Читать книгу Warrior's Baby - Sheri WhiteFeather, Sheri WhiteFeather - Страница 9

Two

“Melanie?”

“Colt?”

“I asked you a question.”

He hadn’t asked her a question. He’d asked her to give away her flesh and blood Their baby. She wanted to run, the very idea suddenly creating panic. How could she do this?

She gazed into his dark eyes, at the pain within. How could she not? Colt Raintree needed a family. A woman who loved him. A child. Melanie reached for his hand. She would tell him what he wanted to hear. Convince him to conceive a child with her.

His callused hand abraded hers. She squeezed it. He would fall in love with her before the baby was born, and later he would understand why she had kept her identity a secret. He would forgive her. After all, compassion had been what their past relationship was based on. How many times had he made her smile when she’d been on the verge of tears? And then there were the boosts of encouragement, the moments when he’d cupped her face and told her, “A smart girl like you can accomplish anything.”

Melanie sighed. Although she had accomplished plenty over the years, she still hadn’t fulfilled her biggest dream. Melanie Richards had yet to win Colt Raintree’s heart. “I want to give you a child, Colt. I know what this means to you.”

He withdrew his hand, then placed it in his lap, his posture stiff. “How can you want to do this for me? You don’t even know me. There has to be more to it than that. Women have all sorts of reasons for becoming surrogates. But you haven’t offered one logical explanation.”

Melanie tilted her chin. She had a logical explanation. Loving him was reason enough to expect to share a child with him. And then there were the hardships in her life, the things she had overcome. The accident had made her stronger, more determined to go after what she wanted. Life was too short to waste.

“I told you I was a foster child. Of course, that impacted my life, made me who and what I am,” she said. “I’ve learned to be comfortable and strong on my own. Yet, a piece of me wants to be part of a family, or at least know I contributed to one. It would give me a sense of peace to give someone a child. To know that I’d completed their family in some way. I could go on with my career, live my life and know it had purpose.”

She saw him weakening. Her words had penetrated his heart, yet they were twisted. The explanation she had given was the very reason she longed to keep Colt’s child and marry him.

“Would you think about the baby? Feel guilty about giving it away?”

She smiled softly. He looked as though he almost felt guilty for asking her to do it. “How could L knowing it’s your child? It would be well loved. And when I’d think about it, I’d envision it in your arms. Happy and smiling.”

She could see him in her mind’s eye, holding their baby, cuddling the tiny life against his broad chest. Only she imagined herself standing beside him, sharing the moment. Melanie’s smile faded. The real possibility of having to give him that child made her ache. What if Colt didn’t fall in love with her? She’d lose him and their baby.

“Do you want to see Meagan’s room?” he asked. “I want you to know her in some way. If you have my baby, it would be her brother or sister.”

She nodded silently and followed Colt down the hall. She’d been inside his house once before but only as far as the living room sofa.

The first time he had spoken to her was when she had fallen from one of his family’s rental horses and sprained her ankle. Abandoned by her horse, Colt had spotted the disloyal beast galloping back to the stable and rode out looking for the horseless rider. He’d found her lying on a grassy slope, lifted her in his muscular arms, gently slung her over his mount, took her to his ranch and packed her ankle with ice. She had sat on the cowhide sofa, nervously chewing her fingernails, her heart melting while he wrapped her swollen ankle.

After that life-altering experience, she’d discovered someone other than Colt had suspected she was smitten. Someone who must have felt compelled to mention it.

Shorty Miller, the ornery old ranch hand who saddled the rental horses hadn’t said beans to her until he’d learned about her mishap. When Melanie had returned to the stables the weekend following her injury, Shorty, a balding, beanpole of a man, sent a gruff compliment her way. “You stick with it, girlie,” he’d said, adjusting her stirrup. “You’ve got a natural seat. Someday you’ll be ridin’ just fine, real prettylike.”

Melanie had smiled proudly from atop the mount Shorty had chosen for her and scanned the grounds for Colt. “The boy ain’t here,” the old man had grumbled, his thick mustache twitching. “Took a group into the hills not more than twenty minutes ago.”

Melanie had blushed from the top of her straw hat to the tips of her boots. “What boy?”

“Don’t play me for a fool. The one you got yer eye on, girlie,” had come the gravelly reply.

