Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: The Maverick's Thanksgiving BabyA Celebration ChristmasDr. Daddy's Perfect Christmas

by Brenda Harlen

  “I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important,” she said.

  “Do you know where The Shooting Star is?” he asked, naming his family’s ranch.

  She nodded.

  “My house is the first one on the left, after the driveway splits. Can you meet me there in an hour?”

  She nodded without hesitation. “That would be good.”

  No, good would’ve been if she’d come back three months sooner and asked to be alone with him. Then he would have been sure that they both wanted the same thing. Now, after so much time had passed, he had no idea what she wanted, what she thought they needed to talk about.

  But he knew she’d been gone 119 days, and wasn’t that pathetic? He’d actually been counting the days. At first, he’d been counting in anticipation of her return. More recently, he’d been counting in the hope that with each day that passed he would be one day closer to forgetting about her.

  And he’d been certain he was getting there—but only five minutes in her company had him all churned up inside again, wanting what he knew he couldn’t have.

  * * *

  What was she going to do for an hour?

  She slid behind the wheel of her rental car and considered her options. She was less than five minutes away from Gage and Lissa’s house, but she didn’t want to go back there. Her cousin hadn’t stopped nagging her since she’d got into town the night before. Not that Lissa had said anything Maggie hadn’t already thought herself.

  She pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the road, heading toward town. She drove down Falls Street, turned onto Sawmill, crossing over the bridge without any destination in mind. She was only killing time, watching the minutes tick away until the allotted hour had passed.

  Her phone buzzed to indicate receipt of a text message, so she turned onto Main and pulled into an empty parking spot by Crawford’s General Store to dig her phone out of her purse.

  Have you seen him yet?

  The message, not surprisingly, was from Lissa.

  Mtg him at SS @ 4, she texted back.

  Good luck! her cousin replied.

  Maggie was afraid she was going to need it.

  Since she had her phone in hand, she decided to check her email from work. There wasn’t anything urgent, but responding to the messages helped her kill some more time.

  She knew that she was stalling, thinking about anything but the imminent conversation with Jesse. Now that there were less than twenty minutes before their scheduled meeting, she should be focused on that, thinking about what she was going to say, how to share her news.

  She’d hoped to take her cue from him—but the few words that they’d exchanged at Traub Stables hadn’t given her a hint about what he was thinking. His gaze had been shuttered, but the coolness of his tone had been a strong indication that he was finished with her. It wasn’t even that he was over her—it was as if they’d never been.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have come back. Maybe this was a monumental mistake. It was obvious that he felt nothing for her—maybe he never had. Maybe the magic of that night had only ever existed in her imagination.

  But she didn’t really believe that. She certainly hadn’t imagined the numerous phone calls, text messages and emails they’d exchanged every single day for the first couple of weeks. And during those early weeks, he’d seemed eager for her to come back to Rust Creek Falls, as anxious to be with her again as she was to be with him.

  She’d originally planned to return in the middle of August, but only two days before her scheduled trip one of the senior partners had asked for her help with an emergency injunction for an important client threatened by a hostile takeover. Of course, that injunction had only been the first step in a long process of corporate restructuring, and Maggie had been tapped for assistance every step of the way.

  She’d enjoyed the challenge and the work and knew it had been good for her career. Unfortunately, it had consumed almost every waking minute and had signaled the beginning of the end of her relationship with Jesse. Four months was a long time to be apart, and he’d obviously moved on.

  She rubbed a hand over her chest, where her heart was beating dully against her breastbone. The possibility that their passionate lovemaking could have been so readily forgotten cut her to the quick. Maybe it was irrational and unreasonable, but she’d started to fall in love with him that night. Even when she’d said goodbye to him the next day, she didn’t think it was the end of their relationship but only the beginning.

  Of course, her emotions were her responsibility. He’d never made her any promises; he’d certainly never said that he was in love with her. But the way he’d kissed her and touched her and loved her—with his body if not his heart—she’d been certain there was something special between them, something more than a one-night affair. She didn’t think she’d imagined that, but even if the connection had been real, it was obviously gone now, and the pain of that loss made her eyes fill with tears.

  Blinking them away, she pulled from the curb and headed toward The Shooting Star.

  Jesse’s house was a beautiful if modest two-story with white siding, a wide front porch and lots of windows flanked by deep green shutters.

  His truck in the driveway confirmed that he was home, and he opened the door before she even had a chance to knock.

  “You’re punctual,” he said, stepping back so that she could enter.

  “I appreciate you making the time to see me.”

  He shrugged. “You said it was important.”

  “It is,” she confirmed.

  She continued to stand just inside the door, looking at him, wanting to memorize all the little details she was afraid she might have forgotten over the past four months.

