She sighed and melted into him and the rain pelted them both. Thunder and lightning rattled the sky. The wind howled. And neither of them noticed. His heartbeat roared in his chest and his blood pumped fierce and wild.
He took her deeper, harder, and felt her arms tighten around his neck as she gave herself up to him. Again and again he plundered her mouth hungrily, eagerly, until finally, needing air, he tore his mouth from hers and moved to taste the length of her throat. His lips trailed heat up and down that long, slender column, and she shivered in his grasp, moaning gently and tilting her head to one side to grant him easier access.
It wasn’t enough.
Would never be enough.
Groaning tightly, he pulled back long enough to scoop her into his arms. Then he stepped up onto the porch, opened the screen door and walked inside. Holding her close, he kicked the door closed and stalked across her cozy living room to the bedroom.
He knew this house as well as he knew the main house. When he was a kid, the foreman had lived here and he and his cousins had run free through the place.
It had changed, of course, which he absently noticed as he headed for her bedroom. Soft colors on the wall, framed posters of faraway countries and, over it all, the scent of flowers and fresh coffee.
She nibbled at his neck and Sam groaned again, his body fisting, his breath laboring. He crossed the short hall and entered the only bedroom. The mattress was covered by a quilt and the edges had been turned down, as if she’d prepared it for them. He could only be grateful.
Standing her on her own two feet, he took a step back from her and yanked off his sodden T-shirt. “I need you, Maggie. Here. Now. I need you.”
Her lips curved in a self-satisfied smile as she pulled her tank top up and off. She wasn’t wearing a bra. His hands itched to cup her breasts. But she walked up to him and pressed herself against him, her hardened nipples branding his bare chest with twin points of heat.
He dropped his head to the curve of her neck and feasted on her smooth skin. With lips, tongue, teeth, he tasted her and felt the shivering reaction ripple through her as she sighed.
Maggie leaned in closer, needing him every bit as much as he needed her. The kiss they’d shared that afternoon had haunted her for hours. The taste of him, the feel of him, the roaring need pulsing inside her. She’d never known anything like this and she didn’t care if he wasn’t going to stay. Well, she cared. And wished he would change his mind. But a part of her knew that wouldn’t happen. And still she had to have him.
There had been so few perfect moments in her life that she’d learned early to treasure them when they did show themselves. And every moment with Sam was perfect. She wanted—needed—to feel him inside her again. To feel his strength covering her, opening her, filling her.
And when he was gone—when he left—she would still have these moments to relive. To remember.
His hands, broad-palmed and long-fingered, stroked her spine, then slipped beneath the waistband of her shorts to cup her behind. She sucked in air, then held it as sparklers fired off in her bloodstream. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensations he caused. The feel of his hands on her skin—the cold sting of his belt buckle against her belly, the hard ridge of him pressed against her abdomen. Even through the thick fabric of his jeans she felt his heat, his desire, and it fired her blood until she felt as though she were burning up from the inside.
Lifting his head, he stared down into her eyes and whispered a raw confession. “I want you even more than I did the first time.”
“I feel exactly the same way,” Maggie admitted and went up on her toes, despite her wobbly knees, to kiss him. Instantly he deepened that kiss, claiming her, devouring her.
He walked her backward until her knees hit the edge of the mattress. Then he laid her down on the bed and came down with her. His hands were everywhere at once. Maggie’s eyes closed as she concentrated on the feel of him exploring her every line and curve. Expertly he peeled off her shorts in a matter of seconds and tossed them to the floor. Then he stood up, toed off his boots and yanked his jeans down and off to lie in a sodden heap on the old wooden floorboards.
Then he stopped.
“What?” she demanded impatiently, her body tingling, ready, eager.
“Condom. Still don’t have a damn condom.”
“In the drawer.” She waved a hand at the bedside table and rocked her hips. “I bought some.”
He grinned and yanked at the drawer knob. Grabbing up a silver foil packet, he ripped it open, sheathed himself, then came to her, still smiling. “I do like a woman who plans ahead.”
