Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: The Maverick's Thanksgiving Baby\A Celebration Christmas\Dr. Daddy's Perfect Christmas (3 page)

Jesse studied her carefully, noting the bony outline of her shoulders in the oversize sweater she wore over slim-fitting jeans, and guessed that she'd lost more than a few pounds. She was pale, too, and those beautiful brown eyes that had haunted his dreams looked even bigger and darker than he remembered.

The last time they'd spoken on the phone, she'd told him that she'd been feeling unwell, fighting some kind of virus. He'd thought it was just the latest in a long line of excuses for why she'd chosen not to return to Rust Creek Falls. It seemed apparent now that there had been at least some truth in her explanation.

He poured the boiling water into a mug, over a bag of peppermint tea. The day that she'd made him dinner, she'd told him it was her favorite flavor. And, sap that he was, he'd not only remembered but had bought a box so that he'd have it on hand when she came to visit.

The box had sat, unopened, in his cupboard for almost four months. Now, finally, she was going to have a cup—and the other eleven bags would probably sit in the box in his cupboard for another four months before he finally tossed them in the trash.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

She looked up, as if startled by the question.

“You said that you'd been fighting some kind of virus,” he reminded her. “I just wondered if you've fully recovered from whatever it was you had.”

She wrapped her hands around the warm mug. “I'm feeling much better, thanks.”

“It must have been quite a bug, to have laid you up for so long,” he commented.

“It wasn't a bug.” She lifted her gaze to his. “It was—
is
—a baby.”

Jesse stared at her for a long minute, certain he couldn't have heard her correctly.

“A baby?” he finally echoed.

She nodded. “I'm pregnant.”

He hated to ask, but he hadn't seen her since July and he knew he'd be a fool if he didn't. “Is it...mine?”

He held his breath, waiting for her response, not sure if he wanted it to be yes or no. Not sure how he would feel either way.

She winced at the question. “Yes, it's yours.”

“I'm sorry,” he said automatically.

“That it's yours?”

“That I had to ask,” he clarified.

But she shook her head. “I knew you would. If you were one of my clients, I'd insist that you get proof,” she admitted. “And if you want a DNA test, I'll give it to you, but there isn't any other possibility. I haven't been with anyone else in more than two years.”

“You're pregnant with my child,” he said, as if repeating the words might somehow help them to make sense.

His thoughts were as jumbled as his emotions. Joy warred with panic inside of him as he realized that he was going to be a father—a prospect that was as terrifying as it was exciting.

“I'm not here because I want or expect anything from you,” she explained. “I just thought you should know about the baby.”

Irritation bubbled to the surface. “I don't know which part of that outrageous statement to deal with first.”

“Excuse me?”

“We made that baby together,” he reminded her. “So you should want and expect plenty.

“As for letting me know—should I thank you for finally, in the fourth month of pregnancy, telling me that you're going to have my child?”

She winced at the harsh accusation in his tone. “It's not as if I was deliberately keeping my pregnancy a secret.”

“You were accidentally keeping it a secret?”

“I didn't know.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “You didn't know?”

“I didn't,” she insisted.

“I'm sure you didn't figure it out yesterday.”

“No,” she admitted. “But for the first few weeks after I returned to LA, I was so busy with work that I thought the fatigue and nausea were symptoms of my erratic schedule and not sleeping well or eating properly. Even when I missed my first period—” her cheeks flushed, as if she was uncomfortable talking about her monthly cycle despite the intimacies they'd shared “—I didn't think anything of it. I've skipped periods before, usually when I'm stressed.”

He scowled but couldn't dispute her claim. Instead he asked, “So when did you first suspect you might be pregnant?”

“Mid-September. And even then, it was my mother who brought up the possibility. Which I didn't think was a possibility, because we were careful both times.”

Both times. He didn't carry condoms in his wallet anymore, and she'd only had two in her makeup case. So they'd done all kinds of things to pleasure one another but they'd only made love twice.

And both times had felt like heaven on earth—the merging of their bodies had been so perfect, so right—

He severed the unwelcome memory.

“So I took a home pregnancy test.” She continued her explanation. “And even when it showed a positive result, I wasn't sure I believed it. The next day, my doctor confirmed the result.”

“This was mid-September?” he prompted.

She nodded again.

“So you've known for six weeks, and you only decided to tell me now?”

“I didn't know how to tell you,” she admitted. “It wasn't the kind of news I wanted to share over the phone, and my doctor advised me not to travel until the morning sickness was under control.”

“Did you ever think to invite me to come out to LA to see you?”

