The Cowboy and His Baby (16 page)

“I'm concentrating on what I'm doing, not scanning the horizon for visitors.”

“Just what is it you're doing?”

“Adding on.”

She gave him a wry look. “That much is plain.
What
are you adding on?”

“A room for my daughter.”

Surprise rippled through her. “Isn't that room Harlan's prepared good enough?”

“I want her to have her own room in my home,” he insisted, giving her a belligerent look that dared her to argue.

“Seems like a lot of work for an occasional visit.”

He climbed down from the ladder and leaned back against it, his boot heel hooked over the bottom rung behind him. His chin jutted up belligerently. It should have warned her what was coming, but it didn't.

“We're not talking an occasional visit, Melissa,” he declared bluntly. “I expect to have her here a lot. You've had her for more than a year. I'm expecting equal time.”

A year, here with Cody? Away from her? A sudden weakness washed through her. “You can't be serious,” she whispered, thinking of the warning her mother had given her at the outset. Had Velma been
right, after all? Would Cody bring all of the Adams influence to bear to get custody of his child?

“Dead serious,” he confirmed, his unblinking gaze leveled on her.

This was a new and dangerous twist to Cody's driven nature. Clearly he intended to go after his daughter with the same singleminded determination he'd devoted to securing his place at White Pines.

“Cody, she's not a possession,” she said in a tone that barely concealed her sudden desperation. “She's a little girl.”

“A little girl who ought to get to know her daddy.”

“I've told you—I've
promised
you—that we can work that out. I don't want to prevent you from spending time with her, from getting to know her, but to bring her to a strange house, to expect her to live with a virtual stranger…I won't allow it, Cody. I can't.”

“You may not have a choice,” he said coldly. “I don't want to get lawyers involved in this, but I will if I have to.”

Melissa had no trouble imagining who would win in a court fight. As good a mother as she'd been, Cody and his family had the power to beat her. “There has to be another way,” she said.

He nodded. “There is.”

“What? I'll do anything.”

His mouth curved into a mockery of a smile. “You make it sound so dire. The alternative isn't that awful. You just have to marry me.”

The conversation she'd just had with Harlan echoed in her head. She couldn't marry Cody, not under these circumstances, especially not with him trying to blackmail her into it. What kind of a chance
would their marriage have if she did? None. None at all.

She forced herself not to react with the anger or counterthreats that were on the tip of her tongue. Reason and humor would be more successful against the absurdity of what he was suggesting.

“Cody, half of the women in Texas would marry you in a heartbeat if you're anxious to have a wife,” she said, refusing to consider the terrible consequences to her emotions if he took her up on what she was suggesting. “Why try to blackmail me into it?”

“Because you're the one who's the mother of my child,” he said simply.

“But that's all I am to you,” she replied, fighting tears. “It's not enough to make a marriage. At the first sign of trouble, what's to prevent you from bolting again, just like you did when you saw me with Brian? You don't trust me. You don't want me.”

“Oh, I wouldn't say that,” he said, straightening and walking slowly toward her with a look that flatout contradicted her claim.

Melissa held her ground. If she backed down now, if she showed him any hint of weakness, he would win. The prize was more than her pride, more than her body. The prize they were warring over was her daughter.

Cody's advance was slow and deliberate. His eyes, dark as coal in the shadow of the house, seemed to sear her with their intensity. His lips formed a straight, tight line. Anger and frustration radiated from every masculine pore.

When he neared to within a few scant inches, the heat from his body enveloped her, tugging at her like a powerful magnet. And still she held her ground.

“I want you, Me…liss…a,” he said quietly. “Make no doubt about that.”

She shivered under his slow, leisurely, pointed inspection. Her skin sizzled under that hot gaze. The peaks of her breasts hardened. Moisture gathered between her thighs. Her entire body responded as if he'd stroked and caressed every inch of her. She ached to feel his fingers where his gaze had been. And still, unbelievably, she held her ground.

