Having the Cowboy's Baby

by Stella Bagwell

“Don’t be silly. I was only teasing. If I were visiting the Sandbur you wouldn’t think I was burdening your cook, would you?”

  He laughed. “Not hardly. There are always plenty of people around to eat. You’d just be one more mouth to feed.” He arched a curious brow her way. “Why? Are you thinking of coming for a visit?”

  She plucked at the hem of her skirt. “Maybe someday.”

  They reached the end of the long lane and, after coming to a careful stop, Cordero turned the car onto the road.

  “Why not soon? You’d like it, I promise. We have about two hundred horses, give or take a foal or two and thousands of acres. You could come at roundup time in the spring and see what it’s like to gather cattle and eat off a chuck wagon.”

  Her sigh was a bit wistful. “You make it sound like a wonderful adventure.”

  He glanced at her. “I guess you’d say it’s an adventure. I certainly wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.”

  No, Anne-Marie thought, Cordero was a born-and-bred Texan. He wouldn’t leave his ranch for anything. Not even for a woman.

  She was staring pensively out the window when he reached over and picked up her hand. Turning her head, she watched in wary fascination as he lifted her fingers to his lips.

  “But for the next few days I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, except right here with you.”

  Next few days. Yes, she thought with a strange sense of sadness. In a few days Cordero would be gone. The sound of his laughter and his soft Texas drawl would no longer fill the empty rooms at Cane’s Landing. And she’d put away this red dress she was wearing. Probably forever.

  Chapter Seven

  The drive to New Orleans took forty-five minutes. By the time they entered the city, the sun had fallen and dusk was spreading shadows along the busy streets.

  They found a safe parking place before hailing a taxi to the French Quarter. Along the way, the driver advised them of several places to eat, but Cordero had ideas of his own.

  When they stepped onto the sidewalk and began to stroll between the Creole-style buildings, he said, “Let’s not eat in some stuffy place. I didn’t wear a jacket. I probably couldn’t get in anyway. Do you mind?”

  His hand was curved against her shoulder, his fingers lightly splayed against her upper arm. The warmth of his touch was like a sunbeam, lifting her spirits, making her feel as though her feet were barely skimming the ground.

  She smiled up at him. “Of course not. This is your night on the town. You pick the spot.”

  Laughing, he urged her down the sidewalk. “An unselfish woman. You’re a rare specimen, Anne-Marie.”

  No, he was the rare one, she thought. He made her feel special. Snuggled next to his side, she could almost forget that she’d allowed an immoral man to lead her astray, to forever change the sacred direction of her life.

  They walked for several blocks, through crowds that thickened as soon as night began to fall upon the crescent city. Music and laughter could be heard on every street corner while the smells of spicy Creole and Cajun cooking permeated the air.

  Eventually they found a small restaurant with the front door propped open and a sign hanging from the awning that simply read: Good Food. Est. 1865. Blues music, along with the smell of fried oysters, drifted out to them.

  “Well, if the place has lasted this long, it must be good,” Cordero said with a laugh. “Are you game?”

  A week ago, even a day ago, Anne-Marie would have considered the eating place a bit seedy for her taste. But tonight, with Cordero by her side, his impish grin urging her on, she felt the fun of trying something new.

  “Sure,” she said. “Let’s go in.”

  With his arm at her back, he guided her into the dimly lit café. Someone behind a short, busy bar yelled, “Seat yourself. Anywhere you like.”

  The room was L-shaped with the front part running adjacent to the sidewalk. Cordero ushered her to the only empty table he could find, which was situated near the paned windows looking out at the street.

  After he seated her in one of the old, rope-bottomed chairs and took his place beside her at the small, round table, Cordero realized that the music was coming from a CD player sitting at the end of the bar. Customers, varying from young adults to very old seniors were talking, laughing and eating from platters of food. Some of them were loud and some were dressed in work clothes right off the construction site, but all appeared to be enjoying themselves.

