Читать книгу Someone's Baby - Dani Sinclair - Страница 14

Jayne thought frantically past the pain in her shoulder. This sexy man with the incredible voice thought she was the mother of the baby. She hadn’t even known it was a girl.

Caution curbed her first impulse to tell him everything. She didn’t know him or anything about him. But watching him with the infant had brought a lump to her throat. For such a large man, he handled the tiny baby with a gentle touch. He hadn’t seemed awkward, just a bit unsure which endeared him to her. He was obviously a good person.

Though he’d hurt her, he’d been nothing but kind trying to fix her shoulder. It was probably insane, but she trusted him. The only problem was, the kidnappers had already proved they would stop at nothing. Was it fair to involve him any further in this mess?

“Who stole your truck?”

His eyes darkened and a hardness set in around his mouth. “Good question. I don’t like any of the answers including the possibility that your husband may be outside right now with my rifle trying to figure out the best way to get in here and finish the job he started.”

Fear returned with a vengeance. In her mind, she clearly pictured the man standing in the parking lot aiming the gun at the car she stole.

“You think he followed us here?” She swallowed past her dry throat.

“It’s not a possibility I’m willing to rule out.”

“We’ve got to get out of here!”

She tried to sit up but he held her in place easily with one hand. She was so weak the effort nearly drained her and the motion jarred her shoulder alarmingly. She could have wept from the searing pain.

“We’ve got no place to go,” he said soothingly.

“But—”

“I’m not completely unarmed,” he told her. The flick of his hand sent her eyes to his waistband where the handle of a gun protruded. “He’ll have to go through me to get to you.”

That braked the fear and reached into her muddled mind with a whole host of confusing sentiments. He was going to protect her?

“You don’t even know me.”

“No, ma’am, I don’t. And if you’d had the decency to pick someone else’s truck to hide in, I’d have been a whole lot happier. But you didn’t, so I’m stuck with the situation.”

Jayne blinked in surprise at this grumpy discourse. “And here I was thinking you were a nice person.”

“Whatever gave you that impression?” he growled.

“I have no idea,” she snapped weakly. “I suppose I could have just stood there and let him shoot me, but I assure you, he probably would have shot you, too. He’s even nastier than you are and he’s not apt to leave witnesses. He just wants the baby.”

“Good.”

“What?”

“If she’s what he wants it gives us an advantage.”

New fear washed over her. “I am not giving him the baby!”

“Of course not, but it means he won’t start shooting indiscriminately into the cabin.”

Jayne tried to hide a shudder. She closed her eyes and attempted to think. Her uncooperative brain was sluggish with pain and fear and exhaustion.

“Why would he take your truck? That doesn’t make sense. He could have walked in the door and shot us both when you weren’t expecting him. He doesn’t need your rifle. He’s already got a gun.”

Silence filled the cabin.

“Good point,” the man called Cade finally said thoughtfully.

“And why don’t we have anywhere to go?” she asked, opening her eyes again. Cade wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at the wall apparently deep in thought.

“This is a line shack,” he said after a long pause. “We put them in places that are far from the main house. After a day roping cattle or riding fence it’s a roof over your head instead of a bedroll on the ground. Especially during bad weather.”

She knew that. “So walking for help isn’t an option?”

“Not at the moment.” He pulled a toothpick from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. Grimly, he stood and began packing supplies away. “You can breast-feed, can’t you?” he asked again.

“No!”

He suddenly eyed her with an expression of disdain. Did he believe she felt such a natural process was beneath her?

“There’s milk in the diaper bag.”

“She already drank two of the six bottles. They’re really little bottles.”

“There’s an unopened can of formula. We’ll have to mix up more formula when we run out.”

He turned and began rummaging through the bag. He pulled out the can and gave her an acerbic look. “This won’t last forever. Then what?”

“I don’t know! Are we going to be stuck here forever?” She tried to sit up, but her shoulder hurt and the action made her feel weak and dizzy. Her stomach lurched appallingly. She tried to cover her helplessness with a glare. “You can wipe that expression right off your face. I’d feed her if I could, but it isn’t possible.”

Her head began to ache in tandem with the burning throbbing of her shoulder. Jayne closed her eyes against the pain and vowed not to be ill. “I don’t know what to do,” she said trying not to panic. “I can’t seem to think right now.”

“Okay,” he said more kindly. “I’ve got powdered milk. I can add it to the formula to stretch it out a ways if we need to. It may not be great, but it should get us through until help arrives.”

She opened one eye and immediately closed it again. She was very tired and it was cold in the cabin.

“So help will arrive?” she asked.

“Let me worry about that. When’s the last time you ate?”

She thought about the bag of cheese curls and the diet soda she’d been eating in her car right before everything went crazy. Her stomach tightened alarmingly.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’ll fix us something while you rest.”

“The baby—”

“Will be just fine. She’s still sleeping. What’s her name?”

Name? Of course he’d expect her to have a name. He thought this was her baby.

“Heather. I call her Heather.” Her mother’s name was the first one to pop into her head.

“Yeah?”

She squinted carefully and found him scrutinizing the sleeping infant.

“I guess I can see that. It’s soft. Sort of pretty.”

“My mother will be glad you approve.”

Cade glanced at her. “Why? Did she name the kid?”

“No. It’s her name.”

“Oh. Are you cold?”

“What gave it away, the shivering or the chattering of my teeth?”

