Читать книгу Bargaining for Baby / The Billionaire's Baby Arrangement - Robyn Grady - Страница 12

The white Land Cruiser skidded to a stop a few feet from a nearby water tank, dry grass spewing out in dusty clouds from behind its monster wheels. A woman leaped out and, without shutting the driver’s door, sailed up the back steps.

Maddy clutched her chair’s arms while her gaze hunted down Jack.

He’d heard the engine before she had. Had pushed up and now came to a stop by the veranda rail, his weight shifted to one side so that the back pockets of his jeans and those big shoulders lay slightly askew. When the woman reached him, no words were exchanged. She merely bounced up on tiptoe, flung her arms around his neck and, her cheek to his, held on.

Maddy pressed back into the early evening shadows. This scene was obviously meant for two. Who was this woman? If she wasn’t Jack Prescott’s lover, she sure as rain wanted to be.

Maddy’s gaze tracked downward.

The woman’s riding boots—clean and expensive by the emblem—covered her fitted breeches to the knee. She was slender and toned; with a mane of ebony hair, loose and lush, she might have been the human equivalent of a prized thoroughbred. Her olive complexion hinted at Mediterranean descent and her onyx eyes were filled with affection as she drew back and peered up into Jack’s—passionate and loyal.

Maddy’s mouth pulled to one side.

Seemed Jack had indeed moved on since the death of his wife—the auburn-haired woman whose photo she’d seen on that chest of drawers. When they’d come face to face earlier in the nursery and she’d copped an eye full of Jack’s all-male-and-then-some chest, she’d imagined he’d felt the moment, too. She’d told herself that’s why he’d been particularly brusque afterward. The lightning bolt—the overwhelming awareness—had struck him, as well, and, taken aback, he hadn’t known how to handle it.

But clearly that fiery, unexpected reaction had been one-sided. He’d seemed vexed by the scene in the nursery because he was embarrassed over her ogling. Embarrassed and annoyed. He was spoken for, and this woman in front of her might capture and hold any man, even I-am-an-island Jack Prescott.

With a fond but strained smile, Jack unfastened the woman’s hold and her palms slid several inches down from his thick neck to his shirt. She toyed with a button as she gazed adoringly into his eyes and sighed.

“You’re home.” Then she tilted her head, that ebony mane spilled over her shoulder and her smile became a look of mild admonition. “I wish you’d have let me come to Sydney with you. It must have been so hard facing the funeral on your own. I shouldn’t have promised that I’d stay behind.”

Jack found her hand on his chest and carefully brought it to her side. “Tara, I brought somebody back with me.”

The woman slowly straightened, blinked. Then, having dialed into her personal radar, she honed in on Maddy. The woman’s thickly lashed eyes darkened more while her complexion dropped a shade. As their gazes locked, Tara surreptitiously found and held the veranda rail at her back.

Maddy’s face flushed hot. She knew what this woman, Tara, was thinking. The accusation blazed in her eyes. But she and Jack were not an item. They weren’t even friends, and from the venom building in this woman’s eyes, the sooner she knew all the facts the better.

Maddy found her feet at the same time Jack beckoned her over.

“This is Madison Tyler,” he said, then nodded to the woman. “Tara Anderson.”

An uneven smile broke across Tara’s face. “Madison. We haven’t met before—” her eyes narrowed slightly “—have we?”

Jack stepped in. “Maddy’s staying at Leadeebrook for a couple of weeks.”

“Oh?” Tara’s practiced smile almost quivered. “Why?”

Before anyone could answer, Cait appeared at the back doorway, holding Beau. The housekeeper’s jovial expression slid when she recognized their visitor.

“Tara, love. I heard the truck. I thought it was Snow.”

Tara’s hand slipped off the rail and when her startled, glistening gaze slid from the baby to Jack, Maddy’s heart sank in her chest. Tara’s thoughts were as loud as war drums. She thought the child belonged to them—to her and Jack. Yet everything in Tara Anderson’s stunned expression said she couldn’t let herself believe the worst. She wanted to trust the man she so obviously cared for.

