Slade’s blue gaze was gentle as he looked down at her. “You’re a very special woman, Emily Lawrence.”
She hadn’t felt special in a very long time, nor pretty, nor even thought about attracting a man. But here she was standing in front of Slade Coleburn, embarrassed because he’d paid her a compliment, yet unable to take her eyes from his. What was it about this man?
When his hand came up, she knew he was going to touch her, and she knew she should step away.
Chapter Three
But Emily couldn’t step away. Not with Slade’s very blue eyes becoming more intense. Not with her heart racing, and definitely not when his roughened hand gently stroked her cheek. He seemed to move closer, but maybe she swayed toward him. She shut her eyes as if that could somehow block all of the feelings swirling inside of her. Yet when his lips brushed sensuously over hers in more of a tease than a kiss, she couldn’t block anything. Feelings like this were a startling surprise. She hadn’t known much satisfaction with Pete. After their marriage, he’d been concerned with getting his needs met. This brief touching of lips held more pleasure and more tender consideration than she’d ever felt with Pete.
How could that be? This man was a stranger. She’d only known him—
Amanda’s small cries broke the silence.
Slade stepped away and when Emily opened her eyes, she saw questions in Slade’s and had too many herself. Good Lord, what had happened to her? She’d just had a baby. A baby who needed her. She shouldn’t be standing this close to a man who wandered from state to state, let alone be kissing him.
Flustered, her cheeks hot, she turned away from Slade and went to the bed to pick up her daughter. What had happened with him just now wouldn’t happen again. Her hormones must be in an uproar. That was all.
And if Slade brought it up?
She’d tell him point-blank that she had two children to raise and had no room in her life for a wanderer.
Cuddling her daughter close, Emily glanced at Slade and said, “I have to feed her.”
“Do you have bottles and everything you need?” he asked, his voice husky. “With her coming early—”
“I’m going to breast-feed.”
It was a quiet declaration in the small bedroom, but the implications were more far-reaching than feeding her daughter. She saw a look come into Slade’s eyes as if he were imagining it. After a moment she broke eye contact and crossed to the rocker, almost trembling at the idea of his watching her.
“Is there anything you need?” he asked in a low voice.
Breathing space popped into her mind, but she didn’t say it, she just shook her head.
“I’ll see if Mark is finished in the attic, then we’ll try to put something together for lunch.”
“Slade, I don’t expect you to—”
“Help you?” he finished. “You need some help, Emily, so you might as well get used to the idea. At least for a little while.”
“But you have business in Billings.”
“It’s waited this long, it can wait a few more days.”
Emily’s cuddling had quieted her daughter for a few minutes, but now Amanda let out a high-pitched wail that said she was definitely tired of waiting. Slade simply gave Emily a slight deferential nod, then left the room, closing the door behind him.
Unbuttoning the top buttons of her jumper, and then her blouse, she bared her breast. As her daughter rooted for the nipple and then suckled, Emily was overwhelmed by the feelings of tenderness and love for her new baby. At the same time, she heard Slade’s boot-falls on the steps. She remembered his kiss, then she blocked it from her mind.
Slade knew his way around a kitchen better than the average man. He’d had to fend for himself early and though he was most familiar with microwaves and hot plates, he knew how to use a stove. As he set Mark to cleaning up some of the toys he’d found in the attic, Slade warmed soup on the stove and sliced Emily’s crusty bread. Just the thought of her upstairs feeding her baby…
He shouldn’t be having these thoughts. She was a new mother. His stay here was only temporary, and he knew better than to get attached to her or to Mark. For years he’d known attachments spelled heartache.
Yet he couldn’t help glancing at Mark fondly as he pulled a wooden stringed toy across the floor. “Why don’t you go upstairs and ask your mom if she’s about ready for lunch? Tell her I’ll bring it up.” No way was he going up to that room and taking the chance of finding her still feeding Amanda. There was enough tension between them already when they got within a foot of each other. Maybe it was just him. Maybe she didn’t feel anything. Yet she hadn’t backed away earlier.
