She poured apple juice in one of Elizabeth’s bottles and secured the nipple. No, Travis wasn’t about to go back on his word to stay away from her. After all, he’d sat reading a book for two hours in the same room and hadn’t made a single suspicious move. She’d obviously convinced him that she didn’t want him to make love to her. Damn it.
No, not damn it. Good. She didn’t want to be one of those women who claimed no responsibility for sex, who allowed herself to be “swept away,” and then pretended she’d been seduced against her will and was simply a victim of a man’s relentless sex drive. That was operating from weakness and Gwen considered it unworthy of a modern woman.
She started back up the stairs. She might be a modern woman, but she’d had an old-fashioned reaction to Travis when he’d appeared bare-chested in the hall carrying Elizabeth a short while ago. Advertisers had been making hay recently with the image of a well-muscled father holding his tiny baby, and Gwen had thought the campaigns were overdone and trite.
But her entire take on the subject had changed when she’d emerged from the misty bathroom to discover Travis approaching with Elizabeth. She’d never seen him without a shirt before, never realized that he was truly a work of art. She’d been totally unprepared for his powerful biceps and well-developed pecs. And he had exactly the right amount of chest hair to suit her, enough to provide a tactile thrill against bare breasts, but not so much that a girl would feel as if she was making love to a furry beast.
At the sight of Travis bare-chested, she’d been swamped with unknown and unfamiliar instincts heating her blood and heightening her senses. She’d longed to bury her nose against his throat and breathe in his scent, to rake his flesh with her teeth. To stake her claim. To mate.
Ridiculous fantasies, she told herself now as she stood on the landing and watched light and steam filter from under the bathroom door. Travis had no intention of being anyone’s mate. Obviously her instincts were leading her astray.
Elizabeth’s barking cough came again, but it sounded looser. Gwen was no expert, but she thought the steam was having an effect. She tapped lightly on the door. “How’s it going?”
“I think it’s helping her,” Travis called above the sound of the shower and Elizabeth’s coughing. “Although your wallpaper doesn’t look too good. How long do you think we should stay in here?”
“At least a few more minutes. Until the coughing slows down some more. I don’t care about the wallpaper, but what about you? Are you growing webbed feet?”
In response he croaked like a frog, and she laughed. “I’ll take a turn next. I brought up the apple juice.”
“Good. Where will you be?”
Gwen enjoyed the feeling of being needed, if only temporarily. “I’ll stay in her bedroom and wait for you.”
“Okay. Don’t go far.”
“I won’t.” It was very nice to be needed. She walked into Elizabeth’s room and switched on a bedside lamp. Then she crossed to the window and looked out.
Sure enough, the rain had turned to sleet. Summer would come eventually to the Rockies, but it hadn’t arrived yet. Elizabeth shouldn’t be taken out in this weather unless absolutely necessary, she decided. The cold sleet would be hard enough on her, but the streets would be treacherous, making it risky to drive even the few blocks to Doc Harrison’s house.
She and Travis could handle this.
She walked over to the crib and took Elizabeth’s sock monkey out. Then she set the bottle of apple juice on the dresser, went over to the double canopy bed and sat down to stare into the monkey’s button eyes. Matty had bought the stuffed animal at Coogan’s the day after Elizabeth had been left on Sebastian’s doorstep, and it had become the baby’s favorite toy.
Gwen remembered the light in Matty’s eyes when she’d described Sebastian using the monkey like a puppet when he played with Elizabeth. Matty said her heart melted every time she watched Sebastian interact with Elizabeth, and now Gwen found herself in the same predicament watching Travis care for the baby. Only Gwen didn’t want her heart to melt.
From the bathroom came the squeak of a faucet handle, and the sound of running water ceased. Travis must have decided Elizabeth could take a break from the steam treatment. Gwen hoped he’d think to wrap the baby in a towel when he brought her out, so she wouldn’t get chilled.
“What do you think, Bruce?” Gwen propped the monkey on her lap. “Are we handling this the way Matty and Sebastian would want us to?”