Week after week, Shorty had quietly pointed out Colt’s whereabouts. “The boy’s in the barn.” “He just rode out.” “He’s team penning in the arena.”

In the end, it had been Shorty who had informed her of Colt’s impending nuptials. “The boy’s gone and done it this time,” the old man had said. “Got a girl in trouble, that one did. He’ll be marrying her right quick.”

Colt’s husky voice jarred her back to the present. “Melanie, are you all right?”

They were standing in Meagan’s room. Got a girl in trouble, that one did Somehow, she didn’t think Colt had ever thought of his daughter as trouble. “I’m fine.”

She found herself surrounded in feminine delight. A pink canopy bed overflowed with stuffed animals and a large bay window was covered in eyelet and rose-tinted lace. White shelves displayed a porcelain doll collection, each dressed in hand-tailored finery. The wood toy box in the corner was ornately carved.

“I used to read to her every night,” Colt said. “People think you should stop grieving after a few years. They don’t understand that the loss of a child never goes away. It’s always there, like a dull ache.”

Melanie watched him. He picked up a stuffed lion from the bed and stroked its mane. “And they thought it was weird that I kept her room the way it was. But it wasn’t as if I was trying to create a shrine. I thought that if I dismantled this room then I’d have nothing left of her.”

He gazed around. “But you know, since I’ve decided to bring another child into my life, I’m actually ready to pack up my daughter’s things. I thought this room would make a great nursery for the new baby. I’m sure Meagan would approve.”

Melanie walked over to the dresser. A framed portrait displayed a younger, smiling Colt cuddling a dark-haired little girl. Her eyes were wide and brown, her skin a rich, glowing copper. “She was beautiful.”

Colt replaced the fluffy lion. “Thank you.”

Our child will be beautiful, too, Melanie thought, running her fingers along the edge of the frame. “I believe when babies are born, there’s a guardian angel assigned to look after them. Meagan’s probably been waiting for you to have another baby. I’m sure she’s earned her wings by now.”

Within a heartbeat, Colt was standing behind her, the faint, spicy scent of his cologne wafting to her nostrils. “You say nice things,” he offered quietly. “I like you.”

She turned and faced him. They were inches apart but she had to tilt her chin to view his expression. He towered over her by nearly a foot. Her Western boots didn’t help much; he was also wearing a pair. “I like you, too.”

He stepped back slowly, widening the space until they were standing a respectable distance apart. For an instant, adoration flickered in his fathomless gaze. It flashed by like a shooting star. She made a wish.

“Would you be interested in helping me redecorate this room?” he asked. “After all, you’re the artist.”

Had her wish just been granted? Was that his way of saying he wanted her for his surrogate? “I love furniture shopping. Antique stores are my favorite.”

His dark eyes lit up. “Mine, too. I don’t know about an old crib, though. Some of those early designs weren’t too safe.”

A surge of adrenaline rushed through her. “We can improvise. Mix new and old. I think you should keep the toy box, though. It would fit right in with what I have in mind.”

Colt laughed. “You already have something in mind? You work fast, pretty lady.”

Pretty lady. She liked that. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Oh, yeah?” He crossed his arms over his massive chest and grinned. “Maybe you’d care to share some of those ideas floating around in your head.”

“Okay.” She pointed to the wall opposite the window. “The crib goes there. And here—” she turned and gestured “—would be the perfect spot for a rocking horse.”

He studied her enthusiasm through amused eyes. “That’s it?”

“No.” She thrust a playful fist forward; it barely grazed a rock-hard shoulder. “We need to find a marvelous old cradle to keep the stuffed animals in. Something from the 1800s maybe. The nursery should reflect the Western motif of the house. Of course, we’re going to have to add something colorful and animated, a paper border or some stenciled figures. Babies love bright colors.”

Colt gazed intently at her. The half smile on his lips turned into a straight, serious line. “Melanie, we need to talk.” He glanced over at his daughter’s picture. “Let’s go to the living room.”

Moments later the door to Meagan’s room was closed and Colt and Melanie were seated side by side on the cowhide sofa, the same one they had briefly shared thirteen years prior. The room was as she remembered it. Two brown leather recliners faced a stone hearth. An oak gun rack, timber wolf pelts and a bison head instilled the spirit of the west.

