In Blackhawk's Bed

by Barbara Mccauley

  For now, Hannah only needed Maddie and Missy and that was enough. Seth Granger might be an interesting and temporary diversion, Hannah admitted, but that’s all he was: interesting and temporary, with the emphasis on temporary.

  While the coffee percolated, Hannah opened the refrigerator to refill the creamer she’d set out on the table. Beside the container of half and half was a can of whipped cream someone had brought to go with a bowl of strawberries.

  …I’d like to smear it all over his body and lick it off…

  Hannah slammed the refrigerator door shut and forced the image Lori had given her out of her mind. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

  Suddenly her house didn’t seem large enough at all, and a few days felt like a very, very long time.

  The scent of hot cinnamon roused Seth during the night. Darkness surrounded him and he wasn’t certain where he was, but that wasn’t so unusual. He’d woken up more than once in the dark in a strange place, a strange bed. In his line of work, he was never certain about where he’d be sleeping. A car, a park bench, even an occasional alley, amidst a community of homeless who lived in cardboard structures and tents made out of blankets. Wherever his job took him, he went, and most of the time it seemed as if he spent more time on the streets than in his own apartment.

  But the scent of cinnamon and…what else? Apples, that’s what it was. The scent of cinnamon and apples had never woken him before. For several moments, he thought he might be dreaming, maybe having one of the flashbacks he occasionally had from his childhood. Before the accident. Before his life had changed so dramatically.

  But he wasn’t dreaming, he realized. The scent was very real, as real as the bed he lay in. A firm, comfortable mattress covered with smooth, soft sheets, feather pillows and a thick, down comforter. He blinked, raised his head and glanced at the bedside clock.

  Five in the morning. Not exactly the middle of the night, but not exactly what he’d call morning, either.

  Seth blinked again, rolled to his back and felt the pain shoot straight up his leg.

  He swore hotly and remembered where he was.

  In Ridgewater, Texas.

  Home of the world’s largest fruitcake.

  Gritting his teeth, Seth slid his legs out from under the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. When the pain subsided, he flipped on the nightstand lamp and looked around the room. It was a nice room, large, with high ceilings and white chair rails against soft blue-and-white striped walls. The windows were tall with lace curtains, the highly polished hardwood floors dotted with navy blue throw rugs. There was a white-tiled bathroom attached to the room, with a ball-and-claw bathtub and a showerhead that a guest could hold or attach to the wall.

  Seth dragged a hand through his hair and stretched, then rolled his shoulders. His neck felt a little stiff and a low throb pounded in his head, but all in all, other than his swollen ankle, which had turned a deep shade of purple, he felt fine.

  Well, as fine as he could feel about being stuck in the middle of nowhere for God knew how long.

  After last night’s gathering, Seth was counting the minutes until he could leave Ridgewater. He knew he should appreciate that all those people had shown up to meet him, but the fact was, he didn’t. He hadn’t done anything that any other person in his situation wouldn’t have done. He didn’t deserve, and he sure as hell didn’t like, all that attention.

  Especially from Billy Bishop, ace reporter for the Ridgewater Gazette.

  Billy had been a major pain in the butt. He’d wanted to know every detail of Seth’s life. His work, his past, even his hobbies, for God’s sake. Even if he had a hobby, which he didn’t, who the hell would care what it was? He’d intentionally kept his answers vague and short. The less he gave Billy Bob Bishop, the shorter the article and the quicker this entire incident would fade away.

  Careful not to put any pressure on his ankle, he slipped out of bed and pulled on a pair of gray sweat pants and the T-shirt he’d worn the night before, then hobbled to the door and followed the seductive scent to the kitchen. He paused in the doorway, surprised to see Hannah standing at the counter, filling muffin tins with thick batter from a large metal bowl. From a big blue clip on top of her head, her long blond curls tumbled down her back like a rippling waterfall. She wore a light-blue robe and pink bunny slippers. He could swear she was humming…

  …“Born to be Wild?”

