Two in the Saddle

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Elizabeth woke up and started fussing,” Sebastian said. “Listen, I’ll just go on back, okay? Travis, I’ll see you up at the house about eleven in the morning.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “See you then. Sorry for the interruption.”

  Gwen took a deep breath. “I’ll be going now, too, Sebastian. Maybe you’d be willing to walk me to my truck.” She headed for the entrance with a determined step.

  “Sure,” Sebastian said. “But—”

  “I’m sure Travis knows how to shut off the lights.”

  “I do,” Travis said, “but I was hoping—”

  “It’s been a long evening.” She glanced over her shoulder at him and forced herself to ignore the hard tug of sexual desire. “Good night, Travis.”

  His gaze was hot enough to melt steel. “Good night, Gwen.”

  He was darned potent. If Sebastian hadn’t been there, she might have forgotten her principles and run back into his arms. But Sebastian’s presence reminded her of what she really wanted from a man—forever. Tempting as he was, Travis didn’t fill the bill.

  THE FOLLOWING NIGHT Travis sank into Sebastian’s old pine rocker and leaned his head back in complete exhaustion. Fleafarm, Sebastian’s mixed breed, and Sadie, Matty’s Great Dane, plopped at his feet.

  Travis didn’t remember being this tired even after a day of branding. Babies were a hell of a lot of work, but there were compensations. Lizzie was a smart little dickens. In no time at all, he’d taught her to blow an outstanding raspberry.

  Her new trick had been kind of a liability when he’d tried to feed her cereal tonight, but they’d had fun playing with the stuff. He’d let her paint his face with it until he looked like some undead character from a horror flick.

  Then she’d needed a bath, and some time to play on the baby gym he’d bought her last week. And finally he’d given her a bottle, changed her diaper again, and tucked her into bed. She was asleep at last, and Travis wondered if he had enough energy left to fix himself a sandwich.

  As he contemplated whether he’d take the time to eat or give up and crawl into bed, he thought about Gwen. He’d fully intended to do a quick follow-up with her this afternoon after he was settled into his baby-sitting routine. He’d figured he and Lizzie would pay a little afternoon social call to Hawthorne House and see if they could get invited for dinner.

  His plan had fizzled. He’d spent the time Lizzie was sleeping running a load of baby clothes through the washer and dryer, and by the time she woke up from her nap it was time to check on the horses, feed the dogs, and feed Lizzie. Thank God Matty had moved her saddle horses up to the Rocking D, or he’d have run himself ragged going back and forth between her barn and Sebastian’s.

  But it would be a busier week than he’d thought, that was for sure. Unfortunately, the longer he went without seeing Gwen, the more likely she’d go cold on him again. He’d had her warmed up pretty good last night, and he’d been in a state of semi-arousal ever since. He’d welcome some relief for that condition, but he wouldn’t be getting it tonight.

  Doggone Sebastian’s hide, anyway. But you couldn’t land into a guy right before his honeymoon, so Travis hadn’t even had the satisfaction of yelling at Sebastian for ruining the moment. Besides, Travis wasn’t convinced it had been an accident. Matty didn’t want him getting involved with Gwen. If she’d noticed his truck and Gwen’s still parked by the tent, she might have sent Sebastian out on purpose.

  Travis sighed. Kissing Gwen had turned out to be better than he’d expected. She’d reminded him of what kissing had been like when he’d first discovered it and had been totally fascinated with the pleasure of exploring a girl’s mouth. Later on in his education, he’d progressed to other areas of a woman’s anatomy, and he’d been guilty of downgrading kissing to a preliminary step leading to more interesting activities.

  With Gwen he could imagine kissing as an end in itself. Or at least something to pass the time for a good long while. Her mouth was soft and supple, full in a way that made him want to nibble, welcoming in a way that made him want to thrust deep with his tongue. She tasted sweet and spicy, which was the way he’d imagine she’d be in bed.

  The crotch of his jeans grew tight. Apparently he wasn’t as exhausted as he’d thought. He’d better think of something else besides taking Gwen to bed if he wanted to sleep tonight. He wondered if she was frustrated too. She might be, but he doubted she’d show her hand enough to drive over here tonight, even if he called and asked her to.

