Cavanaugh on Call

by Marie Ferrarella

  It was no secret his mother, Livia Colton, had seduced Mac and then broken his heart. Thorne didn’t know all the details, but his mother was a devious woman who stopped at nothing to get what she wanted. Mac had been a handsome man—he still was—and Thorne figured he’d caught Livia’s eye. Livia wasn’t one for delayed gratification, nor was she willing to let a little thing like her marriage vows stop her from having fun. He didn’t know what spell she’d cast to get Mac to do what she wanted, but he was the product of that encounter.

  In his more cynical moments, Thorne wondered why Livia had continued the pregnancy. He’d never bothered to ask, but he figured she must have thought Wes Kingston, her husband at the time, was the father. Of course, that little assumption blew up in smoke as soon as he was born and people got a look at the color of his skin. His skin color wasn’t as dark as Mac’s, but anyone could see he didn’t share the pale shade of his brother River. It didn’t take long for the rumors to start about his parentage. Knowing he was the topic of gossip had stung, and Thorne had found it was easier to spend time with Mac and the horses while he was growing up. The ranch had been his safe space, free from whispers and rude stares.

  As he’d gotten older, Thorne had been curious about Livia and Mac, but he knew better than to press for details. Mac never talked about it, and no amount of pestering was going to get him to open up about the experience. Thorne figured his father had his reasons for keeping things to himself. Some things were better left unsaid.

  He pushed aside the image of his father’s frowning face and gestured for Maggie to precede him up the stairs that led to his apartment over the supply building. He was careful to keep his eyes on the floor and off her, a task that proved rather difficult. She stopped when she reached his door, and he tugged his keys free from his pocket to let them both inside.

  Thorne walked in first and flipped on a light, his eyes doing a quick scan of the apartment in search of any grievous messes that required immediate attention. He hadn’t exactly considered the state of his home when he’d issued the dinner invitation, but he was relieved to see the place didn’t look too bad. An empty glass sat on the worn wooden coffee table and his denim work jacket hung on the back of a chair, but other than that his apartment was fairly clean. It was a testament to how much he worked as opposed to any great housekeeping skills on his part, but no matter—the effect was the same.

  Maggie hung back by the still-open door, appearing suddenly shy.

  “Everything okay?” Was she having second thoughts? He couldn’t blame her if that was the case. They exchanged pleasant greetings every time their paths crossed, but they were basically strangers. It made sense she might worry about being alone with him in his apartment. “Would you rather I ordered a pizza and we sat in the office?” They’d still be alone together, but sitting there would keep things from feeling so...personal.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I just don’t want to drip water all over your floors.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he quickly assured her. “Let me grab you a towel so you can dry off.” He trotted down the hall to the bathroom and grabbed fresh towels from the cabinet, then returned and handed one to her. “Here you go.”

  Maggie took it with a smile. “Thanks.” She began to dab at her face and clothes and he did the same. The towels quickly grew dark as they soaked up the rain, but Thorne was feeling drier already.

  Thorne gestured down the hall. “The bathroom is the door on the right, if you’d like to freshen up a bit.”

  “I will, if you don’t mind.”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. I’ll just get things started in the kitchen.”

  Maggie moved past him and he caught a whiff of her scent—vanilla and coconut, like some kind of exotic, intoxicating drink. Thorne was suddenly very aware of how he must smell after working with the horses all day—sweaty, stale and probably on the stinky side. Too bad there wasn’t time for a quick shower before he started cooking.

  But Maggie didn’t appear to be bothered by his eau de livestock odor, so he shrugged and stepped into the small kitchen. Besides, he told himself as he gathered plates and silverware from the cupboards, this isn’t a date or anything.

  And wasn’t that just too bad? He couldn’t deny that Maggie had captured his heart from the beginning. He’d met her when she’d started doing the books for Mac, and it hadn’t taken long to fall under her spell. But it wasn’t just her appearance that drew him in. It was the way she looked at him, as if she saw him for his own sake and not as an object of speculation or gossip. His siblings and Mac were the only people to treat him like a normal person instead of a walking scandal. The fact that Maggie didn’t appear to be fazed by his unorthodox roots and Livia’s many crimes made her even more attractive, and he’d spent many an idle moment wondering what it would be like to get to know her better.

  Maybe he could start tonight. It was the best chance he’d had in a while to really talk to her. Usually when she came out to work on Mac’s books, Thorne was called away to a far part of the ranch to fix a fence or round up a stray calf. This was the first time in months he’d seen her for more than a minute, and he should make the most of it.