Colt’s handsome features looked harsh, even in the dim light. The tiny lines around his eyes were almost white against his bronze skin, his lips still set in a tight frown. The shape of his lips fascinated her. The upper was perfectly formed and the fullness of the lower created a natural, sensuous pout. The last time they had sat on the sofa together, she had studied that rakish pout. It had looked friendlier then.

Her stomach quivered. Had he decided she wasn’t the right surrogate? Had her excitement over the nursery given her away? “What’s the matter?” she asked, fearing the answer.

He pulled a hand through his unbound hair. “Maybe I jumped the gun about decorating the baby’s room so soon. The kid hasn’t even been conceived yet. And there are still a lot of issues that haven’t been discussed—legal documents, financial and medical arrangements.” He winced, as though his next words were forming a bitter taste in his mouth. “I hate to bring this up, but truthfully, it still bothers me that you’re not what I expected.”

Her professional side took over, the one that marketed concepts, drawings and ideas. It was too late to become the surrogate he had envisioned, but it wasn’t too late to promote the qualities she had. “How we imagine things is rarely how they really are. You want a woman who’s willing to give up a child, but you think she should be the stereotype of a fifties TV mom. That’s unrealistic, Colt.”

Below the pout, a muscle ticked. “I know.”

“What is it about me that concerns you?”

He kicked a booted foot onto the knotty-pine coffee table. “You’re successful, talented and beautiful.”

She sputtered a laugh. “Such terrible qualities. Your son or daughter might inherit them.”

“It’s not the kid I’m worried about,” he admitted with his usual candor. “It’s me. I had expected to feel a little more...clinical toward the woman I’m considering.”

Melanie withheld a satisfied smile. Apparently Colt found himself attracted to her. “You’re successful, talented and good-looking, too,” she said, eyeing him appreciatively. “It’s okay for us to admire each other. We’re human beings. This shouldn’t be ‘clinical.’ I don’t want to be thought of as just a hired womb. From my understanding, the most successful surrogate relationships are the ones that stern from friendship.”

Colt’s features relaxed, frown lines fading. “Friends I can handle.” His gaze dropped to the floor. “Did you bring a pair of sensible boots with you, California girl?”

She lifted her ostrich covered feet. “Sensible?”

“Plain old leather. Something to ride in.”

“Are we riding?”

“Tomorrow at dawn. I supply the horses.”

“Does that offer include scrambled eggs and coffee?”

“Sure.” Colt smiled. “We’ll talk babies over breakfast.”

Melanie studied the delicious curve of his lip. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Montana man.”

The following morning Colt smiled at the lady seasoning the hash browns. He liked her, this classy California girl, even though he had never been around her “type.” Maybe she’d grown up in his hometown, but he envisioned her sunning on the beach, working out in an upscale gym and shopping in Beverly Hills. Who would have guessed she was surrogate-mother material?

She sprinkled bits of freshly-chopped garlic over the potatoes. Good thing they weren’t going to kiss, he thought, surprising himself by the spontaneous notion. Melanie was the first woman in a long time he actually wanted to kiss.

Make love to.

Colt shook his head, trying to expel the unwelcome desire. Lovemaking and babies. The two, of course, were meant to go hand in hand. Just not in this case. If he made her pregnant it would be done in a doctor’s office by way of a syringe. He did not want an emotional involvement in his life, and even though sex didn’t always lead to one, an affair with his surrogate was asking for trouble. With a capital T.

“Where exactly in California do you live?” he asked.

She had already begun setting the table. From the moment she’d arrived, she’d rolled up her designer sleeves and pitched right in, chopping potatoes and squeezing oranges. Colt allowed his gaze to roam over her backside. Her jeans were a little too tight for proper ranch wear, but he didn’t mind.

Melanie turned and smiled, silverware in hand. She had a genuine smile. A nice feature his child might inherit.

“Santa Monica. As close to the ocean as I could get.”

He tried not to widen his eyes. Ostrich cowboy boots and the beach. “Isn’t that expensive?”

“Not as expensive as Malibu. And I live in a condo, a leased one.”

He cracked another egg into a mixing bowl, then tried to fish out a renegade shell that had settled with it. “But still...even a rental next to the ocean must cost a small fortune.”

“It’s worth it.” She watched him chase the eggshell around with a tablespoon. “Colt, do you need some help?”