  Still, it was a thought. He could say he wanted her to check out something to do with Lizzie. No, that would be too underhanded. He was doing fine with Lizzie.

  He could be bold and say he couldn’t stop thinking about her, which was true. Maybe, if he explained that he was stuck here, she’d take pity on him and consider—

  The ringing phone sent adrenaline pumping through him. The dogs leaped up, too, and the three of them hurried to the kitchen. Travis grabbed the cordless receiver from its cradle, hoping that his prayers were about to be answered. “Hello?” He sounded too eager, but he couldn’t help that. He was eager.

  “Who is this?”

  He paused. The caller was a woman, but it definitely wasn’t Gwen. He went on alert. “That depends on who you are.”

  “Jessica.”

  He should have known. Sebastian had warned him she often called late at night.

  “It’s Travis, Jessica.” He headed for Sebastian’s office, where the tracing equipment was set up. “Listen, you need to get back here. Whatever you’re afraid of—”

  “I can’t be near Elizabeth. It’s not safe for her. Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine. But I deserve to know if I’m her—”

  Click.

  Travis clenched the receiver and swore softly. So much for tracing the call. Even if he’d been prepared to do it, she hadn’t stayed on the line long enough. And even if she had, he wasn’t in a position to go tearing off in search of her. She could be hundreds of miles away. And once she’d made the call, she’d probably leave the area, anyway. That’s what he’d do if he didn’t want to be found.

  He returned to the kitchen and hung up the phone. In the process he glanced at the list of numbers tacked to the small bulletin board Matty had hung on the wall. She’d made several small changes like that in the past couple of weeks, putting her stamp on Sebastian’s house. Her floor loom now occupied a corner of the living room, and one of her favorite paintings of a mare and foal hung over the fireplace.

  She’d directed Travis’s attention to the list of phone numbers at least four times before she and Sebastian had left for Denver that morning. Doc Harrison had top billing and was in red, no less. Next came the vet. Then relatives. Then Gwen.

  Travis stared at Gwen’s number for several long seconds. After all, he did have news. Jessica had called again.

  He picked up the receiver and punched in Gwen’s number. It rang twice before he thought to glance at the clock, and by then it was too late. He’d already disturbed her at an ungodly hour.

  “Hawthorne House.” She didn’t sound the least bit sleepy.

  “It’s Travis.” He wondered if she was still awake because she was frustrated and edgy, too. He hoped so.

  “Is the baby okay?” she asked quickly.

  “She’s perfect. I just got a call from Jessica.”

  “You did?” Excitement laced her response. “Did she say anything new?”

  “Only that it wasn’t safe for her to be around Lizzie. But we’d kind of figured that.”

  “So she didn’t say…”

  “Who fathered Lizzie? Nope. But I guess it doesn’t matter. I know she’s mine.”

  “You sound proud of the fact.”

  He thought about that. “I guess I am,” he said with some surprise. “I know it shouldn’t have happened in the first place, but now that Lizzie’s here, I’m not sorry. I’m gonna spend as much time as possible with her while she’s growing up.”
r />   “Imagine that. Travis Evans making a commitment to a female.”

  She was getting snippy, he thought. His idea of inviting her over might be a pipe dream. “I make commitments to women all the time.”

  “Sure you do.”

  “If I’m involved with a woman, she’s the only one in my life during that time. That’s a commitment.”

  “Pardon me if I’m underwhelmed by such virtue.”

  He wished he had her right in front of him instead of on the telephone. Talking wasn’t getting them anywhere. Action was what they both needed. “Not everybody is cut out for marriage. At least I’m honest about that.”

  “Okay, then let me be equally honest with you. Get lost.”

  He’d decided that her sass was a defense against her strong feelings for him. “Then I guess you aren’t planning to drop by tonight to keep me company.”

  “In your dreams.”

  “Oh, you’ll be in my dreams, all right. Last night you were the main feature.”

  “Funny, but I didn’t dream at all last night.” She sounded like the damned Queen of England.