Her breath snagged, then raced. Her pulse skittered crazily. She longed for someplace to sit or lean, anything to keep her weak knees from giving away her shakiness.

“Tempted, Me…liss…a?”

“No,” she squeaked, hating herself for not making the response firmer, more emphatic.

“Remember how it felt to have me inside you?” he taunted, hands jammed into his pockets, deliberately stretching faded denim over the unmistakable ridge of his arousal.

Her gaze locked on that evidence of his desire. A matching hunger rocketed through her. She swallowed hard, clenching her fists so tightly she was certain she must be drawing blood. But still she held her ground.

“In there, on that big, old, feather mattress,” he reminded her silkily. “Our legs all tangled, our bodies slick with sweat. Remember, Me...liss…a?”

Oh, sweet heaven, she thought, desperately trying to replace his images with other, safer memories of her own. Memories of being alone and scared, when
she realized she was pregnant. Memories of staring at a phone that never rang as day after day, then month after month ticked by. Thinking of that, she steadied herself and held her ground.

She leveled a look straight into eyes that blazed with passion and said, “It won't work, Cody. We can't resolve this in bed.”

He reached out then, skimmed his knuckles lightly along her cheek and watched her shiver at the touch. “You sure about that, darlin'?”

She wasn't sure about anything anymore except the tide of desire she was battling with every last shred of her resistance. Her breathlessness kept her silent, afraid that anything she said or the whispered huskiness of her voice would give her away.

His fingers traced a delicate, erotic path along her neck, circling her nape, pulling her closer and closer still until their lips were a scant hairsbreadth apart, their breath mingling along with their scents; hers, wildflower fresh, his, raw and purely masculine.

The touch of his mouth against hers, gentle as a breeze, commanding as the pull of the tides, sealed her fate. The ground she'd held so staunchly gave way as she swayed into the temptation of that kiss.

Cody gave a sigh that she interpreted as part relief, part satisfaction. He coaxed her lips apart, touched his tongue to hers in a provocative duet.

Melissa bowed to the inevitable then. She had no power or will to resist this lure. She gave herself up to the sweet, wild sensations that had always been her downfall with Cody. He knew every inch of her, knew how to persuade and cajole, how to tempt and tease until her body was his as it had always been.

Her heart, she prayed, she could protect a little longer.

T
he dare was backfiring. Cody knew it the instant he saw Melissa sprawled across his bed, her long auburn hair tangled on his pillow, her skin like smoothest satin, her coral-tipped breasts beckoning to him.

Until this moment it had only been distant memories that tormented him, fueling steamy dreams and restless nights. Now she was here and this throbbing hunger he felt for her was real. Powerful sensations he'd been telling himself that absence—and abstinence—had exaggerated were reawakened now with passionate urgency.

There might still have been a split second when he could have reclaimed sanity and reason, but if there was, he let it pass. His need for her was too great. His conviction that making love to her once again would bind her to him forever was too compelling.

The soft, winter sunlight spilled through a skylight above the bed and bathed Melissa in a golden glow. An artist might spend a lifetime searching for anything so beautiful, he thought as he stood looking down at her. An artist might spend an entire career trying to capture that same sensual vision on canvas
and fail in the end. Cody certainly had never seen anything to equal the sight. He couldn't tear his gaze away.

Pregnancy had changed her body, gently rounding it, where before it had been all sharp angles and far more delicate curves. He swallowed hard as he absorbed the changes, regretting with every fiber of his being that he'd never seen her belly swollen with his child or her breasts when they were tender and engorged with milk.

He was aware of the instant when embarrassment tinted her skin a seashell pink from head to toe. She grabbed for a corner of the sheet, but before she could cover herself, he caught the edge and tugged it gently from her grasp. He stripped away his own clothes and sank down beside her, his gaze never leaving hers.

