He grinned, but his eyes remained serious. “Well, aside from the sex.”
She pressed his hand against her cheek and her heart swelled with love for him. “Oh, Travis, sex is only part of it. I need you to talk with me, work beside me, laugh with me. Especially that last part. I thought you knew that.”
“I didn’t. Not really. But I do now,” he said softly.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he murmured. Then he stood and leaned over her to kiss her on the forehead. “Rest now. I want you to get well.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “And you might as well know my motives aren’t pure, either.”
“You want a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls?”
He laughed. “You know how much I love those things.”
“Oh, I do.”
“But on the list of what I’m hungry for, they run a very distant second.” He winked and left the room.
Gwen lay there and battled extreme sexual frustration. Not only had she been forced to turn over her house to Luann, she’d had to pretend she wasn’t interested in making love to Travis. One lusty response on her part and he’d have suspected she’d been pretending to have the flu.
She still wasn’t sure how they’d made it through the times he’d helped her shower and wash her hair. He’d fought his arousal with such determination, and she’d felt like such a fraud. Yet apparently he’d benefitted from her fake illness as much as Luann had. Someday she’d tell him the truth about this weekend, but not yet, not when so much was still hanging in the balance.
Once the Ingrams were gone, Gwen planned to make a big deal about Luann’s help during the crisis and drop some heavy hints about how much easier it would be to run a bed and breakfast if two women lived here. And it would be, Gwen admitted grudgingly, although she hadn’t come to that conclusion without a struggle. Staying in this bed had taught her some things, too. She wondered if Matty had intended that it should.
Giving up control of her house had been one of the toughest things she’d ever done, but now she knew she could. And with luck, so did Luann.
Travis called late in the afternoon to say a waterline had sprung a leak at the ranch and fixing it would make him late getting home. The Ingrams had gone out for their anniversary dinner, and Gwen was still playing sick and eating small meals from a bed tray.
To Gwen’s delight, Luann chose to eat her dinner in Gwen’s bedroom. During the meal the older woman was positively chatty, talking easily about gardening, cleaning projects and recipes. Gwen couldn’t believe the change. She also realized how much she appreciated this kind of conversation, one she could never have with her own mother. Even Matty wasn’t into domestic topics that much, but Luann cared about the same things Gwen did. For the first time Gwen began to think of Luann as a bonus instead of a burden. It was a liberating thought.
Gwen wasn’t sure how long Luann would have stayed to talk, but Travis came home, tired and hungry, and she hurried to the kitchen to heat up his food. Gwen half expected him to bring his plate into the bedroom, too, but instead she heard chairs scrape in the kitchen, as if he and his mother had sat down at the kitchen table.
For one unworthy moment Gwen felt jealous. Then the moment passed. After all, she’d been working toward this very goal, mending the rift between mother and son. If they were choosing to talk alone in the kitchen, then she’d accomplished her mission. But she was dying to know what they were talking about. And who.
She pulled her Ouija board out from under the bed and set it on her lap. With the plastic piece under her fingertips she silently asked who the conversation was about. Sure enough, it slid across the alphabet to spell out her name.
Damn, but she wanted to hear what they were saying! Yet she couldn’t very well lurk at the door. If Travis came back in, she’d never make it back to the bed without him catching her. She put the board away and snuggled down into the covers.
Travis and Luann’s voices were hushed, and she couldn’t make out words at all. She’d just have to trust Travis to be diplomatic in his dealings with his mother, the way she’d had to trust Luann to take good care of her house guests. She heaved a sigh. Another lesson to learn.
Still she couldn’t help straining to hear. Finally the attempt to make out words amidst the steady drone of voices had a hypnotic effect, and she must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew the bedside light snapped off and Travis crawled into bed with her.
She turned sleepily to give him a good-night kiss. He kissed her back and there was so much restrained energy in that kiss that her eyes popped open. “Travis? Is everything all right?”
His whole body seemed to hum as he gathered her close. His voice was rich and deep in her ear. “She wants to stay.”
Gwen gasped and looked into his shadowed face. “She does?” She’d never in her wildest dreams imagined that Luann would capitulate of her own accord.
“She wants me to ask you if the offer is still open.”
Gwen let out a whoop of triumph.
“Hey.” Travis chuckled. “Don’t get too excited. You might trigger a relapse.”
Barely in time Gwen remembered her role. She coughed several times, as if the whoop had really taken the starch out of her.
“See?” Travis rubbed her back. “Look what you’ve done. Want some water?”
