A Daddy for Dillon (17 page)

Stunned by this revelation, Leyla’s fingertips crept to her lips. “Oh, my. Calvin Jones didn’t exist. At least, not Calvin the soldier in Texas. Did you discover any sort of clues to tell you who your father really was?”

Laramie said bleakly, “It’s pretty obvious that without Peggy Choney, I’ll never know.”

Another idea suddenly struck her and she turned a hopeful look on him. “What about your birth certificate, Laramie? Maybe some of the information on it might give you clues. Ones that you never thought of before.”

His lips spread to a thin line. “As far as I know the document is legitimate. But hell, enough money in the right place can buy anything. And there’s no reason I can figure why a fake would be needed. Peggy had the right to list any name as my father.”

“That’s true,” Leyla told him, then added, “I didn’t have to produce Heath when the hospital made out Dillon’s birth certificate. But something else about all of this puzzles me even more, Laramie. Why did Peggy go off and leave you with Diego?”

Shrugging, he turned slightly away from her but not before Leyla saw the flat, empty look on his face. “I’m not sure I’ll ever know the real truth of that, either. Diego says she was so distraught when she found out about Calvin’s death that she went out of her head. She asked him to watch her baby while she went off to try to gather herself together. She told him she’d come back as soon as she could, but she never returned.”

There was no anger or bitterness in his voice. Just a fatal resignation that tore at her. “Oh, Laramie,” she said in a half-whisper. “There was no Calvin. So what could have been going on with her?”

“There’s no way of knowing now,” he said lowly. “But it’s clear she left me with Diego for some reason instead of putting me up for adoption.”

Moving closer, Leyla curled her hand around his forearm. “Laramie, that makes me think—well, maybe Diego was your real father and the two of them wanted to keep the fact hidden for some reason?”

“I suppose that could be possible. But I’d say it’s doubtful. Peggy was very young. Only twenty-one or so whenever she gave birth to me. At that time Diego was in his sixties. He liked to consider himself young and fit—but not in that way. He wouldn’t have gotten involved with a woman that young. It just wasn’t his nature at all. In fact, the people around who still remember Peggy say that Diego treated her more like a daughter than anything.”

“Hmm. Well, that would go along with the fact that he helped her rent a house rather than have her move in with him. But what reason does a woman have for leaving her child? Fear? Insecurity? I’m a mother and I can’t think of any reason I’d ever leave Dillon.”

The anguish on his face tore at Leyla and as she ached for him, she realized that Laramie had become much more to her than a sexy, desirable man who was kind to her and her son. She wanted him to be happy, to feel loved and wanted and worthwhile. She wanted that for him as much as she wanted it for herself and Dillon.

Oh, God, had she already fallen in love with him and was just now realizing it? The answer to that left her shaking inside.

Moving closer, she rested her palms against his chest. “Laramie, I don’t understand. Did you bring me here just to tell me all of this? If you did, you wasted your time. This stuff about your parents—yes, I wish that you knew the truth. Just so it would ease your mind. But the man you are now is what matters the most to me.”

The grateful look in his eyes filled her with relief. She didn’t want this man to suffer for any reason. Certainly not because of his past.

“I’m glad you feel that way. But I actually brought you here for a different reason. I mean—yes, you needed to know about Peggy and the story Diego told me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t understand why I keep this place. Why it will always be a part of me. But it’s not my home.”

“Laramie, I—”

Her words halted as his hands quickly lifted to frame the sides of her face.

“Leyla, just wait. Let me finish before you say anything. You need to understand that for years this was my home. We had food in the cupboards, clothes on our backs and a bit of livestock but not much more. After Diego died, I was lost—just a big kid with no one to guide me. You see, this place was empty without him.”

With his hands on her face and the front of his body pressed against hers, she could hardly focus on his words. She wanted to tell him that they’d talked enough. That all she wanted was his mouth on hers, his arms drawing her closer and his embrace making her forget the sorrows they’d both been through.

Battling the risky thoughts in her head, she stated the obvious, “You went to the Chaparral. But why there?”

