Having the Cowboy's Baby

by Stella Bagwell

  She was in the foyer when, from behind, a pair of hands snaked around her waist. A gasp rushed past her lips as she spun around to face him.

  “Let me go! Haven’t you insulted me enough for one night?” Her words were pushed through clenched teeth as she tried to wriggle away from his grasp.

  “Hold on a minute, Anne-Marie.”

  His voice was soft and threaded with regret. The sound stilled her and brought her eyes up to his.

  He hurriedly tried to explain. “You’ve jumped to the wrong conclusions. Your father didn’t hire me for anything. Jules is my friend. I only agreed to stay and help you with the horses because he asked me to. I agreed as a favor to him.”

  The grip he had on her waist eased to a warm clasp and Anne-Marie knew she was a fool for responding to it. But she’d never met a man like him before. One that could make her feel fury and passion all at the same time. It was scary.

  “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “I shouldn’t have said any of those things to you. But this is all so — embarrassing. My father — it’s obvious he’s trying to manipulate us and I thought you’d agreed to go along with him.”

  Regret twisted his lips. “Forgive me, Anne-Marie. I shouldn’t have reacted the way that I did. But I don’t take too kindly to being called a gigolo.”

  Mortified all over again, Anne-Marie dropped her gaze to the floor. “Believe me, Cordero, I don’t normally say that sort of thing to anyone. But Father has never put me in such an awkward situation before. I really don’t know what he’s thinking — I’m even beginning to worry that he’s getting senile.”

  Cordero could have told her that there wasn’t anything senile about Jules’s mind. Calculating would be more like it, he thought wryly. But as far as he was concerned, the old man’s manipulating was harmless. Even though that kiss he’d stolen in the elevator had jolted him right down to the heels of his boots, Cordero needed to make Anne-Marie see that she was taking this much too seriously.

  “Look, Anne-Marie, we both need to take a deep breath and start over. There’s really no need to make an issue out of this. Even if Jules is trying to maneuver us — we’re adults, we can see through it. It won’t hurt either of us to indulge a sick old man and pretend we’re having a good time together these next few days.” His hands slid gently down her forearms and the act was like brushing his fingers against a bird’s wing. He’d never felt anything so soft, so fragile. “I have a feeling it would make him happy.”

  Anne-Marie didn’t know what to make of his words. Confusion warred with the indignation she was already feeling toward this Texas cowboy who had kissed her as if he owned her. But perhaps he was right. She didn’t want to put any undue stress on her father. And just because he was trying to throw her at Cordero didn’t mean she had to fall into the cowboy’s arms.

  She drew in a troubled breath, then let it out. “I suppose you’re right. But all that talk about taking you to Bourbon Street — that has nothing to do with you helping me with the horses. It was so obvious and humiliating.”

  Cordero suddenly grinned and she felt her stomach flutter as though she’d just swallowed a hummingbird.

  “Actually, I thought your father’s idea was a good one. I’d like for the two of us to make a trip to New Orleans. I’d planned on going anyway before I left for Texas and it would be far more enjoyable to have your company.”

  He was as smooth as water on a windless night, Anne-Marie thought, and just as enticing. If she ever really let her guard down around him, she’d be totally lost.

  Trying not to dwell on that danger, she said, “We’ll see. Right now we’d better go home. Darcella is waiting to serve supper.”

  He silently complied by taking her arm and leading her out of the double doors. By now darkness had fallen and Anne-Marie felt the confines of the car even more with only the dim lights from the dashboard illuminating the small space between them.

  She tried to close her eyes and pretend his long lean body wasn’t there beside her, but his presence was too strong to ignore. The scent of him drifted to her, reminding her of wide-open ranges, sagebrush and wild mustangs. It was a scent that called to her senses and all she could think about was the feel of his lips upon hers, the warm touch of his fingers on her arm.