  Smiling, he leaned against the doorjamb and watched her. After she’d shown him to his room last night, she’d laid out fresh towels and soap, apologized for all the commotion, then quickly excused herself. She’d intentionally avoided eye contact with him, even as she was thanking him once again for saving Maddie.

  He supposed she’d been nervous about him staying in the house. He was a complete stranger to her, after all, and the only thing she really knew about him, other than his driver’s license statistics, was that he worked for the Albuquerque police department.

  But earlier in the evening, when she’d been talking to her friend, Seth had looked at her. And she’d looked back.

  Whatever had passed between them—and he still wasn’t certain if he’d imagined it—had been potent.

  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t experienced lust before. Hell, that was more than familiar territory to him. What hadn’t been familiar had been the intensity of what should have been a simple look, but had been anything but simple. And while it disturbed him on one level, it intrigued him on another.

  She intrigued him. A beautiful woman, single mother of mischievous twin girls, soon-to-be proprietor of a bed-and-breakfast. He’d seen the fear in her pale-blue eyes yesterday when he’d handed Maddie to her, but she’d stayed calm and kept her composure when a lot of women would have come unraveled. She’d taken care of him, then graciously opened her house to her neighbors, quietly set out coffee and food and stood back and watched.

  Her song changed from Steppenwolf to Ricky Martin’s “Shake Your Bon-Bon.” Seth dropped his gaze to her pretty bottom moving back and forth to the Latin beat, and he felt his gut tighten. Damn. He’d never been a fan of Ricky’s until this moment.

  Seth swallowed the dryness in his throat, knew that he should announce his presence rather than standing here leering at the woman. He just couldn’t help himself. The sight of her moving to the song, dressed in that simple bathrobe and bunny slippers should have been humorous, but strangely, he found it sexy. When she gave an extra little twist to her hips, Seth forgot to breathe.

  Damn if the woman wasn’t getting him hard.

  He supposed the fall might have rattled his brain, but whatever it was, his hormones had jumped to attention and were clanging warning bells. His pulse quickened, and it seemed as if all the blood from his head had taken a trip south.

  He remembered the firm press of her body against his yesterday, the smooth feel of her skin under his hands when he’d held her arm on the sofa, the way she’d looked at him last night across the crowded room. No question there was chemistry between them.

  The question was, should he act on it?

  Strange, but he’d never asked himself that before. If he’d wanted a woman and she’d wanted him, it was simple. If it felt right, Seth had never held back. He went for it and whatever happened, happened.

  But Hannah wasn’t simple. Something told him that she was anything but simple. Seth knew he was just passing through this town and this woman’s life. The last thing he should be doing was having thoughts about taking her to bed.

  Then she shook her bottom again as she softly sang and Seth felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. He knew if he didn’t stop her, he was probably going to do something very foolish.

  “Morning.”

  She whirled around, a look of sheer shock on her face. She stood there for a moment, eyes wide as she stared at him, then her face flushed bright red.

  Because she hadn’t belted her robe, the short, pink cotton nightgown she had on didn’t hide much. At the sight of her high, unfettered
breasts, he felt another slam to his gut. His gaze traveled down over her long, shapely legs, and his body flooded with heat.

  Even her silly slippers looked sexy to him, an obvious indication he wasn’t thinking clearly. He could picture himself tugging those bunnies off her feet, then sliding his hand up her sleek curves, over her hips and under her simple cotton nightgown, up higher, until his palms were filled with her soft, feminine flesh.

  It took a few seconds and a will of iron to wrench his gaze back up to hers. She still hadn’t moved, except that her lips had formed a small O.

  When he pushed away from the doorjamb, she instantly went from zero to eighty. She mumbled a good morning as she whipped back around, dropped the batter-filled measuring cup into the bowl, then belted her bathrobe tightly.

