Cowboy Daddy (25 page)

As she cried out his name and her nails bit into his arm, he knew that there would never be a more perfect feeling than her body rippling under his, and his echoing the passion.

As clearly as the sensations filling him, he knew the solution. It was so simple he wanted to laugh.

So when their breathing returned to normal and she lay next to him, her head on his shoulder, he took her left hand in his and spoke five words. “Annie, will you marry me?”

Chapter 13

A
nnie immediately moved away from him and reached for the sheet. After she pulled it up to her shoulders, she brushed her hair out of her face and slowly sat up. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

She didn’t sound overly enthused, but he wasn’t worried. “Come on, Annie,” he said, raising himself up on one elbow. “It’s the perfect solution. You can stay here and be with Laurel and the baby. We won’t have to worry about custody or visitations. I know the ranch isn’t making any money yet, but when I sold out of the construction business, I made a mint. Not to mention the stocks my grandfather left me.” He shrugged modestly. “What I’m trying to say is that finances will never be a problem.”

She shook her head. “This isn’t about money.” She stared at him. The color fled her face leaving behind pale skin and the dark spots of her freckles. “It was never about money. It’s about different lives and goals. You don’t love me.”

He fingered the cotton sheet that covered her. “Is there someone else? Is that why you don’t want to marry me?”

“No,” she said quickly.

He was surprised to find out he was relieved that there wasn’t another man in her life. “Then don’t you see?” he said, taking her hand. “It’ll be good between us. We get along. We both love Laurel. I think we’re pretty damn hot in bed.” He raised his eyebrows. “Marriages have been built on less.”

She sighed impatiently. “You can’t marry me just because it’s convenient and we happen to have a chemical attraction.”

He leaned close so that he could nibble on her shoulder. “Sure I can. Why not?” Her skin grew hot under his touch and her eyelids slipped closed. He watched as her grip on the sheet loosened. The white cotton slipped lower until her breasts were exposed. He stretched so he could gently lick a puckering tip. “It’s magic, Annie. It’s never been like this before for me.”

“Me, too,” she said softly. “Jake—” Her voice became a moan as he continued his ministrations.

She tasted sweet, almost like peaches, he thought, deepening his kisses, drawing more of her breast into his mouth. She squirmed, then pushed him away and pulled the sheet up to her neck.

“Stop it,” she said. “I mean it. You’ve made your point about the sex. It’s very powerful. But that doesn’t prove anything. I’m not interested in getting married so that I can have a good time in bed.”

It seemed like a fine idea to him. The first few years with Ellen had been fun, but there had never been this instant heat between them. “Why are you interested in getting married?”

“Oh, Jake, don’t do this.” She drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them close to her body. “You think getting married makes it all work. You get a housekeeper, a lover, another parent to help with Laurel and the baby. You make it sound so easy.”

“Why does it have to be difficult?” He rolled off the bed and stood up. “Dammit, Annie, can’t you see this is the best solution for both of us?”

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s the best solution for you. I still have a life of my own back in Houston. What about that? What about the job I’ve worked so hard for? It’s been nine years coming. I deserve this chance and you don’t have any right to keep me from it.” Her blue eyes flashed with fire, but it wasn’t fueled by the heat of passion.

“Are you saying you don’t like it here? I know it’s not a high-powered job, but neither is trying to make the horse ranch pay. It’s different, and in a lot of ways, better.”

“That’s your dream. Mine is different.”

“But it would make everything—”

“No, it wouldn’t,” she said, cutting him off. “You aren’t listening. I won’t take the easy way out again. I did that once. My mother and Becky Sue both told me giving up Laurel was the best thing for the baby. I believed them because I wanted to. I was seventeen, and terrified of being alone with an infant. I had a future I didn’t want to mess up.” She drew in a deep breath. “I’ll regret that decision until the day I die.”

That got his attention. He stared down at her. “You never told me that,” he said softly.

“I never wanted to admit it to myself. I did what was simplest and best for everyone. Or so I thought. I’m not doing that again. I’m happy about the baby, but not thrilled about the circumstances. It was an accident, and we’ll find a way to deal with it. That doesn’t mean we have to get married.”

He braced his hands on his bare hips. “I’m beginning to think there are no accidents. You’re not going to marry me, are you?”

“Not like this.”

He sat on the mattress and pulled on his jeans. It had been the perfect solution. All his elation faded away, leaving him feeling old and tired. Nothing was easy, that was one thing he could count on. He thought about all the years with Ellen, and the way they’d fought at the end. He thought about the baby. His son. He turned on her.

“Dammit, woman, you’re not taking my child away from me. You have no right.”

She stretched her legs out in front of her, then raised her head and looked at him. He’d expected her to be angry, or at least defiant. Instead her mouth trembled at the corners and her eyes looked very sad. “Don’t worry, Jake. I’ll make sure you get everything you want.”

* * *

A
nne threaded her needle and picked up a square of fabric. The ultimate handicraft, she thought, knowing it would be faster to use the sewing machine. But she wanted to make this quilt by hand. She wanted to touch the cloth. She wanted to feel the different textures and have it grow slowly from unconnected pieces to a complete whole.

The late-afternoon sun poured in through a freshly washed window. She glanced down at her hands. When she’d first arrived on Jake’s ranch, her skin had been smooth, her nails long and elegantly rounded. Now she had a few healing cuts from run-ins with the potato peeler or a paring knife. Her index finger was pricked from sewing. She’d long since cut off her nails. When she got back to Houston, her manicurist was going to have a fit.

She picked up the square of fabric and knew that her scarred hands weren’t the only changes since she’d left her white-on-white condo. Not by a long shot. She was pregnant. That was certainly a change. And she was hurting.