  The practical part of her wished that he’d never kissed her, but the woman in her was still swooning, still wondering what it would be like if he were to take her into his arms and really kiss her with desire. It was indecent of her to think such things. She didn’t even know the man. Only a few hours had passed since she’d first laid eyes on him. Yet something about him had stirred up ashes in her that she’d believed were stone-cold. She had to find her will to resist.

  “I’m not a doctor, but I thought your father looked pretty good.”

  Cordero’s comment jerked Anne-Marie out of her erotic thoughts. “Yes, I thought so, too. His doctor says he doesn’t think this little flare-up is anything to be concerned about. I think he’s just taking extra precautions with my father’s health.”

  What would she think, he wondered, if she knew Jules had purposely put himself in the hospital so it would force her to play hostess to Cordero? She’d really think the man had gone senile. But Cordero had no intention of giving away his friend’s secret. It would be no gain to any of them and only cause worse feelings all around. “I’m glad,” he said. “Your father is a great guy. He’s always laughing and full of jokes.”

  His remark surprised her. Most young men didn’t have time or patience when it came to dealing with the older generation. Some of them only feigned respect for their elders. Like Ian, she thought bitterly. He couldn’t have cared less about her father. And she’d been stupid for believing that he’d loved Jules anymore than he’d loved her. The guy had only cared about two things. Himself and money.

  “Father has always been full of life. Even after Mama died he managed to hold himself together and find joy in other things. I realize he wants me to be more fun-loving, like him. But I’m just not made that way.”

  Cordero had known for a long time that Jules was a widower. He’d not thought much about that until he’d met Anne-Marie. She was young. Her mother couldn’t have been very old when she’d passed away. And the fact that the two of them had prematurely lost their mothers connected him to her in a way he’d never expected.

  “How long has your mother been gone?” he asked.

  “Sixteen years. I was ten at the time. She died quite suddenly from an aneurysm. For a long time after that Father couldn’t bear to look at the horses. You see, they belonged to Mama. She rode all the time.”

  Cordero heard something more than sadness in her voice; a tinge of bitterness edged her words. It made him wonder exactly what sort of relationship she’d had with her mother. Or maybe she was angry with God for taking away her parent? Maybe losing her mother had more to do with her not entering a convent than her broken affair? He could only guess.

  “And now it’s just you and your father?” he asked quietly. “You don’t have any siblings?”

  Anne-Marie shook her head. “No. I was an only child and Father was never interested in remarrying.”

  “Neither is mine.”

  He could feel her blue eyes on his face and he darted another glance at her.

  “Your mother is dead, too?” she asked with surprise.

  Cordero nodded. “Seven years ago. Complications from diabetes. She was only fifty-six.”

  “Oh. Then you know how it feels to have a parent gone.”

  His throat grew so tight that for a moment all he could do was manage a nod. He’d been very close to his mother, far closer than his older brother, Matt, or his sister, Lucita. Which seemed strange whenever he thought about it. He was a replica of his father, who had a magic hand with a horse and had taught Cordero everything he knew about raising the animals. Cordero was also like Mingo in the fact that he loved a pretty woman’s company and considered life something to be enjoyed rather than endured. H
e loved and respected his father, who was thankfully alive and well today. But his mother still lived like the warm glow of a candle in his heart. And after seven years without her, he missed her. Really missed her.

  “Yeah. It’s tough,” he murmured. “Damn tough.”

  He could feel her regarding him with a thoughtful eye, but she didn’t say more about his mother. Cordero was glad. He didn’t want to dwell on that part of his past.

  Reaching across the seat, he folded his hand around hers. “Let’s not think about such sad things. I want to enjoy these next few days and I hope you’ll enjoy them with me.”

  His fingers were warm, the skin hardened with calluses. She tried not to think how they would feel sliding across her naked skin or cupping her breasts, but the images wouldn’t budge from her mind. Her whole body flushed with heat as she swallowed and turned her head toward the passenger window.

  “I’m not a fun sort of woman, Cordero. I’m afraid you’re going to end up being very bored during your stay at Cane’s Landing.”

