“Jaimie, there you are.” Joe appeared in the doorway behind Daniel, his dark hair rumpled, his cheeks unshaven. “Where’s Mags?”
Matthew’s arms dropped from her, and Jaimie felt suddenly cold. She moved over to Joe and hugged him. No matter how he behaved, he was still her brother. And no matter how much she wanted to pretend that she and Matthew were the only people in the world, how much she wanted to explore what he’d begun, there were other things that needing tending. “She’s in her room,” she said huskily. “Come on, I’ll show you where.” She could feel the heat of Matthew’s eyes on them. Flushing, she pulled Joe down the hall but spotted Maggie’s doctor first.
She hurried after him, nearly skipping in her haste to catch the doctor before he reached the elevator. “Doctor Foster,” she said, skidding around beside him. “How is Maggie?”
He looked at Joe, clearly not recognizing him, then at Jaimie. “You’re the sister-in-law,” he remembered aloud. “We’ve managed to stop the contractions. But her fever is still rising. We’re running an IV and have started a course of antibiotics,” he told them, glancing at the gold watch circling his wrist
“Wait—” She grabbed his coat sleeve when he punched the elevator call button. “What about the baby?”
He paused, his glance over the top of gold-rimmed glasses not unkind. “We want to put off delivery for as long as possible. Every day at this point increases the baby’s chances. I’ll want to keep her in the hospital until she delivers.”
Beside her, Joe swore beneath his breath. Jaimie tightened her hand on his.
The elevator doors slid open. “I’m due in delivery,” the doctor said as he stepped inside. “Right now I’m concerned about clearing up the infection causing her fever.” He nodded toward them as the doors slid shut.
Jaimie turned to find Daniel standing a few feet behind them. He looked at Joe, and his gray eyes turned to cold chips of slate. “Maggie’s asking for you,” he told him.
Jaimie pointed toward the room, and her brother went inside. When she looked back for Daniel, though, he was gone. Matthew walked toward her. “You okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Her doctor wants to keep her here until the baby comes.”
“Then she’ll be here for whatever care she needs.”
His voice sounded oddly hollow, and she looked up at him, for the first time noticing how pale he was. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” He planted his hat on his head. “Just need some fresh air. You want to come with me or wait to see Maggie?”
“Now that Joe’s here,” she said, “Maggie will be fine. I’ll check on her later.”
His expression was tight, but he nodded and handed her coat to her. “Let’s get some supper, then. You didn’t eat enough food earlier to fill a thimble.”
They stopped at the nurses’ station and Jaimie told the nurse assigned to Maggie where they’d be. They rode the elevator down, and Matthew hustled her to the café located on the main floor of the hotel across the street. Keep it simple, she told herself. Simple, so that perhaps she could maintain some semblance of dignity. “Did Jefferson check on the calf?”
“Emily did. He was fine. Took him back out to the bam. He’s drinking on his own.”
Jaimie nodded, relieved.
“Daniel took the truck back to the ranch.”
She toyed with her napkin. “Why didn’t you go with him?” His eyes met hers and her mouth went dry. She reached for her water glass and sucked down half of it. So much for dignity.
She looked scared out of her mind, but her determined expression told Matthew she was battling it down. His lips twisted. “Relax. I’ve got some business to take care of. Since I’m already here, might as well tend to it now.” It wasn’t a complete lie.
She moistened her lips, thrusting her slender fingers through her hair. It tumbled down her back, glowing deeply beneath the lamp hanging over their table. He stifled the want that chugged hot and slow through his veins and turned his attention to the menu in his hands.
They had just ordered when Jaimie realized they were being stared at. She looked at the man who was eyeing them from the entrance and knew she’d never seen him before. “Matthew, there’s a man...oh, he’s coming this way.”
Matthew looked up and his eyes, which had been filled with heat a moment before, cooled. A large man to begin with, his mile-wide shoulders seemed suddenly even more imposing against the back of the booth.