His body covered hers and she lifted her hips into him, chewing at her bottom lip. “Enough talking, cowboy. Show me.”
“My pleasure,” he said and pushed himself into her depths.
Maggie groaned, lifted her legs to wrap them around his hips and drew him deeper, closer. He groaned, too, closing his eyes as the sweet rush of sensation poured through them, connecting them, binding them together in a surge of heat.
He dipped his head to taste her nipples, drawing and suckling her as she rocked beneath him, pulling him close and moaning as his body briefly left hers only to fill her again.
Their bodies linked. They stared into each other’s eyes, and when the first shattering explosion came hurtling down on them, they held on to each other and jumped into the abyss.
Ten
Over the next week life at the Lonergan ranch eased into a routine. Days were spent exploring the ranch Sam had known so long ago and nights were spent in Maggie’s arms. He’d stopped worrying about what would happen when he left—Maggie was deter mined to enjoy what they had while they had it, and some of that feeling had seeped into Sam.
And now that Jeremiah’s pretense was over, he and Sam spent hours exploring the ranch land together. Years had passed, but the land remained the same—with a few minor changes.
“Vegetables?” Sam asked as he parked the ranch truck and stared out at long rows of green stretching out as far as the eye could see.
Jeremiah shrugged and squinted into the afternoon sunlight. “Cut way back on running cattle, didn’t want the land laying fallow. So I rent this half of the ranch to a group of farmers for a percentage of the net profits. Dave Hemmings rents the grazing land for his dairy herd.” He sighed a little and Sam turned to look at him. “I’m an old man, boy. Too much ranch to run alone.”
Guilt pinged inside Sam and he tried to ignore the sour stab of it. None of the old man’s sons had been interested in the ranch, instead going off to find their own paths. And his grandsons—Sam included—had made themselves scarce fifteen years ago.
Not surprising that Jeremiah would have to make adjustments in how he ran the Lonergan ranch. Still, it stung to realize how much he regretted the necessity. His gaze swept over the neatly tended fields, but in his mind he saw the ranch as it had been years ago—herds of Black Angus cattle wandering over the knee-deep grass.
But times change.
“I’m sorry,” he said, still staring out at the neatly tended field of leaf lettuce. “Sorry I wasn’t here to help.”
Jeremiah reached over and patted Sam’s shoulder. His voice gruff, he said, “Never expected you to take on the ranch, boy. It was always doctoring for you. Will say, though, that I’ve missed you something terrible. Missed all of you.”
“I know.” He turned his head to stare at the old man who’d always been so important to him. “And I wish it could have been different. God, Jeremiah, you have no idea how many times I’ve wished things were different.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Sam,” he said, tiredly. “Wasn’t any of you boys’ fault.”
“Wish I could believe that.” He took a breath, blew it out and added, “I missed you, too, you old goat.”
Jeremiah’s lips twitched and his bushy gray eyebrows wiggled like live caterpillars. “Well, good. Glad to hear it.”
“Glad enough to tell me what’s going on?” Sam
asked. “Why you picked this summer to get us all back here?”
“Nope.” He shook his head firmly. “Time enough for that once Jake and Cooper show up. Now how about we head into town? Visit Bert?”
Sam narrowed his eyes on his grandfather. “I’m not taking over Bert’s practice.”
“Who said anything about you?” Jeremiah demanded. “I’m talking about going to see an old friend.”
“Uh-huh.” Sam wasn’t buying it, but he couldn’t think of a reason to not go. So he put the truck in gear and headed off down the dirt road.
Maggie lined up all three plastic sticks on the edge of the bathroom sink and swallowed back the knot that was lodged firmly in her throat.
“Three tries,” she murmured, shaking her head and staring down at the test results. “Three pluses.”
She’d had to be sure. This kind of thing couldn’t be trusted to just a “feeling.” Though that feeling had been pretty strong. Pretty sure. She was never late. If there was one thing in her life that she had always been able to consistently count on, it was the fact that her cycle was as regular as clockwork.
