Gwen blinked. “I was with you all the way until you got to Barney.”
“He’s that dinosaur on TV. Kids go wild for him.”
“I know that much.” Gwen rocked Elizabeth, trying to distract the baby from her discomfort. “I have kids staying here at Hawthorne House sometimes. But what does Barney have to do with getting over a cold?”
“When you’re sick, you need a poor-me present,” he said with the first show of confidence he’d displayed since he’d appeared on her doorstep. “Everybody knows that.”
“Oh.” Gwen held back a smile. “Of course.”
Travis glanced at Elizabeth, who was making pitiful little noises of unhappiness. “So you really don’t think we should call Matty and Sebastian? They called last night and I told them everything was fine. Then this morning Lizzie was all stuffed up. Maybe they’d want to know.”
Gwen thought of how excited Matty had been while she planned for her week in the big city. She and Gwen had shopped for days buying slinky dresses for nights out on the town, and revealing negligees for private moments in the honeymoon suite of one of Denver’s finest hotels. Matty had never been treated to such luxury.
“I hate to tell them,” Gwen said. “This is a special time for both of them, and if Doc Harrison said Elizabeth’s not in any danger, it seems a shame to get them upset. They might even think they should come home. And I honestly don’t think having them home would make a bit of difference. This will just have to run its course.”
“But what if she gets worse? The doc didn’t rule that out.”
“Well, then you can call them, I guess. But I think calling them now is premature.”
Travis stuck his hands in his hip pockets and blew out a breath. Then he glanced at her. “Okay, I’ll accept that. But I’m scared to take her back out to the ranch and be there alone with her. It’s a good twenty minute drive to town, and if she suddenly got bad, I’d—”
“You want to leave her here with me, don’t you?” Gwen discovered she wouldn’t mind in the least. In fact, she’d welcome the chance to have Elizabeth, even if she did have a cold. In the years of running the bed and breakfast, Gwen had encountered her share of sick babies, and the prospect of taking care of Elizabeth while she was under the weather didn’t worry her nearly as much as it obviously did Travis.
“Not exactly.” Travis looked her straight in the eye. “This is going to sound suspicious to you, all things considered. But I swear I don’t mean anything underhanded by it. I’m caught in the middle here. I’m afraid to be out on the Rocking D alone with Lizzie, so far from town and Doc Harrison, but I don’t think I could stand leaving her with you overnight, either. I want to be with her, in case she gets worse.”
Reaction shivered up Gwen’s spine. He’d never looked at her like that, with no twinkle in his golden eyes, no hidden agenda lurking behind his steady gaze. She couldn’t doubt his sincerity or his deep concern for the baby, and yet…how could she possibly invite him to stay here? And how could she not?
“I wouldn’t blame you for turning me down,” Travis said. “But I don’t know what else to do.”
“You could have taken her to Donna’s,” Gwen said quietly. “After all, she’s a kindergarten teacher.”
He shook his head. “Donna doesn’t know Lizzie like you do. She only saw her for the first time at the wedding. And Matty’s not all that fond of Donna, to be honest. Thinks she’s overbearing and pushy. Matty would expect me to ask for your help, not Donna’s. As far as Matty’s concerned, you’re practically family.”
Gwen wiped Elizabeth’s nose again and kissed the top of her head. She did feel connected to this little girl, which probably wasn’t wise, considering the baby wouldn’t ever be Gwen’s, in any sense of the word. “That’s nice to hear.”
“I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but I promise to behave myself. All I care about is getting Lizzie well and staying close to the doctor in case she needs something.”
Gwen looked into his eyes. In times past, he’d made her heart flutter with his rakish glances, but he’d never stirred her so deeply as now, when the only emotion she saw was loving concern for the baby he believed to be his. Perhaps she’d been hasty in judging him as superficial. In his worry over Elizabeth, he seemed to have completely forgotten his sexual needs.
“You can both stay.” She mentally crossed her fingers and hoped she’d be strong enough to weather this. “It does seem like the best way to make sure Elizabeth will be safe and well.”
His shoulders sagged in relief. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no.”
“I’m doing this for Lizzie, and for Matty and Sebastian.”
A ghost of a grin crossed his handsome face. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. Without Lizzie, I probably wouldn’t have made it past your front door today.”
“True enough.” And she wanted him to keep right on believing that. “Maybe you’d better bring in her diaper bag and all the things you bought.”
“Yeah.” He started out of the kitchen and paused. “You said you sometimes have kids here. Do you have a crib around?”
“I do. But what about your chores at the ranch? Is everything all right out there for the next twenty-four hours?”
He looked stricken. “My God, you’re right. I forgot about the dogs and the horses. I can’t believe I did that. I’d…I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t let Matty and Sebastian know that I forgot about the animals.”
“You’ve been worried, and I’m sure they’d want your top priority to be Elizabeth.” She was touched that he’d been so preoccupied with the baby. And there was no doubt in her mind that he hadn’t planned this overnight stay. He’d panicked and brought Elizabeth straight in to see Doc Harrison, not thinking beyond the baby’s immediate needs.
