He glanced at her. "Trying to make sure I don't change my mind about leaving? That sounds a lot like 'don't let the door hit you in the ass.'"

She laughed. "I would never say that."

He chuckled. "Thinking it counts."

He put down his wine, then pulled her against him. She went willingly, enjoying the feel of his body against hers. As always, the combination of strength and gentleness aroused her. The man could make her melt without even trying. How fair was that?

He brushed his mouth against hers. "Dinner's in the oven?"

"Uh-huh."

"How long do we have?"

She glanced at her watch. "About fifteen minutes. I was going to make a salad."

"Or you could spend the next fifteen minutes making out with me."

She wrapped her arms around him and drew him closer. "Salad is very overrated."

He pressed an openmouthed kiss against her lips. She parted for him, enjoying the slow, enticing strokes of his tongue. Wanting grew. He put his hand on her knee, then moved it steadily up her body until his fingers caressed her breast.

Her nipples tightened and the pleasure began. Between her legs, she was already wet and swollen.

Were they really that hungry, she wondered. Couldn't she pull the chicken out of the oven and let it finish cooking later?

She drew back slightly, only to have the phone interrupt the question. Finn reached across to the receiver on the end table and handed it to her.

She sat up.

"Hello?"

"Dakota Hendrix?" an unfamiliar woman asked.

"Yes."

"I'm Patricia Lee. We spoke a few months ago about your adoption application."

"What?" She quickly cleared her thoughts. "Oh, yes. I remember." The international agency had been quick to approve her application. Unlike several of the others she'd tried, this one hadn't minded that she was single.

"I heard about what happened with that little boy," Patricia said. "I'm so sorry. I don't know if they told you, but there was a mix-up in the paperwork."

Dakota had been told the same thing, although she'd never been sure if it really was a mix-up or if the agency had preferred sending the child to a married couple. Either way, it was an odd thing to call about on a Saturday night.

"Of course I was disappointed," Dakota admitted.

"Then you're still interested in adopting a child?"

"Of course."

"I was hoping you would say that," the other woman said. "We have a little girl. She's six months old and quite adorable. I wonder if you would be interested in her."

Dakota felt the blood rush from her head and wondered if she was going to faint. "Do you mean it? You have a child for me?"

"Yes, we do. I'm emailing you her file right now. There are a couple of pictures, as well. I was wondering if you would call me back after you look at the pictures. We have one of our workers returning home late tomorrow. If you want to take the child, she can get on the same flight. Otherwise it might be a couple of months until you can have her. I know this is quick, so if you want to wait we all understand. It won't change your application status."

Dakota's head spun. They were offering her what she'd always wanted. The chance for a family of her own. And six months old. That was so young. She was somewhat familiar with the developmental problems of a child raised in an orphanage. The younger the child, the more easily those problems were overcome. The little boy she'd been offered before had been five.

"When would you need to know?"

"In the next couple of hours," Patricia admitted. "I'm sorry it's such short notice. Our contact has been called home with a family emergency. We try to send a child with every adult going home. But again, it's up to you. We're not trying to pressure you. If you're not ready, we'll call the next family on the list."

Dakota walked into the kitchen. She picked up a pen and some sticky notes, then sat at the kitchen table. "Give me your number," she said. "I'll look at the file and call you back within the hour."

"Thank you," Patricia said.

Dakota took the information, then hung up. She sat in her kitchen. She knew she was in a chair with her feet on the floor, but part of her felt as if she were flying. Flying and shaking and emotional beyond tears. She had to still be breathing because she was conscious, but she couldn't really feel her body.

Somewhere in the background there was a dinging sound. Finn walked into the kitchen and took the casserole dish from the oven. Then he turned to face her.

"You're adopting a child?" he asked, sounding stunned.

She nodded, still unable to focus on anything. "Yes. They have a little girl for me arriving in L.A." She looked at him. "She's from Kazakhstan. Six months old. They're sending me a file. I need to go turn on my computer."

She stood, then couldn't remember where her computer was. This wasn't happening, was it? She laughed. "They're going to give me a little girl of my own."

"I know you wanted kids..." His voice trailed off, then he nodded slowly. "You have a lot to deal with. Why don't I get out of your way?"

"What? Oh."

So much for their romantic dinner, she thought sadly. So much for him. Finn had more than made it clear he wasn't looking for another family.

"Thanks," she said. "I have to make a decision pretty quickly."

"No problem." He started to leave, then paused. "You'll let me know what you decide?"

"Of course."

"Good."

She watched him leave. There was a whisper of sadness, but it quickly faded as she hurried to her spare room and turned on her laptop. The machine seemed to take forever to boot, but when it finally did and she was able to open the file, she saw the picture.

And she knew.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

MAKING THE DECISION was easy, Dakota realized the next morning. The details, on the other hand, threatened to drown her. She'd barely gotten any sleep. Every time she'd closed her eyes, she'd thought of something else she had to do. Even putting a pad of paper and a pen on her nightstand hadn't helped very much.

It was barely after eight in the morning, and she was exhausted. She had lists, including supplies, and the names of who she was going to call. The last big issue to be resolved was whether to drive to Los Angeles or to fly.

