Their Little Cowgirl

by Myrna Mackenzie

  She dared him to say differently. He couldn't. That smile and those eyes, but most of all that hint of the vulnerable, made her very dangerous. She made a man want to kiss her, whether she tasted of stolen chocolates or just woman.

  "Then I'll keep my eye on you," he told her. And he meant it, too. He couldn't be careless with Suzy, even if he wanted to keep his distance from this woman.

  He pulled the car up in front of the house, a wide two-story farmhouse with a porch that wrapped around three sides.

  "What a pretty shade of pale blue," she said, referring to the color of the clapboards. "Rather a feminine color, though. I wouldn't have expected it of a man who drives a huge, black look-at-me-I'm-all-man truck."

  Steven chuckled. "The house color was my wife's choice."

  Jackie's eyes grew solemn. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. You just asked about the paint. Asking questions is not what you need to be sorry about." Okay, he couldn't stop implying that she should have stayed back at the resort.

  "I know, but…has it been long since you lost your wife?"

  "She died the day Suzy was born, so now it's just my daughter and me. That's all it will ever be, too." He knew the words sounded as though he was warning her away. But they were really meant for himself—a reminder that, while he might be bringing a desirable woman to his home, she was not there for his pleasure.

  "I understand. I don't have much interest in men, either."

  He raised one brow.

  She blushed. "That is, I just don't get along all that well with them, at least not in the long-term. I like answering only to myself, and I don't intend for it to be any other way. I fit myself better than any man could ever fit me."

  Ah, so she had barriers, too. She hadn't been involved with a man for awhile and she didn't want one now or ever. That should have made him very happy.

  Instead it just made him wonder exactly how long it had been since a man had kissed her until they were both breathless and mindless and aching and when it would happen again.

  Jackie was a lot more worried about her reaction to Steven than her reaction to his truck. Trucks couldn't make a woman feel all hot and bothered, at least not a woman like her. But every time Steven glanced her way, she was incredibly conscious of the fact that she was a woman—the kind of thing that pretty much never happened with her.

  Not that any of that could be important now. In just a minute, she was going to meet the child who held a part of her. Someone who was at least a little bit like her.

  She twisted her fingers together as Steven moved around the truck to help her down. Her hand felt cold in his warm one as he reached up and touched her.

  "She's just a baby," he reminded her, and this time his eyes were even a little kind.

  "I haven't known any babies really. What if I don't know what to do?"

  "Babies have a way of making you forget to think. Just let it happen," he suggested.

  At that moment a squeal of tires and flying bits of gravel signaled a new arrival.

  "Ben," was all Steven said, but the man was already jumping from his truck, a look of consternation on his face.

  "Come on, Steven," the man said. "Sorry to jump you like this, but we have a little problem. Hoagie was messing around doing doughnuts in the field, showing off for the boys, and he's gone and clipped the fence at the south pasture with his new SUV. Now we've got our randiest bulls mixing in with Mrs. Redfern's cows, and you know how she gets about her dainty ladies. When I saw the dust from your tires, I left the boys working to deal with things and came here full tilt."

  Steven muttered something beneath his breath, a word Jackie was pretty certain he would never utter around his daughter. He looked at her and then at the house. And then back in the direction that Ben had come. She understood—he didn't want to leave her here with his child while he tended to the emergency.

  She probably should be angry, but after her lecture about leaving his child open to strangers, she could hardly be that.

  "I'll just wait in the truck," she volunteered.

  He didn't stop to argue, just made sure she was in the seat before he shut the door, then hopped back in and raced across the field behind Ben.

  "Thank you. I'm sorry."

  "Is there any danger?"

  "Not really. Just the danger of my bulls taking advantage of Mrs. Redfern's cows. Mrs. Redfern doesn't approve of illicit mating of animals. She doesn't have many cows, but the ones she has are considered pets and they're all artificially inseminated. Not that she can stop nature, but…well, she has a point. My animals don't have any business straying onto her land. It's my concern if that happens. Not a neighborly way to be. If a man can't control his own herd—or in this case, his own men—he doesn't have any business being a rancher."