“If it’s okay with you,” he said, “after I bring in Lizzie’s stuff, I’ll take a quick run out there and put the dogs in the barn. I can pick up a toothbrush and a razor while I’m at it, and call Len down the road. He could run over and feed all the animals in the morning.”
“That’s fine.” A toothbrush and a razor. The announced items made his impending presence in her house more real, and she shivered again.
“Thank you, Gwen. This means more than I can say.” He looked around at the house as if seeing it for the first time. “It’s real nice here.”
“I like it.”
“And something smells great.”
“Oh! The cinnamon rolls!” She’d totally forgotten them. Talk about being preoccupied. She never forgot what was in the oven, which was why she never bothered to set a timer. She hurried forward and put Elizabeth into his arms. “Hold her for a minute.”
“Sure.”
She got the rolls out in the nick of time. They were plump and golden-brown, oozing with warm raisins and caramelized sugar. She set them on the counter to cool and went to retrieve Elizabeth.
“Are those for something in particular?” Travis asked as he handed over the baby.
“No. I just felt like making them.” She cradled Elizabeth against her shoulder and patted her back.
“Gonna put frosting on them?”
“I always do.” She couldn’t help smiling at the longing in his eyes when he glanced over at the rolls. “I’d be willing to share them, if you like.”
He grinned. “I’d like. If a guy’s gonna be noble, he oughta at least get a consolation prize.”
Before she could think of an answer, he was out the door headed for his truck. And it appeared he hadn’t completely forgotten about his sexual needs, after all.
WHEN TRAVIS drove up to Gwen’s house a second time, he’d calmed down considerably, enough to notice things. Although he’d driven past this two-story Victorian lots of times, he’d never paid much attention to it because Gwen had seemed like a stuck-up woman with a stuck-up house. Funny how things worked out. As of now, they were both the answer to his prayers.
The house he’d always considered too fussy had become the
prettiest place on the block because it was only a short drive from Doc Harrison’s office, and because Gwen was allowing him to stay here with Lizzie. Two weeks ago he would have said the exterior paint job made the house look like a goddamned Christmas tree, but this afternoon, he thought the grayish-green siding and the red-orange gingerbread trim were just about perfect.
He even liked the canary-yellow she’d used here and there as an accent color. In a week or two the daffodils would be blooming in the flower garden, which would go real good with the yellow on the posts and along the eaves. A couple of blue spruces that looked as old as the house stood on either side of her walkway, and he took a deep, appreciative breath as he went up to the porch.
The wicker porch furniture might be a little too girlie for him, but it looked comfortable, and when he rang the doorbell, it had a nice, deep chime to it. Best of all, he could still smell those cinnamon rolls.
Gwen answered the door by herself, without Lizzie.
The old panic came back and he moved quickly into the house. “Where is she?”
“I finally got her to sleep. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but for now—”
“Let me see. I want to make sure she’s breathing.”
“If you wake her up, so help me, I’ll throttle you. It took me forever to get her to drift off.”
“I won’t wake her up! Where is she?”
“Upstairs.”
Still carrying his duffel bag with his overnight stuff in it, he started toward the staircase just beyond the entry hall.
“Wait a minute!” She grabbed his arm. “You sound like a herd of buffalo. Take off your boots.”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” He set down his duffel, grabbed the newel post and quickly tugged off his boots. Then he took the stairs two at a time. When he got to the top, he realized he had no idea which bedroom she was in. He spun around and nearly knocked Gwen back down the stairs. “Sorry.” He steadied her before she could take a header. “Which room?”
“The first one on the left,” she murmured. “And keep your voice down.”
He glanced at the closed bedroom door and saw little puffs of smoke coming underneath it. “It’s on fire!”
“No!” Gwen clutched his arm. “Damn it, you’re going to wake her up. That’s not smoke, it’s steam from the humidifier. I set it up in there so she could breathe easier.”
“Oh.” He glanced down at her. “Sorry. But you should have warned me.”
“You bought the thing. I figured you’d know what it did.”
“How would I know? If I get sick, I just drink some Jack Daniel’s and I’m right as rain.”
She gazed at him. “Then I’m very glad I’m helping you take care of Elizabeth. We’re not dosing her with alcohol.”
“Of course we’re not. I’m not stupid.” Without waiting to see if she’d agree or disagree, he headed for the closed door and eased it open. Steam billowed out, and he could hear the hiss of the machine. He wished it didn’t remind him of going through a haunted house back when he was a kid. He hadn’t been very manly going through that foggy place, and he didn’t feel particularly manly now, facing this illness of Lizzie’s.
If she really was asleep in this clouded-up room, that was a good thing. But she was a greenhorn when it came to this head cold business, and he kept wondering if she knew how to breathe out of her mouth or if she could somehow get mucus stuck in her throat and choke. He wasn’t sure if you were born knowing how to deal with mucus.
Once inside the room, he knew for a fact she was breathing. He could hear her rasping away, poor little baby. He crept over to the fancy white crib in the corner of the bedroom and stopped just short of it to study her.