  They’d hardly gotten settled when a waiter appeared and Cordero ordered wine for both of them. After that they began their meal with turtle soup, then moved on to fried frog legs. By the time they were served a dessert of rum-soaked bread pudding, Anne-Marie was totally stuffed and mellow from the wine and relaxed atmosphere.

  “This is absolutely delicious, but I don’t think I can eat another bite,” she said with a contented groan.

  “What about coffee?”

  “Mmm. Sounds good. But I don’t think I could hold another sip of anything.”

  Cordero placed his fork on his nearly empty plate. “I’m stuffed, too. We’ll get coffee later. And I know just the place to do it. Are you ready to go?”

  Her brows peaked with interest. “You have a certain place you want to go? I thought I was taking you to listen to some jazz or blues music.”

  Grinning, he leaned his head toward hers and whispered. “I don’t want you to hear any songs about women wronged by no-account men. I want to put a smile on your face.”

  He touched the pad of his forefinger to the faint dimple in the middle of her chin. Anne-Marie’s eyes were drawn to his. As she looked into their hazel depths the sounds of music and voices and clatter from the kitchen all faded away. Her breath caught in her throat and for a brief moment she forgot that they were in a public place.

  Closing her eyes, she leaned forward just enough to touch her lips to his. With his thumb and finger lightly grasping her chin, he parted his lips and kissed her softly and swiftly. The fleeting taste of him whetted her appetite for more and she sighed with longing when he pulled his head away.

  “Let’s go,” he murmured. Rising to his feet, he offered his hand to help her from her seat.

  Anne-Marie waited near the entrance while Cordero took care of the bill. When they stepped outside, the street was dark and the steamy night air drifted around them like hot fog. Cordero took her by the arm and led her to the curb.

  “Let’s see if we can catch a cab,” he told her.

  “You mean we can’t walk to where we’re going?” she asked with surprise.

  He grinned down at her. “No.”

  Her brows lifted. “Where is this place? Or should I ask what is it?”

  He chuckled as he raised his arm and beckoned an approaching cab. “Don’t be so nosy,” he said teasingly. “You’ll find out when we get there.”

  Fifteen minutes later, when Anne-Marie looked up and down the cracked sidewalk, she had no idea what part of the city they were in. Both sides of the street were lined by dark, empty warehouses. Except for the one they were standing in front of. Lights streamed from the windows high above them, while below several people entered and exited.

  Cordero ushered her through the double doors. “They have delicious food here. But since we’ve already eaten, we’ll just have something to drink and enjoy the music. Do you like to dance?”

  “D-ance?” she sputtered. Anne-Marie hadn’t danced since junior high and she’d only danced then because it had been a part of a music class assignment. “I’m not a dancer, Cordero! If you brought me here for that, you’ve wasted your time and cab fare.”

  Frowning, he brought his arm around her shoulders and guided her through the crowd. “Nonsense!” he scoffed. “All women know how to dance. You were made for it.”

  No, she was made to travel to spots in the world where natural disasters had occurred. To aid people who were homeless, hungry and lost. She was meant to walk a narrow, righteous path and be even more virtuous than her own mother had been. For y
ears those were the things Anne-Marie had envisioned for her future. Even her brief infatuation for Ian hadn’t totally wiped those plans from her mind. Yet Cordero was demolishing that narrow path she’d set for herself. Just being in his presence was opening up new horizons, filling her head with all sorts of possibilities. Could he be right? Was she really meant to be a wife? A mother? A lover?

  Tonight was not the time to be asking herself those questions, she told herself, as they found a tiny table at the back of the dance floor. Cordero was showing her a glimpse of his brand of entertainment and she wanted to learn everything she could about him before he eventually told her goodbye.

  While they waited for the waitress to bring their coffee, Anne-Marie turned her attention to the far corner of the room, where a large nautical rope cordoned off a six-piece band from the dancers and diners. The lively Cajun music was infectious and she found herself tapping her toes to the beat.

  “How did you know about this place?” she asked slyly.

