by Unknown
“I’ll take care of it. I can pick Jessie up and take her to your mom’s house or to one of your sisters’.”
“No, you can’t. The whole family has packed up and gone to Fort Worth for the horse show, remember? You and I were too busy to join them.”
He didn’t remember, but he tried to think of someone else to care for Jessie. Helga was off on Friday afternoons and Millie Hasso, who cleaned the house, wouldn’t want to deal with a baby. “What about one of your friends?”
“I can’t get anyone,” she said.
Panic gripped him. Jessie cried every time he picked her up, and he couldn’t imagine caring for her by himself for even an hour. “Savannah—”
“Please, Mike. Surely you can manage one little baby for a couple of hours.”
“Savannah, this isn’t one of your practical jokes, is it?”
“I swear it’s not! I need your help desperately and Constance needs to go.”
“Damn. All right, but you get there as fast as you can—and I better not find out this is a joke.”
“Mike, it’s not. Will you call Constance and tell her that you’re coming? And thanks!” The phone clicked and Savannah was gone.
He glanced at his watch and lengthened his stride as he moved to his car. He called Constance on his cell and told her he would be there as fast as possible.
As he drove to Stallion Pass, he thought about the things he had planned to do the remainder of the afternoon. As soon as he could, he’d make some calls.
At the house, Constance was standing at the back door. She waited with her purse hooked over her shoulder and her books in her arms.
“Thanks, Mike, for coming so quickly. I’m sorry, but I have to run.”
“I hope your father is all right and gets better quickly.”
“Thanks,” she said, walking backward as she talked to him. “Jessie is asleep. There are bottles in the fridge, and baby food is on the counter.”
“Sure. Take all the time you need with your dad.”
She nodded as she ran to her car.
Having seen how messy it could be to feed Jessie, Mike changed into jeans and a T-shirt and then sat down to make his calls, praying Jessie slept until Savannah showed up. Of all times for her entire family to go to a horse show! What rotten luck.
Just as he finished his last call, he heard Jessie’s wails over the intercom. He hurried to the nursery and found her bawling and kicking. She wore a rumpled red jumper and a white knit shirt. Her brown curls were matted with perspiration and her face matched her jumper.
“Shh, baby,” he said, picking her up. She only screamed louder. “I’m sorry, but you’ve got me today. Let’s get you changed and fed.” He carried her to the changing table.
It took three diapers and a multitude of tries before he got a diaper on her that looked as if it would stay. By that time her screams and kicks were worse than ever.
“Shh, sweet baby. I’m doing the best I can,” he said softly, feeling panicky and wanting to put her in the car and drive to a neighbor’s for help, but he didn’t know the neighbors. If he had met them at the wedding reception, he didn’t remember them.
“Oh, saints preserve us, Savannah, get home!” he muttered to himself. “Dammit, woman, you got me into this!” He changed his tone, trying to talk softly, coax Jessie to stop crying.
He got her a bottle, heated it and held it for her, tucking her into the crook of his arm. She shoved it away, still screeching, and Mike’s panic mushroomed. What could he do to calm her? Her face was beet red and she was beginning to gurgle as she cried, and he was scared she would choke.
He could not remember ever feeling so scared, so out of control. He had been more in control when he was under fire from a sniper. At least he could shoot back or try to get away, but he didn’t know of anything he could do here.
“Sweet baby,” he crooned, singing what he knew of a lullaby he had heard Savannah sing, but Jessie didn’t seem to like his singing. He got the bouncy baby chair and set it on the table, then buckled her into it and bounced it, all the while pleading softly with her.
“Please, please, stop crying, sweetie. Please, I’m doing the best I can. I don’t know whether something hurts you or you’re angry to be stuck with me. But please, Jessie, stop crying.”
He opened a jar of applesauce and tried to feed her, but she batted it away angrily and in minutes it was spattered on his shirt, the floor and the table. Mike grabbed a paper towel and mopped up. Okay, so much for trying to feed her solids.