“While Diego was drawing his last breaths, he made me promise that I would go to the Chaparral and ask Lewis for a job. He’d said that Lewis was an old friend of his and that he would do right by me. I didn’t question him about the matter. And I sure wasn’t about to break the promise I’d made to Diego. A few days after Diego’s funeral, I went.”

“Had you met any of the Cantrells before?”

He paused and shook his head. “Quint and I went to the same high school and I’d vaguely remembered his sister, Alexa, graduating a few years before. But I didn’t know either of them personally. Hell, when I went to the big ranch I was just a scared kid with two years of high school to finish. I’ll never understand why, but Lewis took me under his wing and helped me become a part of the ranch and a part of his family.”

“And after that the Chaparral became your home. I understand that,” she said softly.

His gaze caught hers and held it. “I guess what I’m trying to say is—well, this place legally belongs to me. I could pour money into it and build it up into a nice little ranch, but it wouldn’t be home to me. Can you understand how I feel?”

Her throat tight with emotions, she turned her back to him. Tears rarely ever filled Leyla’s eyes. She’d decided crying couldn’t fix things. But now she found herself fighting back a wall of tears.

“I understand that you’ll never leave the Chaparral,” she said huskily. “Not for any reason.”

She heard his groan of frustration, then felt his hands settle on her shoulders and it was all Leyla could do to keep from turning and flinging her arms around him. A part of her was aching to tell him she didn’t care where she lived or what she did so long as he was at her side. But she bit down on the words and refused to let them roll from her tongue. Because she knew that once she ever said them, the dreams she’d held on to for so long would all be shattered.

“Leyla, I realize you want a home of your own and—”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she said, “Laramie, that’s not your concern. Dillon and I will soon be gone and eventually we’ll get that place of our own.”

His hands tightened on her shoulders. “That’s just it, Leyla. I don’t want you to leave.” Slowly, he turned her so that she was facing him and her heart jerked as she spotted the smoldering light in his eyes. “Surely you can tell that I care about you—that you can feel how much I want you.”

Care
. It wasn’t the same as love, but he was sincere. Somehow she knew that and his honesty was more than she’d ever had from any man. It was enough to give her the courage to slip her arms around his waist and tilt her head back so that she could look him squarely in the eyes.

“After Heath I swore I’d never let another man touch me. But I—” The soft sigh that passed her lips was clearly a sound of surrender. “I want you, too, Laramie.”

His eyes searched hers as his hands slipped from her shoulders and slid down her bare arms. Behind the trail of his fingertips, goose bumps covered her skin.

“The other night you talked about being afraid when I kissed you. I—”

She interrupted, “I was scared then. Because you made me feel so much. And I knew if I let myself I— We’d get carried away.”

One hand lifted and as he stroked her hair gently away from her face, a wave of desire swept through her. It burned her cheeks and sent her heart on a drunken gallop.

“Oh, Leyla,” he murmured, “would that be so bad?”

“I’ve been telling myself I’d be stupid to let you make love to me. But right now everything about being here with you like this feels good—special.”

Slowly his head descended toward hers. “I honestly didn’t bring you here to seduce you.”

“I never thought that you had.” She tightened her hold on his waist and as their bodies moved closer together, she could feel the bulge of his desire pressing against her. The sensation made her forget all the reasons she shouldn’t make love to this man. Instead, it reminded her that no matter what misery she’d endured these past four years, she was still a woman with a woman’s needs. And right now, they were too strong, too compelling to ignore. “You don’t have to seduce me, Laramie. I’m already here in your arms.”

Beneath the veil of her lashes, she watched his lips mouth her name and then he closed the last bit of distance between their faces. When his lips finally made contact with hers, an explosion of sensations rocked her senses and all she could do was cling to him and let his kiss draw her into a swirling vortex.

Instantly, the intimate contact turned to a hot, out-of-control mating of their mouths. Tongues tangled and lips searched for relief from the grip of desire that had overtaken both of them. Leyla had never been kissed so recklessly or completely. The intensity robbed her ability to think or even breathe. If she hadn’t been gripping his back, she would have fallen.