  He was beginning to like that snooty attitude of hers. It would make her surrender that much sweeter. “Of course you didn’t dream. You were wide awake and frustrated, wishing I was there.”

  “Travis, your ego is huge!”

  He grinned. “True, but women tell me it matches my…personality.”

  “I’m hanging up this phone.”

  “Good. Hang up and drive over. You sound tense. Let me give you a massage. I use the heel of my hand on the big muscles, and my fingers for some of the smaller ones. And there’s a spot on your inner thigh that—”

  A gentle click on the other end of the line told him she’d hung up. He wished he could believe she was on her way to the Rocking D, but he doubted it. He’d have to go to her, and with the way Lizzie kept him hopping, that would be more difficult than he’d thought.

  5

  GWEN TOOK OFF the tea towel she’d draped over the mixing bowl sitting on her kitchen counter. Then she punched her fist into the swollen mound of dough inside. It was the most satisfaction she’d had all day.

  Dressed in her favorite at-home outfit of soft, faded sweats, her hair caught in a casual topknot, she was consoling herself by making comfort food—her famous cinnamon rolls.

  And she definitely needed comfort this afternoon. After Travis’s provocative phone call two nights ago, he’d dropped out of sight. She wished he’d dropped out of mind, too, but no such luck. In addition to battling frustration over Travis, she’d had to deal with the latest e-mail from her mother, who was currently on a dig near Cairo.

  Her mother had wanted to know when Gwen was planning to stop “playing house” and continue her academic career. Gwen was the only member of the family without a college degree and an intellectual job, and that had bothered her mother for years.

  After sprinkling flour on the butcher-block surface, Gwen scooped the dough out and began kneading it with firm, vigorous strokes. She was good at this, damn it. It might not be rocket science, but she took satisfaction in turning out a cinnamon roll that made her guests groan with delight.

  Her mother might be able to identify a pre-Columbian artifact at a thousand paces, but when she’d tackled baking from scratch, her yeast had died and her cinnamon rolls had been hard as hockey pucks. She’d pronounced the whole exercise not worth her time in the first place, claiming that people ate too much of that stuff anyway.

  Intellectually, Gwen had known that her mother dissed baking because she couldn’t do it. Her mother had laughingly called Gwen a throwback who for some strange reason excelled at anything domestic. The subtle put-down might have salvaged her mother’s ego, but it hadn’t done much for Gwen’s.

  This morning’s e-mail probably bothered her more because she wasn’t sleeping well. She tried to blame her insomnia on not having enough to do now that Matty and Sebastian’s wedding was over. No guests were due until the following weekend, and she didn’t dare plant her seedlings in the garden until the frost warnings were over for the season. Her weaving, which had never failed to calm her, was failing her now. She needed the big muscle movement of cleaning up after guests, planting veggies or…or having sex.

  Well, that wouldn’t be happening, so she might as well get her sensory kicks out of kneading dough. And it was sensual, she admitted as she pushed the heel of her hand into the soft, yielding surface. On the phone the other night Travis had said he used the heel of his hand on the big muscles, and his fingers on the smaller ones….

  And just like that, her mind leaped back inside the squirrel cage. It spun around chasing the subject of Travis while her hands followed the familiar steps of making cinnamon rolls. The action of the marble rolling pin flattening the dough reminded her of the way Travis had stroked her back while they danced. She remembered the silkiness of his kiss when she slid a knife into a stick of softened butter and spread the butter over the dough.

  Butter was a more erotic substance than she’d realized, and she grew fascinated with the creamy slide of it as she moved the knife blade over the pliable surface of the dough. She wondered how butter would feel on her skin, how it would feel to have someone lick it off.

  A certain someone.

  The scent of sugar and cinnamon reminded her of Travis’s aftershave. She sprinkled raisins over the surface of the buttered dough and rolled it into a cylinder—a cylinder that fit her hand with the same thickness and heft as…oh, dear. She was hopeless.

  She blew out an impatient breath and sliced the cylinder deliberately into sections. Fate had played a cruel trick on her, giving her a talent for creating a hearth and home, then making her susceptible to rogues who never intended to settle down.