  The table set, he opened the fridge and stared at the shelves with a critical eye. What to fix for dinner? Normally, he didn’t give the subject much thought but tonight was different. He wanted to make something nice that Maggie would enjoy, but not something with especially romantic overtones—he didn’t want her to think he was coming on too strong. Since he didn’t exactly have a fridge full of oysters and chocolate-covered strawberries, there really wasn’t any danger of giving off the impression he was trying to woo her with food. But he did need to come up with a decent meal, lest she think he survived only on TV dinners and the odd PB&J.

  Which wasn’t too far from the truth, but still. He had his pride.

  Thinking quickly, Thorne reached into the fridge and gathered up the ingredients to make a simple quiche, depositing them on the countertop. He set the oven to preheat, then rolled up his sleeves and got to work chopping vegetables.

  “Can I help?”

  Thorne jumped at the sound of Maggie’s voice. The knife in his hand slipped, the sharp edge of the blade scoring the pad of his thumb. He dropped the offending tool with a muffled curse and stuck his thumb in his mouth, easing the sting of the cut with his tongue. He’d been so engrossed in his task he hadn’t heard her walk in behind him, and now he looked like a clumsy oaf.

  Maggie’s eyes were wide with concern. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to startle you!”

  He pulled his thumb out of his mouth and examined it. “Don’t worry about it,” he told her. The cut was deep enough to bleed freely, but not so bad as to require stitches. It was more of an annoyance than anything else.

  Before he could protest, Maggie grabbed his hand a pressed a wad of paper towels to his thumb. There was nothing remotely sexual about her touch, but a thrill shot through his limbs from the contact. She bit her plump bottom lip as she stared down at his hand, and she was standing so close he could feel the heat coming off her body. She was so focused on his hand he was free to study her face, and he traced the lines of her features with his gaze. Her eyelashes were still a little spiky from the rain and her cheeks held a soft pink glow that reminded him of the color of sunrise. There was a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, something he’d never noticed before. And this close, he could see the faint laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth.

  Her vanilla-coconut scent filled his nose and went straight to his head, making him feel a little dizzy. He wanted to lean forward and bury his nose in her hair, to drink in her perfume until it filled his lungs and saturated his senses. He leaned forward without realizing it and would have done it if Maggie hadn’t lifted her head and met his eyes.

  Surprise flashed in her bright blue gaze as sh
e realized how close he was. She sucked in a breath, and a look of such naked yearning appeared on her face Thorne found himself reaching for her instinctively. It was clear she wanted him, and his body rejoiced at the realization. There were a million reasons why this was a bad idea, but he ignored them all. He wasn’t interested in thinking right now—he only wanted to feel.

  His free hand found her cheek and he touched her gently, silently asking permission. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a second as if savoring the contact. His heart started to pound, the blood whooshing in his ears as he bent his head, already anticipating the sweet pressure of her lips against his own.

  He forced himself to go slow, to take his time. Thorne had fantasized about kissing Maggie ever since he’d met her, and he wanted this moment to be perfect for both of them. No matter what his hormones demanded, it wouldn’t do to rush into the kiss. He wanted to give her time to change her mind, if that’s what she wanted.

  He needn’t have worried. Maggie dropped his injured hand, grabbed his shoulders and stood on her toes, pulling herself up to meet his mouth. Her lips were warm and soft against his, and he tasted the subtle, waxy flavor of lip balm as he angled his head to get a better fit between them.

  She made a soft humming sound and he smiled against her mouth, happy to hear she was enjoying this as much as he was. The pain in his hand receded as he focused on the woman in his arms. He’d wanted her for so long, but given his family history he had never dared to think she might want him back. He tried to lose himself in the moment but his worries swirled in his mind, a distracting chorus that prevented him from truly connecting with Maggie.

  Livia’s criminal actions had cast a shadow over Thorne’s life, leaving him feeling dirty and ashamed. Maggie was bright and good and kind, the type of woman who deserved a man with a decent family, a man she could build a life with and not have to worry that the sins of her mother-in-law would come back to haunt her own children. Livia had made a lot of enemies, and Thorne knew people weren’t ever going to forget her crimes.

  Disappointment was a small weight in Thorne’s stomach. No matter how much he liked Maggie, no matter how good it felt to hold her, to kiss her, he needed to let her go. The people of Shadow Creek already looked down on him, thanks to his connection to Livia. He didn’t want Maggie to be painted with the same brush. She didn’t deserve to be the object of gossip, and if anyone learned of his interest in her, she’d be the talk of the town in no time. And not for the right reasons.

  He eased back, slowly breaking the kiss. She stood frozen for a moment, her eyes closed and her lips pink and swollen from his attention. It was almost enough to make him throw caution to the wind and reach for her again, but he ruthlessly stomped on the urge. Maggie might not be thinking about her reputation right now, but he was.