Although flying would be faster, she had to face the reality of dealing with the six-month-old baby she barely knew. What if her new daughter cried the whole way? Dakota wouldn't know how to handle that. So driving made more sense. Except it was probably an eight-hour drive and wouldn't that be stressful on the child, as well?

Dakota tapped her pen on the paper, not sure what was the best solution. In a few minutes, she would call her mother. She wanted to tell Denise the good news and ask her advice on the transportation issue.

In the meantime, she could review her shopping list. Not only would she need diapers and a couple of blankets, there was the issue of formula. Dakota didn't know very much about babies, but she was relatively sure switching formula could cause an upset stomach. Hopefully, the person traveling with the little girl had brought plenty.

She crossed to the phone by the sofa, but before she could pick up the receiver, there was soft knocking on her front door. She changed directions and opened it, only to find Finn standing on her small porch. He had take-out coffee containers in each hand.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "It's early."

He handed her the coffee. "Nonfat, right?"

"Yes. Thank you." She stepped back and shook her head. "Sorry, I'm a little fuzzy this morning. Why are you here?"

"You're keeping the baby."

"How do you know?"

He smiled. "I know you. You talked about the fact that you can't have kids and you're a kid person. Given the chance to adopt, you will."

"Oh, you're right." Unexpected insight, she thought. But nice.

He followed her into the house.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted. "I didn't get much sleep and it seems like there are a thousand things to do."

He followed her into the kitchen. "Sure there are. Most people get nine months to figure out what to do about a baby. You've had what? Nine hours?"

All of which was true, she thought. But she was still surprised to see him. He'd taken off so quickly the previous night.

"I'm doing the list thing," she said, pointing to the pages on the kitchen table. "I'm going to call my mom in a few minutes. She's had six kids. If anyone knows what to do, it's her."

"Have you picked a name?"

She smiled. "I was thinking of Hannah. It's the name that came to me when I saw her picture."

"Hannah Hendrix. I like it."

"Me, too," she said. "Everything is so surreal. I don't know what to think even."

"You're going to be fine," he told her.

"You can't know that."

"Sure I can. You're the kind of person who cares about other people. And isn't that what you're always telling me? That kids want to know you're there for them?" He smiled. "I'm really happy for you, Dakota."

His support was unexpected, but very nice. She was close enough to the edge that it could've made her cry, but she was determined to maintain control.

"For a guy who isn't interested in having a family," she said, "you're pretty sensitive and understanding."

He winced. "Don't let word get out. I have a reputation to uphold. How are you getting to L.A.?"

"To pick up Hannah? I can't decide. That's what I was going to talk to my mom about. Flying is faster, but I'm afraid to take an unfamiliar baby on a plane. Which means driving makes more sense, but it's kind of long. I don't know how she'll feel or what she's like. She could be really scared."

"Let's fly," he told her. "I'll rent a plane. She's coming into the international terminal, right?"

"Yes, but you can't fly me to Los Angeles."

"Why not? Don't you trust me?"

Her concern wasn't about his flying abilities. She was sure he was very good. "Isn't renting a private plane a big deal? And expensive?"

"Not that big a deal. It's going to cost more than flying commercial, but I'm talking about a four-seater plane. Not a jet. It'll be faster than a car, and when you consider going through security and having to get there two hours before your flight, faster than flying commercial. There's an executive airport just east of LAX. We'll land there and take the shuttle to the international terminal."

"That sounds perfect," she said, relieved to have her problem solved. "Thank you. This is a huge relief. How do I pay for the plane? Do you want my credit card number?"

"We'll work that out later," he told her. "Let me go arrange for the rental."

They decided on what time they were leaving in the morning, then Finn kissed her lightly. "Congratulations," he said.

"Thank you for everything."

"I'm happy to help."

After he left, Dakota stood in the center of the room, holding her coffee. She was still surprised by his offer of help, although very grateful. She wasn't sure why he was getting involved, but she knew better than to ask questions.

A quick glance at the clock told her it was time to call her mother. She only had one day to get her entire life rearranged. In less than forty-eight hours, she would be a mother.

BY NOON, her house was overflowing with well-wishers. Dakota had called her mother. Denise had called her other daughters, along with most of the people they knew in Fool's Gold.

Nevada and Montana had shown up first. Then her mother had arrived minutes later. Liz and Jo were joined by Charity and her new baby. Marsha, the town mayor, arrived with Alice, the chief of police. Friends and neighbors filled Dakota's small house.

She'd already printed out the pictures of Hannah the adoption agency had emailed, and they were passed from hand to hand.

"Are you excited?" Montana asked. "I would be terrified. The dogs take the best of my maternal skills. I'm not sure I could manage more."

"I am terrified," Dakota admitted. "What if I screw up? What if she doesn't like me? What if she wants to go back to Kazakhstan?"

"The good news is, she can't talk," Nevada told her. "So asking to leave is out of the question."

"Small comfort," Dakota muttered.

Her mother joined her on the sofa and put her arm around her. "You're going to do just fine. It's going to be difficult at first, but you'll get the hang of it. Your daughter is going to love you and you're going to love her."