He picked up the newspaper that lay on the table and hid behind it, then popped out and said, “Peek-a-boo!”
To his amazement, her eyes widened and her cries diminished. He tried it again and she hiccupped, then shuddered and took a deep breath. He popped out from behind the paper and she laughed, a big laugh that shook her whole body, and suddenly Mike felt as if he had saved the world.
“Ah, sweetie, you are a doll!” he said, hiding behind the paper and popping out again, getting another big laugh from her. “Golly, I need to get the camera!” he said. “Your mama will never believe this.” He gave a silent prayer of thanks that Jessie was happy.
After a couple more peek-a-boos, Mike unbuckled her from the baby chair and picked her up again, offering her the bottle. This time Jessie grabbed it, and he brought her into the family room to rock her.
He settled her in the crook of his arm, tucking a towel under her chin while she sucked happily. Her tiny fingers played over the bottle and he marveled at them, seeing why Savannah was so fascinated by the baby. She was a beautiful little girl. He touched her tiny hand lightly, and her fingers closed around his index finger. He looked at her to see her watching him.
“You are a sweetie,” he said softly.
She smiled at him and then went back to sucking the nipple, and Mike’s heart melted. He leaned down to kiss the top of her head.
He rocked and sang softly, holding her on his shoulder to let her burp as he had seen Savannah do and rocking her until she finished her bottle. He spread a blanket on the floor and put some of her toys on it, then sat down to play with her, making her laugh again.
It was after ten o’clock that night before Savannah unlocked the door and stepped inside. The house was quiet and she called softly, “Mike?”
When she went upstairs, she saw a light spilling through the open door to Jessie’s room.
Savannah paused in the doorway. Mike was in the rocker, holding Jessie against his chest. They were both asleep. She wondered how he had gotten along. She put down her things and crossed the room to take Jessie from him. The minute she leaned over him, his eyes opened. Then his hand closed around her arm.
“You’re home,” he said in a deep, sleep-filled voice.
“Yes, and I didn’t mean to wake you. I’ll put her in the crib.”
“I can do that,” he said, and Savannah stepped back as Mike got to his feet and placed Jessie down gently.
“Thanks so much, Mike.”
He nodded his head toward the door. “Let’s go down the hall where we can talk without waking her.”
Savannah picked up her things and moved down the hall beside him, lengthening her stride. In the family room, Mike turned on a small lamp and crossed to the bar. “What would you like to drink?”
“A soda. Anything wet and cold.”
“Did you have dinner?
“No, but I don’t want any now,” she said. “How did you get along?”
“We got along fine,” he answered.
“Fine?” Savannah’s brows arched. “It doesn’t look like it,” she said, laughing as she gestured at all the food stains on his shirt.
“We did get along,” Mike assured her. “She just didn’t want to eat any applesauce when she first woke up.”
Mike carried glasses of ice and soda to the sofa and motioned for her to come sit. Savannah kicked off her shoes, shed her suit coat and let her hair down, shaking her head. As she turned, she found Mike watching her with th
at quiet intensity she found so unnerving.
“You’re beautiful, Savannah.”
“Thank you.” She smiled at him and sat down facing him, folding her legs beneath her. She ran her fingers across her forehead.
“Headache?”
“A little. But it’s just this one case. We need to do more research.”
He listened, and while she talked he set his drink on the coffee table and took hers from her. “Lie down, and I’ll give you a back rub,” he said.
“I’d welcome that. Though I may fall asleep during it. I’m exhausted, and I have to go into the office tomorrow to work on the case. I’m meeting Troy at eight in the morning. Do you mind taking care of Jessie one more time?”
“No, I don’t,” he replied, surprised to realize he looked forward to the idea.
When he stood, Savannah stretched out on the sofa on her stomach, scooting over so he could sit beside her. He began to massage her shoulders. “You’re tense.”
