Because of the Baby Read Free

Louise.” The first thing his meddling aunt would do was quiz him about his divorce. Matt figured he’d need more than one glass of champagne if he was going to be trapped in a conversation with his father’s oldest sister. He doubted an entire bottle would fortify him for Aunt Louise and her shamelessly prying questions.
    His rescue came from the most unlikely source. Chrissie Harris, eight-year-old daughter of Mitch, the town’s public safety officer.
    â€œWill you dance with me?” the child pleaded, widening her dark, seal-pup eyes.
    â€œSure thing, kiddo.” He grinned. The kid’s timing couldn’t have been better.
    â€œDad’s dancing with Bethany,” Chrissie explained, sounding a little disappointed. “Dad and Bethany are getting married this summer.”
    Great, another wedding. “I know.”
    â€œI think Scott would like to ask me, but he’s afraid.” Scott was Sawyer O’Halloran’s adopted ten-year-old son—one of his wife’s two children by a previous marriage.
    Matt held out his arms. “Well, we can’t let the prettiest girl here be a wallflower,” he said. Mitch’s daughter slipped off her patent-leather Mary Janes and stepped onto the tops of his shoes. He waltzed her from one end of the dance floor to the other. For a whole minute, perhaps longer, he was able to enjoy the dance without thinking of Karen.
    However, his pleasure was short-lived. The next time hehappened to catch sight of her, Karen was with Christian O’Halloran, Charles and Sawyer’s younger brother. At the end of the dance, Matt thanked Chrissie and refilled his glass.
    The second glass of champagne gave him enough courage to approach his ex-wife. It was ridiculous to pretend they weren’t aware of each other.
    Karen was sitting, no doubt for the first time since the music had started. He picked up two full champagne glasses and walked over to her. Although she wasn’t looking in his direction, she knew he was coming. Matt could tell by the way her body stiffened.
    â€œHello, Karen,” he said evenly.
    â€œMatt.”
    He handed her one of the glasses and took the empty seat beside her. “You look like you could use a drink.”
    â€œThanks.”
    Neither seemed to have anything more to say. Matt struggled to find some safe, neutral topic.
    â€œHow’s California?” he finally asked.
    She stared into the champagne as if she expected to see her response written in the bottom of the glass. “Wonderful.”
    â€œYou look good.” It was best to begin with a compliment, he figured; besides, it was the truth. She looked fantastic.
    â€œYou, too.”
    It was nice of her to lie. He’d lost fifteen pounds because he’d been working his butt off for months. He rarely got enough sleep and wasn’t eating properly.
    She took a sip of champagne, then asked, “Why’d you mail me a valentine card?” He thought her voice shook ever so slightly.
    He’d regretted sending that stupid thing the moment he slipped it in the mailbox. If there’d been a way to retrieve it, he would have.
    â€œWe were married for four years,” she said, “and not once in all that time did you buy me a card.”
    He didn’t have an argument, so he said nothing.
    â€œYou claimed cards were silly commercial sentiments, remember?”
    He wasn’t likely to forget.
    â€œWhy this year?” she demanded, and the tremble in her voice was more apparent than ever.
    â€œMaybe I was trying to make up for the years I didn’t give you one.” It wasn’t much of an explanation, but the only one he had to offer. When he hadn’t heard back from her—not that he’d expected to—Matt knew she hadn’t appreciated the gesture.
    â€œDon’t mail me any more…sentiments, Matt. It’s too little and it’s much too late.”
    He frowned. “Fine, I