AFTERSHOCK Page 4

  At first he searched so diligently for her because there was every chance he had gotten her pregnant. That he hadn't used a condom was disturbing, he always used protection. But then again, neither of them had expected to live through the experience.

  By the time Dax tracked her down—not an easy feat when he hadn't even known her last name—she'd been gone. He'd located her office, only to be told she'd taken a leave of absence. She'd subleased her condo.

  No forwarding address.

  Inexplicably devastated, Dax had gone to help fight the wildfires in Montana. He'd been there a month, during which time his disgruntled secretary messed up his office good, and then took another job.

  When he'd gotten back, there were no messages, but by then he hadn't expected any from Amber.

  She was long gone.

  Clearly, she'd wanted no reminder of that one day they'd shared, which was fine. He had his own life, which consisted of work, women and fun. He hadn't looked back.

  Much.

  "Let's sign you in," he said to Suzette now, shaking the memories off. "This place is packed."

  * * *

  Amber was late. Her alarm hadn't gone off, she'd annoyed a client by running behind, and now she was stuck in traffic.

  Definitely, a terminally bad day.

  Normally she'd have felt weighed down by all the stress. She'd have fought it with breathing techniques and her famed cool control.

  But fighting wasn't necessary, because none of it was important. Her life had forever changed on that fateful day she'd gotten caught in the earthquake, and now all that mattered was Taylor.

  She pulled into the medical center knowing if she didn't rush, she'd be late for their three-month pediatric appointment, and she hated that. She was never late, yet here she was racing through the parking lot with baby Taylor in her arms and a huge diaper bag hanging off her shoulder, hitting her with each stride.

  If she'd gotten up on time, she chided herself, she wouldn't be rushing now. But she was always so tired lately. It was all the change, she decided. Becoming a mother. Coming back to town after a yearlong … what?

  What did one call it when a person ran away from her job, her home, her life?

  A vacation, she reminded herself firmly. She'd never in her life taken one, certainly she'd been entitled. Just because she'd taken it immediately following the earthquake didn't mean it had anything to do with the choices she'd made.

  Neither did one rugged, sexy, unforgettable Dax McCall.

  Nope.

  God, what a liar she was. The cooing sound stopped her cold. Staring down into her daughter's face, her heart simply tipped on its side.

  Baby-blue eyes stared back at her. So had a kissable button nose, two chubby cheeks and the sweetest little mouth.

  Love swamped her. Amber had never imagined herself a mother, but Taylor was the greatest thing that had ever happened to her, and looking into that precious face, she had absolutely no choice but to smile.

  In response, Taylor let out an ear-splitting squeal and grinned, while cheerfully, uncontrollably waving her arms.

  Amber's heart twisted again and she bent, touching her nose to Taylor's. "You are the sweetest baby that ever lived," she whispered fiercely. "I love you."

  Taylor drooled, making Amber smile again, though her smile was bittersweet this time. Taylor was her family, her life, her everything. They were alone together.

  And together the two of them would be just fine.

  That's what Amber repeated to herself as she strode breathlessly to the elevator and hit the button for the second floor. It didn't matter that they were unwanted—Amber by her father, Taylor by hers.

  They would survive.

  As she waited, she smiled at her daughter and wondered for the thousandth time if Taylor had her daddy's eyes. Were the light, crystal clear baby blues, the kind one could drown in, from Dax?

  It still hurt, the not knowing. She'd tried, she reassured herself. The day after the earthquake, after she'd made the rash decision to go to Mexico for an extended vacation that had turned into a yearlong leave of absence, she'd attempted to see Dax.

  In spite of her embarrassment at having to face the man she'd thrown herself at, she'd wanted to thank him for saving her life, for she held no illusions. She never would have survived without him, without his quick thinking and razor-sharp instincts, without his warm, safe arms and incredibly soothing voice.