“I think so,” Travis said from the doorway.
Gwen looked up. He was still shirtless, of course. His skin was damp and drops of condensed steam clung to his chest. The steam had turned his hair into a cap of ringlets, making him look even sexier, if such a thing was possible. Her heart warmed as she saw that he’d bundled Elizabeth in a towel like a little papoose, with only her face sticking out. He was such a good daddy.
The baby coughed once, sticking her little tongue out in the process, but the alarming bark was nearly gone.
Travis wiped her nose with a tissue he pulled from the pocket of his jeans. “I think she’s better than she was,” he said, “and I think she’s ready for some apple juice.”
Gwen put down the monkey and held out her arms. “I’ll take her. Are you cold? Maybe you should grab a towel for yourself.” Please get a towel for yourself.
“I will. Here you go.” He settled Elizabeth in her arms, which required only minimal contact between them, the brush of his bare arm against her sleeve, a whisper of his male scent when he moved. His erect nipple passed within two inches of her mouth.
Although he didn’t make a big deal out of being close to her while he was half-naked, Gwen nearly went out of her mind with the urge to kiss and nibble every inch of that tempting chest. Then she made the colossal mistake of looking into his golden eyes. Framed by lashes spiked with moisture from the steam bath, they glowed with banked passion. She gulped.
She so wanted this man. How sweet it would be to lift her mouth for his kiss, to beg him to make love to her until neither of them could see straight.
His gaze warmed a fraction more. Clearly he wanted her, too. All he needed was a word from her, and…
“The juice is on the dresser,” she said.
“Right.” He turned away from her and picked up the bottle. “Here you go,” he said as he handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She offered the bottle to Elizabeth, who took it greedily.
Travis cleared his throat. “That’s a good sign, isn’t it? Being so eager for it?” He coughed. “I meant Lizzie, with the bottle….”
“I’m sure it’s a good sign.” Gwen swallowed hard. If she didn’t show any embarrassment over his comment, there didn’t have to be any.
“Yeah, a real good sign.”
“An excellent sign.” She sneaked a peek at him.
He stood watching her, not the baby, and the fire in his eyes was unmistakable. But the minute her gaze met his, he glanced away. “Weather’s nasty out.”
“Yes, nasty.” She looked quickly back at Elizabeth. “Good thing she seems to be getting better.”
“Yep, sure is.”
“I’ll take a turn in the sauna after she finishes her bottle,” Gwen said. “Then maybe she’ll sleep for a while.”
“That would be good.”
“Yes.” Good for Elizabeth, dangerous for her, Gwen thought. When Elizabeth was asleep, she and Travis had way too much time on their hands. She became aware of his breathing in the stillness of the room. She wanted him to put something on, damn it, but to ask would give her away.
And she dared not raise her glance again. Instead she blurted out the next thing that came into her head. “Have you ever noticed that apple juice is the same color as beer?” She closed her eyes in mortification. What an idiotic thing to say. Better to endure the thick silence than babble like an imbecile.
“I can’t say I ever did.” He sounded as if he was seriously considering the subject. “But now that you mention it, I�
�ll stay alert when I’m on apple juice detail, so we don’t accidentally get Lizzie ploughed.”
Now that she’d started this ridiculous conversational thread she decided to keep it going. “I didn’t think to offer you a beer with dinner. I have some in the refrigerator, though, if you’d like to have—”
“Thanks, but I decided to forgo booze this week. No point in taking a chance of being even slightly fuzz-brained while I’m in charge of the kid, especially now, when she’s sick.”
“That’s…that’s very responsible of you.”
“You sound surprised.” There was an edge of irritation to his voice.
She glanced up. “Sorry. It’s just that—”
“A guy like me couldn’t be expected to give up his quota of beer for the week?” A mix of anger and sexual awareness lit his gaze, and he looked like an avenging god standing there. “As if a few long-necks mean a damn to me compared to Lizzie’s welfare. I guess you haven’t figured out yet that I’d do anything for this kid.”
