The Playboy's Own Miss Prim Read online

  There was no way in hell a child of his would fall into any of those categories. Oh, he knew it wouldn’t be easy. What did he know about babies or raising kids, anyway? He and his brothers ran a huge ranch outside of town. They had purebred horses, an impressive herd of cattle, flashy vehicles, airplanes, a helicopter and state-of-the-art entertainment equipment—all the toys big boys love.

  But on this, Ethan knew that his brothers would agree. There was no question over accepting responsibility. Katie was a Callahan. And the Callahans took care of their own.

  IF SOMEONE HAD TOLD ETHAN he’d be bringing home a woman and baby from the bachelor auction, he’d have informed them they were deluded. But that’s just what he was doing.

  He checked the rearview mirror as he turned down the paved drive that led to the main house, making sure Dora Watkins’s minivan was still following.

  White wood fences glowed silver in the moonlight, as did the house and outbuildings. White was such a clean color, neat, organized, familiar…solid. It was the first impression that had struck him when Fred Callahan had driven up this same drive twenty-six years ago, beneath the arched gateway that proclaimed Callahan Farm, home of world-famous quarter horses. Cloud-white surrounded by miles of vivid green grass.

  A place where three young, scared boys could heal and grow.

  The day Fred Callahan had changed the name placard over the gate to Callahan & Sons was the day Ethan and his brothers knew they were safe at last, that they’d never again have to live in fear of being dumped beside the road like unwanted kittens.

  “I wish you were still here, Dad,” he murmured, his soft words whipped away by the sweet evening breeze that blew through the ’Vette’s open widow. Pancreatic cancer had taken Fred Callahan four years ago. It was a loss Ethan still felt keenly. “I could use some of your steady advice.”

  He pulled up in front of the five-thousand-square-foot house he and his brothers shared, stopping in the circular driveway. He would put the ’Vette in the garage later.

  He got out and nearly had a heart attack when Dora barreled up behind him, coming within inches of his shiny, custom-painted, dent-free sports car.

  Security lights illuminated her face as she popped out of the van, standing on the running board, arms folded across the top of the open door. “Nice house.”

  Well, I hope so, he thought, wondering what it would take to impress this woman. And why he wanted to impress her in the first place. He wasn’t normally a man to brag. Perhaps it was the sassy way she’d told him she could afford to pay seven grand for a night with him.

  More than one night, he reminded himself, getting an attack of nerves all over again. Who would have thought that in the space of about three hours his life would be altered so drastically. That a sweet-faced woman with long legs and a smart mouth would present him with a daughter?

  A daughter.

  He took a breath to steady himself. “You going to come inside, speed racer?”

  She grinned at him. “My daddy says I’m the only one in the whole state of Montana who can get a ticket when there aren’t even any legal speed limits.”

  “You like to go fast. My kind of woman.”

  She gave him a direct look that had his blood heating. “Are you flirting with me, Ethan Callahan?”

  “I believe I am, Dora Watkins.”

  She grinned. “By tomorrow you’ll be so busy you won’t even remember your own name much less how to flirt.”

  He put his hands at her waist, lifted her down from the van, liking the way her trim body fitted against his. “Then we ought to make the most out of tonight, don’t you think?”

  Dora licked her lips. For the life of her, she couldn’t move. He was smooth. So incredibly, sensually smooth. And she found that she wasn’t a woman who could resist all that charm.

  She’d known he was good-looking. Amanda had described him. But the reality was so much better. Brown hair shot through with gold, a movie-star face that was the epitome of masculinity. Blue eyes filled with mischief one minute and fiery seduction the next.

  Her hands came to rest on the firm muscles of his arms that flexed beneath the expensive fabric of his tuxedo. An Armani if she wasn’t mistaken. Grandpa owned one, and so did her brother Joe.

  He lowered his head, and at that moment Dora thought she’d just die if he didn’t close that distance and kiss her. But common sense was stronger than hormones.

  She slapped a palm on his chest. “You get the portable crib, I’ll get the baby.”

  “The…?”

  He looked confused. “Forget about your daughter already, ace?” Good, she thought. She didn’t want him to want this child. Well, she wanted him to like Katie—who could resist this precious little girl?—she just preferred that he would agree to admire her from afar.

  “No, I didn’t forget. You have a baby bed in there?”

  “A portable one. Among other things. I told you, I came prepared to stay the month.”

  He nodded. “I appreciate it. It must be hard for Katie, losing her mother. Introducing her to a father she’s never been around might be too confusing. It’ll be best that we ease her into the household. I imagine it’ll be easier since she’s still so young.”

  “I imagine,” Dora muttered, leaning in to unstrap the sleeping baby from her car seat. “Grab a couple of those suitcases, too, if you can manage.”

  This little dynamo was rough on a man’s ego. Of course he could manage a couple of suitcases. Hadn’t she just been squeezing his muscles?

  “Bossy, aren’t you. And I don’t see anything back here that remotely resembles a crib.”

  Dora lifted the padded bar of the car seat and tried not to smile at the petulance in his tone. She’d pricked his masculinity, and it was just what he deserved. He was entirely too potent to the female population.