“It’s been a tense day. You actually got along all right with Jessie?” she asked dubiously.
“Yep, after a hair-raising thirty minutes or so, she decided she liked me.”
Savannah turned her head to smile at him. “I’m glad. I knew she’d come around. If you were taking care of me, I wouldn’t scream and holler.”
She turned her head back and her hair hid her face. Mike pulled strands out of the way and saw that her eyes were closed. He began to massage her back again. He leaned down by her ear. “Someday, I’ll know what you’ll do when I’m ‘taking care of you,”’ he said in a husky voice. He moved her hair to trail kisses along her nape.
“What happened to the back rub?” she murmured sleepily, and he sat up to continue rubbing her back. In minutes she was breathing evenly and had fallen asleep.
Mike covered her with a light blanket, pausing to look down at her. Desire smoldered in him and he wanted to carry her to bed, but he knew she was exhausted and might have another trying day tomorrow. He left the room, switching off the lamp as he went.
Savannah stirred, coming awake. She sat up disoriented, and then remembered Mike’s giving her a massage. A glance at her watch showed it was almost one o’clock in the morning. Moving to her room, she was too tired to change, so she pulled off her jewelry, her panty hose and skirt, falling into bed in her undies, her half-slip and her silk blouse.
It seemed only minutes before Savannah was wakened again, this time by Jessie’s loud cries. Concerned that the baby had been crying a long time, Savannah raced to the nursery and picked Jessie up. In minutes she had her quiet and changed, and she carried the baby to the kitchen to get a bottle.
Only the light over the stove was on, but it was sufficient to see. As she got a bottle and warmed it in the microwave, Mike came in the door.
She gasped in surprise. “You startled me,” she said, eyeing him and realizing he had come in from outside. He was dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt and black boots; a pair of black gloves was tucked into his waistband.
“You’ve been out?” she asked, frowning.
Eight
H e didn’t answer for a moment and she realized how intently he was looking at her. Then she became conscious of her lack of clothing.
“Yeah, I’ve been out,” he replied at last, crossing the room to her. Jessie had grabbed the bottle and was busily sucking on it while Savannah held her. Savannah’s pulse jumped and she couldn’t take her eyes off Mike.
“Where on earth have you been?” she asked, knowing he didn’t have to answer to her about his whereabouts at night or any other time. “I didn’t expect to see you,” she said breathlessly. “You never wake up when Jessie cries.”
She realized the top three buttons to her silk blouse were unfastened, and she reached up to fasten them. Mike’s fingers closed over her hand, and her gaze flew up to meet his smoldering dark eyes.
“Leave it, Savannah,” he said huskily. He leaned down to trail his tongue along the open V of her blouse.
Tingles radiated from his touch, centering low inside her. “Mike, I have to feed Jessie,” she protested, but her voice was faint.
He straightened to look at her and the desire in his eyes made her heart thud. “Go feed her.” He stepped aside and she left him, and it wasn’t until she was seated in the rocker in the nursery that she remembered Mike had never answered where he had been.
Now she was wide awake, stirred by his tongue on her bare skin, desire a hot flame that burned away any exhaustion she had experienced earlier.
She fed Jessie, rocked her back to sleep and placed her in her crib, leaning over to kiss her gently. When she turned, she was startled for a second time that evening by Mike, who was leaning against the doorjamb.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked, her pulse racing.
“I wanted to see you when you finished feeding Jessie.”
“Let me get my robe,” she said, but when she reached the door, Mike’s arm shot out, blocking her way. She looked up at him.
“I seem to remember some unfinished business…”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around her and covering her mouth with his.
“Mike,” she twisted away to protest, but his mouth covered hers again and she went up in flames. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she felt as if all the hunger and passion and desire that had been building in him had been poured into his kiss. His tongue played with hers, stroking, thrusting with an insistence that shook her. Hunger for him mushroomed, escalating beyond anything she had ever imagined.