Until this month.
She lifted her head and met her own reflected gaze in the mirror. She deliberately chose to not notice the flicker of worry in her eyes—instead she focused on the joy. All her life she’d longed for family. For someone to love. To love her.
Here at Jeremiah’s ranch, she’d found her place.
And now she’d found her family.
“I’m pregnant.”
Just saying the words made it all real and brought a tender smile to her face.
Laying both hands protectively against her flat abdomen, she whispered, “Don’t worry about a thing, okay, little guy? You’ll be okay. I promise.”
Even as she said it, though, she felt a flicker of unease as she thought about telling Sam her news. He wouldn’t be happy, she knew that already. He was so determined to keep his heart locked away, he would see this baby as an invitation to pain.
Turning around, she sighed and leaned back against the edge of the sink. Her brain raced with thoughts and wishes and half-baked dreams she knew didn’t have a chance at becoming reality.
Maggie stared absently at the framed picture of dolphins romping in the sea with children and silently admitted a secret she’d been hiding not only from Sam—but from herself.
She loved him.
She loved Sam Lonergan.
His strength, his tenderness, his gentle touch, even his crabby streak.
She loved everything about him and knew she couldn’t keep him. But at least when he left she’d have his child.
And she’d never be alone again.
The waiting room was full.
Babies wailed, harried mothers tried to cope and a tired nurse shouted out the name of the next patient, trying to be heard over the din.
And Sam’s instincts were to jump in and help.
Jeremiah strode across the room toward the door leading back to Bert’s office, but instead of following him, Sam stopped beside a toddler whimpering softly.
Going down on one knee, he smiled briefly at the boy’s mother, then concentrated on the child watching him through wide, anxious, tear-filled eyes.
“What’s your name?” Sam asked gently.
“Toby an’ my ’froat hurts.”
His mother smiled again and said, “He’s had a fever since yesterday and I just thought it would be best to bring him in….” She glanced around the crowded waiting room and sighed.
Sam saw the fever shining in the boy’s eyes but laid the heel of his palm against the child’s forehead anyway. Warm but not bad. Gently he pressed his fingertips against the child’s swollen glands and then ruffled light brown featherweight hair. Looking up at the boy’s mother, he said, “Looks like tonsillitis. He should be fine with some children’s-strength pain reliever. Just make sure he has plenty of fluids.”
The woman smiled, then cocked her head to one side and asked, “I’m sorry, but you are…?”
Sam chuckled and straightened up. Not hard to figure out why she was surprised at his spur-of-the-moment diagnosis, dressed as he was in worn jeans, shabby boots and an open-throated, short-sleeved shirt. “Sam Lonergan. Don’t worry. I’m an actual doctor.”
“Is my ’froat all better now?” The boy’s voice was shrill.
“Not yet,” Sam said, “but soon.” Then he glanced at the boy’s mother. “I’ll tell Doc Evans you’re out here and—”
She smiled, her eyes brightening even as she stood up and held out one hand. “Thank you. I’m Sally Hoover. This is my son Toby.”
Sam smiled. “We’ve met.”
“This is great,” she was saying, glancing around the room as if making sure that everyone else there was listening. “You’re Jeremiah’s grandson, aren’t you?”
“Yes…”
“I can’t tell you how relieved we all are,” Sally continued, rolling right over him as he tried to get in another word or two. “With Doc Evans retiring, most of us thought that we’d have to drive into Fresno to find a new doctor. Having you here is going to make everyone so happy.”
Sam backed up. “No, I’m sorry, you don’t underst—”
“You’re the new doctor?” Another woman, holding an infant tight to her chest, stepped forward, grinning. “I’m Victoria Sanchez, and it’s so nice to meet you.”
“Thanks, but—”
“I’m Donna Terrino,” another woman said from behind him, and Sam spun around to face her. She had twin boys of about five clinging to her legs. It was a wonder she could walk. “This is great. It’s a pleasure to have you here,” she said. “I can’t tell you what this is going to mean to the town.”