She’d thought she’d experienced her worst pain when she’d given birth to a baby she’d never been allowed to see. The death of her mother had also been hard. Meeting Laurel, dealing with Jake—that, too, had added to the amount of pain she’d experienced. But none of these events compared to his proposal for a marriage of convenience.

If she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget the flash of joy following his words. Marriage. In that second when she’d stared at him, she’d allowed herself to hope. Worse, she’d allowed herself to admit that she’d come to love him. The thought that he might care about her had been too wondrous to be contained. But she’d forced herself to hold back, even when she had wanted to throw herself into his arms. She’d bitten her tongue until she could get out words other than “Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes.” She’d asked if he was sure.

He was. He wanted to marry her because it was convenient, the best solution to their mutual problems. Not because she was special, not because he loved her, but because it was easy. He would have everything he wanted, and she would be left with nothing.

She sighed and began stitching the cow-print fabric. That wasn’t completely true, she admitted to herself. He wasn’t the only one who would gain by their marriage. She would get to be with Laurel all the time. That would be lovely. She would be part of a family, something she’d longed for ever since she was a little girl.

But what about her career? What about the job she’d worked for all these years? Could she walk away from it? She could find other work, but relocating big companies to Houston, Texas, wasn’t exactly a job she could do here on the horse ranch. Would she be willing to give it all up because a man loved her? She shook her head. No, not for that.

She glanced down at the squares of fabric she’d already cut. Several were from the cow-print curtains hanging in the kitchen. A few had been part of a dress Laurel had stained and torn. Five came from fabric samples for curtains now hanging in the mostly decorated house. She hadn’t made a quilt in years. Not since high school. She also hadn’t baked or sewn or made lasagna from scratch. She wouldn’t have given up her job just because Jake loved her, but she might have given it up to stay home with her new family and experience a different, maybe even better, life. She’d never been a full-time mom before. It sounded challenging and more rewarding than any contract. Of course that could simply be a case of wanting what she couldn’t have.

She glanced at the clock. Laurel was out riding with her father. They would both be back soon. She put down her sewing and walked into the kitchen. She had a chicken ready to go in the oven. She checked the temperature, then slid the pan inside and set the timer.

It had been a week since she and Jake had made love. A week since he’d proposed and she’d turned him down. A week since they’d had a conversation that was anything but impersonal. She pulled out a bag of potatoes and put several on the counter. If she didn’t know better, she would say his feelings had been hurt by her rejection.

That wasn’t possible, she reminded herself as she reached for the peeler. He didn’t want her; he wanted a solution to his problems and full custody of his child. She could have been anyone and he would have come to the same solution. He didn’t care about her. He didn’t love her. Thank God he hadn’t figured out she loved him.

In another week it wouldn’t matter, she thought, peeling the first potato, then dropping it into a bowl of water. She would be gone. Back to her real life. She paused in midstroke and dropped the vegetable onto the counter. She didn’t want to go.

Anne leaned her forearms against the counter and closed her eyes. She had to admit the truth to herself if to no one else. She wanted to stay here and be a mother to Laurel and the baby. She wanted to plant a garden and watch it grow. She wanted to make all her mother’s favorite recipes, and can berries in August. She wanted to be a part of a family. She wanted to love Jake forever. Most of all, she wanted him to love her back.

The front door opened, then slammed shut. She straightened and blinked to make sure her eyes were completely dry.

“The mail is here,” Jake said, walking into the kitchen. ‘They left a package.” He set a large box on the kitchen counter.

Anne glanced at the label. “It’s from the company that made Laurel’s bedspread. It’s probably the throw pillows.”

“I’m sure she’ll be pleased,” he said, his voice as impersonal as it always was these days.

She almost wished he would get angry at her. Then at least there would be something to react to. This calm, cool stranger had nothing in common with the Jake Masters she knew. He was not the same man who had stood in her office and passionately reminded her she had no legal rights to Laurel. He wasn’t the man who had made love to her on a rock beside a trailer park in Paradise, or reverently touched her skin searching for proof of his child. Some of the memories she would carry with her were wonderful, some very painful, but in each, Jake was vibrantly aware of her. He wasn’t distant and uncaring.

“What time is dinner?” he asked, picking up the box.

“About five-thirty.”

“What are we having?”

“Baked chicken, broccoli and scalloped potatoes.”

“I’d prefer mashed potatoes,” he said, and walked toward the door.

She almost said fine. After all, she didn’t care about the potatoes. But something inside of her snapped. She was tired of being ignored and treated like hired help.

“No,” she said, and set down the peeler. She wiped her hands on a dish towel.

Jake stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes met hers. For the first time in a week, something flashed in the brown depths. Something alive and passionate. Even if this fire was fueled by anger, she didn’t care.

“Excuse me?” he said.

“No.” She smiled. “I’m not going to make mashed potatoes.”

He drew in a deep breath, then spoke slowly, as if dealing with a recalcitrant child. “We always have mashed potatoes with baked chicken. Both Laurel and I prefer it that way.”

“I figured as much. That’s why I’m going to do something different.” She folded her arms over her chest and raised her chin defiantly.

He set the box down and approached her. When he was about two feet away, he braced his hands on his hips. “Don’t start something you don’t intend to finish.”

“Oh, but Jake, I
do
intend to finish this. I’m tired of you ignoring me. You want mashed potatoes?” She tossed one of the unpeeled vegetables toward him. He caught it in his left hand. “Go ahead and make them yourself. But if you want me to cook, we’ll do it my way I refuse to live up to the memory of a saint.”