Sure enough, she was asleep on her tummy, her little bottom pushed up in the air the way she’d taken to doing. She was breathing through her mouth, so at least he could relax on that score. She was drooling onto the sheet and her cheeks looked flushed.
Damn, but he wanted her to be better. He’d give anything if he could be sick instead of her. A cold was no problem for him. He’d like to get his hands on the idiot who had come to the wedding spreading germs to this little, innocent baby. That person should be strung up.
“Satisfied?” Gwen whispered.
He turned and realized Gwen was standing beside him. He also realized something he’d been too worried to notice when he came through the door. She wasn’t dressed in the old sweats she’d had on when he’d arrived the first time. Instead she wore a white silky blouse buttoned just to the swell of her cleavage, and green slacks that fit her behind in an outstanding way. And her long, glossy hair was down around her shoulders. And there was red lipstick on those soft, kissable lips.
His body stirred and tightened. Vaguely he remembered promising something in order to get Gwen to let him stay here. As he stared at her, he finally remembered what it was. He’d promised to behave himself.
6
VANITY HAD GOTTEN the better of her, Gwen had to admit. Even in the misty twilight created by the late afternoon and fog from the humidifier, she could see the change in Travis’s expression as he looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time.
She should have stayed in her old sweats, which sent the message that she wasn’t interested. She would have stayed in her grubbies, too, if Elizabeth hadn’t gone to sleep. But once the baby had drifted off, Gwen had glanced in the beveled mirror that hung above the bedroom’s antique dresser and winced at her ragtag appearance.
She’d tried to talk herself out of changing clothes the entire time she spent frosting the cinnamon rolls. She’d continued the internal discussion while she washed up the dishes she’d used and took a container of her homemade lasagna out of the freezer for dinner. But when she’d done every imaginable chore in the kitchen and Travis still hadn’t arrived, she gave up the fight and went into her private suite off the kitchen to put on a different outfit.
Once she’d started the transformation, she hadn’t been able to stop primping. She’d brushed and curled her hair and put on makeup. She’d even taken an emery board to her fingernails. Any bystander would assume she had a hot date coming up.
As the mist swirled around them, Travis shoved back his hat and looked his fill. Under his scrutiny, she was embarrassed to be caught going to so much trouble to look good. “I could use a cup of coffee,” she murmured, and started out of the room.
“Yeah, me, too.” His voice sounded husky.
As she went down the stairs, she heard the click of the bedroom door as he closed it behind him.
“Which room is mine?” he called softly. “I’ll put my duffel in there.” Intimate whispers. A shared roof. A common concern. An explosive combination.
“The one next to Elizabeth’s,” she said over her shoulder.
“Where’s yours?”
She paused, her hand on the banister, her heart hammering. She didn’t turn around, but she could feel his gaze on her. “Why?”
“Idle curiosity.”
She didn’t think there was anything idle about it, but his question was her own stupid fault. She hadn’t been able to stand the thought of appearing dowdy in his presence, but she’d changed the rules when she’d changed clothes. Now she’d have to deal with his renewed sex drive. She turned to glance up at him and hoped her expression gave nothing away. She needed to regain a measure of control over the situation, and she wouldn’t do it by acknowledging that his question meant anything at all. “I have a suite downstairs,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, “so that I have some privacy when I have guests.”
He nodded, his expression bland. “Good idea.”
“I’ll go make that coffee.” Quickening her pace, she descended the stairs and headed for the kitchen. Not that she was escaping anything by doing so. She’d barely started the coffee brewing when he appeared, minus his duffel and his hat.
And with a gleam in his eye. “Sure smells great in here, between the cinnamon rolls and the coffee,” he said.
&
nbsp; “Thanks.” As she busied herself getting cups and saucers from the cupboard, she adopted her best hostess manner—friendly but reserved. “I could serve you in the library, if you’d like.”
“You don’t have to serve me at all.” He walked over to the counter where the cinnamon rolls were still in their pans. “I can have some of these, right?”
“As many as you want.”
“Good.” He picked up one of the pans, reached inside and tore a roll free with his fingers, stirring up the sweet yeasty aroma. Then he lifted it in her direction. “Here’s to you.” Then he took a big bite, closed his eyes and moaned in satisfaction.
Desire slammed into her, and the cups and saucers she held rattled in her grip.
He opened his eyes and gazed at her as he chewed slowly and swallowed. “This is so good, it’s probably illegal,” he said before taking another bite.
“P-people usually like them.” Terrific. She was stuttering. And blushing, if the heat in her cheeks was any clue. She was also in danger of dropping the delicate cups and saucers in her hand. To prevent that, she set them down on the sturdy work table in the middle of the kitchen.
Crossing to the coffeepot, she picked up the carafe. The next logical step would be to actually pour coffee into the cups, but she was quivering too much to do that yet, so she stalled. “How do you like your coffee?”
“With cream, if you have some. Damn, these rolls are good.” He finished off his first one and licked the stickiness from his fingers.
The action of his tongue gave her another jolt that settled with swift determination between her thighs. “I have cream.” She turned in relief to the refrigerator and opened the door. The cool air felt wonderful against her heated skin. If she stood there a moment, maybe she’d regain her composure.
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