Panic clawed at Sam’s throat.
As more and more of the patients in the waiting room came forward to meet him, faces blurred and names became nothing more than a buzz of conversation around him. His brain raced, his heart pounded.
He felt…trapped.
They were all looking at him as though he were a longed-for Christmas present. They wouldn’t let him speak long enough to shatter their illusions, and damned if a part of him wasn’t grateful. He didn’t want to be here to see the disappointment on their faces. Didn’t want to care that he’d be leaving the town he’d once loved in the lurch.
It wasn’t his responsibility.
The welfare of the town’s health care wasn’t up to him.
So why then did the guilt crawling through him feel so much bigger? Stronger?
“When will you be setting up your own practice?” someone in the back of the crowd asked.
“Is he the new doctor?” a child called out.
No, he wanted to shout but doubted any of them would pay attention. They already had him hanging out his shingle and seeing his first patient. A yearning he hadn’t quite expected darted through him, then was gone again in the next heartbeat. Just as well. It didn’t matter if a part of him wished he could settle here, be the man they all wanted him to be.
The door into the hallway opened up behind him and Sam turned to try to make a break for it. He took one step though and stopped dead.
“Sam?” The big man coming through the door tightened his grip on the little girl at his side and marched toward Sam with long, measured strides.
Memories kicked in and Sam momentarily forgot about looking for the fastest way out. “Mike? Mike Haney?”
“Damn straight,” the big man said, grinning. “Good to see you, man,” he added. “It’s been way too long. I heard you were back in town. Cooper and Jake here, too?”
“Not yet,” Sam said, ignoring the chattering mothers and crying babies surrounding them. Mike Haney had been a good friend years ago. He was only one of the people in Coleville that Sam had missed. “Soon, though.”
“This is my daughter,” Mike was saying, tugging a blond girl out from behind him.
“Your daughter?” Hard to believe. In Sam’s mind, Mike Haney and all of his other friends w
ere still seventeen years old. Still swiping beers from their fathers’ refrigerators to meet out at the lake and lie to each other about their conquests.
Proudly Mike said, “We—me and Barb—you remember Barb?”
“Sure,” Sam said, still bemused by the blond-haired cutie half hiding behind her father. Then it clicked. “You and Barb got married?”
“Sure did—and this little beauty is our youngest. I’ve got three girls now.”
“Three…”
“And every one of ’em’s a heartbreaker. How about you?” Mike asked, smiling. “Wife and kids?”
“No,” Sam said and suddenly felt the punch of all that he’d missed by avoiding any relationship that looked like it might grow into something important. “No family.”
“Oh, well…” Mike hemmed and hawed for a moment or two, then tugged his daughter out to say hello. “Want you to meet Maxie—” He paused and added, “We named her after Mac. Maxie, honey, say hi to Dr. Sam. He’s an old friend of your daddy’s.”
Sam stared into wide blue eyes and tried to find a smile. But the sudden thickening in his throat made it damn near impossible. Mac. The reason he’d stayed away so long. The reason he had to leave again. Soon.
“She’s beautiful,” Sam finally managed to say, then edged past his old friend, heading for the relative sanctuary of Bert’s office. The waiting room was still filled with excited chatter. The little blond girl gave him a finger wave. “It was good to see you again, Mike.”
The big man nodded, oblivious to Sam’s eager escape. “You let me know when Jake and Cooper hit town. We’ll get together. Talk about old times.”
“Right. Good idea.” Never gonna happen, he thought. No way did he want to sit down and reminisce.
And he was pretty sure both Jake and Cooper would feel the same way.
Maggie waited.
All through dinner, through doing the dishes, cleaning the kitchen and even through the evening news. She held her secret close and waited until Jeremiah had fallen asleep in front of the television and she and Sam were alone.
Expecting Lonergan’s Baby Page 10