The Beauty, the Beast and the Baby (Man of the Month)

by Dixie Browning

  She was ruining her hands washing clothes and dishes, letting her face get all chapped and sunburned from grubbing in the yard and hanging her wash out on a line.

  It never occurred to him that Mariah might not appreciate his gifts. Gus had always been generous with his women, buying them gifts of jewelry, perfume, candy, flowers…even clothing. Lisa had had a weakness for expensive lingerie, big blue opals and good champagne.

  So maybe the things Mariah needed right now happened to be a little more practical than they were romantic. What difference did that make?

  Leaving the dishes to soak, he took over Jessie’s bath, edging Mariah aside to kneel beside the bathtub. “Don’t try to lift her with that hand of yours, she’s slippery as an eel. Here, let Uncle Gus take care of…hey, don’t eat the soap, possum! It doesn’t taste half as good as it smells.”

  “Eel? Possum? She’s going to have an identity crisis if you’re not careful. Mariah held a towel and Gus lifted the baby onto her lap. “Hand me the powder, will you?”

  Frowning, he watched her stand the baby on her lap and slap baby powder on her tiny pink rear end. Worried, he watched as she fastened on a diaper and tugged a minuscule undershirt over her head. As a rule, Jessie enjoyed the whole process, but tonight nothing seemed to suit her. She seemed to want to chew on everything.

  “I think I was right about the tooth,” Mariah murmured, and he nodded sagely. “Her gum looks a little swollen, right there, see?”

  Together, they settled her with a bottle, and then Gus finished the dishes. Deliberately, he forced himself to think about the job waiting for him on the coast. Two cottages, each in the two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar range, was a plum for any contractor. ATW Construction had an excellent record for finishing up under budget and ahead of schedule. After years of struggling to get established, he could more or less choose his clients now, varying jobs between the coast and the mountains. There was nothing to tie him down to any one location. He had a good working relationship with building inspectors, subcontractors, suppliers and county bureaucrats in both ends of the state. He was a free-ranging bachelor with no dependents, and he liked his life just fine the way it was.

  And if he knew what was good for him, he thought ruefully, he’d get back to business and forget a certain woman who was not only a major puzzle, but a major distraction.

  It was impossible to sleep. Gus thought maybe he’d caught his restlessness from Jessie. He lay awake on an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar bedroom, on sheets that smelled of sunshine instead of laundry detergent. With the window open, he could hear the faint whisper of wind in the pines, and the soft, curious cry of a barn owl.

  At home he would be listening to the sound of the small spring that tumbled over a ro cky ledge just outside his window. At the coast, he would be hearing the soothing sound of the surf.

  Oboy. A place like this could screw up a man’s thinking before he even knew what had hit him. What was that old song about “Georgia On My Mind?”

  Time to move on, he thought for the hundredth time. He’d get a good night’s sleep, make a few calls in the morning, and then head north. Thus having settled things in his mind, Gus set about forcing his body to relax.

  Gus never knew how much later it was when he came wide awake, hearing the plaintive sound of Jessie’s whimper, the soft sound of Mariah’s murmured response. He was out of bed like a shot. This time he took the time to step into a pair of khakis and zip them up.

  “What’s wrong?” he whispered, hurrying into the room next door. “Is she sick?”

  “Shh, no, she doesn’t feel feverish. I’m pretty sure she’s just cutting another tooth. Basil said it made her cranky. She’s been chewing on everything even more than usual.”

  Mariah sat on the edge of the bed, holding the baby in her arms. Humming tunelessly under her breath, she swayed back and forth.

  Gus tiptoed into the living room and returned a moment later with a rocking chair that looked about ready for a three-thousand-mile checkup.“ Here, this’ll be easier on your back,” he said. He lifted the baby and waited until Mariah was seated in the rocker, placed her in her arms and then sat on the edge of the bed.

  “You don’t have to stay. Go back to bed,” Mariah whispered.

  “You might need something.”

  Mariah did need something, but she didn’t think Gus was ready to supply it. For all the help he had been, he’d be leaving most any day now. He’d been threatening to leave ever since he’d pulled into her driveway.

