“Are you thinking wild is a bad thing?”

She looked at him steadily.

“Or that I don’t respect you?”

Still, just that look. Damn, she brought new meaning to the word stubborn. “What happened between us was spontaneous, yes,” he agreed. “Hot, most definitely. Even wild. But Amber, it was as necessary at that moment as breathing, you have to remember that much.”

“It wasn’t necessary.”

He’d have liked to prove her wrong, right there on the floor of his office. He had no doubt he could do it. She had passion and heat simmering just beneath her surface, all he had to do was set fire to it. The way they kissed, it should only take two seconds.

But he wouldn’t, because he didn’t like how easily he’d come to forgive her, and he sure as hell didn’t like the way he yearned for her, even now. “Even before I knew about Taylor, I wanted to see you again.”

“Of course you did. I slept with you after only knowing you an hour.”

“Are you talking about when we made love?”

“Sex,” she said calmly enough, but the words came out her teeth. “We had sex.”

“That’s not how I remember it.” He smiled wickedly, figuring her imagination could taunt her with exactly what he was remembering. It would serve her right, since he’d been doing nothing but remembering.

“I acted cheaply. I don’t like thinking about it.”

“Cheap?” he asked incredulously, oddly hurt. “That’s the last thing that comes to my mind when I think of that day.” She turned away but he took her arms, forcing her to look at him. “God, Amber, we were terrified. We thought we were going to die. We needed to feel hope. We needed to feel alive, and we did, in each other’s arms. How could you have forgotten all that?”

She might have pushed away, but he held her still. “No, listen to me.” Somehow it had become critical to him that she not regret what they’d shared. “You didn’t betray yourself that day, it just happened. And it was…right. Very right, dammit.”

Her tortured look faded somewhat. “It gave me Taylor,” she said quietly.

“It gave us Taylor,” he corrected. “And I’ll never forget it.”

They stared at each other, so close that he could have leaned forward a fraction and kissed her soft, very kissable lips, but he didn’t. Much as his body ached for hers, she’d burned him before, and he wasn’t interested in getting burned again. “And as for tonight. You’re not taking advantage, I offered. I’ll even bring dinner.”

“Why?”

“You know, all that mistrust is getting really old.”

“I’m not mistrustful.”

He laughed. “Granted, it’s well hidden behind that sophisticated, sleek business front, but it’s there.”

“Why are you bringing me dinner?”

“See? Right there. Mistrust.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m bringing dinner because I’ll be hungry.”

“Oh.” She thought about it and started to give him a suspicious look, which she quickly squelched. “I suppose that would be all right.”

“Good.” He’d have shown up whether she liked it or not. If he knew his little daughter, and he was beginning to know her quite well, he figured Amber hadn’t had a hot meal or a decent night’s sleep in over three months. That was going to change.

“Go on,” he said, pulling her up, nudging her to the door. “We’ll see you later.” Then he ushered her out before she could gather her wits to resist, which he knew she would have done if she hadn’t been dead on her feet.

When she was gone, Dax turned to Taylor, hands on hips, a mock frown on his face. “You’ve been tiring out your parents,” he said, picking her up and holding her close.

Taylor gummed a wet smile.

“It’s got to stop. You hear me?”

She let out a sweet little giggle.

Dax kissed her noisily, making her wriggle with delight, which in turn warmed his heart in ways he’d never imagined.

He couldn’t fathom being without her.

He was beginning to understand he felt the same way about her mother.

DAX ARRIVED at Amber’s condo at exactly 7:07 p.m. with Taylor in one arm and dinner in the other. Not that Amber had been pacing, watching the clock for the past hour and a half.

She reached for Taylor and squeezed her so tight the baby mewled in protest. Amber couldn’t help herself; she’d missed Taylor so much. She kissed the baby’s nose and then her face, and then nearly leaped out of her skin at the sexy, unbearably familiar voice behind her.

“I’ll take one of those.”

Slowly, she turned. “You’ll take one of what?”

“A kiss.”

Her tummy fluttered. “Hmph.”

He grinned, and the butterflies in her stomach took wing. What was it about him? He should have hated her. Or at the very least, still been furious. That he wasn’t, and that he looked at her in a way that both confused her and made her…hot, was greatly disturbing.

“Hungry?” he asked, lifting a bag from a local deli.

“It’s my father’s birthday,” she said slowly, her mouth watering at the smell coming from the brown bag. “I was going to call him.”

“Call him. See if he’ll join us.”

He wouldn’t, Amber knew that. But she found she couldn’t admit any such thing to Dax. So, as he watched her with that quiet intensity of his, she picked up the phone and dialed the number.

“Hello, Dad,” she said calmly when her father answered, as if her heart hadn’t leaped into her throat at the sound of his voice after so long. “I wanted to wish you happy birthday.”

Her voice was steady. Steady was important, even if she was so nervous she felt as though she might shatter at any moment. “I was also hoping you’d come for dinner and meet your granddaughter.”

“Not likely,” came the voice that had ruled her childhood. “Not when her mother is a slut.”

Dax moved closer, but she held the phone tight to her ear so he couldn’t hear. “I’m sorry you’re still upset with me, but there’s no need for it.” She hesitated, then said softly, “I’m not like Mom. Really, I’m not.”

“Did you marry that baby’s father?”

“M-marry?” She glanced at Dax over her shoulder and found him still looking right at her. “Uh…no.” With a carefully blank face, she pointed to the living room, gesturing him away. Anywhere, as long as he was far from her and this conversation.

Dax just settled back and lifted a brow.