He shook his head and walked over to the table. “Here.” He came back with two blankets which he spread over her. But when his hand reached out to brush the hair from her forehead she tried to draw back.

“What are you doing?”

“Hold still, I want to see if your head is warm. We don’t want you getting a fever.”

“And just how are you going to prevent that?”

He didn’t bother to respond. His hand was large and rough. The hand of a workingman. Yet his touch was somehow reassuring against her skin. She didn’t want to be drawn to this surly cowboy, but she was. At the moment, he represented safety and security.

“Well?” she asked as he pulled back.

“Can’t tell.”

“That’s helpful.”

He tried to mask his irritation by turning away. “Rest while I get the supplies organized and make us something to eat.”

She didn’t bother arguing with him. The way her stomach felt at the moment, food was the last thing it wanted to deal with. She had a bad feeling those cheese curls were looking for a quick way out.

She tried to focus on Cade, but she found watching him unnerving. Especially after he took off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. He moved like a feral cat, she decided. Muscles rippled beneath the denim work shirt. There were no wasted motions other than the toothpick he chewed on. She wanted to ask him if he’d just given up smoking or something, but any more conversation seemed like an awful lot of effort.

She was cold despite the blankets. Much too cold considering the air temperature. She probably was running a slight fever, but she was too tired to tell him so. Why did her shoulder have to hurt so badly? She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, content to listen to him moving about the room.

Unbelievably, she fell into a light doze, waking partially when she heard the baby crying. She should get up and change the little thing, but she couldn’t quite force her eyes open. Her shoulder was on fire and her head throbbed like anything. She wanted nothing more than to cry right along with the baby.

The cries grew louder, more demanding.

Cade’s voice began to speak. The baby quieted at the sound. Jayne didn’t blame her. Cade had a fabulous voice. Deep. Soothing.

She tried to force her eyes open. She should get up. The baby wasn’t Cade’s responsibility. But it had stopped crying. Maybe she’d just lie there a couple more minutes. Then she’d get up and do her part to help.

“JAYNE. Jayne!”

The voice was insistent. Demanding. Sexy.

She didn’t want to leave this incredible dream. Hard, callused hands had been running through her hair, stroking her tenderly. Those lips had been inches away. He had such a sensual mouth.

“Jayne, wake up. Come on. Open your eyes.”

The man in the dream faded to black. Cade’s voice was no longer sexy.

Opening her eyes took a lot of effort, but she wanted to see his features. She peered at him through slits. Dark-gray eyes loomed over her in concern. She had to blink several times to bring Cade’s blurry face into focus.

“That’s it. Wake up, little one.”

“I’m petite not little,” she corrected. Her mouth was so dry it seemed filled with cotton.

The lines around his eyes crinkled. “Wake up petite one doesn’t have the same ring to it,” he said.

Inexplicably, she wanted to smile, but her lips wouldn’t make the effort. “Tired.”

“I know you’re tired, but you have to eat something.”

“No.” She promptly shut her eyes again. Her shoulder burned with pain and she ached in places she normally never thought about. She sensed him moving away and tried to call back the velvet warmth of sleep, and that wonderfully erotic dream that had slipped away. What would Cade’s lips feel like pressed against her own?

The scent of food tickled her nose. It mingled with the smell of wood smoke. Her stomach growled. Maybe she was hungry after all. But getting up was far too much work. It would hurt.

Wasn’t getting shot bad enough? Topping it with at least a ten-mile hike carrying the baby and gear had nearly done her in. The unbearable truck ride had depleted her completely.

She had no reserves left. Zip, zero, none. Her back and hips felt black and blue. She’d bet she had bruises all the way down her spine.

“Try this.”

Cade cupped the back of her head and lifted her slightly. This should have been like her dream, only the movement made her arm hurt like crazy. She wanted to tell him so, but he pressed something against her lips. Liquid, but warm. She didn’t care. She was so thirsty. Taking a cautious sip, she allowed the broth to slide down her throat. It received an enthusiastic reception. She placed her good hand over his to steady the cup and drank greedily.

“Easy. Don’t choke, there’s bits of meat and vegetables in there.”

She opened her eyes all the way. His face was inches from her own. All the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes were visible. How old was he? There was a small scar over one eyebrow and another one near his left cheek. Jayne resisted an urge to touch them.

There was something sensual in the way his hand threaded through her hair, cupping her head like this.

Why did she keep thinking thoughts like that?

“Want some more?”

“Please.”

Approval shone in his dark-gray eyes. He lowered her with tender care and she followed his path to the stove. His jeans were old, fitting snugly enough to outline muscles that had come from hours of hard work. Cade had a nice butt. Heck, he had a nice everything. He must have women falling all over themselves to get close to him.

What was wrong with her? Must be the fever. She’d never noticed a man’s body before in her life. She had entirely too many males hitting on her as it was, and she’d learned early on that men only wanted one thing from petite blondes.

“Think you can sit up?” Cade asked as he returned.

“Not without a lot of pain.”

He made an amused sound low in his throat. “Let’s give it a try anyhow. I’m going to support you until you can lean back against the wall here. Okay?”

“Couldn’t I just lie here and die in peace?”

“No.”

He placed his arms around her carefully and lifted. She was intensely aware that her breasts were covered in nothing but her thin bra, and one side of that no longer gave any support. Her breasts pressed against the material of his shirt. If he noticed, he gave no sign.