Once his lips finally eased away from hers, her lungs were heaving for air and her face burned from the heat that was consuming her body.

“Leyla,” he whispered, “do you know what that kiss was telling me?”

He was giving her a chance to change her mind, she thought. A chance to walk out of the house and end the desire that had been simmering inside her almost from the first day she’d met him. Stopping things now might be the sensible thing to do. But then she would never know what it meant to be in Laramie’s arms, to experience the pleasure of making love to him. And to miss that chance would be a loss that would haunt her the rest of her life.

“It was saying I want you to make love to me,” she said in a breathless rush.

His eyes were suddenly glowing as though she’d just handed him a gift.

“Leyla,” he murmured. “Sweet Leyla.”

His hands held her face as he bent to kiss her again. But this time he didn’t allow the kiss to go on and on like the first one. Instead, he wasted no time in scooping her up in his arms and carrying her out of the room.

Chapter Ten

L
aramie carried her out of the kitchen, down the tiny hallway and through a door to their left. When he set her feet back on the floor, Leyla could see they were standing next to a double bed. The sagging mattress was covered by a thin, faded blue spread. Two pillows in plain white cases were propped against the iron rail headboard.

“This isn’t the place I would’ve chosen for this,” he said. “But it’ll have to do.”

He moved around the room to a small window and partially opened the wooden shutters. Fresh air and sunlight came streaming in, along with a symphony of birdsongs. When he returned to Leyla, he pulled her into the loose circle of his arms, and as his hands gently roamed the contours of her back, the soft, kneading pressure of his fingers sent licks of fire through Leyla.

Glancing at the bed, she tried to reassure him. “I’m not used to special things.”

“We could shake out the spread, but I figure that would only stir up the dust worse.”

A faint smile touched her lips. As far as she was concerned, being in a luxurious bedroom on a romantic island couldn’t make these moments with him any more special. And with a sense of amazement, she wondered how she’d been able to resist this man until now. “I can stand a little dust.”

With a grunt of pleasure, he said, “I knew all along you were my kind of woman.”

Mesmerized, she watched the grin slowly fall from his face. Her heart pounded with anticipation as his head bent and he pressed kisses across her cheeks and nose, then on her closed eyelids.

The sweet sensations drew sighs of pleasure from her until his lips formed a hot seal over hers. After that her sighs turned to deep groans and before she realized it, his fingers were inching down the zipper at the back of her dress.

When the garment fell from her shoulders and pooled around her ankles, she felt a sense of freedom, and not just from a barrier of clothing. She felt free to let herself feel again, to be a whole woman again.

“You’re perfect, Leyla. Perfect and lovely,” he whispered as he stood gazing down at the image she made in a set of white, lacy underwear. “Ever since I met you that first night, I’ve pictured you like this. You’re more beautiful than I imagined.”

His bold gaze didn’t make her feel self-conscious, but something about hearing him say the compliment put a blush on her face. “I’m very average,” she denied.

Grinning, he slipped his thumbs beneath her bra straps and guided them down her shoulders. “I’ve never had any problem with my eyesight, Leyla.”

As he spoke the last words, the lacy cups fell from her breasts and she gasped as his hands closed around the sensitive mounds of flesh. Her head rolled to one side and as his thumb and forefingers teased her nipples, his lips sought the curve of her exposed neck.

As he kissed his way down to the curve of her shoulder, the ache of wanting him pierced her loins and spread to the intimate spot between her legs. The sweet agony had her groaning with need and arching her body into his.

As her hands sought the buttons on the front of his shirt, she whispered frantically, “I need to touch you, Laramie. Please let me.”

His hands shaking now, he pushed hers out of the way and jerked the tails of his denim shirt out of the waistband of his jeans. As soon as they were free, he ripped the pearl snaps apart, then shrugged out of the garment and flung it aside.

He wore no undershirt and for one split second Leyla could only stare at the wide, muscled chest that narrowed down to a lean waist. His skin was brown, his flat nipples a shade darker. There was no patch of hair growing between them, but a faint line of fine black hair marked the indention between his abs, then disappeared below the waist of his jeans.