by it. With all his being he needed to hold onto his anger. “You’re going to have to get over that,” he said, not very kindly. “Being alone.”

She said nothing to that, and since she was the queen bee at hiding her emotions, he had no idea what she was thinking. She settled Taylor in a playpen, where the baby stared happily up at a musical mobile, kicking excitedly.

Dax could have watched that little girl all day long, but at the moment, the show was Amber. Her actions were smooth, and so purposely relaxed that he knew she had to be the exact opposite-strung tight as a drum.

“I like to be alone,” she said.

“That’s too bad.”

She flinched.

And that was where more unwanted conflicting emotions came into play for Dax. He didn’t pretend to understand this woman who had tipped his world on its axis, but at the time, he found he couldn’t purposely hurt her. “I’m not threatening you,” he said gruffly, hating that she clearly thought he was. “You’re the mother of my child.” Which made his stomach twist. “We need to talk this out, Amber.”

“I know.” No nervous fluttering for this woman. Standing directly in front of him, her body and hands still, her face guarded, she waited.

Waited for what exactly, he hadn’t a clue. Her eyes gave nothing away, but he could have sworn she was expecting him to light into her one way or another. Again, he was struck by her cool beauty. That he knew exactly how much heat and passion lay just beneath that surface didn’t help things. “Will you sit?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

She didn’t move a muscle. “I can’t handle the small talk. Just get down to it. You’re going to fight me for custody.”

It took him a full moment. “What?”

“You’re going to try to take her away from me, right?”

He stared at her, shocked. She was standing there, cool as a cucumber, waiting for the ax to fall, waiting for him to try to destroy her. “Hold on.” He shook his head, trying to clear it. Then he slowly stood to make them even. “Have I at any time in these past few hours said anything, anything at all, that could have possibly made you believe I would take Taylor from you?”

“You have to admit, it’s something a person in your position would consider.”

A headache started, right between his eyes. A tension headache, he realized with surprise. He almost never got tension headaches. “You’ve been in business too long,” he said wearily. “You think with that cutthroat mentality.”

She still just waited, making him sigh. Was she really cold? Or was she dying of fear inside? “I have no intention of suing you.”

“But?” Her lips curved, but the smile wasn’t warm. “I think I hear one at the end of that sentence.”

He let out a disparaging sound and massaged his temples. “But…hell, I don’t know. I can’t believe I’m here, doing this.” Restless, he strode to the playpen.

Taylor turned her attention from the mobile, staring at him with the somberness of an old woman. Bending closer, he smiled at her and suddenly she came to life, wiggling, waving her arms, pumping her little legs for all she was worth, cooing and babbling, doing everything in her three-month-old power to entice him to pick her up.