“Can we go upstairs and eat with her?” Mark asked hopefully.
Not sure how much to say, Slade decided to keep it simple. “Having a baby is hard work and your mom’s pretty tired. I think it would be a good idea today if we give her some time to herself so she can rest. If she’s up to it, we can all have supper together tonight.”
“Okay,” Mark mumbled with a frown, but then looked animated again. “Can I go outside with you this afternoon?”
“If your mom says it’s okay.”
As Mark ran up the steps, Slade went to stir the soup and immediately dropped the hot spoon that he’d left in the pot on the stove. “Damnation.” He’d better keep his mind on what he was doing. He’d better watch every step he took.
A short while later, while Mark buttered himself a slice of bread, Slade took a large plate with a bowl of soup, two slices of bread and a glass of milk up to Emily. He stopped outside the door when he heard her soft voice singing a lullaby. A curling feeling tightened his chest and he took a deep breath, then he rapped on the door.
“Come in,” she said.
The sun had started its afternoon journey and beamed through the window between curtain panels, flickering on blond strands in Emily’s hair. She looked lovely bathed in sunlight, holding her child, and he wondered again what kind of man her husband had been and if she still loved him.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Not really, but I know I have to eat and eat well for Amanda’s sake. We’ll have to talk about supper. There are some things I can’t have because of…well, feeding her.”
“How about meat loaf?” he asked. “I saw ground meat down in the freezer.”
“As long as you go easy on the seasoning,” she said with a shy smile. “I wouldn’t think most men would know how to make a meat loaf.”
“I’m not most men.” He set her lunch down on the dresser. “I know how to mash potatoes, too.”
“Then you’ll be Mark’s friend for life. Mashed potatoes are his favorite.”
A friend for life. He could hardly grasp the concept. “Mark says you don’t mind if he follows me around this afternoon.”
“I don’t mind if you don’t.”
“I can keep him busy so you can rest. The thing is—if you need me for something…”
“I’ll be fine, Slade. After I change Amanda, I’ll eat and then rest for a while.”
But Slade’s mind was still on her being alone in the house. “If you do need me, just hang a pillowcase out the window. I’ll make sure I look up here every now and then.”
Fussing with the pink blanket wrapping Amanda, Emily looked down at her child. “You know, don’t you, that you’re earning more than your room and board. I’m never going to be able to repay you.”
“There’s no call for repaying generosity, Emily. It just goes along with telling the truth, and doing an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay.”
At that she looked at him pensively, and her gaze made him uncomfortable. “If you need anything else, just holler. If we don’t answer back, just hang that pillowcase out.”
Before he got lost in the soft brown of her eyes, he left the room and closed the door.
The afternoon passed quickly as Mark ran in Slade’s wake, helping him do chores, groom the horses and attach weather stripping where it was needed. Wh
en they took a break and went inside in the late afternoon, Slade taught Mark the fine art of making meat loaf. The little boy was eager to learn and enjoyed squishing his just-washed fingers into the meat, egg and bread crumb mixture. While Mark was washing up, Slade went upstairs to check on Emily. He’d glanced often at the bedroom window but no pillowcase hung from its sill.
Her door was cracked a few inches and he pushed it open slowly. Lying on the bed curled on her side, her hands tucked under her cheek, she looked beautiful and peaceful and he had to remind himself that she was off-limits. She’d swaddled the baby in the pink blanket and Amanda was sleeping, too. Emily hadn’t bothered with the afghan at the foot of the bed, and Slade crossed to it quietly, unfolded it, and gently covered her.
She opened her eyes.
“I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought you might be a little cold.”
“Thank you.”
“Go back to sleep,” he said, his voice gravelly. Her eyes fluttered closed again and her breathing became even. Slade stood watching Emily and her baby, his gaze going from one to the other until he felt something he’d never felt before. He didn’t understand what it was.