  The breadth of his shoulders beneath the flannel shirt he wore, the rippling strength of his abdominal muscles, the strength of those wide-palmed hands. The way his mouth curved just a little higher on the left side when he smiled; the almost-imperceptible scar on his chin, the result of a misstep as he’d climbed over a fence when he was eight years old. His hair was damp, as if he’d recently stepped out of the shower, and his jaw was freshly shaven, tempting her to reach up and touch the smooth skin.

  “Do you want to take your coat off?”

  “Sure.” But she pulled off her mittens and hat first, tucking them into the pockets of the long coat she’d borrowed from her cousin. When she finally stripped off the heavy garment, he took it from her, hanging it on a hook by the door, beside his Sherpa-lined leather jacket.

  “Keep your boots on,” he said when she reached down to untie them. “The floor’s probably cold.”

  It might have been true, but the abruptness of his tone suggested that he didn’t want her to get too comfortable or stay for too long. She kept her boots on, but wiped them carefully on the mat before stepping off it.

  The main floor plan was open, with a dining area on one side and a living room on the other. The furniture was distressed leather with nail-head trim, oversize and masculine in design but perfect for the open space. Flames were crackling inside the river-rock fireplace, providing the room with both warmth and ambience. Jesse had moved to the kitchen, separated from the dining room by a long, granite-topped counter.

  “Do you want a cup of tea?” he asked, already filling the kettle.

  “That would be nice, thank you.”

  Even she winced at the cool politeness of their conversation. It was as if they were strangers meeting for the first time rather than lovers who had spent hours naked together. Yes, it had only been one night, but it had been the most incredible night of her life. The way he’d touched her, with his hands and his lips and his body, had introduced her to heights of pleasure she’d never imagined.

  Even now, the memories of that night made her cheeks flush and her heart pound. Though it took a
determined effort, she pushed them aside and forced herself to focus on the here and now.

  “You’ve lost weight,” he noted, his gaze skimming over her.

  “A few pounds,” she admitted. Actually, she’d been down nine pounds a couple of months earlier, but she’d managed to gain six of them back.

  Jesse studied her carefully, noting the bony outline of her shoulders in the oversize sweater she wore over slim-fitting jeans, and guessed that she’d lost more than a few pounds. She was pale, too, and those beautiful brown eyes that had haunted his dreams looked even bigger and darker than he remembered.

  The last time they’d spoken on the phone, she’d told him that she’d been feeling unwell, fighting some kind of virus. He’d thought it was just the latest in a long line of excuses for why she’d chosen not to return to Rust Creek Falls. It seemed apparent now that there had been at least some truth in her explanation.

  He poured the boiling water into a mug, over a bag of peppermint tea. The day that she’d made him dinner, she’d told him it was her favorite flavor. And, sap that he was, he’d not only remembered but had bought a box so that he’d have it on hand when she came to visit.

  The box had sat, unopened, in his cupboard for almost four months. Now, finally, she was going to have a cup—and the other eleven bags would probably sit in the box in his cupboard for another four months before he finally tossed them in the trash.

  “Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

  She looked up, as if startled by the question.

  “You said that you’d been fighting some kind of virus,” he reminded her. “I just wondered if you’ve fully recovered from whatever it was you had.”

  She wrapped her hands around the warm mug. “I’m feeling much better, thanks.”

  “It must have been quite a bug, to have laid you up for so long,” he commented.

  “It wasn’t a bug.” She lifted her gaze to his. “It was—is—a baby.”

  Jesse stared at her for a long minute, certain he couldn’t have heard her correctly.

  “A baby?” he finally echoed.

  She nodded. “I’m pregnant.”

  He hated to ask, but he hadn’t seen her since July and he knew he’d be a fool if he didn’t. “Is it...mine?”

  He held his breath, waiting for her response, not sure if he wanted it to be yes or no. Not sure how he would feel either way.

  She winced at the question. “Yes, it’s yours.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said automatically.

  “That it’s yours?”

  “That I had to ask,” he clarified.

  But she shook her head. “I knew you would. If you were one of my clients, I’d insist that you get proof,” she admitted. “And if you want a DNA test, I’ll give it to you, but there isn’t any other possibility. I haven’t been with anyone else in more than two years.”

  “You’re pregnant with my child,” he said, as if repeating the words might somehow help them to make sense.

  His thoughts were as jumbled as his emotions. Joy warred with panic inside of him as he realized that he was going to be a father—a prospect that was as terrifying as it was exciting.

  “I’m not here because I want or expect anything from you,” she explained. “I just thought you should know about the baby.”

  Irritation bubbled to the surface. “I don’t know which part of that outrageous statement to deal with first.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We made that baby together,” he reminded her. “So you should want and expect plenty.

  “As for letting me know—should I thank you for finally, in the fourth month of pregnancy, telling me that you’re going to have my child?”

  She winced at the harsh accusation in his tone. “It’s not as if I was deliberately keeping my pregnancy a secret.”

  “You were accidentally keeping it a secret?”