  She opened her eyes and he saw the question in the bright blue depths. Thorne cleared his throat, searching for the right words to explain why he’d pulled away.

  “I’m sorry,” he began.

  She cut him off, her words lightning fast in the small kitchen. “I’m not.”

  Thorne rocked back on his heels a little, unsure of what to say next. If Maggie didn’t consider this to be a bad idea, maybe he was overthinking things...

  She stared up at him, her eyes blazing with a heated arousal that stoked the fire of his need. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly. A flicker of doubt crossed her face. “Did I do something to upset you?”

  “No!” His denial was instant and fierce and he felt himself reaching for her, wanting to erase her worry. He softened his voice and tried again. “No, you did nothing wrong. It’s just... I’m worried. For you.”

  Her eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”

  Thorne reached a hand up to rub the back of his neck, feeling his skin prickle with embarrassment. How to explain his concerns without sounding like an egocentric ass? My reputation, my family, my problems. My, my, my. She was going to think he was too wrapped up in his own life, but really, he just wanted to protect her. He heaved a mental sigh and nearly shook his head. This was why he preferred the company of horses. Conversations with people were just too complicated.

  “You know who my mother is,” he said, risking a glance up. Maggie nodded, but she still seemed confused. “You know what she did.”

  “Sure,” she replied slowly. “Everyone does. But what’s that got to do with you?”

  “People talk,” he said simply. “They’ve done it all my life, and they’re not going to stop. Especially now that Livia’s crimes and escape from prison have provided new fodder for them. You don’t want to be associated with me.”

  Understanding dawned in her eyes. “You’re trying to protect me from town gossip.” He nodded, happy she had caught on. Now she would put some distance between them and he could go back to cooking. They could pretend like this had never happened. The thought sent a pang through his chest, but it was for the best. He could relive the magic of their kiss when he was alone.

  He reached for the knife, intent on picking up where he’d left off. But Maggie’s hand on his made him freeze.

  “It’s sweet of you to worry for me.” She rubbed the pad of her thumb along the side of his hand, her touch simultaneously featherlight and electrifying. “But I’m a big girl, and I don’t care what people say.”

  Thorne swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the sudden lump in his throat. The blood in his body was rapidly racing south, making thought and speech difficult. “You don’t?” he asked stupidly.

  Maggie shook her head and moved her hand up his arm, trailing her fingertips along his skin in a teasing caress. She placed the palm of her other hand on his chest, directly over his heart. Could she feel it speed up in response to her touch?

  “So if that’s the only thing stopping you...” she trailed off, her suggestion clear.

  “You’re sure?” His voice sounded hoarse even to his own ears. He held his breath as he waited for her response. It had been so long since he’d connected with a woman, and the revelations about Livia and her subsequent trial, imprisonment and recent escape had made him feel more alone than ever. Maggie was exactly what he needed right now, but he wasn’t going to soothe his own soul at the sake of her feelings.

  Maggie nodded, her eyes shining brightly with an emotion he couldn’t name. “I’m sure. I like you, Thorne,” she said, sounding a little shy.

  Her confession washed over him, breaking down the last of his resistance. He closed the distance between them and captured her mouth again. She reached up and clasped her hands behind his neck, returning his kiss with equal fervor.

  Moving carefully so as not to break their connection, Thorne reached down and hooked his hands under the curve of Maggie’s bottom. He hitched her up, smiling against her mouth as she let out a little “oof” of surprise. She recovered quickly though, throwing her legs around his waist and locking her ankles together. The change in position afforded him new access to her body, and his blood heated in anticipation as he registered the warmth of her core.

  With Maggie in his arms, Thorne headed for the bedroom. Her body bounced against his sensitive groin with every step, turning the short trip into a seemingly endless stretch of exquisite torture. By the time he made it to the room he was nearly blind with need, and he rammed his shoulder hard against the doorjamb. He grunted in annoyance and felt the vibrations of Maggie’s amusement in his chest.

  “Are you okay?”

  Thorne deposited her on the bed, then stepped back to toe off his boots. “Never better,” he said, the pain of the blow already forgotten. He paused, hands on his belt buckle. “Are you?” Was she changing her mind?

  Maggie smiled and reached for him. She slipped her hands into the back pockets of his jeans and pulled him closer, urging him forward until his thighs hit the edge of the mattress. “Oh, yes,” she sai
d softly. “I’m right where I want to be.”

  Copyright © 2017 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  ISBN-13: 9781488016417

  Cavanaugh on Call

  Copyright © 2017 by Marie Rydzynski-Ferrarella

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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