She blinked, confirming his suspicion that she had not. That the possibility of reaching out to him had not once entered her mind. “You never showed any interest in making a trip to California.”

“If you'd asked, if you'd said that you needed to see me, I would have come.” And he would have been glad to do so, overjoyed by the prospect of seeing her again.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I never thought... And when I called to tell you that my planned visit to Rust Creek Falls was further delayed, you sounded as if you'd already written me off. And that's okay,” she hastened to assure him. “I know neither of us expected that one night together would have such long-lasting repercussions.”

“I didn't think it was going to be only one night,” he told her.

“I bet you didn't think you'd end up having this conversation four months later, either,” she said.

“No,” he agreed.

“I know you've only had a few minutes to think about this, but I wanted you to know that I'm planning to keep the baby.”

He scowled, because it hadn't occurred to him that she might want to do anything else. “You thought about giving away our baby?”

“There were a few moments—especially in the beginning—when I wasn't sure what I would do,” she admitted. “I was stunned and scared—having a baby at this stage of my life wasn't anywhere in my plans.”

“You don't just give away a baby because it wasn't in your plans,” he told her.

“Some people do,” she told him.

Only then did he remember that she was adopted, given up by her sixteen-year-old birth mother when she was only a few days old.

While he was busy trying to extract his foot from his mouth, she continued, “And not necessarily because it's the easy choice. I don't know whether my birth mother wanted to keep me or not—Christa and Gavin always told me that she recognized that she couldn't give me the kind of life that I had with my parents, and I've always been grateful to her for that. So yes, I thought about giving up my baby, because I know that's sometimes the best option.

“But,” she continued before he could protest, “I don't think it is for my baby. And maybe it's maternal instinct or maybe it's because I was adopted, but I felt an immediate bond with this baby who shares my DNA, and I can't even imagine letting him or her go.”

“The baby shares half of your DNA,” he pointed out. “The other half is mine.”

She nodded. “And if you want to be part of our baby's life, I'd be happy to accommodate whatever kind of visitation you—”

“Visitation?” he interrupted, his voice dangerously soft.

She eyed him warily. “If that's what you want.”

“It's not.”

“Oh. Okay. In that case, I'll have papers drawn up—”

He interrupted her again. “The only paper we're going to need is a marriage license.”

Chapter Three

M
aggie stared at him, certain she couldn't have heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”

“We're having a baby together, which means we should get married to raise that child together.” His tone was implacable.

“You can't be serious.”

“Of course I'm serious. I'm not going to shirk my responsibilities.”

“There's a lot of ground between shirking responsibility and marriage,” she said, determined to remain calm and reasonable despite the outrageousness of his proposition.

“I want to be a father to my child.”

“You are the baby's father.”

“I want the baby to have my name.”

She'd been so apprehensive about this meeting—worried about how he'd respond to the news of her pregnancy. Obviously she knew he'd be surprised, and she'd prepared herself for the possibility that he might deny paternity. But in all of the scenarios that she'd envisioned, she'd never once considered that he might propose marriage. And while she'd feared that he might reject both her and the baby, his grim determination to do “the right thing” was somehow worse.

This wasn't at all how she'd planned things to happen in her life. Yes, she wanted to get married someday. Her parents had given all of their children the wonderful example of a true partnership, and Maggie wanted to find the same forever kind of love someday. And when she did, she would get married and
then
have a baby. So while she hadn't planned to get pregnant just yet, she didn't intend to change anything aside from the order of things. She would be the best mother she could be to her child, but she wasn't going to settle for a loveless marriage with a stubborn cowboy—even if his kisses had the power to make her lose all sense and reason.

If Jesse had been offering her something more... If he'd given any indication that he'd been genuinely happy to see her, if he'd wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with even half of the passion and enthusiasm she knew he was capable of, she might have ignored all of her questions and doubts and followed him to the nearest wedding chapel. But the coolness of his initial response to her return to Rust Creek Falls proved that he didn't want her—he only wanted to ensure the legitimacy of his child.

“We don't have to get married for your name to go on the baby's birth certificate,” she told him. “I would never deny my child's paternity.”

“
Our
child,” he reminded her. “And it's about more than just a name. It's about giving our baby the family he or she deserves.”

“What about what
we
deserve?” she challenged. “Don't you want to fall in love and exchange vows with someone you really want to be with instead of someone you inadvertently got pregnant?”

“What I want—what you want—isn't as important as what our baby needs,” he insisted stubbornly.

She blew out a breath. “I don't think our baby needs to be raised by two parents trapped in a loveless marriage.”

