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“You mean…” A mix of panic and confusion swirled in Landon’s gut. “You’ve seen her?”

Doug raised his hands and let them fall to his lap. “I shouldn’ta said nothing.”

Whatever Doug was talking about, none of it made sense. Where would he have seen Ashley? And if she was here in New York, why hadn’t she contacted him?

Landon stood and leaned over the table, resting his weight on his straight arms and clenched fists, his face inches from his partner’s. “Look, this isn’t a joke, Phillips. I’m serious. Where’d you meet her?”

“It’s better you don’t see her, pal.” Doug crossed his arms and leaned back, placing more space between them. “Things are too new with you and that—” like a blind man, he raised his hand and groped about in the air between—“what was her name? The girl with the baby?”

“Reagan? The blonde who stopped by the other day?”

“Yeah, that’s her.” Doug slid down a few feet and leveled his gaze at Landon. “You need to keep your priorities, Blake. Neither o’ them girls needs you two-timing; know what I mean?”

Landon was beginning to.

He eased himself back to the bench and pushed down the panic welling within him. He needed to clarify the situation regarding Reagan, but not until he got some answers. “Get back to the part about Ashley. How do you know about her?”

“Okay, look.” Doug held his hands up, palms toward Landon. “I told her I wouldn’t say nothin’, and I keep my promises, okay?”

Landon had to grip the bench to keep from lurching across the table and shaking his partner. “Ashley lives in Indiana. If you saw her, I need to know about it. Believe me—” he glanced around the room—“if she came this far, she wants me to know.” His voice fell a notch, the fight gone. “No matter what she said.”

Doug frowned. “I feel funny about it. I promised her.” He looked up and the two of them made eye contact. Gradually the angst turned to empathy, and Doug’s shoulders slumped forward. “Fine. But don’t tell her I told you.”

A picture was forming in Landon’s mind, one that riddled his stomach with knots. “She was here?”

“Yeah, the other day. Just after you and your girl went for the walk.”

Landon felt the blood drain from his face. “My girl?”

“The first one, the blonde…with the baby.” Doug shook his head. “Your life’s a mess, pal.”

“Did she see me? With Reagan and the baby?” Landon’s throat was dry and he couldn’t swallow.

“No.” Indignation punctuated the word. Doug raised his eyebrows. “I told her. I said she’d just missed you. You and the girl were out with the baby.”

The baby! Landon’s stomach tightened. “What did you tell her about the baby, Phillips?” He was on his feet, moving one slow step after another around the table toward his partner. “Did you say something about the baby?”

Doug shrugged. “She asked.”

“About the baby?”

“Yeah.” He lowered his eyebrows. “I told her the truth. What’d you want me to do, Blake, lie to the girl? How was I supposed to know you was two-timin’?”

“I’m
not
two—” Landon fell back against the closest wall and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “Never mind.”
God, where is she? What’s she thinking?
He didn’t wait for a response. Instead he lowered his chin and found Doug’s eyes again. “What’d you tell her?”

“I told her it was yours.” Doug stood up, crossed the dining area and tossed his crumpled napkin into the trash can.

“You
what?”
Landon gritted his teeth. “Reagan’s baby isn’t mine. She’s a friend, Phillips. She used to date Ashley’s brother.”

Doug froze in place, clearly processing this newest bit of information. “But after the call, when the girl was bleeding and we were back in the truck, you said…”

“I said we were good friends.”

“Very
good friends.”

“So that doesn’t mean I’m the father of her baby!” Landon’s voice rose.

“And then the other day you said he was your little guy, the baby.” Doug’s expression changed. He headed for the doorway, rolled his eyes, and brushed his hand in Landon’s direction. “You got yourself into this, Blake.”

“Wait!” Landon caught up to Doug.
“I
didn’t say he was my little guy; those were your words.”

Doug thought about that. “Fine. You didn’t say anything different.”

“So Ashley came here looking for me? And you told her I was out with a girl and a baby?”

“Your
baby.”

“Did she…did she say where she was staying? Why she’d come?”

Doug thought for a moment. “She had this—” he spread his arms out to either side—“this huge bag. Kinda thin and leatherlike. Big enough to hold blueprints, you know?”

Her art portfolio? Ashley came to New York with her port-folio? Landon’s mind raced. Had she brought her paintings? But why? Was she looking at one of the galleries in the city, or had one of them found out about her? She hadn’t said a word, but then maybe that’s why she’d come to the station.

To surprise him.

Instead, the surprise had been all hers. Landon gripped Doug’s shoulder. “Where was she staying?”

“She didn’t tell me.” His partner jerked his shoulder free from Landon’s grasp. “You should be careful what you say.”