Gwen took a deep breath. “I apologize. I have figured that out. But you’re making me nervous. I’d appreciate it if you’d go put on a shirt.”
He looked confused for a minute. “A shirt?” Then understanding obviously dawned. “Oh. A shirt.”
“Please.”
He nodded. “Be right back.” He started out of the room.
“Take your time. I can handle Elizabeth for a while.” But I can’t handle you.
Travis walked into his room and picked up the shirt he’d thrown across the bed. He moved slowly, taking his time as Gwen had suggested. They both needed time apart to cool off.
Doggone it, he didn’t know how he was going to survive this. He’d never been in a situation like this one, where both parties wanted to make love but one of them, namely the woman, had reservations. Women had never had reservations about him before.
That was what made Gwen so special, he realized. She didn’t allow herself to be ruled by her desires. And neither did he. The thought amazed him, but once it had popped into his head, he knew it was true. Being around Lizzie had stirred up all sorts of desires he’d tried to bury, like the urge to get married and have a family, the urge to have a place of his own and not be on the move so much, the urge to grow old with one, special woman who was not his mother.
But he was smart enough to know that his mother wouldn’t mix well with another woman. She was as demanding as a spoiled saddle horse, as bossy as the oldest mare in the herd, as territorial as a mama cougar.
Travis’s father had always given Luann everything she wanted, and the result was that she required Travis’s undivided attention when he was around. She claimed to love the secluded cabin in Utah, and had said she’d never consider moving.
His commitment to his father left him with no choice but to forget marriage for the time being, and maybe for good.
Gwen wanted a husband, and he envied the lucky son-of-a-bitch who would have that privilege. She’d make somebody one hell of a wife, one hell of a lover, one hell of a mother to their children. He couldn’t think about that too much or he might go a little crazy.
He was tucking in his shirt when he heard Lizzie start to cough again. He hurried into the other bedroom and nearly collided with Gwen.
“She started up again after I changed her diaper,” she said. “I’m taking her back into the steam.”
His stomach began to churn with anxiety as he listened to Lizzie’s barking cough. “What can I do?”
“Make us some coffee,” Gwen said. “I have a feeling we’ll be up most of the night with her.”
“Maybe it’s time to call Doc Harrison.”
“And take her out on those slick roads?”
He hesitated. “We could ask him to come here.”
“We could, and we will, if the steam treatments stop working. But I’ve watched parents go through this when they’ve been unlucky enough to have a kid get sick on vacation here at Hawthorne House. They’ve told me it’s usually a matter of accepting that you’ll have a sleepless night and keeping watch. Waiting it out, basically.”
“I hate her being sick. I can deal with anything else, but this is the pits.”
“I know.” Gwen’s smile was determined. “Welcome to parenthood.”
He made a face. “I’ll bet this is the part that makes you old and gray before your time. I’ll go make the coffee.” He headed down the stairs. Behind him the bathroom door closed and the water came on.
Lizzie would help keep him in check where Gwen was concerned, he thought as he started making the coffee, but he’d trade a thousand frustrating nights with Gwen in exchange for Lizzie being well. If she turned even slightly worse, he was calling Doc Harrison and telling him to get his butt over here.
TRAVIS NEVER DID call the doctor, although he came close two or three times. But finally, about four in the morning, Lizzie seemed to be over the hump. She felt cooler to his now-experienced touch, and her cough didn’t come nearly as often. Best of all, it was a normal cough, and not the harsh croupy one he’d learned to hate the sound of.
“Let’s see what happens if we put her down for a while.” Gwen carried a drowsy Lizzie over to the crib and laid her gently on her tummy.
The baby’s eyelids fluttered and closed. Her breathing seemed almost normal.
“Thank God,” Travis murmured as he stood by the crib. His nerves were strung tight with worry and too much caffeine.
“I think we made it,” Gwen said. “Let’s sneak out and see if she stays asleep.”