As if afraid he might vanish, Tara tentatively touched Jack’s hand and her voice cracked when she asked, “Jack …?”

“This is Dahlia’s son,” he said in a somber tone. “The father isn’t on the scene. Maddy was Dahlia’s friend. She promised my sister she’d help the baby settle in here.”

Drawing back, Tara audibly exhaled, then touched her brow with an unsteady hand. She shook her head as if to dispel a fog but her expression remained pained.

“Dahlia’s son …” She breathed out again before her gaze pierced his. “You agreed to this, Jack? To a baby? I thought you said—”

His brows tipped together. “We won’t discuss it now.”

“When were we going to discuss it?” she asked. “How long have you known?”

But the line of his mouth remained firm. Turning, he set his hands on the rail and peered out over the barren landscape.

The anxiety in Maddy’s stomach balled tighter. Hearing that Jack was responsible for a baby had been a massive shock for Tara Anderson; she wanted answers. Without knowing their history, Maddy couldn’t help but think she deserved them. And yet Jack kept his shoulders set and his gaze fixed on something in the distance. He could be so bloody stubborn sometimes.

It wasn’t her place to interfere, but if she could ease the tension a little by extending the hand of friendship, Maddy decided she would. If Jack and this woman were as close as this scene suggested, Beau would be seeing more of Tara … more than he would see of his aunt Maddy.

She edged closer. “Do you live in town, Tara?”

Tara’s bewildered gaze whipped around, as if she’d forgotten they had company.

“I own the adjoining property,” she said absently. Then a different emotion filtered over her face and she exhaled once more, this time with an apologetic smile. “Forgive me, please. I’m being rude. It’s just …” She sought out Jack’s gaze. “I’ve been worried these past days.”

“Will you stay for supper?” Cait asked from the back door, giving Beau, who had half his fist in his mouth, a jiggle. “There’s always plenty.”

At the same time Tara quizzed Jack’s face for his reaction, Maddy felt a brush against her leg. She lowered her gaze. Nell had taken up a seat between herself and Jack.

Stiffening, Maddy rubbed the goosebumps from her arm and slid a foot away. A mime act made more noise than this dog.

When Jack rotated away from the rail to face Tara, the familiar furrow between his brows was gone. Accommodating now, he reached for her hand. “Yes, of course. Stay for supper.”

But Tara stole a quick glance between the baby and Maddy then, put on a lighthearted air and shook back her ebony hair.

“I would’ve liked to, but I’m staying in town tonight. Taking a buyer to dinner.”

Jack eased back against the rail and crossed his arms over his chest, interested. “Which horse?”

“Hendrix.” She addressed Maddy. “I breed Warmbloods.”

Maddy raised her brows. And she was supposed to know what that meant? But she imitated Jack’s cross-armed stance, pretending to be interested, too.

“That’s … great.”

“Warmbloods are bred for equestrian sports,” Jack explained. “Tara’s trained a stable full of champions, mainly Hanoverians.”

Maddy tacked up her slipping smile. If she’d felt inadequate before.

No wonder Jack was involved with this woman. Beautiful, ultimately gracious under pressure, and a proven breeder of champions to boot. What more could a man want?

With an elegant, slightly possessive air, Tara looped her arm through Jack’s. “Will you walk me down to the car?”

As Jack pushed off the rail, Maddy piped up, “If I don’t see you before I head back to Sydney, it was nice meeting you.”

Tara’s lips tightened even as they stretched into a charming smile. “Oh, you’ll see me.”

As she and Jack meandered down the steps, Maddy couldn’t help but notice—Tara didn’t say goodbye to Beau.

Later that evening, Maddy went to join Jack in the yard. With his back to her, he didn’t seem to hear her approach, so she cleared her throat and asked, “Don’t suppose you want any company?”