  “It’s that oblong blue thing with the handle.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Trust me. It’s bigger than it looks.” She put a blanket around Katie and waited for Ethan to get their things and lead the way into the house. “And as for my bossiness, in my household I learned young that timidity would get you stepped on.”

  “You were mistreated?” He came to an abrupt halt on the first step of the porch, his voice now deadly serious.

  She laughed softly, patting Katie’s back when she stirred. “No. I have four brothers.”

  “Ah, that explains it.” He muscled open the door without dropping a single thing. “Should we set up this little contraption down here or in one of the rooms?”

  She arched a brow. “One of the rooms would be nice.”

  “Yeah. Okay. I wasn’t thinking. I’ve never had a baby before.” Shut up, Ethan. Disgusted with himself, he took the stairs two at a time. How did this woman keep getting the better of him? He was used to calling the shots, used to being the one who did the seducing.

  Yet one look from those lake-blue eyes and he was reduced to a babbling idiot. It was going to stop.

  He took them to the guest room two doors down from his own room. The walls were painted yellow, and he decided that was the perfect color for a baby’s room. He would have to shift some furniture, put the bed in the attic, make a trip to the city for a crib.

  My God, he was scared out of his mind.

  His head spinning, he undid the portable contraption. Dora had laid Katie on the double bed and was already rifling through one of the suitcases, presumably for pajamas. Since her back was turned, he sneaked a peek at the crib assembly directions some clever soul had the extreme good sense to paste discreetly on the bottom. Probably a man, he decided. It wouldn’t do to have fathers appear incompetent with something as simple as assembling a portable crib.

  Now, ask him to hook up a stereo, fly a plane or pick out a prime piece of horseflesh, and he would excel.

  Pleased with himself once he had the little bed all opened out and had shaken it to test for sturdiness, he went to stand by Dora. She had Katie cradled in her arms no
w, humming softly, coaxing the child back to sleep. It was a sight he’d never seen before, had no experience with, but one that touched him.

  “I’ll take your cases to your room.”

  “This one’s fine,” she whispered.

  “No sense in either one of you being cramped or disturbed. We’ve got more bedrooms in this house than we know what to do with.”

  She nodded and continued to hum. The love on her face was clear to see.

  He wanted to know about her relationship with Amanda, wanted to thank her for taking care of his child. He knew only too well that not everyone would welcome the responsibilities of a child thrust on them. Oh, maybe at first—and a baby was certainly hard to resist. But babies grew up, and people changed their minds.

  Even biological parents.

  His daughter would never have to worry about whether or not she was wanted.

  He watched as Dora laid the sleeping baby in the crib and covered her with a blanket, her hand lingering over the child’s back, brushing softly over her wispy hair. Without the pink dress, the baby could have been either gender.

  Dora straightened and looked at him, appeared surprised that he was still there.

  “I’ll show you to your room,” he said quietly.

  “If it’s next door, I imagine I can find the way.”

  “I imagine. But my daddy taught me to be hospitable.”

  “Then by all means, lead the way. I wouldn’t want to corrupt your teachings.”

  He grinned. Damned if he didn’t like her.

  He set her suitcase on the settee by the window. A freestanding mahogany mirror reflected their images beside the four-poster bed with its ivory chenille spread.

  “Nice,” Dora said. “For a bachelor pad, the place is very well put together.”

  “My dad had a decorator come in. Said there was no reason we had to live like swine.”

  She shook her head. “For some reason, I just can’t picture you living like a swine.”

  “Ah, compliments. I’m partial to them.”

  She laughed. “That was an observation, not a compliment.”

  “Your nose is growing, legs.”

  Her laughter sputtered and she choked. “Legs?”

  He gave her a friendly clap on the back. “Yeah. You’ve got long ones…for such a little thing.”

  She poked a finger in his chest and had him backing up. “Careful who you call little.”

  He captured her fingers, flattened her palm against his chest, held it there. Her blue eyes went curious, hot and stunned. And a little unsure.

  The lady liked to talk a big game, but she could be rattled.

  “I wonder,” he murmured, “if that mouth would feel as clever as the words that come out of it.”

  There. Her breath had stopped. He lowered his head, stopped just bare inches from her lips, kept his gaze on hers. He could seduce her. Would love to try. “Tell me something, legs.”

  Her gaze shifted from his lips to his eyes. She nodded slightly.

  “Where did you learn those bidding skills you displayed earlier?”

  He toyed with her hair, felt his heart bump when she tilted her chin, brushed her lower body against his, deliberately. Her blue eyes filled with amusement as well as curious desire.

  “I’ve had plenty of practice at church auctions.”

  “Mmm.” He wasn’t sure what she found so amusing, but he was a man who could make a woman forget her name if he chose to. And right this minute the chemistry was ripe in the room and he chose to.

  His lips were a sigh away from contact, his libido a millisecond away from combustion.

  “At my daddy’s church,” she added.

  Her breath was warm against his lips, firing his fantasies. “Your daddy’s—”

  The mirth in her eyes and her tone had his brain screaming “whoa!” He dropped his hands and leaped back as though he’d been goosed with a branding iron. His hip rammed against the marble corner of the dresser top.