“You don't have to make it sound so dire. If we want to, we can make this work.”

“What if I don't want to?”

He ignored her question as if she hadn't even spoken. “We should be able to make all of the necessary arrangements for a wedding within a couple of weeks.”

“Did you get kicked in the head by a horse? I am
not
marrying you.”

The lift of his brows was the only indication that he'd heard her this time, as he steamrollered over her protest. “We can have a quick courthouse ceremony here or a more traditional wedding in LA, if you prefer.”

“So I
do
have some say in this?”

“The details,” he agreed. “I don't care about the where and when so long as it's legal.”

There was something about his determination to make her his wife that thrilled her even as it infuriated her. And she suspected that, deep in her heart, she wanted what he was offering: to get married and raise their baby together.

But she didn't want a marriage on the terms he was offering. She didn't want a legal union for the sake of their baby but a commitment based on mutual respect and affection. Unfortunately, that offer wasn't on the table. And even if it was, there were other obstacles to consider.

“What about the detail also known as my job?” she challenged.

“What about it?”

“How am I going to represent my clients in Los Angeles if I'm living in Rust Creek Falls? Or am I supposed to happily sacrifice all of my career ambitions for the pleasure of becoming Mrs. Jesse Crawford?”

His only response was a scowl that proved he hadn't given much thought to the distance that separated them geographically.

“I'm sure you can find a job in Rust Creek Falls, if you want to keep working.”

“Or maybe you could find work in Los Angeles,” she countered.

“Now you're just being ridiculous.”

“And you're being completely unreasonable.”

“It's not unreasonable to want our child to be raised by two parents.”

“Look at us, Jesse. We can't even have a simple conversation without fighting and you want us to get married?”

“Yes, I do,” he said again.

She shook her head. “Obviously we have a fundamental difference of opinion.”

“I don't recall there being any differences of opinion when we were in bed together.”

And with those words, the air was suddenly charged with electricity.

The heat in his gaze spread warmth through her veins, from her belly to her breasts, throbbing between her thighs. He wasn't even touching her—and she was fairly quivering with desire.

No one had ever affected her the way this man did. No one had ever made her feel the way she felt when she was with him. But even more unnerving than the wanting of her body was the yearning of her heart.

She pushed away from the breakfast bar and carried her empty mug to the sink. She had to leave, to give them both some time and space to think about how they should proceed.

“Maggie.”

She looked up, and he was there. Close enough that she couldn't breathe without inhaling his clean, masculine scent. Close enough that he had to hear her heart pounding. And although his eyes never left hers, she felt the heat of his gaze everywhere.

He lifted a hand to touch her hair, his fingers skimming over the silky tresses to cradle the back of her head. Then his mouth was on hers, his lips warm and firm and sure, and she melted against him.

She'd forgotten how strong he was, how solid every inch of his body was. Hard and unyielding. And yet, for all of his strength, he was incredibly gentle. It was that unadulterated masculine strength combined with his inherently gentle nature that had appealed to her from the first.

His hands slid down her back, inched up beneath the hem of her sweater. Then those wide, callused palms were on her skin, sliding up her torso to cup her breasts. Her blood pulsed in her veins, hot and demanding. His thumbs brushed over her nipples through the delicate lace, and she actually whimpered.

He nibbled on her lips. Teasing, tasting, tempting.

“I want you, Maggie.”

She wanted him, too. And though she knew it might be a mistake to let herself succumb to that desire while there was still so much unresolved between them, that knowledge didn't dampen her need.

“Tell me you feel the same,” he urged.

“I do,” she admitted. “But—”

She forgot the rest of what she'd intended to say when he lifted her off her feet and into his arms.

He carried her up the stairs and down a short hallway to his bedroom with effortless ease. When he set her on her feet beside the bed, she knew that if she was going to protest, now was the time to do so. Then he kissed her again, and any thought of protest flew out of her mind.

Her mouth parted beneath the pressure of his, and his tongue swept inside, teasing the soft inside of her lips. His hands slid down her back, over the curve of her buttocks, pulling her close. The evidence of his arousal fueled her own. Blood pulsed in her veins, pooled low in her belly, making her want so much that she actually ached.

She lifted her hands to the buttons of his shirt and began to unfasten them. She wanted to touch him, to feel the warmth of his bare skin beneath her palms. But the cotton T-shirt under the flannel impeded her efforts. With a frustrated sigh, she tugged the T-shirt out of his jeans and shoved her hands beneath it.

Jesse chuckled softly. “I didn't realize this was a race.”