When Jack turned his head—his eyes glittering in the evening shadows, his face devoid of emotion—Maddy drew back and withered in her shoes. She shouldn’t have left the house and come outside. Standing amidst the cricket-clicking tranquility, it was clear Jack didn’t want company. Particularly not hers.

After that awkward scene three hours ago with Tara Anderson, Jack had taken a vehicle out to the hangar to bring the bags in. Then he’d mumbled something about heading off for a while. From the window of her guest bedroom, Maddy had caught sight of a big black horse cantering away. With an Akubra slanted low on his brow, the rider looked as if he’d been born to rule from the saddle.

As he headed off toward the huge molten ball sinking into the hills, her chest had squeezed. She might have been watching a scene from a classic Western movie. Talk about larger than life.

While Cait prepared dinner, Maddy had enjoyed a quick shower. Then it was Beau’s turn. He’d splashed and squealed in his bath until she had a stitch in her side from laughing and the front of her dress was soaked through. She didn’t want to dwell on the fact that someone else would be enjoying this time with Beau soon.

Would that someone be Tara?

She neither saw nor heard Jack return, but when Cait called dinner, as if by magic he appeared in the meals room. With his gaze hooded and broad shoulders back, he’d promptly pulled out a chair for her at the table. She’d grinned to herself. Jack might be a lot of things, but Beau would learn his manners in this house.

The baked meal smelled divine, but Jack’s masculine just-showered scent easily trumped it. His wet hair, slicked back off his brow, was long enough to lick the back of his white collar. He’d shaved, too, although the shadow on his jaw was a permanent feature … an enduring sexy sandpaper smudge.

When the baby was settled in the playpen beside the table, Jack had threaded his hands, bowed his head and said a brief but touching grace about missing loved ones and taking new ones into their home. Maddy had swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. There was a deeper, more yielding side to this seemingly impenetrable man. There must be. In that moment, Maddy regretted she wouldn’t come to know it.

As they sat down to dinner, Cait told Maddy of Leadeebrook’s main dining room, with its long, grand table and crystal chandelier set in the center of a high, molded ceiling. But that room was kept for special occasions. She and Jack mainly ate here, in the meals area off the kitchen. After promising to show Maddy around the house the next day, Cait flicked out her linen napkin and asked to hear all the news from the city.

Jack didn’t seem to care either way. The gold flecks gone from his eyes, he seemed more distracted than ever. While he cut and forked his way through the meal, the ladies chatted, watching over the baby who played with his bunch-of-keys rattle.

When Beau began to grumble, Maddy left to put him down. After firmly taking charge earlier, she was interested that Jack didn’t say boo about helping with Beau’s first bedtime in his new home. Maybe the memory of that wet shirt still haunted him, but Maddy suspected thoughts of Tara and her reaction to his guardianship of the baby weighed heavily on Jack’s mind tonight. How would he handle the divide?

Beau had drifted off without a whimper. After laying a light sheet over his tiny sleeping form, she tiptoed back into the kitchen. That’s when Cait had suggested she join Jack outside here in the cool.

Maddy had grown warm all over at the thought, which only proved that being alone with Jack under the expansive Southern Cross sky was not a good idea. But she’d made the effort. She didn’t want to provoke any fires—physical or anything else—but neither could she afford to leave here, for the most part, a stranger. Jack had to know that if he needed her, for Beau’s sake, despite any personal hiccups, she would always be there. Dahlia would’ve wanted that, and Maddy wanted that, too.

She and Jack needed to be able to communicate, at least on some level.

She’d found him here, one shoulder propped up against an ancient-looking tree, while he rubbed a rag over a bridle.

“Is the baby down?” he asked.

With nerves jittering in her stomach, she nodded and inched closer. “Now he’s down, he shouldn’t wake up till around seven.”

Stopping at his side, she joined him in taking in a view of the hushed starry sky while that rag worked methodically over the steel bit. A horse’s whinny carried on a fresh breeze. A frog’s lonely croak echoed nearby. And Jack kept polishing.