  She had no idea where he lived, but knew that as a fire inspector, he had to work out of the main fire house downtown. Somehow she'd summoned her courage to thank him in person, but when she'd gotten there, most of her bravery had faded in the face of reality.

  She'd found him all right. He'd been in the break room with one of the firefighters. A woman. And they'd been laughing and teasing and flirting.

  She'd prepared herself for anything, anything but that. Standing in the doorway watching, yearning, she thought she'd never seen anyone so open, so absolutely full of life.

  He was definitely far more man than she was equipped to handle, and with her words of thanks stuck in her throat, she'd turned tail and run. Not exactly mature, but it was done. To make up for her silliness, she'd sent a thank-you card and flowers before she'd left town.

  It hadn't been until later, much later, that she'd discovered her condition.

  Her pregnant condition.

  The elevator doors of the medical building opened and Amber got on, straightening her shoulders and hugging Taylor close. To her credit, she had indeed again tried to reach Dax, and at that memory, she reddened with embarrassment.

  She'd called his office from Mexico, not wanting anything from him, just needing to tell him. She figured she owed him that. He had a right to know.

  He'd been in Montana, helping to fight the out-of-control range fires there. She'd left a message with an unsympathetic secretary, explaining where she was and only that she needed to talk to Dax.

  He hadn't returned the call.

  She understood. He'd moved on.

  Yet whatever his faults, he'd once been compassionate and caring to her, and because of that, he needed to hear the truth from her own lips. In person. Though it had been easier to hide all this time, she couldn't continue it.

  He had to know about Taylor.

  And he would, she promised herself, now that she was back in town—just as soon as she figured out how to do it right.

  The elevator doors opened and she entered a huge reception area, filled with women; young and old, sick and healthy, and very pregnant. Most had little children with them. Resigned to a long wait, Amber signed in and stood there, surveying the grumpy crowd, trying to find an empty seat. In her arms, a wide-awake Taylor shifted, stared at all the chaos around her, and let out a happy little gurgle.

  "Glad someone's so cheery," Amber said with a helpless laugh. She dropped the heavy diaper bag to the floor and sighed in relief at the loss of the weight. Another grateful sigh came when she sank into an empty chair. Sitting had never felt so good.

  But then, from across the room, a sea of waiting people between them, stood a man. Not just any man, but the one who could stop her heart cold.

  Dax McCall.

  And, oh God, he was staring right at her. What should she do?

  All semblance of control flew out the window. So did reasoning. Sure, she could run, but even if her legs were working, running seemed so undignified. She could lie, but that was no good, either. Not only was she horrible at lying, she could never live with herself.

  No, she alone had brought on this awkward situation, she would face it. Easier said than done, she thought wildly, still pierced by Dax's unwavering, highly personal stare.

  For a second she allowed herself to think—hope—he wouldn't recognize her. After all, the last time he'd seen her, she'd been covered in dirt and debris, battered and afraid, and very unlike herself. And then after that, he'd not returned her call, nor acknowledged her card and flowers.

  She should have kno
wn better. He recognized her.

  Strangely enough, around them life went on. Babies cried, though not Taylor, who was blessedly silent. Parents chatted. Moms-to-be flipped through baby magazines. Medical staff buzzed noisily, going about their rounds and duties.

  Amber saw and heard none of it, her gaze held prisoner by Dax's stare. He was exactly as he'd been in her dreams—tall, powerfully built. Unforgettable. He wore snug, faded jeans that fit his athletic physique, and a plaid flannel shirt, open and untucked over a simple white T-shirt.

  Plain clothes, not such a plain man.

  It didn't help that Amber could remember exactly what lay under those clothes. Though she had never actually seen him in all his naked glory, she'd felt him, every single inch, and what magnificent inches they had been. She knew his every muscle intimately, had personally run her hands over those broad shoulders, his wide chest, his flat stomach, those long, tough thighs … and what lay between.