“Forget it.” Landon turned and went to the farthest chair he could find, a dilapidated recliner stuck in the corner of the den.

Doug was right; the mess was his own fault.

He dropped into the chair and leaned forward. His forearms rested on his knees and he clasped his hands. How could she have come at that exact hour? When Reagan was there? Why hadn’t he been more careful with his words? He wasn’t interested in Reagan; he just wanted to make her feel welcome, special. She was all alone in the city, a single mom, and still grieving the loss of her father.

Of course Landon had been kind. But look where kindness got him.

Now Ashley was somewhere in the city believing…what? That he’d come here last September and fallen for Reagan Decker? The idea was ludicrous, but what else could she think after his partner’s explanation? He had to find her, had to clear this mess up before Ashley left without knowing the truth.

Landon pressed his fingers into his brow and tried to guess where she’d be. If she hadn’t gone home yet, she could be anywhere. He closed his eyes and exhaled hard.
God, help me. Where would she be? Who would know how to find her?

Then it hit him.

Her parents. They probably had Cole, and if not, they would definitely know about Ashley’s trip, how long she was here, and where she was staying. He was on his feet as soon as the idea snapped into focus.

In the two seconds it took him to cross the room he tried to guess at what Ashley must be thinking. The image of her standing in the station with her art case, hearing the news from Phillips, was—well, it was enough to frighten her away again. Maybe forever. Even after she knew the truth, she might assume she wasn’t right for him, that his life was in New York, that they had no future together. He punched in the numbers and held his breath. He needed to get the truth to Ashley as soon as possible, because he knew the way she had to be feeling, knew the panic in her heart and the uncertainty in her soul. He knew her as though a part of her lived and breathed within him.

Now he could only pray she knew him as well.

W
HEN
A
SHLEY LEFT
the art gallery she crossed the street and walked through Central Park again. She wanted to call Landon, but not until she got back to the hotel. Her heart was too full for her to do anything but bask in the glow of all God had done. The Wellingtons loved her work! Their reaction was more than she’d dared dream, and now…now it was all beginning to happen.

Sometime that evening she would share the good news with Landon.

Ashley clutched her empty portfolio and took slow steps along a gently curved path. The reservoir was to her left, and she watched a mother duck lead a string of babies down a muddy embankment into the water. The sun glistened off a thousand ripples. She leaned her head back, letting the breeze work itself across her cheeks.

She lowered her chin and stared at the people making their way through the park. Would this be the place she and Cole would one day move? So she could be close to the gallery, closer to Landon? Normally a scene like this would make Ashley want to pull out a sketchpad and capture the image on paper, then one day make it the subject of a painting. But this time it only made her think of Landon.

Everything was coming together. With Cole, with God. And now with her paintings. Later that night she would see Landon and know that things were right between them also. Yes, he’d been busy, but she could hardly hold that against him. He’d never been one to spend much time on the phone, and hadn’t he explained it to her last winter? Talking to her only made him more homesick.

She kept walking and tightened her grip on the portfolio. The Wellingtons had given her paperwork to fill out, and while she’d worked on it, Margaret and William discussed framing options for her works. They agreed that the couple would make the final decision on choosing frames, and that once the pieces were ready, they’d be placed on the gallery floor.

“In a prominent spot,” Margaret had added.

If the Wellingtons’ impression of her work was correct, she’d be back to New York soon. In fact, if they were right, she’d all but crossed the line from amateur to professional, from uncertainty over how she’d provide for Cole to maybe making a living as an artist.

Just as she’d always wanted.

She wound her way back to Fifth Avenue, hailed a cab, and arrived at her hotel just as a business luncheon was letting out in a conference room off the lobby. She waited through three carloads of people before she finally squeezed her way onto an elevator and headed up four levels to her floor.

The noise from the elevator faded as she turned a corner and headed down another hallway to her room. She kept walking as she sifted through her bag for her key. When she looked up she was a few yards from her door.

Her breath caught in her throat.

A man was leaning against her door, his back to her. A few seconds passed while Ashley studied his build—the curve of his shoulders and the length of his legs—and instantly she knew. He must’ve heard her, because he spun around. When their eyes met and held, Ashley saw a raw kind of terror there that took her breath away and told her the thing she’d wondered about.

Landon’s partner had told him about her visit the other day.

Without waiting another moment, she shook her head and held up her free hand. “Landon—”

“Ashley, it’s not what you think.” He cut her off, his words tumbling from his mouth as he took a step toward her. “Doug—my partner at the station—told you that the baby I was walking was…that he was mine.”