The stranger who’d been staring stopped at the table. “Matt.”
“Haskell.”
Jaimie wanted to shrink back in her seat at the tangible dislike between the two. It rolled off Matthew’s shoulders in waves.
The man, Haskell, turned his pale brown eyes toward Jaimie. “Howdy, ma’am.”
For no reason that she could fathom, Jaimie didn’t like him. His greeting had been friendly enough. She made herself nod. “Good evening.” Then the man turned his attention back to Matthew and she was relieved.
“Hear you’re sniffing around the Blanchard place,” the man murmured crudely. “You Clays not satisfied owning nearly every piece of land in these parts? You gotta cheat some poor woman outta her place?”
Jaimie swallowed a gasp and watched Matthew’s fist slowly curl. She held her breath.
“Hear you had to go all the way to Arkansas to find a job,” Matthew returned. Calm. Cold.
“Thanks to you.”
“You should have stayed there.”
“I don’t gotta do nothing,” Haskell retorted.
Matthew didn’t respond and Haskell smiled nastily. He looked back at Jaimie. “You ought to find yourself a better date,” he suggested. “One that’s not ice all the way to his bones.”
“Haskell.”
The man went still as Matthew said his name. He suddenly turned on his heel and stalked out of the restaurant.
Jaimie blinked. She looked at Matthew. She’d never heard him sound so menacing. And all he’d said was the man’s name. She moistened her lips. “What was that?”
His fist uncurled and he picked up his water, drinking. “A snake,” he finally said. “Don’t let him ruin your appetite.”
“But—”
“He worked for us once,” Matthew provided shortly.
“Once? Good grief, Matthew. You looked like you wanted to squash him under your boot.”
“An appropriate action,” he said. He set down his water and shifted his shoulders. “He tried to rustle Double-C cattle,” he said after a moment.
“Tried?”
“I stopped him.”
Jaimie decided she really didn’t want to know how. “I thought rustling was a criminal act,” she said instead. “Was he convicted?”
“Haskell and I went to school together. We used to be friends. He thought that would make a difference.” His lips twisted. “We handled it ourselves.”
“Oh,” she said faintly. “How long ago did this happen?”
“A long time ago. Haskell and the likes of him know better than to mess with the Double-C,” he said softly. “Now, can we talk about something more pleasant?”
Jaimie toyed with her water glass. She nodded. “Please.” She didn’t want to think too hard about what she’d just witnessed. She didn’t need to think hard on it. Just as Matthew would never leave the Double-C, he would never stand for anyone harming it, either. Not an old schoolmate. Not anyone.
Thankfully, the waitress arrived with their meal, and Matthew seemed to set himself the task of erasing the brief, unpleasant episode from existence with his casual banter. He did such a good job of it that Jaimie actually managed to eat her entire meal and the dessert that he ordered for her.
When they returned to the hospital, they learned that Maggie’s temperature had risen even higher. Jaimie wouldn’t be allowed in to visit her that night. Through the small window in the door, they looked in. Joe sat beside his wife’s bed, an unopened magazine on his lap.
Jaimie turned to Matthew. Everything he’
d said in the waiting room was suddenly fresh in her mind. “It’s getting late,” she said. “There’s no reason for you to stay. Go on over to the hotel. You’ll be a lot more comfortable there than in the waiting room here.”
“So would you.” He tipped her chin up and studied her face. “You haven’t been sleeping much lately. You’ve got circles under your eyes.”
Because every time she drifted into sleep it was to dream about him. About his body lying next to hers. She turned her head, and his hand fell away. “I should wait for Joe.”
Matthew’s expression seemed to tighten. He pulled a key from his pocket and closed her palm around it “The room number is on the key,” he said. “Get some sleep sometime.”
His glacial eyes were anything but, when they ran over her face once more before he headed for the elevators. Jaimie watched him go, her finger running along the jagged edge of the key. Then she tucked it in her pocket and slowly walked back to the waiting room.