  The past week had been a learning experience. Unfortunately, she hadn’t learned until it was too late that playing ho use with a man and a baby could be hazardous to a woman’s health.

  Especially when that man was Gus Wydowski.

  It was almost funny, she mused sadly as she rocked and hummed, while Gus watched from the edge of her rumpled bed. In the faint glow of a pink night-light he looked tough and untamed, completely out of his element. Which, oddly enough, made him seem almost vulnerable. He would never in this world have made it as a male model, and yet…

  As a girl, Mariah had dreamed the usual dreams about growing up and being swept off her feet by a handsome prince and living happily ever after. Pity she hadn’t realized until it was too late that not all princes were handsome and wealthy and well-dressed and charming. Some were shaggy and bearded and tough, with callused hands and baggy khakis and smiles so sweet they melted their way right into a woman’s heart before she could defend herself.

  “She’s asleep,” Gus whispered, and she nodded sadly, not quite ready to relinquish the satisfaction of holding a baby’s warm body close to her heart. If that was all she could hold…

  “I’ll put her down”, he said, and she stood, sensing something in the quiet purposef ulness of his voice that set her pulse to pounding so hard she could ac tually hear the sound.

  Mariah had had Basil put the crib in her own room to make sure she would hear if Jessie wakened in the night. Now she folded back the rabbit-print spread, and stood back for Gus to put her down.

  The pale light gleamed on his broad back as he leaned over the crib, and Mariah marveled all over again at what a strange man he was. To think she’d once suspected he might be an escaped or newly released prisoner. He’d lost his pallor now that he’d finally found a few days of sun. She fancied he’d even gained a pound or two, thanks to her good country cooking.

  He touched her arm, sensitizing every nerve ending in her body.“Come on, let’s get out of here so she can settle down again.”

  “Go to bed, Gus.” Had that thin, wavering voice come from her throat?

  “Mariah.”

  She shivered. If she followed him out of the room, she was afraid of what might happen. Afraid ’it would—even more afraid it wouldn’t. Ever since he’d kissed her outside that miserable little convenience store in Florida, something had been building between them. Maybe it was time to turn and face the music.

  Gus turned and walked out. After only the briefest hesitation, Mariah took a deep breath, followed him into the hall and closed the door quietly behind her.…He was standing just outside the door. Wordlessly, he opened his arms and, as the last shred of common sense she possessed faded like river mist under a hot summer sun, Mariah moved into his embrace.

  No more waiting, she thought with a feeling made of equal parts apprehension and relief. He was going to kiss her again, and she was going to kiss him right back. They were going to make love, and she suspected she might wake up alone a few hours from now. By next week—by next month—she might even be able to convince herself she had dreamed the whole thing.

  So be it.

  “Tonight,” Gus whispered as his arms closed around her.“ Just give me tonight and I won’t ask for more.”

  Ask! Ask! she cried silently.

  Gus never knew which one of them made the first move, but suddenly his mouth found hers and he was backing her into the room he slept in. He was shaking so hard he could scarcely walk. Get a gr
ip, Wy-dowski! Don’t blow it now!

  He bumped against a chair in the darkness, jostling them apart, and they both laughed a little breath lessly. He aimed a kiss for her mouth, missed and caught the side of her nose, so then he moved on to her eyes and her temple, and that was wonderful, too. Her hair smelled like sunshine and shampoo. Her skin was soft and smooth as butter and smelled of the lilac soap she used. He wanted to kiss her everywhere all at once, wanted to love every exquisite inch of her body—wanted to leave with a memory that would last them both long after this night.

  Because after tonight, he would be gone. After tonight, be would have to go, else he might never be able to walk away. There was no future for them. Gus had been down this same road before, and he knew where it ended.

  “Mariah,” he whispered hoarsely, his lips buried in her throat as he urged her toward the bed.

  “Shh, don’t talk. I don’t want to think about anything but this. Gus, just make love to me…please?”