  She’d thought Derek had cured her of her weakness for a knowing wink and a sexy smile. After suffering through the insensitive behavior of her husband, she should run in the opposite direction when a man tried his devilish ways on her. Yet here she was, longing for another bad boy as if she hadn’t learned a single thing during her marriage.

  Travis would never know how close she’d come to driving out to the Rocking D the night he’d called. Good thing she hadn’t, because his silence for the past two days indicated that he’d lost interest already. Maybe he didn’t have time to fool with someone who didn’t fall immediately into his clutches. Maybe he’d moved on to Donna, who would have driven out to the ranch before Travis had time to hang up the phone.

  The doorbell rang as she put the rolls in the oven. Telling herself to expect the mailman or a solicitor, she deliberately took her time rinsing the flour off her hands and wiping them dry before walking down the hall toward the front door. The door’s oval stained-glass insert gave her an indistinct picture of the person on the other side, but her heart recognized Travis and the baby immediately. Her pulse kicked into high gear.

  She paused to take a deep breath and tamp down her eagerness. Travis was difficult enough to manage when he wasn’t quite sure of himself. If he suspected she’d been thinking of him for two solid days, the situation would be out of control in no time. No doubt he’d brought the baby over as a ploy to soften her resistance. Little did he know he didn’t need the baby to make Gwen as pliable as the dough she’d just been shaping.

  But she straightened her spine and reminded herself he hadn’t contacted her for two days. And for the time being, she still had her pride.

  Turning the polished brass knob, she opened the door and promptly forgot all her resolutions as compassion swept over her. A cool spring breeze blew across the porch, and Travis had wrapped Elizabeth in a light blanket as he cradled her against his chest. She was fussing, and he looked completely done in.

  “Lizzie has caught a cold,” he said. “If you don’t want to expose yourself to her germs, that’s okay, but—”

  “Come in.” Gwen stepped back from the door and held out her arms. “And let me have that poor baby.”

  Travis looked as if sh
e’d offered him a million dollars. “Thanks, Gwen. You don’t know how much this means to me.” He settled the squirming baby in her arms. “I’ve just been to Doc Harrison’s for a diagnosis and Coogan’s Department Store for supplies. The doc says it’s nothing to worry about, but I’m fit to be tied.”

  “Poor Elizabeth,” Gwen crooned as she unwrapped the baby and noticed that her button nose was red and her usually bright eyes dull. “I’ll bet she picked up something at the wedding.”

  Travis closed the door. “That’s what the doc says. He told me not to worry, that babies catch colds all the time, but I purely hate this.”

  “Of course you do.” Gwen noticed Elizabeth’s nose was running. “Come on back to the kitchen. I’ll get a tissue.” She hurried down the hall and ducked into the downstairs bathroom to grab a tissue from the wicker dispenser on the vanity. “Poor sweetie,” she murmured, wiping the tiny nose gently as she continued on into the kitchen.

  Travis stood in the middle of the room looking endearingly unsure of himself. And damned sexy. He wore old jeans with the same flair as he wore a tuxedo.

  But he was nervous. She could tell by the way he took off his Stetson and ran his fingers through his hair before clamping his hat on his head again. Travis wasn’t the sort to fool with his clothes. He was usually too busy being swashbuckling.

  Today he didn’t seem the least interested in charming her. All his attention was focused on the baby. “Do you think we should call Matty and Sebastian?” he asked. “Doc said it’s not necessary, but I think maybe—”

  “Let’s not,” Gwen said. “We’d probably scare them to death, and she’ll no doubt be all better by the time they get home, anyway.”

  Elizabeth began to fret.

  Gwen jiggled her and wiped her nose again. “Poor darling. It’s not fun having a stuffy nose, is it?” She glanced up at Travis. “Did you bring her bottle with you?”

  “Yeah. Her diaper bag’s out in the truck, but it’s hard to get her to drink when her nose is clogged up. I bought apple juice because the doc thought I should give her some, and Nellie Coogan sold me this thingamajig that looks like a tiny turkey baster. Nellie said you use it to suck the stuff out of her nose, but I’d be scared spitless to use it on her. I bought a small jar of Vaseline for her sore nose, and a humidifier. And one of those Barney guys.”