  A smug grin crossed his face. “I came here with my cousin Lex a couple of years ago. We were here in town for a horse and cattle breeder’s convention. I don’t know how he knew about the place. But since Lex has a girlfriend in every port, so to speak, it’s not hard to figure out how he became familiar with this nightspot. Lex, uh, gets around.”

  As he spoke, she was amazed at how much she wanted to run her finger along his sideburn, down his jaw and across his lips. Just the thought made her shiver.

  “It sounds as though you’re close to your cousin. Are you?”

  The waitress appeared with their coffee. After she’d placed the steaming mugs onto the little table and left, Cordero said, “Lex is more like a brother than a cousin. We were both raised on the Sandbur and have never lived anywhere else.”

  “Is he your age?”

  “Four years older. When we were just kids he and my brother, Matt, used to give me a hard time for wanting to tag along with them. Lex used to fancy himself a saddle bronc rider and traveled the rodeo circuit some back in his younger days.” Smiling with fond remembrance, he lifted the coffee cup to his lips. “He was my hero and I wanted to be just like him. Until I figured out that having your nose buried in arena dirt didn’t feel all that glorious.”

  Anne-Marie smiled. “I can’t imagine you ever being bucked off a horse.”

  He laughed. “Boy, I must have you hornswoggled. I couldn’t count the times I’ve found myself looking up at the sky or seeing hooves stomping around my head. Each horse is different and the young ones are always unpredictable when you start breaking them to the saddle.”

  She scanned his face as she took a careful sip of coffee. “You really like what you do, don’t you?”

  Another smile creased his cheeks. “It beats getting a real job.”

  He was teasing, of course. Anne-Marie knew enough about horses to know that his job required long exhausting hours and plenty of skill, both mental and physical. A good horse trainer had to have an innate sense of what the animal was thinking and how to communicate with it.

  “I can tell by the way Taco and Lightning behave that you’re good at what you do,” she said.

  To her surprise, he seemed a bit embarrassed by her compliment. His gaze dropped to the tabletop as he shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve got a long way to go to ever be as good as my father,” he said quietly.

  And Anne-Marie was far from being as good a woman as her mother had been, she thought dismally. She’d tried, but she’d failed.

  “I’m sure you’re being modest now.”

  With a wry twist to his lips, Cordero lifted his gaze back to her face. He’d not expected to hear such praise from Anne-Marie. But then all this evening she’d been surprising him. Especially with that little kiss she’d given him in the café. The simple overture had knocked him sideways. Was she trying to tell him that she wanted him?

  Ever since they’d left the French Quarter, he’d been telling himself not to dwell on that tiny meeting of lips. But forgetting was a hard thing to do when she looked like a vision in red.

  Reaching across the table, he slipped a forefinger across her collarbone. “You look lovely tonight, Anne-Marie.” Too lovely, he thought. The sight of her pale skin against the vivid dress was like cream against cherries. He wanted to touch and taste. He wanted to slip his fingers into the curls piled atop her head, pull the pins and watch the heavy waves fall around her shoulders. But more than anything he wanted to take her home to the plantation and make love to her. Did she want the same things? There were fleeting moments when he thought he saw longing in her eyes. But maybe he was only seeing the mirror of his own feelings.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  He pushed the coffee cup away and reached for her hand. “Come on. The night’s wasting and we haven’t danced yet.”

  Her eyes widened with something close to panic as he pulled her from her seat. “Cordero! I told you that I don’t know how!”

  “Then I’ll teach you,” he said with a wicked grin.

  At the edge of the crowded dance floor, he threaded one hand through hers and snagged her waist with the other.

  “Just follow me,” he urged. “It’s a quick round dance. You can do it.”

  Anne-Marie let out a sound that was a groan and a laugh mixed together. “Yeah, that’s easy enough for you to say, Mr. Astaire. Just don’t yell if I trip or smash your toes.”

