The Baby Trail (Baby Bonds #2)

by Karen Rose Smith

  “Have a few minutes?” he asked.

  “Sure. Come on in.”

  Moments later they were standing in the living room and Garrett was removing his jacket. She supposed that was a good sign. Maybe. She wished she’d dressed in something other than her faded blue sweatsuit, but she’d never expected him to turn up at her door.

  Gingerly she sat on the sofa with him, though not very close. She couldn’t read whether he was upset, angry or maybe neither. That was the thing about Garrett. He had to tell her what he was thinking because she could never guess.

  Looking uncomfortable, he admitted, “I never should have said what I did on the phone. You and your father have to find your own way. I don’t have any right to interfere or judge what you’re doing.”

  “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

  His gaze shifted from her to the coffee table, then back to her. “You were right.”

  She wasn’t sure what she was right about, so she kept quiet.

  “A lot of my conversations with Cheryl ended because of the ring of the cell phone. Sometimes it couldn’t be helped, sometimes it could. What you said made me realize work gave me an excuse not to have the kind of discussions she wanted to have. Not to face our differences. Before I went to D.C., Cheryl called me. I had lunch with her there, and I think we got old baggage cleaned up.”

  He saw his ex-wife in D.C? But he was telling her about it. Just so the old baggage had been cleaned up rather than reopened.

  Better just to keep silent, listen and see where this led.

  “I don’t want to repeat the old pattern. But you’ve got to understand something, Gwen. I will never have a nine-to-five job. When that phone rings, if it’s a business wanting my services, yeah, I can put them on hold. I can wait to take the message. I can wait to return the call. But if it’s about a kid who’s gone missing and can’t be found, I go.”

  So he hadn’t come to talk about his ex-wife, but rather what Gwen could accept…or couldn’t. She thought carefully about his search-and-rescue trips.

  “I know that you have to go.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes. Do you realize that I felt betrayed because you didn’t tell me about my father?”

  “Betrayed is a strong word.”

  “Yes, it is. But it’s what I felt. I felt the same way when I realized Mark had kept things from me. He had doubts and he didn’t bring them up. He realized his feelings for me weren’t strong enough, and he didn’t tell me.”

  Garrett’s gaze was on her again and he shifted closer. “Men don’t like to discuss. They’d rather do other things.”

  “Garrett—” she said with some exasperation.

  Closer still, he slid his hand to her neck and pulled her to him. “I get what you’re telling me. But you also have to understand I gave your dad my word.”

  “I understand,” she admitted, knowing that was one of the qualities about Garrett she loved. He was a man of his word.

  “If I kiss you,” he murmured, “I’m not going to want to stop.”

  “There are disadvantages to having housemates,” Gwen agreed.

  “Come over to my place tomorrow night,” he suggested gruffly.

  “I can’t. I asked Dad for supper. You can come, too.”

  “I need to eat. But I need to be alone with you more. What about Saturday night?”

  “My calendar’s free. Tiffany’s doing a good job with Amy. I have no qualms about leaving her alone longer now…just so I’m not too far away.”

  “I like your calendar being free. And I’m glad you trust Tiffany.” His lips hovered an inch from hers. “Because you might be at my house all night. You’d better prepare her for that.”

  Prepare Tiffany?

  Gwen had to make sure she was prepared herself. She lifted her lips to Garrett’s as if she was looking forward to becoming intimate with him. She just had to wonder how intimate Garrett would let himself be with any woman.

  Saturday night she would find out.

  “Chocolate cream pie. You certainly know the way to a man’s stomach.”

  When Garrett had told her he would make supper, Gwen had offered to bring dessert. But she really didn’t care that much about winning over his taste buds. She wanted to win his heart.

  “I knew you liked chocolate.”

  “And cream,” he said with the wiggle of one brow.

  She laughed. “What are we having?”

  “Ribs are glazing in the slow cooker and potatoes are baking in the oven. The salad’s already made in the fridge, so we’re all set.”

