Since meeting with his brothers the day before, Jackson had been in high gear. One thing you could say for the Kings, they knew how to get things done fast.
He’d placed a single phone call to the King family attorneys and within a few hours, he’d not only gained several new employees at his home and every stick of furniture an infant required, but he’d known everything about Casey Davis that there was to know. He wasn’t sure how the law firm had managed it, but he assumed they had people on the payroll who could pull off minor miracles when necessary.
Even knowing that he’d come here to draw a line in the sand, all Jackson could think now was, he wanted to touch Casey again. Feel her eager response, the sigh of her breath on his neck. Drown in the heat of her body.
He shook his head, dislodging the erotic images that flooded his mind, so that he could concentrate on the problem at hand.
“You can’t be serious about us moving in with you.” Her arms tightened around Mia until the baby squirmed uncomfortably in her mother’s grasp.
He’d expected just such a reaction. And if he were to be honest with himself, it was a crazy idea. He was supposed to be on the verge of getting engaged. Marrying a woman who was completely unaware of Mia and Casey’s existence. And truth be told, he hadn’t come here with the idea of moving the two of them into his house. He’d come to demand time with his daughter. But one look at the tiny rental on the ragged edge of town where his daughter lived had convinced him that she deserved better.
And she’d get it.
As for Marian, he’d talk to her. Explain that he needed more time. He couldn’t go into a marriage—not even one that was a strictly business proposition—until he had the rest of his life straightened out.
And who would have thought it would need straightening? He’d always lived his life as he chose. Making his own decisions. Never factoring in anyone else’s opinion.
Seemed those days were over.
“There’s plenty of room. I’ve got a nursery completely outfitted already and plenty of help in the house for you if you need it.”
“I don’t.”
“So you’ve said. Repeatedly.” He shifted on the footstool and the old leather creaked with the movement. “But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this.”
“Andthis is your plan?”
“That’s right.” He got up from the too-low footstool, not because his long legs were cramped but because he was too close to Casey. Her scent reached for him. The curve of her br**sts tempted him and her mouth all but begged to be kissed.
And that wasn’t why he was here. This wasn’t about him and Casey. This was about his daughter.
He walked two short paces—all he could take without actually leaving the room—stopped beside the playpen and idly rested one hand on the rim. “Look, I might never have planned on being a father, but I am one now and that changes things.”
Her chin lifted, her eyes narrowed and her grip on Mia tightened as if she were half afraid he was going to grab the baby and make a run for it. “I don’t see how.”
He laughed shortly. “Of course you don’t.”
She took a breath, blew it out and said, “I know what you’re doing….”
“Is that right?” He let go of the playpen, folded his arms over his chest and looked down at her.
“Men like you—”
“Like me?”
“The take-charge type,” she explained.
“Ah.”
“Men like you see a situation and immediately jump in and start shifting things around. For some reason, you’ve decided that Mia and I areyour business. We’re not.”
“We disagree,” he said, his gaze slipping from her now dark blue eyes to the baby on her lap and back again.
She blew out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know how to say this so you’ll understand me. You don’t owe us anything. I don’t want your money and I don’t need your help.”
Well, that stung. True or not. And it was clearly, he thought with another rueful glance around her tiny, cluttered home, not true.
“Let’s cut to the bottom line here, shall we?” he asked tightly.
Casey stood up and he silently admired the move. She wasn’t content to sit there having to look up at him. Instead, she’d taken action to put them on more equal footing. Or so she thought. Her yellow T-shirt was hiked up beneath Mia’s chubby leg, but her eyes were steady and her features were schooled into a carefully stoic mask. “Let’s.”
“I don’t want my daughter living here.”
She sucked in a breath as if he’d slapped her. “There’s nothing wrong with our house.”
“Not the best neighborhood,” he said.
“We’re perfectly safe.”
“My daughter deserves better.”
“Mydaughter is happy here.”
Jackson knew this little verbal battle could go on for hours, so he decided to end it. Moving in close to her, he looked down into her eyes, inhaled the scent of lavender that clung to her and said, “We can do this one of two ways. A, you and Mia move in with me for say, six months. I get to know my daughter and at the end of that time, I’ll buy you a house anywhere you want.”
“I don’t—”
“Or B,” he said loudly, to drown out her voice and force her to listen to his counterproposal. “You insist on staying here and I make a phone call to the family lawyers. Within a couple of hours, you’ll be notified that I’m suing for joint custody. And if you think I can’t…remember, you contacted me. You broke the anonymity clause.”
Her eyes went wild and wide. Like a trapped animal looking desperately for a way out of a dangerous situation. But there was no way out and Jackson knew it. He had her boxed in neatly.
“You…why would…”
“I’m not the bad guy here,” he said.
“Could have fooled me,” she muttered.
“Let’s remember here that I only just found out about Mia’s existence. I want to know my child. Is that really so unreasonable to you?”
“No, but expecting us to change everything about our lives, is.”
“You have a choice.”
“Some choice.” Shaking her head, she stared up at him and the sheen of tears in her eyes threw him for a second. He hoped to hell she didn’t cry. He hated it when women cried. He always felt helpless—not a feeling he was comfortable with.