If anyone was going to start a conversation, it’d have to be her.

She shifted her weight. “How long have you had the black horse?”

“From a colt.”

“Bet he was glad to see you back.”

“Not as glad as I was to see him.”

She raised her brows. Well, a cowboy’s best friend was supposed to be his horse.

She leaned against another nearby tree, her hands laced behind the small of her back. “Where did you ride off to earlier?”

“I needed to catch up with Snow Gibson. He lives in the caretaker’s cabin a couple miles out.”

Maddy recalled an earlier conversation. “Cait said Snow’s quite a character.”

A hint of a smile hooked his mouth and they both fell into silence again … tangible and yet not entirely uncomfortable. Guess there was something to be said for the advantages of this untainted country air.

Giving into a whim, she shut her eyes, tilted her face to the stars and let more than the subtle breeze whisper to her senses. She imagined she felt that magnetism rippling off Jack Prescott in a series of heatwaves and her own aura glowing and transforming in response. She imagined the way his slightly roughened hands might feel sliding over her skin … sensual, stirring. Enthralling.

Opening her eyes, willing away the awareness, she shut off those dangerous thoughts and focused on a heavy star hanging low on the horizon. She wasn’t here to indulge in fantasies, no matter how sweet or how strong. She was here to do a job and get back to where she belonged.

Besides, Jack’s affections were spoken for. Tara had made her position on that clear: Hands off.

Suddenly weary, Maddy pushed off the tree.

She shouldn’t have come out here. Talking with Jack was like trying to push an elephant up a hill. She needed to accept this situation for what it was. She needed to chill out and let things between herself and Jack unravel naturally. Right now, she needed to say good-night.

She was about to take her leave when Jack’s deep graveled voice drifted through the night.

“This property’s been in my family since 1869.” He angled his head toward a long stationary shadow to their left. “See that trough?”

He began to walk. Maddy threw a look at the back door then inwardly shrugged. Slapping the impression of bark from her palms, she followed. If he was making an effort, she would, too.

“This trough was a wedding gift,” Jack was saying. “My great-great grandfather suggested to his wife he should cut a hole in the bathroom wall and they could use it as a tub as well as to water the horses in the yard.”

Maddy blanched. She had a feeling he was serious. Thank heaven for modern-day plumbing. How had women survived out here back then?

“I carved my initials here when I was six,” he went on and swept one long tanned finger over an etching in the wood. “Our dog had just had pups.” He pointed to several nicks—One, two, three … Seven pups. He straightened and, studying her, weighed the bridle in his hand. “You never had a dog? “

“I had piano lessons and lots of dresses.”

“But no dog,” he persisted.

“No dog.”

Something rustled in the brush nearby at the same time he lifted and dropped one shoulder. “You missed out.”

Focused on the brush—was it a snake, a dingo?—she admitted, “I was attacked by a Doberman cross when I was young.”

His expression froze before he blindly set the bridle down on the trough. “Maddy … God, I’m sorry.”

Weeks spent in hospital, years of fighting the phobia. She made herself shrug. “Could’ve been worse.”

He held her gaze for several heartbeats then slipped her a wry smile. “I got the shakes once. I broke my arm jumping a stallion over a creek when I was ten. He was the most cantankerous horse I’ve ever known.”

Maddy openly grinned. Quite the confession coming from Crocodile Dundee.

He walked again, a meandering comfortable gait that invited her to join him.

“Piano and dresses,” he murmured. “So you were a mummy’s girl.”

“My mother died when I was five.”

His step faltered. She almost saw the shudder pass through his body. “Wait a minute. I need to take that other foot out of my mouth.”

She wasn’t offended. He couldn’t have known.

“I have one perfect memory of her tucking me into bed. She had a beautiful smile.” Her favorite photo she kept in her wallet—a candid shot of her mother laughing and holding her first and only baby high against a clear blue day.

“Your dad still around?”