  Even knowing what he knew about her, he was surprised. Suddenly struck by a crazy notion, he said, “Mariah…you, uh, you have done this before, haven’t you? I mean, you’re not a—”

  “A virgin?” She gave a husky little gasp of laughter. “Good gracious, of course not! I’ve had lots and lots of experience!” If one weekend in Savannah with a garden-tractor salesman who wore his socks to bed could be considered lots of experience. Before she’d even got airborne, Vance had been snoring. She’d never even got off the launch pad. “But, Gus, I’m not taking any pills or anything.”

  He laughed raggedly. “I’m not, either, but I’ve got something in my bag. Give me a minute, will you?” He needed the minute to pull himself together. Damn! He felt like a ton of black powder on a short fuse!

  She was still standing beside the bed when he reached out again, still wearing her cotton nightgown. He’d never slept with a woman who wore cotton to bed. Most of them wore a few scraps of something sinfully sexy if they wore anything at all.

  Slowly he lifted her gown up over her hips, over her breasts, over her head, savoring every whisper of cloth against skin. His khakis followed her gown to the floor. They were standing beside the bed, and he lowered her car efully and then came down beside her. He was shaking like a leaf. He’d wanted this since almost the first time he’d laid eyes on her. The feeling had intensified until it was all he could think about.

  Now that fantasy was about to become reality, he didn’t want to entertain any second thoughts.

  As her eyes adjusted to the wisp of moonlight that flowed in through the open window like a silent silver tide, Mariah gazed up at his wide, powerful shoulders, at the dark, diamond-shaped thicket that covered his chest. Most of the men she’d known as a model shaved their bodies. She had never before realized just how exciting masculine body hair could be.

  With a boldness that came from somewhere outside her experience, she reached up and touched his chest. Her fingernail scraped one of his flat nipples and it peaked instantly. She heard the sound of his sharply indrawn breath, felt him thrust against her lower body—knew a swift surge of pleasure that her touch could cause such a powerful reaction.

  She longed to explore his body all over, but didn’t quite dare. It took more than a few months’ exposure to the glamorous, sophisticated world of modeling to overcome a lifetime of doubt and inhibition.

  “Gus, I—”

  “What, sweetheart? What do you like?”

  “You,” she said simply, and thrilled when he surged again. Her belly was pressed against him, their legs entwined. From the waist up, they leaned outward. Gus’s gaze moved down over her breasts, and she inhaled deeply, wishing chest size could make up for a lack of breast size. Not that either measurement was much to brag about.

  Gus thought she was the most exquisite woman he had ever known. The pictures had lied. The real Mariah was far more than a body put on display for the world to admire. More beautiful, more real and far more complex.

  And tonight, for just a few hours, all this loveliness, all this sexiness, all this sweetness was his alone. After tonight—

  But he wasn’t going to think about after tonight.

  She was so damned delicately made. “I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.” He trailed a fingertip over the swell of her breast, feeling the tight little bud pull even tighter under his caress. He heard her breath catch in her throat, felt a film of perspiration break out over his body.

  “You won’t hurt me, Gus. I’m not exactly fragile.” She assayed a little laugh that didn’t quite come off.

  Fragile. She was that, all right, no matter what else she was. Brittle could be hard, but it could also be breakable. Gus desperately wanted to take it slow, to make it last, for both their sakes, but he wasn’t sure just how long he could hang on. He could feel the heat of her against his groin, burning him, drawing him deeper and deeper under her spell.

  “Wait, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Wait a minute!” He eased back slightly, afraid of disgracing himself.

  And then she reached her hand down between them. Her fingers curled around his shaft and she whispered, “Please, I want to touch you.”

  He nearly exploded. He must have, made some sort of strangledsound, because she jerked her hand away as if she’d been burned.

  She probably had. He was hot enough.

  “Gus, please don’t change your mind now,” she whispered.

  A mind? What was a mind? His aching, throbbing groin had a mind of its own. He took her mouth hungrily in a kiss that was feverish and hungry and achingly sensual. Fumbling in the darkness with one hand, he tried to rip open a small foil packet. It wasn’t easy. Her legs were all around him, and she was hot and silky. The intoxicating essence of sex and lilacs drifted up around him, nearly driving him over the edge.