“I want to feel your body against mine,” she confessed.

He released her long enough to get rid of his clothes. She sat on the edge of the bed, intending to do the same, but she was still struggling with her boots when his jeans hit the floor. As he kicked them away, she couldn't help but admire the knit boxer briefs that molded to the firm muscles of his buttocks and thighs at the back and did absolutely nothing to hide the obvious evidence of his arousal at the front.

Her mouth went dry and her fingers froze on the knotted laces. He knelt beside her and efficiently untied the boots and pulled them from her feet. Then he unfastened her jeans and pushed them over her hips, down her legs, finally stripping them away along with her socks.

“Your feet are cold,” he realized, warming them between his palms. “You need thicker socks.”

Not in California,
she thought, but didn't say it aloud. She didn't want to speak of the distance that separated their lives; she didn't want anything to take away from the here and now.

“Or I could get under the covers,” she suggested.

“That's a better plan,” he agreed.

But first, he lifted her sweater over her head and tossed it aside, leaving her clad in only a lace demi-cup bra and matching bikini panties. He sat back on his haunches, the heat in his gaze roaming over her as tangible as a caress, making her nipples tighten and her thighs quiver.

“You absolutely take my breath away,” he told her.

She tugged the covers down and rolled over the bed to snuggle beneath them. Jesse immediately slid in beside her, his hands skimming over her, tracing her curves. He lowered his head to nuzzle the tender skin at the base of her throat, making her shiver.

He glanced up. “Are you still cold?”

She shook her head; he smiled slightly before he lowered his head again, his lips skimming across her collarbone, then tracing the lacy edge of her bra. She could feel his breath, warm on her skin, as his mouth hovered above her breast. Her hand lifted to his head, silently urging him closer. He willingly acquiesced to her direction, laving her nipple with his tongue. The sensation of hot, wet heat through the silky fabric made her gasp, then his lips closed over the lace-covered peak, sending fiery spears of pleasure arrowing to her core.

He found the center clasp of her bra and released it, peeling the fabric aside so he could suckle her bare flesh, making her groan. He tugged the straps down her arms, dropped the garment to the floor. His hands stroked down her torso, his fingers hooking in her panties and dragging them down her legs and away, so that she was completely naked. All the while, his hands and his lips moved over her, teasing and tempting, until her body was fairly quivering with wanting.

Genetics had blessed her with a naturally slim build and the loss of those few pounds had pushed her from slender toward skinny, but she knew that was only a temporary state. Because although her hip bones and ribs were visible now, there was also a subtle roundness to her belly—evidence of the baby she carried.

He splayed his hand over the curve, his wide palm covering her almost from hip bone to hip bone, as if cradling their child, and the sweetness of the gesture made tears fill her eyes.

“Everyone says that a baby is a miracle,” he said. “But the idea of you growing our baby inside of you is every bit as miraculous.”

“You call it
miraculous
now. In a few more months, you'll be calling it
fat
.”

She'd been teasing, attempting to lighten the mood, but as soon as she spoke the words, she wished she could take them back. Talking about the future as if they would be together was a mistake, even if it was—deep in her heart—what she wanted.

But he shook his head. “You'll always be beautiful to me—the most beautiful woman I've ever known.”

Which might have sounded like a well-rehearsed line from another man, but the sincerity in his tone made her heart swell inside her chest.

“I want to be with you through every step of your pregnancy,” he continued. “I want to see the changes in your body as our baby grows. I want to be the one who runs to the grocery store in the middle of the night when you have a sudden craving for ice cream.”

“I didn't think the store in Rust Creek Falls was open in the middle of the night.”

“Lucky for you, I have a key.”

“That is lucky,” she agreed. “But I don't want to worry about the future right now.”

“What do you want?”

She lifted her arms to link them behind his neck. “You. I only want you.”

“Well, that's convenient,” he said. “Because I want you, too.”

Then he captured her mouth in a long, slow kiss that went on and on until her head was actually spinning. The hand that was on her belly inched lower. His fingers sifted through the soft curls at the apex of her thighs and her hips automatically lifted off the bed, wordlessly encouraging his exploration. He parted the slick folds and dipped inside. She didn't know if it was the pregnancy hormones or Jesse, but all it took was that one stroke, deep inside, and she flew apart.

He continued to stroke her while the convulsions rippled through her body. Her hands fisted in the sheet, as she tried to anchor herself against the onslaught of sensations. “Jesse, please.”

He leaned forward to reach into the drawer beside his bed and pulled out a small square packet.