She set her art case down and stared at him. “Landon…” A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I’ve been trying to call you all morning.”

He ran his tongue along his lower lip. “Ashley, I’m not the baby’s father.” He held up his hands. “I promise you.”

Her smile faded and she went to him. “I know.”

His mouth was open, as if he still had a dozen ways of convincing her. But now his lips came together and he searched her eyes. “Who told you?”

“No one.” She was inches from him now, her eyes lost in his. “I know you, Landon. And you never could’ve come to New York and slept with Reagan.” She pressed her fingertips against his chest and gave him a gentle push. “Silly. You were worried for nothing.”

“You mean you…” He exhaled and his eyes filled with relief. “He told you I was the baby’s father, and you never believed it.”

“Well…” Ashley lowered her chin and winced as she raised her eyes to Landon. “Maybe a little.”

He traced his thumb along the edge of her jaw. “How little?”

She lifted her hands to her face and shielded her eyes. “I figured it out this morning.” Her fingers parted and she peered at him. “It took me that long to get the upper hand over my imagination.”

He laughed and caught her hands in his own. “At least you figured it out.”

Two men entered the hallway from a few doors down, their conversation loud, their laughter, louder. Without saying a word, Ashley moved around Landon and passed her key through the door lock. A tiny green light flashed and she pushed it open.

“Let me take my portfolio in.” She felt numb, as though the entire scene were some strange sort of dream. “We can talk down the hall.”

He exhaled hard as they entered the room. “What a relief.”

She tossed her portfolio near the pillows. Then they walked down the hall to where two sofas sat near a gas fireplace. They sat and turned to face each other.

Landon’s mouth hung open, and his eyes never left hers. “When my partner told me…” He gave a shake of his head. His voice was quiet, but tinged with a desperate urgency. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”

“I tried calling you three times this morning, just in case he told you what he’d said.” Ashley drew her knees up. His nearness was doing unfair things to her heart, and she bit the inside of her lip. “You…you don’t know how hard it was to think that maybe you and Reagan…”

“I haven’t been with Reagan or with any woman.” His eyes caught hers and held them again. “In fact…” He laced his fingers along the back of his neck and uttered a low moan. When he looked up, his eyes told her all she needed to know about his feelings for her. “I missed you so much, Ash.”

“Me, too.” She slid back on the sofa. “Tell me about Reagan.”

“We took a call that a pregnant woman was hemorrhaging. When we got there, I found out it was Reagan.” The story spilled out as quickly as Landon could form the words. “That was the first time I knew she was pregnant. The first time I’d seen her.”

Ashley sat cross-legged and waited.

“The bleeding was bad—real bad.” He hesitated. “We almost lost Reagan and the baby, but later that night I went back to the hospital. It was a miracle. The baby was fine, and so was Reagan. Her mother asked me to come back the next day because, well—” he shrugged—“Reagan needed a friend, and I was willing.”

Ashley felt a warmth in the center of her being. Of course Landon was there for Reagan—the way he would’ve been for anyone in that situation.

“Since then we’ve talked a few times, and the other day she asked if she could bring her baby by the station. She wanted to take him on his first walk.”

“His first walk?” No question, Landon was telling the truth. But didn’t he see how Reagan could’ve gotten the wrong impression from his attention?

Landon moved to the edge of his seat. “I feel so sorry for her, Ashley. She’s a single mom, all alone out here. Her father’s gone and everything about her life is upside-down.” The intensity remained in his voice. “I wanted to help her.”

“So you claimed the baby was yours?” For the first time since seeing him and Reagan, Ashley’s anger stepped up and demanded to be heard. “That’s how you helped her?”

“I didn’t claim that.” He stood and paced to the elevator door and back. His voice was louder, more frustrated. “My partner said something about him being my little guy, and I agreed.” He huffed hard. “I didn’t want to hurt Reagan’s feelings.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“It was stupid, okay? I wanted her to feel special, like I cared about her baby and his first walk and how she—”

“Stop.” Ashley held her hand up. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Was he serious? Would he say something that careless? Around his buddies at the firehouse? “Okay, let me see if I have this right. You don’t see Reagan for months after you both come to New York City. Then one night you take a call, and there she is, bleeding and in need of help, right?”

“Exactly.” He sat down again.

“And the reason you’ve spent time with her since is because she needs a friend; is that right?”

“Right.” Hope sparked in Landon’s expression. He stared at her for a long time until the slightest chuckle came from him, a chuckle less humorous than painful. “Ashley—” he gave a few short shakes of his head—“I said good-bye to Reagan at the bus stop here and didn’t talk to her again until the night Tommy was born.” He turned to face her, reached out, and took Ashley’s hands. “I could never have been with her.”