  All set might mean something different for Garrett than it meant for her, and she was waiting for clarification as she took off her jacket and hung it over a chair in the breakfast nook. “It all sounds delicious.” She checked her watch. “Are you hungry now?”

  Garrett’s jeans looked new. So did his football shirt. With his hair falling over his forehead, he’d never looked more rugged, more sexy, more male. His gray eyes were intense tonight, with a message she hoped she understood.

  “Are you hungry?” he returned.

  Was that a loaded question! “I’m not ravenous. Did you have something else in mind?”

  “I thought we could start the evening off with a soak in the hot tub. Then we could eat and let the night go wherever it wants…wherever we want to take it.”

  The thought of taking tonight into intimacy with Garrett made her almost giddy. Yet her picket fence dream tapped her on the shoulder. She was old enough and experienced enough to know most dreams didn’t come true. But this chemistry she had with Garrett and her admiration for him came along once in a lifetime. She couldn’t throw that away because she had once been hurt…or because he had once been hurt. Could she?

  “I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

  “You don’t need a bathing suit,” he assured her. “And I have a robe you can use to get you to the tub.”

  “If I wear your robe, what will you wear?”

  “Sweatpants, until I get to the tub.”

  She felt wobbly-kneed already, just at the thought of seeing Garrett naked. And he would see her naked. She was a woman of the twenty-first century. She wasn’t a modest virgin, afraid of her own sexuality. Yet suddenly she did feel modest and wasn’t at all sure how to handle this situation.

  Garrett ambled over to her, closing the space between them. “Do you not want to soak in the hot tub naked?”

  “It’s not that. I just feel…self-conscious thinking about it.”

  “It’s dark out there, Gwen. The tub’s completely surrounded by cedar. The only light will come from the lamps in the bottom of the tub…unless there’s a moon. I’ll let you slip in first if you feel funny about disrobing in front of me.”

  Her cheeks were hot and she couldn’t understand why this discussion was so hard for her. “That would be fine. I don’t know why I’m being so…old-fashioned about this.”

  Encircling her with his arms, he leaned against the table and brought her between his legs. “You’re an old-fashioned kind of girl whether you admit it or not. And that’s okay. You’re cute when you blush.”

  “I don’t blush in front of anybody but you.”

  “It’s good to know I’m special,” he joked.

  She took his face between her hands and ran her thumb over the cleft in his jaw. “You are special. That’s why I’m here.”

  Now he looked uncomfortable. Gruffly, he suggested, “We’ve been working up to this for a long time.”

  It had been five weeks since she’d come calling on him for his help. “Since the moment we met.”

  The heat between their bodies was rising. His arousal was obvious as she placed a light kiss on his lips.

  His arms tightened around her for an instant and then he leaned away. “We’re going to stretch out this night and take pleasure in everything we do. Let’s get that soak.”

  She hoped tonight was going to be about more than pleasure. For her it would be about love,
and giving that love to Garrett freely.

  “I laid my robe on the bed in the spare room if you want to change in there.”

  Garrett’s plan apparently wasn’t to jump her bones…or to let her jump his. Maybe after the hot tub, after dinner and chocolate cream pie, after wine and kissing and touching, they’d satisfy their intense anticipation, curiosity and desire.

  Garrett’s spare room held a double bed with a black iron frame, a small dresser with a tilt mirror and a straight-back chair. He had filled his house with furniture he was comfortable with, not because it went together or created a mood, though it did. The ambience in the log home was rustic, almost primitive, yet with Western touches that made it all work. The only exception was his office in the loft. She hadn’t seen it herself yet but Tiffany had told her about the airplane mobile and the Return of the Jedi poster that hung up there.

  Gwen smiled at the thought.

  There was a clunk in the room next to hers, like a belt buckle hitting the floor. How had Garrett furnished the master bedroom?

  Later, she’d find out.

  Garrett’s robe was heavy, huge and long enough to go to her ankles. Multicolored velour, it didn’t look like anything he’d buy. Maybe it had been a present from his mother. A present from his ex-wife?