  His fingers tightened on hers. “Maybe I can teach you how to have a little fun.”

  Anne-Marie wasn’t about to ask him what sort of fun he had in mind. The man was already putting sinful thoughts in her head. She didn’t need any more added to them. And as for having fun, she wasn’t at all sure she’d ever known how to enjoy herself as other young women seemed to do. From the time of her mother’s death, she’d viewed life as a serious journey. Even her relationship with Ian had been slowly and carefully entered into, one step at a time.

  She still hadn’t replied to his suggestive words when the footlights illuminating the turnoff to Cane’s Landing came into view. Glad for any reason to ease her hand from beneath his, she motioned toward the entrance leading off the left side of the blacktop road. “There’s our turnoff.”

  The drive up the tree-lined lane to the house took less than two minutes. Once they were out of the car, Cordero offered her his arm for the walk through the dark shadows between the garage and the house. Anne-Marie realized that touching him, for any reason, was not something she should do. But he was being a gentleman and it wasn’t his fault that her senses went haywire around him, so she curled her arm through his and rested her hand on his strong forearm.

  As they passed Cordero’s truck, Anne-Marie suggested that it might be a good time to get his bags. After he pulled out two leather duffel bags, he offered her his arm again and they made their way into the house.

  Darcella met them in the front room. The cook was a tall, big-boned woman with graying brown hair that was cut in a pixie style that framed her round face. Her wide smile seemed to deepen as she spotted Anne-Marie’s arm looped through Cordero’s. Anne-Marie knew that Darcella had been initially shocked when she’d first met the Texas rancher. Both women had expected Jules’s friend to be much closer to his age. That assumption couldn’t have been more off base.

  “How was Mr. Jules?” the cook asked. “Feeling better?”

  Anne-Marie sighed as she slipped her arm from Cordero’s and moved away from his side. “He seemed full of life,” she told the woman. “In fact, I think he looked better than he has in months.”

  “Oh. That’s good. Real good. Maybe he’ll get to come home soon.”

  “We’re all hoping that, Darcella.” Anne-Marie walked across the room and placed her handbag on a small table.

  Behind her, Darcella said, “Well, I’ve left a tray of drinks out on the back porch. I thought you two would like to unwind before I serve supper.”

  Walking back to the center of the room, Anne-Marie glanced from Darcella to Cordero then back again. She wanted to tell the cook that there was no need to make a big deal out of this supper. She didn’t want Cordero to get the impression that she was going out of her way to entertain him. But if she urged Darcella to leave, it would only look as if she wanted to be alone with the man.

  Stifling a groan, she turned to Cordero and tried to smile. “Darcella has gone to a lot of trouble to make mint juleps for us tonight.”

  “Sounds great.” He looked at the cook and gave her a conspiring wink. “Darcella, if you’re not a married woman, you need to come to the Sandbur sometime and meet our cook. Juan’s a little older than you but he’s single and he loves to dance. He makes a mean margarita, too.”

  Darcella giggled in a way that Anne-Marie had never heard before.

  “I might just do that some time, Mr. Sanchez. Especially if Anne-Marie would come with me.”

  Cordero turned a suggestive look to Anne-Marie, who quickly cleared her throat and changed the subject completely.

  “Come on,” she invited. “I’ll show you to your room. After you’ve had a chance to freshen up, we’ll go to the porch for those drinks.”

  She started toward a long, curving staircase and Cordero picked up his bags and followed. As he climbed one step behind her, he allowed his gaze to swing around the massive room below. The large area was lit with only two small lamps, but even in the semidarkness he could see the rich antique furniture typical of the antebellum period. The walls were covered with heavy paper printed with trailing vines and some sort of maroon flower. The balustrade along the staircase and the upstairs landing was made of polished cypress and smelled faintly of lemon wax. The only sound to be heard was the faint ticking of a tall, grandfather clock.

  This afternoon, when Anne-Marie had shown him into the parlor, he’d gotten the feeling that he’d stepped back in time. Now, as he followed her up through the dark quietness, that same sensation hit him again.