  In her mind she was back there, back beneath that desk, hot and panting for him. If she remembered right, and she was horribly certain she did, she'd actually begged him to take her. Begged.

  Heat flooded her face and she was thankful he couldn't read her mind.

  Still, he stood there, strong and silent. Charismatic. Even now, as he remained frozen, there were any number of women in the room shooting him frank glances of admiration.

  He didn't appear to notice. In fact, he seemed to notice nothing but her.

  Unsure, weak in the knees, Amber smiled feebly and was thankful she'd found a chair. The urge to fling her arms around his neck shocked her, and she decided it was some sort of delayed reaction to what they'd been through last year. After all, there'd been a time, a very brief time, when he'd been her entire world.

  He moved toward her, and she held her breath. She saw the exact moment he registered what she was holding—or rather, whom.

  Hunkering down beside her chair, he gazed with awe and wonder into Taylor's sweet face. "Yours?" he asked.

  God, that voice. It should be illegal to combine that mixture of compassion and sexuality. Her pulse beat like a drum as she nodded.

  Reverently, he reached out and touched Taylor's pink blanket.

  Amber closed her eyes to the sight of him, big and powerful, kneeling by his baby. His baby. This couldn't be happening, not like this, God, not like this. How could she still yearn for him, so much that it was a physical ache?

  Her heart thundered in her chest, her blood pumping so loudly she could hardly hear herself think

  What to say? How to make this all okay?

  How to make him understand?

  Dammit, why hadn't she called him again? Yes, his secretary had been rude and aloof, but what if he hadn't received the message? How could she have been so irresponsible, just because of her own stupid fears?

  "How old is she?"

  "Three months. Dax…"

  "At least you remembered my name." He let out a tight smile. "I wasn't sure there for a moment."

  Shame heated her face, but she didn't let it show. She'd lost her control once around him. She wouldn't do it again. "I've never forgotten."

  "You've obviously forgotten some of it, or you would have contacted me."

  "That goes both ways."

  "Do you really think I didn't try to find you?"

  A thrill shot through her, and it was completely inappropriate. "I tried, too." But the feeble excuse faded at his expression. And then at his words.

  "Three months," he said slowly. "You said she was three months— But that would make her… Oh my God," he said hoarsely, staring at Taylor. "Oh my God. She's mine."

  The pain in his voice was real, very real, and Amber had never known such regret and grief in her life. "Dax."

  "How could you not tell me?" he demanded in a hushed, serrated voice. "Did I hurt you that much? Were you that unwilling? Did you need revenge?"

  "No." His hurt registered and cut like a knife to her heart. She had no idea what to do, how to make this right.

  Where was her easy sophistication now, the distance she needed to pull this off? It deserted her in the face of his utterly honest reaction.

  In all her life, she'd never purposely hurt another. She'd never had the power. Her father had always been impenetrable that way. Roy, her ex-fiancé, had been her father's emotional twin, or non-emotional. She couldn't have hurt either of them if she'd tried.

  There'd been no one else, until Dax. When he hadn't returned her call, she'd figured he was much the same as the other men in her life, but she'd been wrong. Dax wasn't the cold, unfeeling sort, not at all, and she should have known. He was deeply caring and wildly passionate. She imagined he was that way about his work, his playtime, his life, everything.

  He'd never hold back, never ruthlessly control himself.

  She admired that. Admired it, and feared it.

  He didn't move, just stood staring down at his daughter with a combination of awe and fear and devastating sorrow.

  Amber couldn't help but notice that he did indeed have the same pale blue eyes as their daughter. His hair, a thick, rich brown, naturally highlighted from the sun, fell recklessly to his collar.

  It was the exact shade of Taylor's.

  But the physical attributes weren't important, not when compared to the heart-wrenching, awestruck way father and daughter stared at each other.

  Amber's chest had tightened at the first sight of Dax, and the fist gripping her heart only tightened with each passing moment. She could hardly stand it.