“Go ahead. I’m gonna watch a little longer and make sure she doesn’t start up again.” He’d lost count of the number of times they’d left the room and started down the stairs, only to turn right around when Lizzie had started coughing. They’d taken turns with the steam in the bathroom, and the wallpaper seams had all begun to curl from the constant moisture.
Travis felt a little like a swamp creature, himself, although he’d been careful to put his shirt back on each time after Gwen had reminded him about it. She’d stayed dressed, of course, and each time she’d come out of the steamy bathroom with her blouse plastered to her breasts, he’d had to turn away and get control of himself.
“Do you want any more coffee?” she whispered softly from the doorway.
“God, no. I think I’ll be awake for a week as it is.”
“I could brew some chamomile tea.”
He glanced at her standing in the doorway, wanting to help, and gratitude softened his response. “Thanks, but I’m not really into the herbal tea scene.”
She smiled. “Hot chocolate?”
“Maybe.” God, she was beautiful. The steam had taken all the curl out of her hair, and it spilled over her shoulders and down to the sweet rise of her breasts in one smooth river of black. He knew what he wanted from her, and it sure wasn’t hot chocolate. “Let’s see if she stays asleep.”
“I’ll be downstairs.”
He watched her go, his body aching with the need to hold her. He’d just have to get over it.
WITH EVERY STEP Gwen took down the stairs away from Travis, she became more sure that she would make love to him. That is, if he would have her, and she thought there was a good chance he would.
Watching his tireless dedication to Elizabeth through the long hours of the night had worn away the last of her resistance and replaced it with admiration. She was lucky enough to have a rare and wonderful man under her roof, and she’d be a fool to miss the opportunity he offered.
He’d told her he couldn’t give her more than pleasure. She no longer believed him. She’d seen the depth of his character tonight, his capacity for patience, courage…and love. If he could give of himself to a child, he could do the same with a woman, the right woman.
Gwen believed she was the right woman. People so often gave to others what they wished for themselves. Because she’d been with Travis through this harrowing crisis with the baby, she knew something about Travis that no other woman did. She knew what he wis
hed for, even if he didn’t know it himself.
Carefully she prepared the hot chocolate…and waited.
IF HE HAD any sense, he’d stay upstairs, Travis thought. He could lie on that frilly canopy bed for a while. Even if he was too wired to sleep, he could try and get some rest. Ha. Rest was out of the question with Gwen in the house.
As of this moment, making love to her seemed like the only thing in the world worth doing. He wondered if that was a normal reaction parents had after going through a night of worry over a kid. What a comfort that would be, to turn to each other and celebrate making it through the ordeal.
He thought they had made it through. For the first time since yesterday Lizzie’s cheeks weren’t flushed deep rose. Instead they were a soft, healthy pink. He stood by the crib listening to her steady breathing and the knot in his gut loosened. Yes, she was better, really better. Earlier he’d only been hoping she was better, but now he knew, in the same way he knew when he’d finally made the exact right adjustment on the carburetor of his truck.
He’d had to go through this whole night constantly gauging her condition to become an expert, but now he was one. He knew something about taking care of Lizzie that Matty and Sebastian didn’t know. That made him feel pretty damn good. Wonderful, in fact.
His step was light as he walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Gwen stood at the stove, her back to him as she stirred what smelled like hot chocolate in a pan on the stove. Steam rose from the pan.
“Lizzie’s better,” he announced happily. “I’m sure of it.”
Gwen switched off the burner and turned, a smile on her face.
Her smile knocked him for a loop, and he couldn’t have explained why if somebody had held a gun to his head. All he knew was that he wanted her so much it was making him dizzy. He didn’t dare say anything as he waited for the feeling to pass. Maybe he’d hurt women before, like she’d said, but he damned sure wasn’t going to hurt her.
Her lips moved, but he couldn’t hear her with the buzzing in his ears. She walked toward him with the most amazing light in her eyes, and then she laid both hands flat against his chest.
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