His breath eased out of him on a ragged sigh. “You are even more beautiful than I remembered,” he said, touching his fingers to the pulse that hammered at the base of her neck, gauging her response. Her skin burned beneath his touch. Her pulse bucked like the most impatient bronco he'd ever ridden.

And her eyes, oh, how they pleaded with him. The delicate sea green shade had darkened with some inner turbulence. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that she wanted him with a desperation as fierce as his own.

He also knew with absolute certainty that she didn't want to desire him at all. Outside just now, she had fought her own passion valiantly, but nature and the inevitability of their mating were against her, just as they had been against him since his return to Texas.

He had always understood that internal war, perhaps even better than she did. Way back, when he'd waged his own battle to resist being hemmed in, when he'd struggled against commitment, his body had betrayed him, hungering for Melissa in a way he should have recognized as proof that they were meant to be. It had never been anywhere near as casual between them as he'd sworn to himself it was.

Now, with this second chance, his gaze intent, he skimmed his fingers over delicate skin, caressing new curves and exploring familiar planes. He scattered kisses in the wake of his touch, until her skin was on fire and her breath was coming in soft gasps and her eyes were the color of a stormy sea.

He wondered if he would ever understand the complex mix of raw, violent emotions she stirred in him. The primitive urge to claim and possess tangled with a more sensitive desire to awaken and give pleasure. He concentrated on the latter, judging the success of each stroke of his fingers, each dark and passionate kiss.

“Cody, please,” she pleaded, her body arching upward, seeking his, seeking the very possession he held back.

“Not yet,” he soothed, even as he intensified his touches, tormenting and teasing until he sensed that she was right on the edge of a shattering, consuming climax.

His own body was rigid with tension, his blood pounding hotly through his veins. He held his own satisfaction at bay with a will that was being tested beyond endurance. He had no idea if the torment was meant to incite Melissa or prove something to himself. Perhaps he was hoping for one last, tiny
victory in his internal battle to demonstrate that she didn't have the power to captivate him so thoroughly, after all.

But of course, she did. And when her soft cries and his own demanding need could no longer be ignored, he slowly,
slowly
entered her, sinking into that moist, velvet sheath with a sigh of thrilled satisfaction. As the pace of his entry and retreat escalated, they rode each wave of pleasure together until willpower—his and hers—vanished in an explosion that made them one.

Afterward, still floating on the memories of that wild, incredible journey, Cody couldn't help thinking of the implication. Melissa was home at last, where she belonged…and so was he.

* * *

“I told you so,” Cody murmured smugly sometime later, when the room was bathed in the last pink shimmer of a glorious sunset.

“Told me what?” Melissa asked, her eyes closed, her body tucked against his side.

“That being married to me wouldn't be so awful.”

Her eyes blinked open and she rose up to lean on one elbow. “This isn't marriage, Cody,” she reminded him with a scowl. “It's an interlude, one afternoon, nothing more.”

He was stunned that she could be so cool, so dismissive, in the aftermath of such all-consuming heat and passion. “Are you saying that this meant nothing to you?”

“I'm saying it's not enough to make a marriage,” she countered stubbornly. “Cody, if sex were all that mattered, you would never have left for Wyoming and we'd have been married long ago.”

His temper snapped at that. “I would never have left for Wyoming if you hadn't deliberately tried to make me think you were becoming involved with my best friend,” he shouted, flinging her responsibility for his leaving back in her face.

Even as he hurled the accusation, he climbed from the bed and yanked on his jeans. He stalked out of the bedroom, not sure where he was headed until he found himself outside on the deck, standing at the rail gazing over the land he loved. Not even such natural beauty had the power to soothe him now, though. Fury made his insides churn.

The quick escalation of the argument forced him to admit that Melissa was right about one thing: making love hadn't solved anything. If anything, it had complicated matters, because now they both knew that the explosive chemistry between them was as volatile as ever. It was going to be harder than ever to work things out with reason and logic, when the temptation was going to be to fall into bed.