  "But you weren't even here."

  "Doesn't matter. I'm in charge. I'm sure you feel that way about your business, too. Even though you're gone, things have to run smoothly."

  For half a panicked second, Jackie worried about the fact that she had left Parris at the helm. She saw what Steven meant. But then he was pulling the truck to a sudden stop. There were horses tethered to another vehicle.

  "I have to ride from here. Mrs. Redfern is a purist, so I can't bring the vehicle onto her property unless we're on the roads. Don't get out of the truck," Steven told Jackie.

  Hot anger lurched through her. "I'm no danger to your ranch," she told the man. "I don't intend to sabotage you just because I don't like you."

  He blinked at that. "I wasn't worried about that. I just don't want you getting hurt. Do you have any idea how much a full-grown bull or cow weighs?"

  "A lot?"

  He shook his head and smiled slightly. "Yes, a lot would be a good guess. And you're a city girl. I don't want you getting a broken foot, or worse. People might think I set you up to get rid of you."

  He was still smiling, but she wasn't sure if he was kidding. She chose to think he was. "I'll stay in the truck."

  "You do that, city girl."

  And then he moved to one of the horses, joining Ben as the two of them rode off.

  She was trapped inside a mountain of a truck, surrounded by nothing but grass and a few skimpy trees, wearing heels and a suit. Her baby was nowhere near, and neither was the man who had escorted her here. But somewhere nearby she could hear the low cry of some kind of cattle. She wondered if it had horns. Steven was probably right—she didn't belong here at all.

  She was still thinking the same thing much later, as the sun was beginning to set. It had been hours since she had eaten, or seen another human being. She had been half-tempted to risk walking across the fields in search of Steven, but then she had remembered what he'd said about the weight of a cow.

  And when a cow actually did wander right up next to the truck, Jackie's eyes widened. "Nice girl," she said, and the cow lowed, its nose nuzzling the door handle. She wished she could be one of those types who could just reach out the window and pet a creature, bringing it under her spell, but she couldn't.

  She wondered if she would be awkward with Steven's daughter. She didn't want that. It was important that this time should turn out to be something special, something different from what she had shared with her own parents. Steven obviously adored his daughter. She wanted to be an adoring parent, too. For half a second, she considered asking him to give her lessons, then realized she couldn't when she had all but forced herself into his life.

  At that moment she looked up and saw him moving toward her, the clouds behind him lit up red and orange and a deep purple. He looked tall and broad-shouldered and tired, and the most familiar thing she'd seen in the past few hours. She had a terribly stupid urge to go to him. Instead she clenched her hands on the seat and stayed put as he gave the cow a brief pat, which sent it ambling away.

  "Friend of yours?" he asked, opening the door.

  "Bosom buddy," she agreed, "or jailkeeper. I thought maybe you sent her to make sure I stayed in the truck."


  He raised a brow. "I'm not that devious, even though that would have been a good idea."

  "Well," she said as he climbed inside, "all done? Where's your horse?"

  "Ben and Hoagie are taking him back to the stable. Are you sure you're all right? This took longer than I thought it would."

  She stuck out one high-heel-shod foot. "I stayed in the truck as you asked. Nothing broken. You can relax."

  But he didn't look relaxed. "All right, we'll go meet Suzy, then," he said, and she finally understood.

  He had just spent several hours working hard and now he had to take a woman he didn't like to meet his daughter.

  Once again, she was the outsider.

  "Let's go," she agreed, and he put the car in gear and started toward the house.

  "Jackie?" he asked, and his voice was warm and low and husky in the gathering darkness. She wondered how many women had moved closer in the night when he'd called their names that way—which was just something she had no business whatsoever thinking.

  "What?"

  "Thank you for staying in the truck. I shouldn't have been so rude to a woman, especially a woman who's a guest. My mother would have tanned my hide if she'd known I had forgotten how to be a gentleman."

  "You were protecting me."