Emily came downstairs at suppertime with Amanda as if she couldn’t bear to part from her. Slade guessed that mother and child were bonding. Before she sat down to eat, she looked up at him. “I have one more favor to ask.”
He knew how hard it was for her to admit she needed help, so he didn’t tease her, just waited.
“There’s a cradle up in the attic. Could you bring it down here so I’ll have a place to put Amanda?”
“Sure, no problem. I saw it when I was up earlier. It looks old.”
“It was mine when I was a baby. My father made it for me.”
The differences between him and Emily gripped Slade. She knew about family and roots and belonging. He knew nothing about any of those.
Emily complimented him on the meal more than once. She ate well and looked rested, and he’d bet she’d have her strength back in no time. That thought didn’t settle well. He liked her depending on him. No one had ever depended on him before.
After supper, Emily let Mark hold Amanda and count each one of her toes. He seemed enthralled by the infant, afraid to touch her, afraid to get too close. A while later, Slade suggested he and Mark play a card game.
Emily sat on the sofa, crocheting a sweater for her daughter, every once in a while looking over at them with a pensive look. When Amanda began crying, Emily said, “I’m going to take her upstairs to feed her. Mark, you get into your pajamas. It’ll soon be bedtime.”
The problem was, when Mark’s bedtime came and slowly slipped by, Amanda was still fussing. It was an hour past Mark’s bedtime when Slade went upstairs and peeked into Emily’s room. She was walking the fussy baby, rocking her and singing to her.
“Is something wrong?” Slade asked, worried because Amanda couldn’t seem to get settled.
“I don’t think so. Babies have fussy spells. Mark’s was always from midnight to 2:00 a.m.”
“I guess after having one baby, it’s a little easier.”
“I’m not as scared this time. With Mark I worried if I was doing everything right or everything wrong.”
“I can put Mark to bed if you like.” Amanda was crying again and it was obvious that Emily didn’t want to leave her.
Emily raised her voice over the crying. “Tell him to come in here first, so I can say good-night. You don’t have to read him a story—”
“I don’t mind reading him a story, Emily.”
Their gazes met, hers filled with gratitude, and he found himself wanting something other than thanks. He turned away to take care of Emily’s son.
Mark said good-night to his mother, brushed his teeth, then said his prayers. But after he got into bed, he was frowning.
“What’s wrong, partner? Think I can’t read a story as good as your mom?” Slade asked.
“Mom always puts me to bed.”
Thinking about Emily mothering Amanda and Mark on her own, Slade offered, “Things might change a little bit now. Babies need a lot of care.”
“Why is she crying so much?”
Slade wasn’t at all sure, but he figured he might as well try to give Mark an explanation he’d understand. “Amanda was safe and happy and comfortable growing in your mom’s body for all these months. It was warm and dark and cozy in there, I guess. Now, she came into this big, old world and there’s lights and noise and hot and cold and just lots of things she’s got to get used to.”
“How long does it take?” Mark asked, looking worried.
“Well, I’m not quite sure about that, but I imagine in a month or two, things will get easier.”
Mark didn’t comment on that. He just picked up the book he’d laid beside him and handed it to Slade.
After Slade put Mark to bed and turned off the boy’s light, he could still hear Amanda crying behind Emily’s closed door. He rapped on it, and at her muffled “Come in” opened it a few inches. “Is there anything I can do?”
She shook her head. “I was going to buy a pacifier but I didn’t. She’ll settle down eventually.”
“I thought I’d run into town tomorrow, get that gas and anything else you need.”
All of Emily’s attention was on her daughter as she rocked her back and forth in her arms, then stood and walked around the room.
“If you need me, yell. I’ll be in my room,” he said.
When Emily just nodded, he felt as if he were intruding, as if she didn’t really want him there. But then again, maybe she didn’t want any man in her life or helping her out. Stepping into the hall, he closed her door once again, then went downstairs.
It was almost midnight as Slade lay on his back on the bed, one arm crossed under his head while he stared into the dark. Amanda had stopped crying a short while ago. He’d heard the creaking of the floor above him as Emily rocked her baby. He could imagine her feeding her. He could imagine…
Turning onto his side, he threw his arm out over the quilt. But sleep eluded him. Images flitting through his mind wouldn’t give him any peace. Concentrating on his trip to Billings the next day, he made a list in his head. He’d stop at the courthouse first and see if he could search through some public records. Maybe he’d get some answers. Maybe he’d find his twin brother.
Some of the tension was finally leaving his body when he heard the sound of running water in the kitchen. A spoon clattered into the sink, and he sat up. He should stay right here. He should just keep his eyes shut till he fell asleep. But the thought of Emily in the kitchen made him grab his jeans that he’d tossed over the straight chair beside his bed. He slid into them and pulled a flannel shirt from the closet, not bothering to button it, not bothering with shoes or socks.
Coming into the kitchen, he saw her pouring milk into a mug. Then she set it in the microwave to warm. When she turned to face him, he saw the surprise in her eyes. “I thought you’d be asleep,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.”
Her hair softly waved along her cheek. She was wearing a pink flannel nightgown with a ruffle around the neck. Her robe was pale blue and fuzzy and looked as if it had seen a few winters. Her slippers were pink, too, and looked soft and comfortable. Everything about Emily made Slade want to take her in his arms, hug her and keep her safe.
Sure, safety is exactly what’s on your mind, a voice in his head scolded.
To drown it out, he asked, “I guess Amanda settled down?”
“For the time being.” Emily gave him a small smile, scooting her eyes away from the open shirt and his bare chest.
Crossing to the counter, Slade lifted muffins wrapped in tinfoil. Emily had asked him to take them out of the freezer earlier and they’d eaten them with supper. But a few of them had been left over.
“Interested?” He nodded toward the muffins.
“Sure,” she replied as the microwave beeped. “But let’s go int
o the living room. I’ll be able to hear Amanda easier in there. Maybe when you go to town tomorrow, you can get me a baby monitor. I have an advertisement for one upstairs.”
As they moved to the living room, he suggested, “Just jot things down, and I’ll get whatever you need.”
He could have taken the chair across from the sofa. Instead, he sat on the sofa cushion a few inches from Emily and opened the tinfoil.
When he offered her one of the muffins, she set her mug on the coffee table. “Thanks, Slade.”
“You made them,” he said with a grin.
“You know what I mean. Thank you for staying and helping, for putting Mark to bed tonight. The list is growing. I don’t know if I can ever repay you.”
“I told you. No repayment is necessary.” His voice was gruff as he avoided her eyes and broke a muffin in half.
There was silence for a minute or so as Emily broke off a piece of hers and popped it into her mouth. Slade couldn’t help but glance at her. She had such a beautiful profile, such sweetly curved lips.
“You said you’re going into Billings tomorrow. Will you be gone all day?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No. You weren’t. It’s just…” He drove his hand through his hair. “I’m not sure what I’ll find.”
Her gaze met his, and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. When she finally asked, “Are you looking for a woman?” he was surprised at the question and then felt some male satisfaction. Did she care if he was?
“No,” he answered, not wanting to string her along. “I’m looking for my brother.”
Was that relief he saw in her brown eyes?
“You don’t know where he lives?”
He could evade the subject or he could dive straight into it with her. If he didn’t give her information about his life, she certainly wouldn’t give him information about hers, and he was getting more curious about what kind of marriage she’d had and what kind of man Pete Lawrence had been.
“I didn’t grow up like most folks,” he said.
When her gaze met his, he gave a shrug as if it didn’t matter. “Most kids have parents—at least one—and a home. But I never knew my parents. I was brought up in a boys’ home.”
Just the Man She Needed Page 4