Daddy with a Deadline (20 page)

“Think about it tomorrow, Scarlett,” she said as she opened Trent’s drawer and rifled through his T-shirts. She chose a black one with a silver saddle on the front. For a moment she buried her face in the shirt and inhaled. It smelled like Trent: clean, woodsy, and far too sexy.

After slipping out of her sundress, she donned his shirt. It wasn’t terribly modest, since it stopped well above her knees. But it would have to do. She curled up in the recliner and waited.

“Are you decent?” Trent called from the bathroom.

“As decent as possible in my condition.”

“Coming out, then.”

Trent came out, all right. He came out wearing bottoms but no top! One look at his amazing chest nearly put Annie in a coma. He had rippling muscles that wouldn’t quit. “You forgot the top half,” she said.

“This is how I sleep. But if you prefer, I’ll find a hooded sweatshirt and cover up real good.”

She sniffed. “That’s not necessary. As long as you’re comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable.”

Trent sat on the edge of his bed just inches away. Well within touching range. “How are you feeling now?” she asked.

“Not bad.” He stretched. “I’ll sleep good tonight. Hope you will too, Annie. I’d feel better if you took the bed...”

“No way.” As Annie shifted her position, she realized that nine-month-pregnant women should boycott recliners. “I’m perfectly comfortable,” she lied. “And I’m staying right here.”

When Trent’s eyes surveyed her body and lingered on her legs, Annie felt a tingle. A serious tingle. “You chose my favorite T-shirt. And you gave it a new identity.” His grin was wicked and his gray eyes sparked with mischief.

Annie ignored him. “Do you have a night-light?”

“What’s a night-light? A special bulb? A lantern? What?”

He knew so much about training horses and so little about practical things. “It’s a very small light you use in children’s rooms. So they aren’t afraid of the dark.”

“I’m not afraid of the dark, so I don’t own a night-light. The darker the room, the better I sleep.”

“Not tonight, cowboy. Tonight we’ll use a night-light.”

“What’s wrong, Annie? Are you afraid of the dark?”

“Of course not,” she huffed. “But how can I keep an eye on you in a pitch-black room? And make a thousand trips to the bathroom?”

“Point taken. How about that lamp on my desk?” He walked over and pulled the chain. Then he flipped off the overhead light, creating a soft glow in the room. “Does this work for you?”

Boy, did it ever. Trent’s muscular torso bathed in the subdued light made Annie suppress a gasp. And the tingling in her body advanced to a new level.

The dim light created a dreamy atmosphere. A lump rose in Annie’s throat, and her palms turned sweaty. “Time to turn in,” she said sternly. “And remember, I’m watching you.”

Trent climbed into bed and covered himself with the sheet. He lifted his head to gaze at Annie. “There’s tons of room in here. That’s why they call it a king-size bed. We could share it and you’d still be half an acre away.”

“Good night, Mr. Madison,” Annie said curtly. “Pleasant dreams.”

Trent sighed. “Good night, Warden Samuels.”

Annie clutched her cell phone in case of emergency. Either his or hers. After Trent fell asleep, she slipped out to the kitchen and perked some strong coffee. She intended to keep a careful watch on the man all night long.

She settled back in the recliner and sipped her coffee. Trent stirred and she gazed at him and smiled. She liked watching him sleep. For once she could stare at the man to her heart’s content. Besides, staying up all night was good practice. When the babies came, sleeping through the night would be a distant memory.

Annie yawned. The gentle ticking of the wall clock and Trent’s steady breathing comforted her. A coyote howled in the distance—a sound she never heard in town. Oddly, that comforted her too.

One hour passed. Then two. Trent seemed fine. Each time Annie’s eyelids drifted shut, she forced them open.
Stay awake
, she told herself.
No dozing allowed.

After another forty-five minutes, Annie’s head started to droop. She bit her lip, pinched herself, but nothing helped. At
this rate, she’d never make it till morning. With difficulty, she climbed out of the recliner and tiptoed to Trent’s bed. He slept with one arm cradled under his head, and his tousled hair made him look boyish. Annie brushed a strand from his forehead.

She gazed at the unoccupied part of Trent’s king-size bed. The hours she’d spent in the recliner had taken a toll. Now she felt both huge and stiff—a gruesome combination. How she would love to stretch out—even for a minute or two.

She slipped around to the far side of the bed. It called to her like a temptress beckoning her lover. Come closer, it said. Stretch out for a while. You’ll feel wonderful. Which, of course, was true.

Annie eased herself onto the edge of the bed as Trent slept on obliviously. She tried just sitting there, but after several minutes, her body refused to stay upright one moment longer.