Matthew knew he was dreaming. It was all very logical. He knew it was a dream, no doubt spurred on by the afternoon spent in the hospital, but he couldn’t get it to stop. So he braced himself for the visions that engulfed him. Memories that were so vivid he could still smell the piney scent of the Christmas tree in the big house, feel the way the cold snow stung his cheeks. So vivid that he could taste the coppery tang of fear when he stood at the top of the back steps, looking toward the old barn.
His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he took those steps down, fear growing with every step he took. He’d had the dream so many times in the past that he knew what he’d see when he got to the bam, and that knowledge just made his guts twist even tighter.
He broke out into a sweat when he saw himself fall to his knees. Blood soaked through the new Levi’s he’d just opened a few hours ago.
He tried so hard not to cry, but failed miserably. Clutching her hand in his as he tried to wake her. Then her eyes opened and she softly whispered his name.
Matthew bolted out of bed, nearly stumbling over his boots that he’d left lying on the floor. Sweat cooled rapidly on his bare chest and he raked his fingers through his hair, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.
Tension twisted and twined inside him and he stepped across the hotel room, yanking back the drapes to look out. His room faced away from the hospital across the street, looking over a parking lot instead.
Heart thundering, he pressed his forehead against the cold windowpane.
God. He hadn’t had that dream in years.
He’d spent thirty years of his life without a mother. And now, to have that dream again. After all this time...
Making an impatient sound, he dropped the drapes back into place and headed for the bathroom. It was nearly 2:00 a.m. And he sure as shootin’ didn’t want to go back to sleep just now.
He flipped on the shower and stepped in. A solid twenty minutes later, he mentally blessed hot water heaters and wrapped a towel around his waist. He was heading back to bed when he heard a soft tapping on the door. He yanked it open.
Jaimie gaped.
It was a wonder he didn’t have a heart attack, considering the way his heart was getting a workout tonight. “What’s wrong?”
She dragged her eyes up to his and visibly swallowed. “Nothing. I, um, was going to my room.” She looked over her shoulder at the room directly across the hall from his. “I thought I heard you.”
“You’ve been at the hospital all this time?”
She nodded. “Maggie’s temperature is almost back to normal. And she hasn’t had any more contractions.”
“That’s good.”
“They, um, let Joe sleep in her room.”
Matthew wasn’t ready to think too kindly on Joe yet. Not after what he’d learned had gone on in Casper. He nodded, absently wiping at the water dripping down his chest. “You look exhausted.”
She crushed the wool coat to her chest. Her eyes skittered over him. “Yeah. Well, I don’t think I can sleep. I’m too keyed up. Why are you still awake?”
He had never told anyone about the nightmares. He didn’t intend to start now. “Couldn’t sleep, either.”
“Oh.” She moistened her lips and rocked on her heels. “Well, I guess I’d—”
Before he knew what he was doing, he’d captured her arm and pulled her into his room. The only light came from the one he’d forgotten in the bathroom. But he could see her startled expression. The color that rose in her creamy cheeks.
He dropped the Do Not Disturb tag on the outside of the door and closed it, soundlessly sliding the security lock in place.
“What...what are you doing?”
He pulled the coat from her hands and tossed it over a chair. “We’re both gonna get some sleep tonight,” he murmured.
Her hands warded him off. Or reached for him. He wasn’t sure which. Either way, he didn’t think he could handle her touch just then. Not when he was standing there with only his towel protecting her modesty.
He bent down and tapped her boot. “Lift.” She did so, wobbled and grabbed his shoulder. He pulled off one, then the other. They hit the floor with a thud and he stood up, molding the smooth angle of her shoulders through her thermal shirt with his palms. “You’ve got a choice here, Jaimie,” he said gruffly. “One night. We’re either gonna sleep in that bed together and just sleep. Or we’re not.”
Her mouth parted soundlessly.
“It’s up to you.” His jaw cocked.