  Voiding that thought, tying the long belt around her waist, she fashioned it into an extra-large bow. Stepping into the hall barefooted, she wondered if she should have slipped on the black leather flats she’d worn with her slacks. But just then, Garrett emerged from his bedroom and the thought of shoes seemed inconsequential. He was wearing navy sweatpants that hung low on his hips and tied with a drawstring under his navel. That was it. No shirt. No shoes. His dark brown chest hair was thick and formed a T, the bottom of which arrowed under that drawstring.

  “Are you ready?” he asked gently.

  She silently nodded, unable to find her voice…unable to slow her heart…unable to saddle the anticipation running rampant inside of her.

  He opened the hall closet and took out two large towels that were patterned in stripes of rust and tan.

  She glanced briefly at one as Garrett handed it to her and asked, “Would you like to take the wine along, or save it until after we come in?”

  “Let’s wait until we come in,” she suggested.

  As soon as they stepped outside, Gwen knew this was an experience she wasn’t going to soon forget. A breeze carried the scent of sage and pine. A light burned over the back door, and Garrett was backlit for a few moments as he pulled the door shut. The wood of the deck was cold under her feet because the temperature had dropped. She imagined snow might even be falling in the higher altitudes of the Painted Peaks. This was the high desert and she couldn’t imagine ever living anywhere else.

  The gazebolike structure was only twelve feet away. Garrett moved ahead of her, opened the door that led inside and handed her the towel. “I’ll be there in a minute. I want to open the roof.”

  She watched as he went to the side of the building and climbed up a short ladder. Then he reached to the roof and she heard something unlatch. Wanting to see what it was, she stepped through the door and spotted the sunken hot tub. Lights glowed under the water and she could see the tub was teal-colored.

  Looking up, she saw what Garrett had opened—a skylight to the stars. And there was a moon…a crescent moon, casting white light on everything under it. It seemed to trickle down into the tub.

  Gwen knew Garrett was giving her this time to slip into the water before he came in. Before tonight, she’d touched him with his clothes on. He’d touched her naked breasts. Yet that had been so different from this.

  There were hooks on the wall. Unbelting Garrett’s robe, she slid it off and hung it there. When she turned to step into the tub, Garrett appeared in the doorway. Even in the shadowy enclosure, she knew his gaze was on her. She could feel it.

  “Do you want me to leave for a few minutes until you’re settled in the water?”

  That’s what she’d thought she’d wanted. But with Garrett here, looking at her like that, she changed her mind. “I don’t need a few minutes.”

  Unabashedly, she stepped toward the tub and descended the steps into it, knowing he was watching her every move. Once in the center of the hot tub, she faced him. “Are you going to stand there or are you going to get undressed and come in?”

  With a slow, lazy smile, he pulled the drawstring on his pants and dropped them.

  As she admired his beautifully aroused male body, her heart pounded fast and the beat of it echoed in her ears.

  Garrett hadn’t prepared himself for the impact of seeing Gwen naked. He watched spellbound as she sank down into the steaming water, her hair curling into ringlets, her shoulders creamy white, her smile a hit to his solar plexus. Taking the evening slow, treating a soak in the hot tub as foreplay had seemed to be a great idea in theory.

  Now he wasn’t so sure.

  Descending the steps into the tub, he sat beside her.

  She was looking up…not at him. “The open roof is a terrific idea. Look at that sky.”

  Someone had spread a star blanket above them.

  “Do you come out here much?” she asked.

  He had to clear his throat. He had to get a grip on desire that didn’t want to be restrained. “Mostly after search-and-rescue missions. It seems as if I need it then.”

  They weren’t touching yet, but their hips would brush if either of them took a deep breath. “Would you like me to turn the jets on?” he asked.

  Gwen nodded, her brown eyes huge and sparkling.

  When he pressed a button on the side of the tub, the water spurted to life, swirling all around them.