Aaaaah!
Stretching out proved pure luxury. Annie laid her head on Trent’s extra pillow and sighed. She’d rest for an hour and then move back to the torturous recliner. Trent would never know she’d stowed away in his bed.

As Annie glanced at Trent, her heart beat faster. His arm was within reach and she traced her fingers gently over his forearm. She couldn’t be this close and not touch him.

You’re here to rest
, she reminded herself sternly.
Only to rest.

A moment later Annie drifted off to sleep.

Trent awoke to blinding sunshine streaming through his window. He started to sit up then realized his head weighed fifty pounds. And every muscle he owned was on strike. Yesterday’s adventure with Wildfire inched into his thoughts.

Annie
. Annie had rescued him. Probably saved his sorry hide. What a woman, Annie Samuels. He smiled. They’d spent the entire day together. A great day, even factoring in a chick flick and a near concussion.

And Annie had insisted on spending the night. Trent lifted his head to see if Warden Samuels still occupied her post in the recliner. He saw the quilt she’d used to cover with but no sign of her. Maybe she’d used good sense for once and gone home.

Trent felt a slight shifting of the mattress, and when he turned he saw her. Warden Samuels occupied the north side of his bed! Aha! For once the woman had taken his suggestion and joined him.

But the smugness was soon replaced with longing. And a yearning so powerful it shocked him to the core.

What a fortunate man Brad Samuels had been. To wake up every morning to the sight of Annie must have been heaven on earth. Yet the foolish man hadn’t valued Annie. He probably hadn’t even loved her.

Annie turned toward him and sighed. The sound reminded him of a breeze teasing his willow tree. Trent inched closer, ignoring his aching joints, tendons, and ligaments. While he’d never been aware of them before, now he practically knew them by name.

Trent gritted his teeth and inched nearer still. The closer he got to Annie, the more radiant she became. Knowing he shouldn’t, he reached out and stroked her curls. Then he caressed her shoulder. If Lady Luck was with him, Annie would sleep for hours. And he could lie here all morning and pretend Annie was his. All his.

Lady Luck gave him five minutes. Then Annie bolted straight up and looked at him with horror in her eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Loving you
, Trent thought to himself.
Just loving you.

T
RENT CRINGED WHEN
Annie pulled a skillet from his cupboard and slammed it onto the stove. Good thing he didn’t have a range with one of those fancy glass tops. It would have a major crack down the center.

She glared at him. “How do you want your eggs?”

“Scrambled, please. If you don’t mind.”

Obviously she minded. Very much.

Annie had changed from his T-shirt into the yellow sundress, and Trent could no longer view those amazing legs. He missed Annie’s legs. Soon he’d miss Annie, period.

He’d lost his mind this morning when he scooted so close to her and caressed her shoulder. But he couldn’t help himself. There she was in his bed, looking and smelling delicious. And most surprising of all, it seemed normal for her to be there.

Dawn had lived here with him for only six months before she left. During that time, she hadn’t cooked a single meal. All the woman did was shop, shop, shop. Her goal in life was spending money—his money. All Dawn ever did was take.

It suddenly struck Trent how different Annie was from his ex-wife. Annie was all about giving, not taking.

“Do you want fried potatoes?” Her glance shot an arrow to his heart. If it had been a poison arrow, he’d be done for.

“Only if you’ll have some too.”

She yanked open his vegetable drawer, pulled out a couple of potatoes, and peeled vehemently. He hadn’t known you could peel potatoes vehemently until now.

Another skillet banged onto the stove and soon the potatoes were frying. Trent didn’t want Annie to feel obligated to cook for him. He’d send her home, but she’d just ignore him.

She filled their plates and they sat across from each other like robots. “It smells wonderful,” he said, waving a white flag.

“Good.”

“I took a look at that name book,” Trent said hoping to jumpstart the conversation. “I like Matthew for a boy.”

“Not bad.”

“Girl names are harder. Thought I’d leave that up to you.”

Annie nodded, and the brief conversation skidded to a halt.

“Anybody home?” The back door swung open and Doc Rivers came in. “Morning, folks. How’s my patient progressing?”

Trent stood and shook Doc’s hand. “Doin’ better, thanks.”

“Thought I’d give you a quick once-over. Just to be sure.”

Trent nodded. “Let’s go into the living room.”

“Excuse us, will you, Annie?” Doc Rivers said.

“Of course.” When she flashed the doctor a charming smile, Trent felt a zing of jealousy. He hadn’t been privy to a hint of a smile all morning. And Annie showed no signs of relenting.

Trent sighed.

He was in the doghouse.

Big-time.