Jaimie trembled. No false promises would fall from Matthew’s lips. Everything that was sensible and sane inside her told her that she shouldn’t do what her heart was yearning for her to do. He would hold her through the night, make love to her if she wished...oh how she wished...and in the morning they would go about their business.
Could she do that? Could she go back on her promise to herself?
In the dim light, she looked at him. He was good and honest. Honorable and kind. He was everything that her father had not been. That Tony had not been. And even, painful as it was to suspect, what Joe was not.
I care about you, is all.
No, there would be no fairy-tale promises of love from Matthew. But, for this night...this one night...he would be hers.
And she would be his.
Wasn’t that really the only thing she wanted?
She lifted her hand toward him.
His eyes closed briefly, then he folded her hand in his. Her head tilted back of its own accord when he covered her lips with his. Sweetly and gently he kissed her, as if he sensed she was ready to bolt. A curious ease spread through her even as her blood warmed to his touch.
Kissing Matthew was like coming home, she realized hazily.
His big hands slid around her back, cradling her against him, end she wrapped her arms around his neck, her thoughts short-circuiting. His skin dampened her through her shirt, and her fingers slipped through the strands of his silky wet hair. She pressed her mouth to the pulse that throbbed beneath his hard jaw, breathing in deeply that wonderful scent that was Matthew.
He made a rough sound and tipped her head back. His lips burned over her temple. Her jaw. The edge of her collarbone bared by the scooped neckline of her shirt. Her fingers grasped his waist, encountering the damp terry cloth tied there.
She went still and his head lifted.
“I’ll take care of you,” he murmured.
She wanted to return the words, but found herself incapable of speech. When he tugged the hem of her shirt from her jeans, she mindlessly lifted her arms. His hands traced the strap of her lacy bra. She could feel the heat of his intent gaze and her breathing quickened.
Matthew actually trembled at the vision before him. Thirty-nine and comfortable in his life, he was trembling before the sight of a beautiful woman.
There she stood. A warm living statue as his eyes roved over the lacy bra covering her deceptively full curves. As he watched, her nipples pebbled and peeked through the ivory lace. He traced one narrow strap, wat
ching her lips part soundlessly.
He flicked open the tiny clasp in the valley of her breasts. The two cups separated an inch, cradling her peach-tinted skin like two loving hands. His body tightened and he slid his fingers into the waist of her jeans.
Her breath hissed as he popped open her button fly to display the edge of panties the same color as the bra that cupped her breasts. Capturing her palms against his, he sat on the edge of the bed, drawing her between his thighs. She slipped her fingers through his hair and smoothed it back, then leaned forward and pressed her lips to the vein throbbing in his temple.
His eyes narrowed as he absorbed the scent of her. He touched the long strands of hair swirling down her back. It was like running his fingers through liquid silk. She made a soft sound deep in her throat as he smoothed her hair behind her shoulders and ran a fingertip along the upper edge of that tantalizing bit of lace barely cradling her breasts.
Her breath came a fraction faster, harder, her eyes wide on his when he slipped his finger beneath the lace and traced the satiny smooth skin. Her fingers flexed into his bare shoulders. She breathed his name.
“Shh,” he soothed, gliding his hands down her narrow rib cage and slipping beneath her jeans. With just a nudge, they slipped over her hips, and he pushed them down past her knees. She stepped out of them and Matthew sucked in his breath. Her panties were cut with a flirty edge of ruffle high on her illegally long legs. The ivory lace was sheer, and his attention whisked over the shadowy down at the juncture of her thighs.
Her fingers curled around his biceps and tugged. He stood up and sucked in his breath when her knuckles grazed his abdomen as they slipped the knot of his towel free. The terry tumbled to the floor and he sprang free, his hard length grazing that sassy ruffle over her thigh.
Her soft lips parted. Her green eyes snared his as her fingers intimately traced over him. He closed his eyes and started counting backward. It was entirely possible that he would disgrace himself at any moment. He stilled her hand, linking her fingers with his.
The Rancher And The Redhead Page 18