The snapshot in Maddy’s mind faded and she squared her shoulders. “Uh-huh. He’s great. Really energized. I work for him at Tyler Advertising.”

“I’ve heard of it. Well-respected firm.” He kicked a rock with the toe of his boot. “So you’re a chip off the ol’ block?”

“Hopefully. I have my first big deal coming together soon.”

“In for a big bonus?”

“I guess.”

In the moonlight, his lidded gaze assessed her. “But that’s not your motivation.”

“Not at all.”

“You want to make your father proud,” he surmised and she nodded.

“That’s not so unusual. Besides I really like the industry,” she added. “Lots of exciting people and events. It’s where I belong.”

She believed that and finally her father was believing it, too. She’d seen the look in his eyes when she’d told him at sixteen she wanted to be an account executive with the firm; he didn’t think she had it in her. He’d said the words, You’re more like your mother, which meant she wasn’t strong enough. Her mother had been a gentle person and, no, she hadn’t been able to beat the leukemia, but she and her mother were two separate issues, two separate people. And once she had the client’s signature on the bottom line …

“You must be chomping at the bit to get back,” Jack said, coming to stand beside a weathered post and rail fence.

Her lips twitched. “I won’t deny I’ll be happy to leave the flies behind.”

“They don’t eat much. It’s the bull ants you have to worry about.”

“So I’d better not stand in one spot for too long.”

He chuckled—a rich easy sound that fit him as well as those delectable jeans. She couldn’t think of another man with more sex appeal … the energy he expelled was as formidable and natural as thunder on a stormy night. On the What Makes a Man Maddeningly Irresistible list, Jack got double ticks in every box.

When she realized their shared look had lasted longer than it ought to, a blush bloomed over her cheeks. As the heat spread to her breasts and belly, Jack rubbed the back of his neck and moved off again.

“How did you meet Dahlia?”

“A university friend,” she said, willing the husky quality from her voice. “Dahlia was a couple of years younger than me. We were enrolled in different majors, but we met at a party and hit it off. She had the best laugh. Infectious.” Kind of like yours, she wanted to say, only not so deep.

Looking off, he scrubbed his temple with a knuckle. “Yeah. I remember her laugh.”

Maddy stayed the impulse to touch his arm—to offer some show of comfort. Men like Jack were all about strength, intelligence and making decisions. Jack was a leader and leaders didn’t dilute their power with displays of emotion, either given or received. In an emergency, he would act and act well. Even standing in the uneventful quiet of this night, Maddy found a sense of reassurance in knowing that. Some silly part of her almost wanted to admit it out loud.

Instead she said, “You must have missed that sound when she left here.”

A muscle ticked a strong beat in his jaw and he let out a long breath. “My wife begged me to go after her but I was determined not to. Some sorry home truths came out that last night. I figured if Dahlia wanted to find her own way, I wouldn’t stop her.”

But his tone said he regretted it.

“She didn’t like Leadeebrook?”

“She liked it okay,” he said, crossing his arms as he strolled, “but she didn’t feel the same way I feel. The way my father felt, too. She didn’t want to stay here, ‘shrivel up and die,’ as she put it. She’d said she’d had enough of station existence to last a lifetime.”

Which would have cut her brother’s loyal Prescott heart in two.

“And your wife … how did she feel about the station?”

He searched the sky as if she might be listening and looking down, and Maddy knew in that moment that he’d loved his wife very much.

“This was Sue’s home. Always will be.” His thoughtful expression sharpened then, frowning, he angled toward the house. “Was that the baby?”

Maddy listened then shook her head. “I didn’t hear anything. Cait said she’d keep an ear out.” They walked again, toward a timber structure she thought was the stables. When next she spoke, Maddy put a lighter note in her tone.

“Tara Anderson is obviously a big fan of the land, too.”

His gaze caught hers and as his look intensified, Maddy’s skin flared with a pleasant, telling warmth. The way he was looking at her now, she could almost fool herself into believing that she, not Tara, was the woman with whom he was involved … that the primal heat smoldering in his eyes was meant for her and her only.