  Gwen closed her eyes. “Mmm. This is nice.”

  He knew what would be even nicer. When he slid his arm around her, she turned into his body. He didn’t want to talk, and he knew that Gwen would…if he gave her any time at all. She was a talker. He was a doer.

  His lips came down on hers with the intention of teasing, of awakening her desire slowly and saving the main course for after dinner. But once they were in each other’s arms, plans changed.

  He couldn’t get enough of her—not enough of her lips or her tongue or her skin sliding against his. As steam rose in wisps toward the sky, as bubbles frothed around them, as damp brush and sage rode on the crisp, clean air and mingled with the tub’s humidity, Garrett forgot this was supposed to be foreplay.

  Before he’d realized he’d done it, he’d scooped Gwen onto his lap. “Do you know how crazy you’ve made me since I met you?” he asked hoarsely, as his hand skimmed her breast, settled on it and palmed her nipple.

  “I never meant to make you crazy,” she managed to say, sounding breathless. She wrapped one arm around his neck. Her other hand swirled through his chest hair. “You affected me, too. When you looked at me, it felt as if you could see everything I was and everything I’d ever been.”

  “Do you know how long it took me to get that look down?” he jibed, trying to lighten something that was growing more serious.

  “Probably years. Did you practice on hardened criminals?”

  “I practiced on everyone for about a year. I learned fast I had to have the upper hand. In spite of that look, and all my years of experience, with you I don’t.” He knew he didn’t sound happy about it, and he wasn’t. He wasn’t used to a woman throwing him off his game, making him sidestep instead of moving forward, forcing him to rethink something he did or said.

  “You still have the upper hand most of the time,” she assured him with a small smile. Then she let her hand trail down, down, down until she was just below his navel.

  “Damn it, Gwen,” he growled, and kissed her hard, needing her in a primal way that blinded him to repercussions and consequences and a much different path to the future than any he’d contemplated. While their tongues darted around each other and settled down to explore, while the kiss went on and on, while their bodies yearned to join, Garrett lifted
her so she straddled him.

  They never stopped kissing—not as he gripped her buttocks and slid her forward, not as he entered her, not as she contracted tightly around him and wound her arms around his neck. The night was pure sensation as they finally broke their kiss and she slid back and forth on him in rhythm with his thrusting. This was a fantasy he’d indulged in but never expected to happen.

  Discovering now that fantasies took on a life of their own, he lost all self-control and any restraint he might have possessed before he set foot in the tub. He let go of years of telling himself he didn’t need a woman. He released the barriers between them—Gwen’s fear of abandonment, his oath that he’d never get seriously involved again. Her body welcomed him so beautifully as he found the physical satisfaction he’d been craving for months. He found ecstasy in the moment for the first time in his life.

  He’d planned and investigated and analyzed for so long he’d forgotten how to live. His shout of release told the world he was alive again.

  When Gwen stiffened and called his name almost simultaneously, he knew she felt the power of their sexual fulfillment, too.

  His body actually shook. Hers trembled. He held her to him while the water swirled and soothed and bathed them in the fantasy of a world set apart from reality.

  He wasn’t sure which of them first realized exactly what had happened.

  When she leaned back and gazed up at him, their eyes locked.

  His words tangled with hers as they both said at the same time, “We didn’t use protection.”

  “You aren’t on the pill?” he asked, though he knew from her expression there was no point.

  “I haven’t been involved with anyone since…Mark.”

  Mark. The jerk who’d left her at the altar. The last abandonment in a long line of them.

  He caught his oath before it passed his lips. “I never intended for this to happen this way. I had condoms in the bedroom. Is there such a thing as a woman’s safe time? Are we anywhere close?”

  “No. We’re not close.”

  He could swear and call himself every kind of fool. He could get angry that a woman of her age and experience hadn’t expected to use more protection than a thin prophylactic barrier. He had called Gwen a Pollyanna, and in some ways, she was. In others, she was as realistic as he was. They’d have to deal with reality now.