  The loud zydeco number drowned out his laughter, but she could see the deep amusement on his face as he put them into a quick pace across the wooden parquet. At first she was so worried about keeping up with him without tangling her feet that she concentrated solely on putting her feet in the right spot. But that focus quickly faded as the fast steps, the infectious music and the sight of Cordero’s happy face filled her with a joy that bubbled up inside her like a fizzy drink. By the middle of the second song, she was laughing and twirling beneath Cordero’s arm as though she’d done it a thousand times before.

  They danced several fast songs in a row, only stopping long enough to catch their breath while the band paused then started again. But then the music changed to a slow, sweet Cajun number sung in French. Cordero pulled Anne-Marie close against him and dipped his cheek next to hers.

  “Finally. I get a reason to have you in my arms,” he murmured.

  His drawl sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. “I’ve never done anything like this before, Cordero. I never thought —” she tilted her head so that she could see his face “— it would be this nice.”

  His hand moved from her waist to her shoulders. As his fingers made lazy, sensual circles against her bare skin, she fought the urge to close her eyes and press her face against the middle of his chest.

  “I’m glad you’re having a good time,” he said. “See, your father isn’t so senile after all.”

  A smile touched her lips. “To be honest, it shocks me that you turned out to be his friend.”

  “Why?” he asked comically. “What’s wrong with me?”

  She chuckled. “Darcella and I thought you were going to be an older man. Like in your sixties or seventies. And then when it turned out to be you — well, I couldn’t imagine you and Father even having a conversation, much less being friends. Most men your age wouldn’t bother to say two words to someone like Jules.”

  He frowned down at her. “Then that would be their loss. I have plenty of buddies my own age, but older friends are like having a taste of aged wine — a lot more substance to it, you know.”

  “Well, I thank you for being so…indulgent with Father. It means very much to me.”

  Bending his head, he rubbed his cheek against hers. “It’s my pleasure, Anne-Marie.”

  Something was happening to her, she thought, as they slowly circled through the crowd of dancers. Layer by layer this man was tearing away all the protective cloaks she’d gathered around her, yanking the dark shadows from her heart. For the first time since her ordeal with Ian, she wanted to live and feel like a wo
man again.

  “This song is beautiful,” he mused out loud. “I wish I could understand the words.”

  His comment interrupted her thoughts and turned her attention to the lyrics, which were as haunting as the melody.

  After a moment, she said, “She’s singing about her lover. He’s left her and she can’t decide if she should go after him.”

  “Oh.”

  His simple reply was just awkward enough to tell Anne-Marie that he wasn’t comfortable with the subject of love between a man and a woman. It also told her that he would never want a woman chasing after him. He valued his independence too much.

  That thought took the joy out of the night. Which was silly. He’d only said one word. She was probably reading too much into it. Besides, she wasn’t serious about Cordero. She wasn’t thinking of him as a husband, a long-term lover, or any of those things. Still, the evening had somehow lost its luster so she suggested it was getting late enough that they should head home.

  To her surprise he didn’t argue and they quickly left the warehouse.

  A half hour later, they were back in her car, traveling north out of the city. Dancing with Cordero had left Anne-Marie in a dreamy state of mind and the strange emotions she’d felt in his arms were still occupying her mind as the car sped homeward.

  As she rested her head against the back of the seat, staring silently out at the black night, Cordero’s husky voice penetrated the silence that had settled around them. Yet it was not the sound of his voice that grabbed her attention. His question was what had her turning her head and staring at him with frank surprise.

  “What happened with you and…the man you told me about? Why did your relationship end?”

  Ian was not a subject she discussed with anyone. Not even with Audra or her father. Once she’d ended the relationship, she’d not said any more. In her opinion, he’d not been worth the time or the effort. Yet Cordero’s question had been asked in a sincere way and after tonight she couldn’t refuse him. Perhaps a part of her even wanted to confide in him, share with him.

  Straightening in her seat, she sighed. “I think maybe I should first explain how we met. Otherwise, you won’t get the whole picture.”