With a sound of impatience, Amber covered the phone. “Go,” she whispered.

“Maybe I should have extended the invite,” he murmured. And then he grabbed the phone right out of her hands.

“Give that back!”

“Not yet.” He held the phone out of her reach before bringing the receiver to his ear. He had to use his other hand to hold Amber off, but he did so with no problem, slipping one strong, warm arm around her. His forearm banded across her back, his fingers came to just above her rib cage, holding her stronger than a vise.

All she could think was that his fingers were pressed against the curve of her breast. Unbelievably, because she hated being restrained, her nipples tightened. Her breath quickened.

As if he could tell, Dax looked down into her face, his own breath coming a little faster.

“Give me the phone, Dax,” she murmured.

His fingers spread wide and brushed the underside of her left breast.

She melted a little. “Now.”

He shook his head. “Hello,” he said politely into the phone, his fingers driving her to distraction. “I’m Daxton McCall, Taylor’s father.”

Amber groaned. Her father had never approved of her, and this wasn’t going to help. He was convinced she led a wild, out-of-control lifestyle, and very likely, this conversation would confirm it.

She shouldn’t care that she disappointed him, but she did, and still, to this day, wished she could make everything right, wished that her father missed his own flesh and blood the way she missed having a family.

“I’m taking full responsibility for Taylor,” Dax said into the phone. “Any questions?” He continued to smile in that easygoing manner as he ruined her life, but Amber could see there was steel lining that smile and he was not kidding around. Dax was deadly serious and more than a little dangerous looking.

“We’d love you to join us tonight,” he said. “Oh, you can’t? Then how about you and I meet tomorrow, for lunch. I’m in the inspection office, downtown fire station. Yes. You can express all your anger and disappointment, and you can do it with me. Not Amber. Okay? See you then.”

Amber gaped at him as he hung up.

“I hate bullies,” he said conversationally.

Too late, Amber remembered she didn’t gape as a rule. It was, however, much more of a struggle to control herself than usual. She was discovering that was the norm with Dax. “I can’t believe he wants to meet you.”

“Well he really wants to punch me in the nose, but he’ll settle for a good look at me. I’m going to give it to him.”

“He was…nice?”

“Let’s say he was polite.” He smiled. “Definitely curious.”

In less than two minutes Dax had gotten the approval from her father that she’d been fighting for all her life.

It was deflating, depressing and demoralizing, not to mention infuriating.

“Amber?”

She was perfectly aware that her fury was illogical, that she was about to direct it toward the wrong person, but she couldn’t help herself. “I want you to go now.”

“What?” He looked so stunned she nearly laughed, but this wasn’t a laughing matter. “Why?”

“I realize you probably don’t get a lot of rejections. Consider this a learning experience.”

“Amber, listen to me.” He took her shoulders in his big hands to see that she did just that. “I can see that you care what he thinks-”

“I don’t.”

“Of course you do, it’s natural.” His understanding and compassion were far more than she could take at the moment, but he wouldn’t let her move away from him. “I don’t want to cause you any grief. That’s why I’m going to meet him, to take some of the pressure off of you.”

Couldn’t he see that just having him in her life was causing grief? Couldn’t he see that she needed him to leave, now, before she did something really stupid? Like crying on his broad, capable, oh-so-comfy shoulder? She was alone in this. She wanted to be alone in this. “I’m really tired.”

“Oh, baby, I know that one.” His smile was warm, sweet, caring. And when he slid his fingers over her cheek as if she was the most important person in his world, her throat burned.

“Why are you doing this? Being nice?”

“Because…” He lifted a shoulder. “It’s better than harboring resentment. It feels good. Because I want to. Pick one.”

“But-”

“Amber, don’t you ever get tired of fighting it?”

“It?”

“It.” He stroked her jaw with his thumb, then touched the racing pulse at the base of her throat. “This.”

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His gaze took a leisurely sweep over her body, ending at the straining button between her breasts. On either side, her hard, aching nipples pressed against the material of her blouse. He seemed fascinated by the play of his fingers over her collarbone. “Don’t you?” he murmured. “Don’t deny it, I can see that you do.”

With a huff of vexation, she crossed her arms. “I can’t help that.”

“I’m glad.” His smoldering eyes met hers now. “I’m glad you can’t control the attraction between the two of us, it’s the only way I know I’m reaching you at all.”

To hell with control and finesse. To hell with appearances. Screw all of it, she needed him gone, now, before she made a complete fool of herself and tore her clothes off, and then his. She marched to the front door and opened it. “Good night, Dax.”

He frowned, though whether at her husky voice or her abruptness, she didn’t know.

“Look, it’s nothing personal,” she assured him. “It’s just that I’ve had enough of men running my life, manipulating me, and deciding what’s right for me.”

He went very still. “And you think that’s what I’m doing?”

“Aren’t you? You want me to share Taylor-”

“She’s mine, too, Amber. Get it through that pretty, thick head of yours.” He cupped her face in his hands, tipping it up to meet his intense gaze. His fingers on her skin made her knees knock together. So did looking at his lips and she wondered, totally inappropriately, if he kissed her now, would she melt as she had a year ago?

Probably.

Definitely.

Which was another reason to get him out of here, quickly. But he wasn’t budging, his big body was a stubborn brick wall she couldn’t move.

“I hate it that you shy away from me, from the connection between us,” he said.

She swallowed at the real glimpse of pain she saw in his eyes. Dammit, did he have to be so sensitive, so open and warm, so…perfect? “I don’t feel any particular connection.”