  "What's her name?" he demanded.

  "Dax—"

  "Her name, Amber."

  "Taylor Anne."

  "Last name."

  Amber hesitated, only for a second, but he noticed. His jaw tightened. "It's a simple enough question, I think."

  "Her last name is Riggs," she said quietly. "But you're on the birth certificate."

  Dax looked at her then, with eyes as cold as ice and filled with fury.

  "I have a copy of it for you," she added inanely.

  "You're not going to deny it then?"

  "No." Her eyes were filled with bright, scalding tears she refused to shed. "She's yours, Dax. That was the one thing I never had any doubts about."

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  « ^ »

  "Damn you," he said softly, the hardened expression on his face melting when Taylor drooled and waved two fists in the air. "How could you not have come to me?"

  "I called. You weren't in your office."

  He swore again, less softly and thrust his hands through his hair. "And you didn't think that maybe this deserved a second call?"

  "I left a message."

  Those ice-blue eyes pinned her to the spot. "I never would have pegged you as cruel, Amber. Never."

  "Oh, Dax. I never meant to be, but I knew how you felt about becoming a father."

  He stared at her in disbelief, so much hurt in his gaze she nearly couldn't look at him. "You know nothing about me if you thought I'd appreciate your silence on this," he said quietly.

  "I'm sorry." The words were completely inadequate, and she knew it. "Dax, I'm so sorry. I knew I had to call you again. I planned to, but I just got back into town myself and…" And she'd let her fear stand in the way.

  "I looked for you." His laugh was short and completely without mirth. "I wanted to see you. You were nowhere to be found."

  "I went to Mexico."

  "Alone?"

  She nodded.

  He looked away from her, down into Taylor's face. His eyes warmed and he lifted a finger to stroke it down the baby's face. "What about your family? You didn't go to them?"

  Amber thought of her father, and how he'd reacted to the news of her pregnancy. After his shock, he'd recovered quickly, blaming her mother's genes. He'd told Amber she was an embarrassment to him. Worse. And that he didn't want to see her ever again.

  She couldn't admit that shame to Dax. "Going to my family wasn't an option."

&nb
sp; "No? Well coming to me should have been. You should have told me. I should have been there. For you, for Taylor. For me."

  "I thought—"

  "You had no right to make that decision for me, no matter what you thought." His voice was no more than a whisper, but it was so harsh, she cringed.

  "You cheated me," he said. "You cheated her, your own daughter."

  Amber knew that, God she knew, and she couldn't possibly feel more cruel or guilty. Speaking past the lump of emotion in her throat was impossible.

  "Um … Dax?"

  At the soft voice behind them, he stiffened, then drew in an agitated breath before carefully rising to his feet to face the woman who was looking at them, confused.

  With clear difficulty, Dax smiled at the beautiful, tall blonde whose stomach seemed ready to pop. "You should be sitting down somewhere," he said, his voice hoarse. "Waiting for your appointment."

  "What's the matter?" the woman asked, reaching out for him. "Something's wrong."

  "I'm fine," he said.

  "No—"

  "Suzette."

  Something in his voice must have warned her. Now the woman looked Amber over in frank curiosity, and Amber looked right back. She couldn't help herself.

  Another pregnancy?

  "I'm Suzette," the woman said to her, thrusting out her hand.

  Amber stared at it, automatically lifting her own from years of enforced manners, wishing she'd stayed in Mexico, wishing that she and Dax could have had this inevitable confrontation without his "latest" witnessing it, wishing that she was anywhere but here.

  "Suzette, this is Amber Riggs," Dax said.

  "Oh, are you a friend of Dax?" Suzette asked her.

  Amber figured that as a not-so-subtle attempt to figure out the relationship between her and Dax, and she would have liked to crawl in a hole. "Well—" She glanced at Dax.

  No help at all, he just looked at her from fathomless eyes.

  Fine. She could handle this. "It's been awhile since we've—"