“No. No, thanks.” Her body warmed to his touch. “Oh, Travis, how wonderful. I’m thrilled that she wants to stay.”
“Me, too.” He continued to stroke her back. “I hate to say this, but it’s probably because you got sick.”
“Really.”
“Yeah. She admitted to me tonight that until that happened, she didn’t think there was a place for her here. But now she realizes what a drain this place can be on one woman. She can see that you really do need her if you’re going to try and run a bed and breakfast and raise a family, too.”
“And she’s so right!” Gwen snuggled against him. His muscular body felt so good pressed against hers. He’d worn a T-shirt and briefs to bed, as he’d been doing the entire time she’d been pretending to be sick. She wanted the underwear off.
Travis sighed and held her close, resting his cheek against the top of her head in an almost brotherly fashion. She gritted her teeth.
“Thank God she came to her senses,” he said. “I was trying to imagine our wedding without her there. It made me sort of sick to my stomach.”
“And now she can help us plan it.” Gwen envisioned the fun she and Luann would have making this an event to remember. And then would come the honeymoon. Gwen could hardly wait for that part.
“Oh, she wants to help plan it. But I warned her I’m looking for speed, here. Two weeks, tops.”
“Two weeks?” She raised her head to look up at him. “That’s not nearly enough time.”
“With you two on the job? It’s more than enough time, unless you think it’ll be tough on you, just getting over being sick and all.”
She rubbed her body against his. “That won’t be a problem. I’m practically well.”
“But not completely. Stop that.”
She slipped a hand up under his T-shirt. “I think I’m well enough.”
“I don’t know about this, Gwen.”
“I do.” She felt his nipples tighten under her caressing palm. “And I’ll bet you’d like to.”
“Uh…it’s possible.” His breathing grew labored. “Maybe we could try it, if we only use the missionary position and I’m very careful with you.”
Her heart raced and her body moistened just thinking about making love in some position, any position at all. “I think we could risk it.”
“Okay.” His voice was husky. “Easy now.” He rolled her slowly to her back and slid his hand under her sensible cotton nightgown. “After being sick for so long, you may be a little slow to…” He sucked in a breath as he encountered her moist heat. “Then again, maybe not.” As he stroked her beneath the gown, his breathing grew ragged. “Maybe I should leave this
on, so you don’t catch a chill.”
She wanted that nightgown gone. In fact, she’d be willing to burn it. “Let’s take it off and then I’ll put it back on, afterward.”
“If you’re sure.”
“With it on, I might become overheated.”
“Oh! I didn’t think of that. Well, then we should take it off.” He stopped caressing her long enough to work her nightgown carefully over her head. “Still okay?”
“Peachy. What about your clothes?” She reached for the elastic of his briefs.
“I’ll do it.” He slipped out of his briefs and took his T-shirt off over his head. “You’re only supposed to lie there and enjoy.”
“Yes, sir.” She quivered with anticipation.
“You’re shivering. Are you cold?”
“No. Yes. If you cover me with your body I’ll stay warm.”
“I can do that.” He started to move over her. “Wait. I need to get a con—”
“I don’t think you do.”
He went very still. “I don’t?”
“Didn’t you say two weeks?”
“Or less.”
“Then why bother with those silly things any more?”
A fine tremor passed through him. “Cover your eyes,” he said at last. “I’m turning on the light.”
“Okay.” She put her hand over her eyes as he leaned over to switch on the lamp. Slowly she uncovered her eyes to find him looking down at her with more focus and intensity than ever before. “Why did you want the light?” she asked.
His gaze never leaving hers, he moved over her. “Because I want to be able to look into your eyes while I make you pregnant with our baby.”
Desire swept through her. With a moan she grasped his hips and urged him forward.
He resisted her. “No. I’m taking this slow.”
“You don’t have to.” She was wild to have him inside her. “I’m really okay now.”
“I believe you. I’m taking it slow because I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life.” And with that he gradually eased into her, the flame in his eyes growing brighter and brighter, until at last he was settled, deep and secure within her.
He gazed into her eyes. No doubt about it. He was giving her The Look. “Forever,” he murmured.
Joyfully she took the promise into her heart. They would have a ceremony someday soon, with a minister and all of their loved ones, and she knew it would be beautiful and moving and important. But it would only be a formality.
Tonight they would exchange their vows.
She cupped his face in her hands. “Forever,” she whispered.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-6117-8
TWO IN THE SADDLE
Copyright © 2000 by Vicki Lewis Thompson.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
Visit us at www.eHarlequin.com
Two in the Saddle Page 18