  “You’re a preacher’s daughter?” It came out as an accusation.

  “Is that a problem?”

  The little wench was doing her best not to laugh at him. “Yes, it’s a problem. I nearly seduced you right here in the bedroom.”

  A preacher’s daughter. In his book that put her right up there with the nuns.

  Off-limits for a sinner like him.

  But, man alive, this particular preacher’s daughter was something else. She had the look of an angel…and made him think of pure sin.

  “Oh, believe me, cowboy. You were a long way from seducing me.”

  Chapter Three

  As challenges went, that one was blatant. Ethan nearly stepped forward to show her exactly how wrong she was—that he could indeed seduce her in two seconds flat and have her begging for more.

  Then he reminded himself just who was challenging him here.

  He raked a hand through his hair. “I need a drink. And I need to get out of this bedroom.”

  “I’ve made you nervous.”

  His brows slammed down. “Definitely. And I’m not too proud to admit it.”

  “Mmm. A man who’s in touch with his feelings.”

  “I didn’t say anything about emotions.”

  “A prude, then?”

  “Woman, you’re testing my limits. And that’s tough to do, since I’m well aware of them and pride myself on strict control.”

  “And your control doesn’t extend to a preacher’s daughter?”

  “Are you baiting me?”

  “Evidently I am. And I haven’t the slightest idea why.” She laughed at herself. “We’ve really gotten off track here. But you’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

  “Cute?” He shook his head. “Will you join me downstairs? I have questions.”

  This brought an end to the teasing. Dora nodded. “I figured you would.” She followed him out of the room and down the stairs.

  The house was huge and tastefully decorated in neutral colors. Clean and organized, she decided, yet the quality of the furnishings and art on the walls gave a subtle hint of wealth.

  Dora wasn’t awed by wealth. She had her own fortune and was comfortable either in a mansion or a three-room apartment.

  “You said just you and your brothers live here?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “It’s so…” She waved a hand. “Orderly.”

  “My brothers—Grant and Clay—and I all have the same type of personality. I guess that’s why we get along so well.”

  “You might want to prepare yourself for a personality change. A baby will do that, you know.”

  It seemed she was testing him, almost hoping he would complain. That reminded him that he knew very little about her or the baby. Or Amanda for that matter.

  He stepped behind the wet bar and watched as she wandered around the entertainment room. It was his favorite in the house, measuring thirty by twenty feet with all the latest state-of-the-art equipment.

  She touched a panel and shrieked as the bookcase slid back and turned electronically to reveal his coveted twenty-thousand-dollar stereo system.

  With her hand to her bosom she glared at him. “What is this? Batman’s cave?”

  He grinned. “Like it?”

  “It nearly gave me a coronary. How did that happen?”

  “You touched the sensor. It’s just there.” He pointed to the corner she’d been trailing her fingers over. “It’s touch sensitive. Your body heat’ll activate it.”

  “Is there a way to turn it off?”

  “Sure. With the remote.”

  “Then I suggest you use it. Katie will likely climb up on the shelf and get swept away in the cave. We’ll never find her.”

  He hadn’t thought of that. But then, why should he? He hadn’t had babies in the house. Other than his godson, Timmy Malone, before he’d died. And Stony Stratton’s daughter, Nikki. This was an adult male household. He’d never had to think about safety precautions.

  He did now, pr
essing the remote button that would lock out the sensor and keep the movable wall in place.

  “Does she walk?”

  “Not yet. But she’s quicker than lightning on all fours, fearless and part monkey.”

  He belted back the scotch in his glass and poured another. “Want one?”

  “No, thanks.”

  He kept forgetting she was a preacher’s daughter.

  It stood to reason she wouldn’t drink or cuss or…oh, man, no sex, either. He didn’t know if he was going to survive. Her face alone could make him forget his mind. Those legs…well, he wasn’t even going to go there.

  “You said you were going to stay a month?”

  “At least.”

  He nearly groaned.

  She reached out a hand to caress his stereo equipment and the smooth wood that housed it, then hesitated, looking at him over her shoulder. Her derriere in tight jeans was fueling his fantasies.

  “Is it going to do its haunted house thing if I touch?”

  “No. I turned it off.”

  She did caress then, making him sweat. Hell, it was stereo components, for crying out loud. She stroked them as if they were male body parts.

  “My brothers would drool over this.”

  In this discussion he was on much firmer ground. “It’s designed to make grown men drool. The four hundred watt speakers alone will make a man salivate.”

  She smiled. “You don’t consider that a bit of overkill?”

  “Are you kidding?” A person couldn’t have too much wattage.

  “Mmm, loud enough to take care of your house and your neighbor’s, too.”

  He grinned. “Good thing they’re five miles away.”

  “With four hundred watts blaring, I imagine they can sit on their porch and save their own electricity bill.”

  “In that case I’m helping my neighbors balance their household budget.”

  “And ruining your children’s ears in the process.”

  “I don’t have children.”

  She arched a brow. “How soon we forget.”

  The reminder slammed into his gut and had his hands trembling. He sat down on the ivory leather sectional sofa, a large piece of furniture that was virtually swallowed by the size of the room.