When a different, more guarded light rose up in his eyes and he broke the gaze, Maddy’s shoulders dropped and she told her pulse to slow down. Dynamic in every sense of the word, he was more of a man than any she’d known. That was the reason she imagined heat waves rippling off him and wrapping themselves around her. Not because this moonlight was affecting him as it was clearly affecting her.

“Tara and I have known each other a long while,” he said. “Her uncle and my father were friends. Sue and Tara became good friends, too. They shared similar values, similar interests. So do we.”

“Are you going to marry her?”

A red-hot bolt dropped through her middle at the same time her eyes grew to saucers and she swallowed a gulping breath. Had she actually said that? Yes, she’d been wondering—a lot. But to ask …

She held up both hands. “I’m sorry. That is so none of my business.”

Beneath the star-strewn sky, Jack’s gaze held hers for a protracted moment. Then he set his hands low on his belt and tracked his narrowed gaze over to the distant peaks of the Great Dividing Range.

He nodded. “There’s been talk of it.”

Maddy let out that breath. So Tara had good reason to be so demonstrative this afternoon. She saw Jack as her future husband. A husband who’d gone to a funeral and had brought back a baby.

Maddy chewed her lip. She shouldn’t ask—she might not like the answer—but she couldn’t keep the question down.

“Does Tara like children?”

He scratched the tip of his ear. “That’s a sticking point. Tara wants a family very much …”

He’d been slow to accept responsibility for Beau. He approached his guardianship as a duty to be performed rather than a gift to be treasured. Now he was admitting that he didn’t want a family.

Maddy knew one day she wanted be a mother. Caring for Beau had only heightened that knowledge. She couldn’t imagine why any person wouldn’t want to have their own family—to give and receive unconditional love. What had Jack’s first wife to say about his aversion to fatherhood? More importantly, what did that admission mean for Beau?

She’d hoped, she’d prayed, but did Jack have what it took to be a good father to that baby? And there was Tara. She hadn’t shown an interest in Beau other than out of shock and suspicion yet she wanted children of her own. If she and Jack married—if they had children together—would Tara see Beau as a nuisance or inconvenience when her own brood came along? If that were the case, what sort of family would poor Beau grow up in? What sort of damaged self-image would being an add-on leave him with?

A whinny sounded in the night and Maddy was brought back.

“Herc can hear us,” Jack told her and jerked a thumb at the stables. “Want to meet him?”

Deep in thought, Maddy absently agreed but before long the scent of horse and leather pulled her up. With a sneeze tickling her nose, she made an excuse.

“It’s getting late. We probably shouldn’t disturb him.”

Jack laughed and kept walking. “Herc won’t mind the company.”

She pinched her nose. “I think I might be allergic.”

That got his attention and he angled back around. “Have you been around horses before?”

“A real one?”

He grinned—a breathtaking, cheeky smile—and Maddy’s breasts tingled with unbidden desire.

“You know, Maddy, there’s nothing quite like the rhythm of a strong dependable horse rocking beneath you.”

Rhythm … strong … rocking. Maddy blew out a breath. She wanted to fan herself. Did he have any clue how fiercely attractive he was?

“Thanks,” she announced, dabbing her brow, “but I’ll pass.”

That smile widened and she imagined the fire in his eyes had licked her lips.

“Why not broaden your horizons? There’s more to life than a wardrobe of pretty dresses.”

“Or a stable of horses.”

“You’re right.”

He sauntered over to stand, shoulder to shoulder, beside her as he checked out the trillion-star lightshow dancing over their heads. His innate energy—the physical pull she felt when he was this close—was as tangible as his body heat. She wished he hadn’t moved nearer. And, dammit, she wished he’d moved nearer still.