  "I was angry because I didn't know what the heck to do with you." His words brought back an old pain. No one in her family had ever known what to do with her.

  "I should have taken you to the house," he confessed.

  "No. No, you shouldn't have," she said, and she meant it. "When Suzy was born, you took on a duty to protect her. That might mean being rude to people now and then. I like the fact that you care about her that much."

  "Every father loves his daughter that way."

  "Not every father."

  And suddenly she could feel him looking her way. She wished she could take back her words.

  "I can't wait to see your baby's smile," she said, trying to change the subject. "Can't you drive any faster?"

  "Don't worry, we'll be home soon," he said, and it was obvious from the affection that laced his voice that he loved his home.

  She had never had a real home, but she didn't want to dwell on that. And she didn't want Steven to get that look in his eye again—the one that told her he was going to do his best to ferret out all of her secrets, and uncover all of her weaknesses.

  "Are you going to let me inside this time?" she asked, teasing him.

  "This time, yes. Come inside," he said, as he stopped the truck, and the look in his eyes hid more than it revealed. She'd just bet that any other woman would have fainted with desire if Steven Rollins had invited her to come inside his house.

  But this woman knew that she was not a welcome guest. She had an agenda.

  "Let's get started on our time together," she told him. "The clock is ticking."

  Chapter Four

  Suzy was on the floor, sitting amidst a pile of plastic blocks, one of which she was turning over and over in her little hands. She looked up when Steven and Jackie approached, and immediately her eyes lit up.

  She lifted her arms. "Da!" she squealed, and he reached down and swung her little body high, cradling her against him.

  "Hi, pumpkin," he said, dropping a kiss on the top of her dark, disheveled curls. "I missed you, sweetheart."

  Suzy cooed. She turned big blue eyes on him, then shifted her gaze to Jackie. Immediately, she became more alert, her body tensing slightly.

  "Oh, you are absolutely wonderful." Jackie barely breathed the words to the baby, keeping her voice almost a whisper. She didn't try to move close or touch Suzy.

  "Buh," Suzy said, and Jackie raised quizzical eyes to Steven. He noted that the blue of her eyes was almost identical to that of his daughter's. Michelle, his wife, would have been happy. She had wanted her child to have blue eyes. She had wanted a lot of things, been adamant about them, and he hadn't always been able to come through.

  "Buh?" Jackie asked him, mimicking Suzy's tone, and he had to smile.

  He shrugged. "I don't know. It's just an all-purpose word she uses for anything or anyone new."

  "Okay," Jackie said, her voice still a whisper. And suddenly she touched his sleeve. "I was so afraid she would cry. At least she didn't cry, Steven."

  "Jackie, you're not a scary woman," he told her.

  "You said I was hardheaded," and her voice sounded almost wounded.

  "You are. It's not an insult. Hasn't anyone ever told you that before?"

  He looked down on the dark, silky crown of Jackie's head, and she glanced up before returning her hopeful gaze to Suzy.

  "Most people think I'm easygoing," she admitted.

  "You?"

  "Me. I almost always go along to get along."

  He chuckled. "Then I must stir up something powerfully adverse in you."

  She glanced up at him again, a slightly worried look in her eyes. "Relax," he soothed. "I don't mind a little sparring. I used to play football."

  "I'll bet you were good at it." She looked at his biceps, and he felt a decidedly ridiculous masculine urge to show her how strong he was by performing some gargantuan feat.

  Instead, he wrinkled his nose. "That was a long time ago." And many fallen dreams ago.

  "Buh?" Suzy said, and she snuggled closer. He breathed in the sweet baby scent of her. She bopped him with her wet building block.

  "Little tyrant," he said, and Suzy giggled. She smacked an awkward kiss in his direction. It landed on the front of his cotton shirt, leaving a visible wet spot.

  Steven heard a sound and looked down to see that Jackie's eyes were misty. But she hadn't tried to touch Suzy. She really hadn't made any attempt to communicate with the child.