  “Slow down, sweetheart,” he grated. He wanted to touch her first, to bring her to readiness. He wanted to kiss her, to taste her, to fill his senses with the woman who was Sara Mariah Brady. To fill her senses with him.

  But Mariah had no intention of slowing down. She knew in her heart that he would leave her tomorrow. Once, a wild bird had flown into a windowpane and fallen stunned to the ground. She’d been able to hold him for just a little while. But holding him for a fleeting moment hadn’t made him tame. Nor had it made him hers.

  Gus’s hands moved down her body and she lifted her hips. Any small store of pride she had once possessed was long gone. She wanted him now. Needed him now! “Gus…please?”

  And then he touched her in a way that made her explode into flames. Shuddering, she gasped his name just as he came inside her, and once again the earth began to spin out of control. Her eyes wide open, she stared up at him. In the dim, silvery light she saw the harsh set of his features, the look of pain that twisted his face into an unfamiliar mask. His breathing was raw, each separate breath broken by a series of small, shuddering gasps. He muttered something—prayer or profanity, she couldn’t be sure. Then he collapsed on top of her.

  She bore his weight willingly, wrapping him in her arms until he rolled over, pulling her with him, holding her the way a drowning man would hold on to a life raft.

  To her amazement Mariah found that this was even sweeter in its own way than the wild explosion of pleasure that was so fierce it was almost unbearable.

  “Yes-ss….” he whispered harshly.

  Yes, she thought, knowing even then that the ultimate answer would be no.

  Nine

  Gus woke instantly. He’d been miles under for the first timein weeks—maybe in years. Good sex could do that for a man. Good, as in terrific. As in the best.

  It was still pitch-dark outside. It’s always darkest before the dawn. The words popped into his head, and he wondered who had said them. And then he wondered why it mattered.

  What mattered was why he’d come clean out of a deep sleep when he knew damned well be hadn’t set any alarm clocks.

  Beside him, Mariah’s breathing was slow and soft and regular. One of
her arms was flung over his belly, her face buried against his shoulder. She smelled faintly of scented soap, faintly of sex. He felt himself growing hard all over again and wondered if he was up to another round. Wondered if she was too tender.

  He hadn’t gone easy on her, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t nearly as experienced as she wanted him to believe.

  But then, she hadn’t gone easy on him, either. Especially not that last time.

  He closed his eyes and let the memory of the past few hours flood over him again. The heat. The driving, striving, throbbing, aching urgency. And then the fiery, incredibly sweet release.

  Sweet salvation. And he’d thought he knew it all. Thought there could be no more surprises.

  It occurred to him that he couldn’t remember the last time he had wakened with a woman in his bed that he didn’t have a niggling sense of depression. No matter how good the sex had been. No matter that it had been between consenting adults who fully understood and appreciated basic biology. Not to mention basic reality.

  Mariah stirred in her sleep and he looked down at her with a feeling uncomfortably close to possessive-ness.

  He felt good. Better than good, he felt righteous!

  And then, “What the hell is that?” he muttered suddenly, freezing with his hand hovering over her breast.

  That wasn’t Jessie he’d heard. Not unless she was taking her crib apart slat by slat and throwing the pieces on the floor. Without even pausing to think, Gus slid silently out of bed. His foot tangled in his discarded khakis and he pulled them on and hastily zipped them up.

  Good thinking, wydowski. You don’t want to walk into any surprise party with your bare facts hanging out.

  “Stay put, sweetheart,” he mouthed in the darkness when he heard Mariah murmur his name in her sleep. Moving swiftly, silently, he glanced in both directions along the hallway before easing into the room Jessie shared with Mariah.

  The room smelled familiarly of woman things and baby things. In the dim glow from the pink night-light, he gazed down into the crib, feeling a powerful surge of protectiveness at the sight of Jessie’s small body. She was sleeping soundly in her favorite position: belly down, butt in the air, one fist shoved into her mouth.