He walked her backward through the open door into her room, then he kicked the door shut behind them.
His fingers twisted loose the pearl buttons on her silk blouse, and he shoved the blouse off her shoulders. While her heart drummed in anticipation, her blouse fell with a soft whisper around her ankles. Mike leaned back to yank off his black T-shirt and toss it aside. With a deft flick of his wrist, he unfastened the clasp of her bra and pushed it away.
Frustration and longing destroyed caution. Every night she dreamed of Mike, longed for him every day and tingled with every physical contact. She wanted his kisses and caresses. She wanted to touch and kiss him, and she yearned to reach him on a deeper level to create more than the casual bonding they shared now.
Savannah ran her hands over his smooth, sculpted chest. As she did, he cupped her breasts in his large tanned hands, and she could hear the sharp intake of his breath. His thumbs drew lazy circles on her nipples.
Savannah gasped at the sensations bombarding her. She grasped his upper arms, clinging as she trembled with a need that threatened to consume her.
“Mike, please…” she whispered.
“Please what? Do you want this?” he said, leaning down to take her nipple in his mouth and circle the taut bud with his tongue.
She moaned, throwing back her head, drowning in desire that raged like a bonfire.
“Or do you want this, Savannah?” He tugged up her half-slip with one hand while his other arm held her around the waist. His fingers brushed her lightly between the legs, and she cried out, arching her hips toward him, unable to resist him.
She clung to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world spinning out of control.
“Answer me,” he insisted in a lazy murmur. “What do you like? Do you like my hand here?” His fingers slid inside her panties to stroke her intimately.
She gasped, her back arching while she moaned softly. She wanted him with an intensity she had never known before. If she didn’t want heartbreak, however, he was as forbidden to her as owning the moon. She ran her hands across his broad shoulders, down over his flat, muscled stomach. She opened her eyes to see mirrored in his the desire she felt. Kissing him passionately, she wanted to devour him. She wanted to give herself completely to him, even knowing that would be disaster.
Through his jeans, she could feel his thick hard shaft against her, and she cou
ldn’t resist moving her hips, pressing against him as closely as she could.
Winding her fingers in his hair, her heart thudding, she fought an inner battle to stop succumbing to his seduction before she was hopelessly lost.
He shifted slightly, his hand trailing down, caressing her breast, her nipple, his fingers trailing lower over her hip, pushing away the half-slip.
She caught his wrist. “Mike,” she gasped, “wait. You’re going too fast for me.”
“This isn’t too fast, Savannah. You want this,” he said, his fingers sliding beneath her panties to stroke her intimately. “Tell me you don’t. Tell me to stop.”
She knew she should stop him, but his caresses were storming her logic, sending desire into an all-consuming need. “Mike,” she whispered, wanting him.
Knowing that in seconds she would be beyond return, she twisted and caught his arm, opening her eyes to find him watching her with a blazing hunger that was as devastating as his kisses.
“You have to stop! I’m not ready for what you want.”
He leaned down to kiss her throat, trailing kisses to her ear to whisper to her, “You tell me to stop, Savannah, and I’ll stop, but you don’t want to stop. You respond to me beyond my wildest yearnings.”
“I know I respond,” she gasped. “From that first day, there’s been a volatile chemistry between us, but I’ve told you, I’m not ready for a relationship on your terms.”
“We’re married,” he whispered, kissing her throat, cupping her breasts with his hands, then stroking her nipples in slow, erotic circles that drove her wild. “We’re married, compatible, cooperating—why have so much resistance to something we both want and something that could be so fantastic?”
“Because there’s too much about you I like,” she whispered, catching his face in her hands and feeling the rough stubble on his jaw. “I don’t want to fall in love with you, Mike, and then watch you walk out on me later. Delight today doesn’t compensate for a world of pain in the future.”
“Then let’s enjoy each other without falling in love,” he whispered as he turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand.