Just the Man She Needed

by Karen Rose Smith

  She nodded, realizing she had to face her desire for Slade as well as whatever was bothering Mark.

  Tears continued to fill her eyes even after Slade left the room, and as her daughter suckled at her breast, Emily brushed them away, knowing she wasn’t a crying type of woman, wishing her hormones would settle down to normal.

  After she gently laid Amanda in her crib, she blew her nose, splashed water on her eyes and ran a brush through her hair. She looked a fright. Checking on Mark, she saw that he was asleep. As she watched the rise and fall of his breaths, she knew he wasn’t pretending. Leaving his door open slightly, she went downstairs.

  Slade motioned to a mug of milk on the coffee table. “I thought you might want that.”

  His kindness almost made tears fill her eyes again. She blinked quickly and composed herself, then sat on the sofa beside Slade, yet a good six inches away from him. “I know I need to spend more time with Mark. I just didn’t realize how difficult handling two children would be. I was happy when I found out I was pregnant, even though Pete was gone. Another child to love seemed like a blessing. I really never thought about one taking time from the other.”

  Slade shifted toward her. “I’m sorry if I was…abrupt with you upstairs, but you have to stop running off and hiding with Amanda. That’s part of the problem. Mark sees you giving all this time and attention to her and he figures he doesn’t count.”

  “But he can come in,” she said defensively, not ever meaning to shut her son out.

  “Emily, you have the door closed to keep me out, and I understand that. Sort of. What do you think is going to happen if I see you breast-feeding your daughter?”

  The problem was that she didn’t know what she wanted to happen. “It’s a matter of privacy, Slade.”

  “No. It’s a matter of me being a man and you being a woman and having a couple of kisses between us. If I were a woman, we wouldn’t even be having this discussion. You’d be feeding Amanda in the living room or the kitchen or wherever it was convenient.”

  “If you were a woman, I wouldn’t—”

  “Wouldn’t what?” he asked gently.

  She wouldn’t hold her breath each time he came into the room. She wouldn’t tremble when he got really close. She wouldn’t feel something inside her stir when his eyes met hers. “Well, you’re not a woman, Slade, and it’s not like you’re a member of the family.”

  Her statement made his jaw set, and the nerve on it work. “Do you ever intend to take Amanda out of this house?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “So what are you going to do then if you have to feed her?”

  Somehow with Mark she’d always managed to find a private spot. “It’s not hard to get away from other people.”

  “Maybe not, but I think you’re going to have to find a way to include your son in this or you’re going to have big trouble.”

  Slade’s words rang true. If Mark started pulling away from her now, what would happen when he was older? “I suppose during the day I could feed her down here and stay covered. I just don’t want to feel as if you’re…”

  “Wanting to take a look?” he asked practically.

  “Yes.”

  “This is your house, Emily. These are your children. I’ll abide by whatever rules you set up.”

  “It’s not that simple,” she said softly and then looked away. Part of her wanted Slade to watch, and that shocked her. “Look, I appreciate what you’re saying and I’ll work something out.”

  “Why is it so hard for you to accept help?” he asked, searching her face.

  Her reply was quick in coming. “Because I don’t want to ask anyone to do what’s my responsibility. Asking for help makes me feel weak,” she said in a burst, frustrated because he’d pressed her to put it into words.

  He faced her more squarely. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, but everybody has limits and I’d say both you and Mark have reached them.”

  In some ways, he was right. “What do you think I should do?”

  “Let up a little. I can make a meal now and then. We can open a can of soup instead of you making it.”

  “That’s more expensive,” she said simply.

  “I’ll buy you soup for the next two weeks,” he teased.

  “That’s exactly what I don’t want.” She’d had to fight with him to take money for the baby monitor he’d bought for her.

  They stared at each other, neither of them blinking until finally Slade blew out a breath and muttered, “The most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”

  She couldn’t help but smile then. “At least I still take the blue ribbon for that.”

  Something changed in his eyes. They became deeper blue…mesmerizing. When he leaned toward her, she wasn’t sure what he meant to do, but he reached out to her and let his thumb gently rest on her cheekbone.

  She looked up at him, confused by a multitude of feelings, wanting his kiss yet wishing she could escape this pull toward him.

  When he leaned away slightly, his voice was a husky temptation as he reminded her, “Remember what I said, Emily. Next time you have to ask.”

  Immediately she remembered the last kiss and her reaction to it. She’d thought it would be easy to stay away from him. She’d thought it would be easy not to ask. Pride made her draw herself up straight. “I’m going to have a talk with Mark tomorrow and maybe I can make some changes.”

  “Showing him would be better than telling him,” Slade advised her with a knowing look that saw way too much.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said as she stood and turned toward the stairs.

  “Emily, you forgot something.”

  She faced him again, wondering if he would take her in his arms….

  But instead, he held out the mug of milk. “You might sleep better if you drink it.”

  She might sleep better if she could put Slade Coleburn out of her head. When she took the mug, their fingers brushed. He didn’t move and neither did she. Telling herself she was too tired to play games, she murmured, “Good night,” broke eye contact and started up the stairs.

  “Sweet dreams, Emily.”

  There was no reason to glance over her shoulder because she knew if she did, she’d see the twinkle in Slade’s eyes that would tell her he knew she might dream of him.

  The following morning, Slade went outside to feed the animals and do some chores. Emily had been up and bustling around the kitchen with a new energy that Slade suspected came more from determination than from a good night’s sleep. She acted as if she’d thought over a few things and made some decisions, but he had no clue as to what they were. She still avoided getting too close, and he remembered her looking up at him on the sofa last night. It had been damn stupid of him to set up the terms of the next kiss as stubborn as this woman was. He might never kiss her again. Disappointment at that thought sliced deep, but he shook it off and went about feeding the horses.

  When he returned to the house, Emily was setting breakfast on the table—scrambled eggs, home fries, thick slices of toast. She called Mark and when he came down in his pajamas rubbing his eyes, she wore a cheerful smile and engaged him in conversation, or at least tried to. By the time he’d eaten most of his eggs, he was telling her about the turkey he’d made in art class on Friday.

  “Thanksgiving is only a few days away,” Emily said. “I guess I should see about getting a turkey.”

  “Are you sure you want to go to all that trouble?” Slade asked.

  After a glance at Mark, she nodded. “It’s Thanksgiving, Slade.”

  Thanksgiving had never meant very much to him, like most of the holidays. It was just another day when he knew he didn’t belong to somebody. Since he hadn’t met with any success looking for information about his brother in public records, he decided to take out ads in a few of the big papers from Chicago to Los Angeles. He was afraid to set his expectations too high, but he wanted to try this himself before he hired a P.I.

  “Why do
n’t you make a list?” he suggested to her. “Mark and I can go in town and get everything we need. But we’re only going to let you make the turkey if you promise to let us help. Right, Mark?” he nudged the boy in the arm.

  Mark looked a bit surprised. “Sure. I can pull the bread apart for the stuffing.”

  Emily smiled at her son and took another sip of orange juice. Suddenly Amanda’s cry came from the living room.

  Mark’s face fell.

  But instead of rushing in to pick up her daughter, Emily said to her son, “Why don’t you show me the turkey you made and get me your school papers from last week? I can look at them while I’m feeding Amanda.”

  Mark looked puzzled. “Really?”

  Standing, Emily came around his chair to give him a hug. “Really. Bring them into the living room.”

  Slade’s gaze met hers over her son’s head. Apparently she had decided to make some changes and only good could come of it. Wanting to give her whatever space she needed, Slade stood, too. “Go on. I’ll clean up in here. Then I’ll be working in the barn.”

  When she smiled at him, Slade’s heart felt like it turned over in his chest. It was a smile that made him believe they’d established some kind of understanding, as if she actually liked having him here. Before he left the house, he heard her talking to Mark about what he could expect from Amanda in the months to come—when she might smile and get her first tooth and then crawl.

  He smiled when he heard Mark ask, “She won’t be able to eat real food till then?” Chuckling, glad Mark and Emily were connecting again, Slade went to the barn.

  About an hour later, Slade heard the flashy, new crew-cab truck before he saw it. It’s silver finish gleamed in the sunlight. He’d heard Emily’s phone conversation with her neighbor, Mavis O’Neill, and supposed she’d arrived. Intending to finish chores in the barn, he suddenly changed his mind when he spotted the driver of the truck. He was tall, wore a tan Stetson and a suede jacket with fringes. When he walked behind the older couple up to the house, Slade figured he must be a son or something. His interest piqued, Slade finished laying fresh straw in the stalls and went up to the house.

  Going inside, he found everyone but Mark in the living room. The older lady with short brown curls streaked with gray was holding Amanda. Her husband, his grin softening burly features, was sitting beside her, looking on the baby fondly. But it was the younger man that drew Slade’s attention. He had brown hair, green eyes and was standing much too close to Emily, gazing down at her as if she was the prettiest woman on earth. After Slade thought about it a minute, he supposed she was. She was wearing a black skirt that buttoned down the front and a red sweater that looked fuzzy to the touch. Whoever the man was, his arm was brushing hers and she looked as if she didn’t care. Whenever he got that close…

  Stepping into the living room, he cleared his throat loudly, keeping his gaze on Emily.

  Her eyes met his and for a moment she looked uncertain. But then the man beside her was looking at Slade, too, and so was the older couple.

  Emily’s cheeks became rosy. “Slade, this is Mavis and Rod O’Neill and their son, Dallas. Everyone, Slade Coleburn. He’s…ah, I’ve hired him on to help out.”

  Dallas frowned. “Mom should have told you I was coming home for Thanksgiving. I could have done anything that needed attention around here.”

  “You have your own concerns now with computerizing your dad’s records and managing the herd,” Emily said.

  Denying the prickling jealousy he felt and wanting to keep things on an even keel, Slade extended his hand to the man. “It’s good to meet you.”

  “Same here. Where are you from?” Dallas asked.

  “I last worked on a ranch in Idaho, if that’s what you’re asking.” Dallas’s green eyes were intense, and Slade knew exactly what was on Dallas O’Neill’s mind. “Emily checked out my references.”

  Emily moved between the men then and laid her hand lightly on Dallas’s arm. “How about some coffee? Mavis and Rod?”

  Mark practically flew into the room then, waving what looked like a paper plate with colored spokes pasted all around it. “See my turkey, Dallas?”

  Dallas laughed and crouched down to the boy. “That looks like a fine turkey to me.”

  While Emily brewed coffee, small talk was strained until they got onto the subject of ranching. Slade learned that Dallas was earning a master’s degree in animal science at the University of Illinois. He’d be finished at the end of summer, then he’d be home to stay. Besides building up his family’s herd with what he’d learned, he trained horses, too.

  As Emily listened to the hum of voices in the living room, she poured milk into a creamer, then took the bowl of sugar from the cupboard.

  Mavis came into the kitchen and said, “Amanda fell asleep. I put her in her cradle. She’s absolutely adorable.”

  “I think so, too,” Emily said with a smile. She liked Mavis O’Neill and respected her. Her father and Rod O’Neill had been best friends all their lives, and their friendship carried over to her and Dallas. They’d gone through school together.

  Lifting mugs from the wooden tree at the corner of the counter, Mavis glanced over at her. “How long has Mr. Coleburn been here?”

  Emily had figured there’d be questions. Soon enough, neighbors other than Mavis and Rod would know Slade was staying here. Word got around. “He’s been here about a week. He got stranded here last Sunday night when it snowed, and he slept out in the barn. And then, well, he’s the one who delivered Amanda. I owe a lot to him.”

  Mavis’s brow creased. “I see. How long is he staying?”

  “He doesn’t know yet and neither do I. He’s looking for a relative.” She didn’t feel it was her place to tell Slade’s story.

  “You know there’s going to be talk, don’t you? Pete’s been dead less than a year.”

  She and Mavis had never stood on ceremony. “I don’t pay attention to talk. I didn’t when Pete was alive, and I don’t now that he’s gone. Slade’s a good man. I don’t know what I would have done without him this past week.”

  “You can call me anytime—”

  “Mavis, we’ve been through this. I don’t like to impose. I’m giving Slade room and board in exchange for the chores he does.”

  “So he’s staying in the house?” Disapproval was evident in her tone.

  “He sleeps down here in Dad’s old room. Everything’s proper, Mavis.” A little devil inside her head reminded her, Except for that last kiss. Emily quieted it by taking a package of muffins from the bread box.

  “I don’t plan on gossiping about this, but you know others will.” Opening one of the cupboards, Mavis took out a plate and handed it to Emily. “I know, too, you have a mind of your own and you’ll do what’s right for you.”

  After she and Mavis carried the muffins and coffee into the living room, Emily sensed tension between the men.

  Slade spoke first. “Dallas mentioned he mended some of your fence that was down. I told him I can handle that kind of thing. As long as I’m here.”

  Emily felt the war of wills between the two men and knew she had to settle it. First, she addressed Dallas’s father. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me while I was pregnant, Rod.”

  “And we’ve enjoyed your breads and cakes and pies,” he said with a smile at his wife.

  Crossing to Dallas with a mug of coffee, Emily handed it to him. “I appreciate your helping, too. But I’ll be fine. And when Slade leaves, if I need you, I’ll let you know.”

  “Promise?” Dallas asked with a twinkle in his green eyes that Emily knew came from the friendship they’d shared over the years.

  “I promise,” she returned.

  There was silence in the room for a few moments until Slade stood. “It was good meeting you all, but I have chores in the barn.”

  His smile was strained and Emily knew he probably felt out of place, but she realized there was no point coaxing him to stay if he wanted to go. �
�You didn’t drink your coffee. I’ll put some in a thermos for you.”

  When Slade followed her to the kitchen, she felt his gaze on her. Pouring coffee into the same thermos she’d used the night he’d arrived, she finally glanced at him. “Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I just have a question.” His voice went deep and low. “What does Dallas O’Neill mean to you and how long has it been going on?”

  Chapter Five

  Slade’s question shocked Emily. It not only insulted her, but it made her plain mad. “What do you mean, how long has it been going on? What are you accusing me of?”

  His voice stayed low. “You never talk about your husband. You don’t even have a picture of him around. And you seem right familiar with Dallas O’Neill.”

  “Familiar?” Her tone dropped as low as his as she glanced into the living room. “Dallas and I have known each other since we were kids. As far as my husband is concerned…that’s none of your business. Neither is Dallas.” She shoved the thermos at Slade.

  But he wasn’t giving up. “Were you and Dallas sweethearts?”

  After letting out an impatient breath, she stated, “Dallas and I were and are friends. Always have been, probably always will be. Now I have to get back to my guests.”

  When she would have turned away from Slade, he snagged her arm. “Was your marriage unhappy?”

  She didn’t want to talk about it with him, not here, not now, maybe not ever. She felt guilty about the way Slade made her feel. She’d never experienced the tingling excitement and awareness with her husband that she felt with Slade. “Keep pushing, Slade, and I might decide I can do just fine without you here.” Ignoring his intense stare, she went into the living room.

  Emily didn’t see Slade again until suppertime. When he came into the kitchen, he said, “I’m going to get a shower.” His blue eyes were cold, and his smile was strained when he glanced at Mark.

  “Mom helped me make a notebook of animal pictures for school. Want to see?”

  “How about after supper?” He only waited for Mark’s nod before he moved down the hall without looking at her.