  "Suze, sweetheart, this is…Ms. Hammond." The name sounded much too formal for a one-year-old to handle, but how on earth was he supposed to introduce Jackie to his daughter?

  Suzy stuffed a tiny corner of the huge rubber block in her mouth and studied Jackie, just as if she realized what Steven had said.

  Jackie looked at his child with longing, as if she had never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

  For some reason he didn't completely understand, he held Suzy out. "She doesn't bite," he said. "Not often, anyway."

  Jackie looked up at him as if he had given her diamonds, or a castle full of roses, maybe a garage stocked with Ferraris.

  "Are you sure?"

  "I don't suppose you're going to do anything drastic with me here beside you."

  She smiled and reached out. Suzy went into her arms. It was obvious that Jackie had held a baby before, but not often. She had the correct form, but she was still rather awkward. None of that mattered, though, because she looked like a woman having a blissful experience.

  Until Suzy started to cry.

  "Oh no, I've scared her, Steven." Jackie looked up with eyes as stricken as his child's.

  And sure enough, Suzy was putting up a terrible howl.

  Jackie held the baby out, and—hell, what could he do? He took his child and rubbed her back, soothing her.

  "It's okay," he said, and he wondered if he was talking to his daughter or the distressed woman at his side with the trembling pink lips.

  But Jackie didn't look as if she was buying into his encouragement. She fought whatever was bothering her and managed a tight smile, but her eyes were still sad.

  "Time for Suzy to go to bed, I guess," he said, and he snuggled his child close, then turned her over to the waiting arms of Ms. Lerner, the nanny—a lean, tight-faced woman who loved his daughter to distraction.

  Suzy went to her with no complaints. He turned to Jackie after his daughter had gone. "It will take time," he told her. But they both knew that time was something she didn't have much of.

  Later in the night Steven awoke to the sound of someone stirring in the house. Throwing on a pair of jeans, he got up and went into the living room.

  Jackie was seated on the couch in a high-necked baby blue quilted robe th
at covered her from neck to toes. Her hair was loose around her face. She looked very young, much younger than the thirty-one years that his attorney's file on her had indicated.

  On her lap lay an open photo album, one that contained all the pictures he'd taken of Suzy this past year. When he took a step, and the floor of the old house creaked, she looked up.

  "I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" she asked.

  He shook his head. "I usually make a pass through about this time of night, just to make sure that everything's secure and Suze is all right."

  "I was just…" She gestured to the book on her lap. "She looks like a happy baby."

  "Smiles all the time."

  Jackie bit her lip.

  "Relax, Jackie. She's a baby. She takes time to get used to people. You didn't do any permanent damage. In fact, I'll bet she's smiling in her sleep right now. Want to see?"

  An eager look turned Jackie's face luminous in the soft evening light. She nodded. "Please."

  And so what could he do but hold out his hand? And what could she do but take what he offered?

  Her skin was soft and pleasurable beneath his fingers, and he hadn't held a woman's hand just this way in a long time. He led her quickly to his daughter's room and silently opened the door.

  They tiptoed in. Suzy wasn't exactly smiling, but in her pale pink sleeper, her dark lashes swooping across her cheeks, her dark halo of curls and her rosebud lips puckered sweetly, she was an angel on Earth. Her breathing was soft and even, and Steven's heart hurt to look at her, to know that she was his.

  He glanced to his side. Lit by the faint light from the doorway and a night-light shaped like Winnie the Pooh, Jackie looked a bit like an angel herself. But a full-grown one with a woman's body. She gazed at the little girl with eyes that glowed, but when she looked up at him, he could see pain in their depths.

  He led her from the room and closed the door.

  "I want one," she whispered with a shaky laugh. "How lucky you are. It just melts my soul to look at her."

  He raised a brow. "Did I say that you were a hard-headed woman? Maybe that isn't completely true."

  She lifted her chin and gave him the look—the one that chased the need away from her eyes the way he'd intended it to. "I told you that I'm not hardheaded at all. And for the record, no one in the world but you has ever called me that."