“Actually, yes, I do.” He grinned. “I’m not too macho to admit when I need a woman.” Immediately he bit back his grin, wishing he could bite back his words. “In the kitchen, I mean,” he added, much too late.

Melanie handled his blunder like the true lady she was, ignoring it, much to his relief. “Here.” She took the spoon and scooped out the shell on her first try. He stood nearby while she finished his original task. The eggs were cracked with one hand, shells discarded quickly.

Colt liked having her in such close proximity so he didn’t move away. Instead he made a point of watching her scramble the eggs as though her culinary skills fascinated him. Her deft movements reminded him of his grandmother in the kitchen, of happier times and his favorite meals.

Colt took pleasure in having a woman cook for him. Of course, not enough to welcome one back into his life, but what harm was there in allowing her to fix breakfast? “I’m great on an outdoor grill or over a campfire, but I never liked to fuss in the kitchen much.”

Melanie poured the eggs into a pan, immediately stirring them with a rubber spatula. “Well then, we ought to get along just fine. I can never get the charcoal lit, and I don’t know the first thing about campfires.”

Ten minutes later they shared breakfast in the dining room, at the table his grandmother used to dust religiously with lemon oil. Colt noticed Melanie ate sparingly and avoided the bacon all together. He thought about teasing her about being a “cheap date,” but decided it would probably be in bad taste. There was nothing cheap about their impending relationship.

Colt gobbled up the bacon she had rejected. “So, when are you going back to California?”

“I have to head back by the end of next week for a couple of business meetings. If and when I come back to Montana depends on—” a bright blue gaze met his “—what you decide.”

Colt bit the inside of his lip, an irritating if not painful habit. Once he divulged the skeleton in his closet, would Melanie Richards want to bear his child?

“If we decide on this arrangement,” he said, “I was wondering where you plan on living, because a long-distance pregnancy isn’t what I had in mind. I want to be involved the way a father should be, attending doctor visits.”

Melanie had a quick response. “The lease is almost up on my condo, so moving back to Montana isn’t a problem. I can pretty much work from anywhere, as long as I meet my deadlines. And since the situation would be temporary, Gloria said I could stay with her.” She sipped her juice. “But I’d rather get my own place. She already has eight kids underfoot. They don’t need me and my art supplies taking up space.”

He smiled. She always managed to say all the right things, put him at ease. “This house used to be a lodge. I’ve got an empty cabin out back. Maybe you could take up residence there.”

“A cabin?” Her eyes sparkled. “That might be just what I need. I have to admit I miss Montana. The rat race in L.A. gets to me sometimes. And the rent has to be more reasonable than a beachfront condo, right?”

Colt realized they were both acting as though she were already his surrogate. “If you become my surrogate, there’s no way I’d expect you to pay rent. I intend to cover your housing and medical expenses in addition to the fee we talked about.” He couldn’t resist a wink. “I’ll even buy your groceries. You need to eat more, put some meat on those tiny bones of yours.”

She laughed. “Oh, I think pregnancy might take care of that.” Colt finished his coffee. “How would you feel about me being present at the birth?”

A soft blush rose in her cheeks. “I don’t know...I hadn’t thought about—Were you there when Meagan was born?”

He nodded. “Most incredible experience of my life.”

The pink stain on her cheeks remained. “Maybe we could start with those birthing classes and work up to the actual event.”

Colt smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re modest. I thought California girls ran around in those itty-bitty bikinis.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s entirely different.”

His body temperature rose a degree. Melanie in a skimpy bikini was a pleasant thought. “Why don’t you talk to Gloria about the actual event? She must be a pro by now. And speaking from experience, women forget all about modesty when they’re delivering a baby.”

Melanie looked up from her unfinished meal. “Do you always say everything that’s on your mind?”

“Pretty much.”

But not always. He wouldn’t dare say what was on his mind now. She was concerned about modesty? What about his part in the insemination?

Colt had already discussed the clinical details with the doctor. Fresh sperm versus frozen. Heck of a thing for a guy to have to contemplate. After weighing the facts, he’d opted fresh since usually twice as many inseminations were required with frozen.

He gazed at the beautiful woman seated across from him and couldn’t help wishing another option was available. What? Penetration instead of insemination? He had no business entertaining that thought. None whatsoever.