  Once they reached the landing, she walked to the end and pushed open a door on her right. “I hope you’ll find the room agreeable. Verbena, our maid, made sure there were fresh towels and washcloths in the bath.” She pointed to a door in the far corner of the room. “But if you need anything else, just let me know.”

  The bed was an enormous oak four-poster with a dark green duvet. On the outer wall, several feet away, were three tall windows covered with sheer beige curtains. Beyond the windowpanes, he could barely discern the shape of huge tree limbs, but nothing else.

  “You can store your things here in the dresser, if you like.” She opened one of the top drawers. “You won’t disturb anything. This is just a guest room. And it’s been ages since anyone has visited.”

  Cordero got the feeling that time here on the plantation moved at glacial speed so it would be hard to interpret what she meant by ages. He couldn’t help but wonder if her ex-lover had stayed here, perhaps even in this room. He hated to think so. For some unexplainable reason he didn’t want to be connected to the guy in any way.

  “Thanks, Anne-Marie. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  He placed his duffel bag on the end of the bed and wondered why he felt so awkward and out of place in this opulent bedroom. He was not a poor man. In fact, the Sandbur was known all over South Texas. He was used to fairly lavish surroundings and servants at his beck and call. But his home in Texas was laid-back. It invited a man to kick off his boots and prop his feet on the furniture. This place was a little stiff for his liking. Or was it the kiss he’d planted on Anne-Marie’s lips that was really bothering him? He couldn’t forget it. Even now, he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until they both ended up on the four-poster behind him. He was a man who’d always liked women, but he’d never encountered one that had taken such a hold on him in a matter of hours.

  Something of what Cordero was feeling must have shown on his face because she suddenly folded her hands together and began to inch backward toward the door.

  “Good,” she said. “I’ll meet you at the bottom of the landing in five minutes.”

  His gaze settled on her rose-pink lips. “Yeah. Five minutes. See you then.”

  With a stilted nod, she hurried out of the room. Once she’d closed the door behind her, Cordero wiped a hand over his face and wondered what in hell he’d gotten himself into.

  Chapter Three

  When Anne-Marie came dow
n from her bedroom a few minutes later, Cordero was waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase. The white-and-blue windowpane shirt he’d been wearing had been exchanged for a dark red cotton. The rich color only intensified the deep brown of his skin and made his white teeth appear that much whiter. He didn’t bother to hide the appreciation in his eyes as she descended the stairs, but Anne-Marie tried her best not to dwell on it as she joined him on the polished parquet.

  “Since I don’t know which way to go, you’d better lead me,” he murmured.

  Anne-Marie didn’t resist his warm hand as it wrapped around hers, but as she led him through the house, she promised herself that once their houseguest had gone back to Texas, her father was going to get a piece of her mind. Jules had made it quite clear for some time now that he wanted her to get out of the house and date young men, to put some excitement in her life, but she’d never dreamed he would take matters into his own hands and practically thrust her into Cordero Sanchez’s arms. Jules needed to learn once and for all that she was going to lead her own life and it wasn’t going to have a man in it.

  The back porch ran the total width of the house and was enclosed with screen to keep the ever-present mosquitoes at bay. Comfortable lawn furniture was scattered from one end of the space to the other, along with many potted plants, some of which were covered with vivid blooms.

  A wicker settee and armchairs padded with bright yellow cushions sat at the far end of the porch and it was here that Darcella had left the tray of drinks.

  Anne-Marie extricated her hand from Cordero’s and took a seat on the settee. To her dismay, he dropped his long frame down next to her.

  “This is nice,” he said. “Quiet. But nice.”

  Leaning forward, she picked up two squatty tumblers and handed one to him. His fingers brushed against hers as he took the cool, sweaty glass and for one brief moment she wished he would reach over and take her hand again. Touching him thrilled her and reminded her that she was still a flesh-and-blood woman. Something she’d been desperately trying to forget since her downfall at Ian’s hands.