“There’s a cool breeze after a long muggy spell,” he said, “and the dependability of a vast rich land like this. There’s the satisfaction that comes with a hard day’s work, and the lure of a full moon on a still night just like tonight. And then …”

His dark brows nudged together as if an odd idea had struck. When he turned his head, his expression had softened with an emotion she hadn’t seen in him before. He blinked once then, as if he’d read all her earlier thoughts, he cupped her cheek and she stopped breathing.

“And then,” he said, “there’s this.”

The pad of his thumb raised her chin and as his head dropped over hers, Maddy’s faculties shut down. She might have wondered, might have dreamed, but having Jack Prescott’s undivided smoldering attention focused only upon her had seemed beyond reason or possibility.

And yet now.

Maddy trembled, leaned in and pressed up.

With his mouth closed so perfectly over hers and his hard muscular frame pressed in tight all the world seemed to spiral away. With her heart beating high and hard, she couldn’t think beyond the thrill of this moment, beyond the wonder of his fingertips working against her nape … the heavy throb low in her belly … and a fiery internal pulse that whispered to her about the promise of a slow, hot night spent in Jack Prescott’s bed.

His thumb ran down her throat as he sipped and tasted and explored. When his mouth reluctantly left hers and her heavy eyelids opened, his eyes were smiling into hers. A delicious full-body quiver ran through her blood. She was light-headed, dizzy. Had Jack truly just kissed her? Had she truly kissed him back? On one level she couldn’t digest the reality. The possibility that he would embrace her, gift her with the world’s steamiest kiss, didn’t compute. And yet as she stood now looking up into the shadowed perfection of his face, improbability faded into another understanding.

Her belly felt heavy with a need that acknowledged only deep physical desire. She wanted his mouth on hers again. With a longing she hadn’t known she was capable of, she wanted his lips on her neck, on her breasts.

He stole another light, lingering kiss from the side of her mouth before his lips skimmed her jaw. “See what I mean about that full moon?”

His hand slid down her spine to circle the sensitive dip low in her back and the urge to coil her fingers up through his hair and mold herself against him became overpowering. Every labored breath compounded the desire building in her blood. Every thought confirmed that this felt way too good to let go.

How a bit of common sense survived the fire ripping through her veins, Maddy couldn’t say. She didn’t want to listen to reason. She only wanted to know his kiss again and again. And yet the danger … the dishonesty of this situation was as apparent as the aching desire. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t ignore the harm this kind of scene could and would do.

Finding her strength and her breath, she angled her head away. “This isn’t right.”

With a knuckle, he coaxed her mouth back to his. “This is very right.”

When he drew her bottom lip into his mouth and the shaft behind his zipper flexed against her belly, her resolve slipped like hot wax spilling down a candle. The urge to give in was so sweet and so strong … but she couldn’t ignore what was most important.

She pushed against his sturdy chest. “Jack, what about Tara?”

They needed to keep this complicated time as uncomplicated as they could. Yes, she was physically drawn to Jack—she’d like to meet a woman who wouldn’t be. But a kiss would lead to more—to dark heady places she wasn’t prepared to go. She wanted some kind of future with Beau. The last thing she needed was an ill-planned night hanging over her head and a stepmother who would then have good reason for suspicion.

He’d been so intense, so driven, she half expected him to ignore the obvious question. But he surprised her. Comprehension dawned in his eyes. His head pulled slowly back and his gaze searched hers as if he were coming out of a daze. When the horse whinnied again, he took a step away and his previously insistent palm left her back. His hand found the V at his opened collar and his gaze speared through her, as though he were seeing someone else.

His deep voice rumbled through the shadows.

“You should go inside.”

A shiver chased up her spine. His face looked changed. almost vulnerable. Gingerly, she touched his strong hot arm but his intense expression didn’t change.

He said again, “You should go.”

Then he wove around her toward the stable.

Later, as she lay awake in bed staring at the ceiling, she heard the retreating beat of hooves. Still glowing from the feel of him, still buzzing from the high, she rolled over and lightly touched her lips.

She thought she’d been kissed before. Thought she knew what desire was … how it felt to be on fire.

She’d been wrong.