  “I didn’t know.”

  He stared at her in disbelief. “You didn’t know?”

  “I didn’t,” she insisted.

  “I’m sure you didn’t figure it out yesterday.”

  “No,” she admitted. “But for the first few weeks after I returned to LA, I was so busy with work that I thought the fatigue and nausea were symptoms of my erratic schedule and not sleeping well or eating properly. Even when I missed my first period—” her cheeks flushed, as if she was uncomfortable talking about her monthly cycle despite the intimacies they’d shared “—I didn’t think anything of it. I’ve skipped periods before, usually when I’m stressed.”

  He scowled but couldn’t dispute her claim. Instead he asked, “So when did you first suspect you might be pregnant?”

  “Mid-September. And even then, it was my mother who brought up the possibility. Which I didn’t think was a possibility, because we were careful both times.”

  Both times. He didn’t carry condoms in his wallet anymore, and she’d only had two in her makeup case. So they’d done all kinds of things to pleasure one another but they’d only made love twice.

  And both times had felt like heaven on earth—the merging of their bodies had been so perfect, so right—

  He severed the unwelcome memory.

  “So I took a home pregnancy test.” She continued her explanation. “And even when it showed a positive result, I wasn’t sure I believed it. The next day, my doctor confirmed the result.”

  “This was mid-September?” he prompted.

  She nodded again.

  “So you’ve known for six weeks, and you only decided to tell me now?”

  “I didn’t know how to tell you,” she admitted. “It wasn’t the kind of news I wanted to share over the phone, and my doctor advised me not to travel until the morning sickness was under control.”

  “Did you ever think to invite me to come out to LA to see you?”

  She blinked, confirming his suspicion that she had not. That the possibility of reaching out to him had not once entered her mind. “You never showed any interest in making a trip to California.”

  “If you’d asked, if you’d said that you needed to see me, I would have come.” And he would have been glad to do so, overjoyed by the prospect of seeing her again.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I never thought... And when I called to tell you that my planned visit to Rust Creek Falls was further delayed, you sounded as if you’d already written me off. And that’s okay,” she hastened to assure him. “I know neither of us expected that one night together would have such long-lasting repercussions.”

  “I didn’t think it was going to be only one night,” he told her.

  “I bet you didn’t think you’d end up having this conversation four months later, either,” she said.

  “No,” he agreed.

  “I know you’ve only had a few minutes to think about this, but I wanted you to know that I’m planning to keep the baby.”

  He scowled, because it hadn’t occurred to him that she might want to do anything else. “You thought about giving away our baby?”

  “There were a few moments—especially in the beginning—when I wasn’t sure what I would do,” she admitted. “I was stunned and scared—having a baby at this stage of my life wasn’t anywhere in my plans.”

  “You don’t just give away a baby because it wasn’t in your plans,” he told her.

  “Some people do,” she told him.

  Only then did he remember that she was adopted, given up by her sixteen-year-old birth mother when she was only a few days old.

  While he was busy trying to extract his foot from his mouth, she continued, “And not necessarily because it’s the easy choice. I don’t know whether my birth mother wanted to keep me or not—Christa and Gavin always told me that she recognized that she couldn’t give me the kind of life that I had
with my parents, and I’ve always been grateful to her for that. So yes, I thought about giving up my baby, because I know that’s sometimes the best option.

  “But,” she continued before he could protest, “I don’t think it is for my baby. And maybe it’s maternal instinct or maybe it’s because I was adopted, but I felt an immediate bond with this baby who shares my DNA, and I can’t even imagine letting him or her go.”

  “The baby shares half of your DNA,” he pointed out. “The other half is mine.”

  She nodded. “And if you want to be part of our baby’s life, I’d be happy to accommodate whatever kind of visitation you—”

  “Visitation?” he interrupted, his voice dangerously soft.

  She eyed him warily. “If that’s what you want.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Oh. Okay. In that case, I’ll have papers drawn up—”

  He interrupted her again. “The only paper we’re going to need is a marriage license.”

  Chapter Three

  Maggie stared at him, certain she couldn’t have heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”

  “We’re having a baby together, which means we should get married to raise that child together.” His tone was implacable.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Of course I’m serious. I’m not going to shirk my responsibilities.”

  “There’s a lot of ground between shirking responsibility and marriage,” she said, determined to remain calm and reasonable despite the outrageousness of his proposition.

  “I want to be a father to my child.”

  “You are the baby’s father.”

  “I want the baby to have my name.”

  She’d been so apprehensive about this meeting—worried about how he’d respond to the news of her pregnancy. Obviously she knew he’d be surprised, and she’d prepared herself for the possibility that he might deny paternity. But in all of the scenarios that she’d envisioned, she’d never once considered that he might propose marriage. And while she’d feared that he might reject both her and the baby, his grim determination to do “the right thing” was somehow worse.