Daddy by Surprise by Debra Salonen Page A

edginess was because of the small space he’d inadvertently invaded.
    When her gaze met his, he saw for the first time just how blue her eyes really were. Like a Rocky Mountain lake reflecting the sky on a sunny day. Gorgeous.
    She quickly retreated and motioned for him to proceed ahead of her. “We should probably get to the others right away. I want the ink to have time to dry before you take off. It could be a problem if you got caught in a storm.”
    He looked around as he returned to the kitchen. The living room was small—about the size of his office waiting room—but every bit as neat as the other parts of the house he’d seen. Probably a tough accomplishment with two young children. He could see stacks of board games under the coffee table and what looked like an Xbox or some video-game apparatus. Although his office manager stocked several of the latest games for their younger clients, Jack had never owned one. His father hadn’t approved. He thought video games created fat, lazy kids.
    Kat’s son wasn’t fat. Jack couldn’t speak to the kid’s ambition.
    “How do you feel?”
    “Fine. Although I’m a little embarrassed. I can’t tell you the last time I took a nap.”
    “It was after eleven when you left the bar.”
    “And then I stuffed myself with chicken-fried steak. It was delicious, by the way.” He even took a photo of the monster-size plate covered in white gravy. Rib-sticking, a heart attack on a plate, as he’d heard people say.
    He lowered himself onto the straight-back chair that Kat had carried inside. “Let me put this pillow on the table. Rest your forehead on it and put your hands in your lap. Do you think you can hold this position for half an hour?”
    “I’ll try.”
    She cocked her head as if surprised by his answer. His sister often accused him of being too honest. “Girls like a little mystery, Jackson. You don’t always have to spell everything out in black and white.”
    Maybe, but hyperbole wasn’t his style. Which was why he felt compelled to set the record straight where Kat Petroski was concerned. “You know I’m not an experienced biker, right?”
    She looked up from the binder she’d brought into the kitchen and set on the counter beside the sink. “Pardon? Oh, right. I already guessed that.”
    “Because the bike looks new?”
    She danced a fingertip across the fabric of his jeans. “Your leathers aren’t broken in. But, hey, you have to start somewhere. It’s not a comment on your ability to handle the bike or anything.”
    She picked up her stencil and leaned forward. The smell of ink and something delicious, like oatmeal cookies, filled his nostrils.
    Damn. Between her touch and her scent he was going to be lucky if he managed to keep from making a fool of himself. He turned his chin so he could see the door of the refrigerator. A small collection of school photos were grouped in one corner, with the rest of the space devoted to art projects and papers. A spelling test with a big red A-plus on it. A kid’s pencil sketch of trees and a very large bird, probably an eagle.
    He couldn’t remember his mother ever hanging a single thing he or his sister produced anywhere in the house. She wasn’t the sentimental type, his father once told him. “Mom lives in the moment. It’s a good place to be.”
    But at the moment, soft hands were touching his back and a faint breath tinged with wintergreen drifted across the hair on the nape of his neck. Gooseflesh formed across his arms.
    “Are you chilled? I can close the window. Probably should, anyway. Sometimes the rain doesn’t give you any warning.”
    “I’m fine. Maybe you should skip the one on my chest. Would you believe I left my rain gear in my hotel room? Talk about unprepared.”
    She shrugged. “Worst case, you can put your bike in my shed and I’ll give you a ride to Deadwood. I need to pick up my check from the bar.”
    “You’re not on duty tonight?”
    She leaned down to his level and