“I know. I knew it as soon as I woke up today.” A wave of regret at what she’d believed before this morning stirred up the sands of remorse and washed over her.

He slid a few inches closer to her. “I could never be with her, Ash. Not her or anyone else when—” his eyes shone—“when I’m so in love with you.”

Love flooded her heart—a love so real and strong and deep it was almost painful.

“Ash…” The dimmest shadow fell over his expression. He released the hold he had on her and touched his fingertips to the side of her face. “I’m so glad you realized you were wrong.”

His touch was silk against her skin, silk and butterfly wings. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” He nuzzled his cheek against hers. “It’s not your fault; it’s just…I don’t ever want you to doubt me. Never.”

She closed her eyes, soaking in the feel of him. “I couldn’t have been mad, Landon, not even if it was true. When you left we agreed to wait, to not make promises.”

He whispered against her face. “I know.” She felt him trace the arch of first one eyebrow, then the other. “I regret that—” his finger moved to her cheekbone and down to her lip line—“more than anything else I’ve done.”

“You do?” She blinked her eyes open. Her voice was still quiet, laced with desire and gratitude. She loved being here, lost in Landon’s eyes, trapped in the power of the pull he had on her. A pull that grew stronger every time she saw him.

She could no longer stay still. Her fingers came up, and she wove them into his hair, making a delicate frame of her hands along either side of his face. They were alone except for the occasional footsteps in the hallway. “You regret that?’

“Yes.” Landon sucked in a full breath and looked down at the spot where their hands were joined. “When Phillips told me what he’d said, I almost lost my mind.” He pulled her into a hug. “I had to find you.”

“How’d you know I was here?” She breathed the words close to his ear.

“I called your parents.” He leaned back and clutched both her shoulders. The passion in his eyes faded, and an excitement burned there instead. “They told me about your paintings!” He gave her the slightest little shake. “I knew it, Ashley. One day everyone will know about your work.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “I’m so proud of you.”

“You won’t believe it, Landon.” She couldn’t keep the news in another minute. “They loved my paintings! They’re putting all three pieces up in the gallery later this week, and they want more as soon as I can get them here.”

“Of course they do, silly.” He picked her up and twirled her around. “We have to celebrate!”

This was nothing like the conversation she’d expected to have with Landon. Her cheeks grew hot and a buzzing filled her head.
God, you worked it out after all. He’s here, and he still wants me.

So far Landon hadn’t kissed her, but in the exhilaration of their excitement, he worked his fingers along the sides of her face to the back of her head and eased her up against him. In a way that she’d imagined every day since their last time together, he brushed his lips against hers. “Ashley, I love you.” He kissed her slowly and softly, a tentative kiss of forgiveness and misunderstandings made right again. “No matter what else happens in life, that won’t change.” His breath brushed against her lips. “Not ever.”

She hadn’t wanted to cry about what happened. Years of being the Baxter bad girl had made her expect loneliness and loss. But here, in Landon’s arms, the sting of tears overwhelmed her. He loved her. He was never going to stop. It was too much, more than she deserved.

She blinked away the wetness, and this time the kiss came from her, deeper and filled with a passion that only hinted at all she held inside, all she was still somehow afraid to let him see. “Landon…” Her lips moved over his again. “I can’t believe we’re here.”

“Me neither.” He brushed his nose against hers. His eyes saw straight to the most private places of her soul. “I prayed you’d understand about…about the mix-up with Reagan. But I was worried you might think it was some kind of sign that I wanted to be with someone else, or that you weren’t ready for a commitment. Something weird like that.”

“Weird?” She pulled back as a giggle slipped out. How wonderful to laugh with Landon, to kiss him. She pointed to herself. “Me, Ashley Baxter? Weird?”

“Yes, you.” He twisted his face into a shape that made her laugh out loud. “Crazy girl…running all over town thinking I’d fallen for Reagan Decker. Even for a day.”

At the sound of Reagan’s name, Ashley pulled away a bit and looked at Landon. “Now
that’s
weird. That she’d get together with someone so soon after leaving my brother.”

Landon’s expression changed, and he drew back. He met Ashley’s eyes but said nothing.

Something strange seemed to be going on in Landon’s heart, but she couldn’t make it out. She brushed her fingers through her short-cropped hair and sat on the edge of the sofa. “You’re not saying anything.” She tilted her head. “I mean she and Luke were pretty serious before—”

Her stomach dropped, and it was as if the oxygen left the room. Just how serious
had
her brother and Reagan been? Her gaze fell to her hands, and she did the math again. If Reagan’s baby was born at the beginning of June, that meant…