  “I wasn’t expecting you up this early,” she said over her shoulder, her voice strained and high-pitched. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  Oh, she’d wakened him all right. His entire body was awake and alert and ready to go. “Actually, it was those muffins you’re baking.”

  He hobbled to the large oak table in the middle of the spacious kitchen. Hannah quickly reached for a towel to wipe her hands.

  “You shouldn’t be up on that leg,” she said firmly and rushed to his side to slip an arm around his waist.

  “I’m fine, Hannah.”

  But he let her help him into the chair, not because he needed help, but because he wanted to indulge himself, if only for a moment. He felt the soft press of her breasts against his side and nearly groaned at the rush of heat through his body. He breathed in the scent of apples and cinnamon on her skin, held on to her longer than was necessary or wise. When she moved away, it was all he could do not to snatch her back and see if she tasted as good as she smelled.

  She pulled a second chair beside him and gently raised his leg onto the checkered cushioned seat pad. She knelt at his feet, plumping the cushion, and hadn’t realized her robe had opened at the top, revealing the twin points of her nipples through the thin cotton.

  “How does that feel?” she asked.

  He desperately wanted to know exactly what they would feel like in his hands, in his mouth, but he tore his gaze from her breasts and swallowed hard. “Fine,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m just fine. Go back to what you were doing.”

  Quickly, he thought. Before I show you just how fine I really am.

  The timer on the stove started to buzz and to his relief, she hurried to the oven and pulled out a pan of baked muffins. That’s when he glanced around the kitchen and realized there were several dozen muffins already out on the counter.

  “Are you expecting another mob this morning?” he asked incredulously.

  She smiled as she set the pan on the counter. “I bake these every weekday morning for the diner in town and deliver them when I take the girls to school. Would you like blueberry, banana, or apple spice?”

  Good Lord, what time did she get up in the morning? Seth wondered. There had to be at least eight dozen muffins on her counter. “Apple spice.”

  The muffin she set in front of him was still hot. When he broke it open, a fragrant cloud of steam drifted upward. Seth breathed in the spicy scent, then bit in.

  He closed his eyes on a groan. When he opened them again, she was watching him, a smile on her pretty lips.

  “It’s all right?” she asked.

  “All right?” He took another bite. “Damn, woman, but this has got to be the best muffin I ever ate.”

  Her smile widened. “Thank you.”

  The expression of pure pleasure on her face only fueled Seth’s hunger, a hunger that had nothing to do with muffins or with food at all, for that matter. It had everything to do with lust and the arousal that had him shifting in his seat before he embarrassed her even more.

  “I—I’ll put some coffee on,” she said after a long moment and turned away, but not before he saw the same thing in her eyes that he was feeling.

  Desire.

  He hadn’t imagined it, and it certainly wasn’t one-sided. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

  He stared at her back, noticed the stiffness in her shoulders, the slight shaking of her hands as she measured out the coffee.

  So what the hell was he going to do about it? They were two adults, moving in different directions with different lives. but they both knew that. If they ended up in bed together, even briefly, what was the harm in that?

  Probably none, he thought, but the dark, heavy tension between them made him edgy, made him uncertain. There were some things he didn’t like being uncertain about. Meeting a snitch in a dark alley, walking into a room undercover without backup, sitting with his back to a window. He didn’t like shadows, places where people could hide or blend in.

  Hannah felt like a shadow to him. A sexy, enticing one, but a shadow all the same. She made him nervous, kept him off balance. He needed control at all times, in his life, in his job, and definitely in his relationships.

  With a sigh, he turned his attention back to the muffin. He reminded himself he needed to get to Wolf River, that he had a family waiting for him. That’s what he needed to concentrate on right now. What he wanted to concentrate on.

  He might be held up a couple of days, but as soon as he got his motorcycle back, he’d hit the road again, and pretty little Hannah Michaels would be nothing more than a pleasant memory.

  Four

  “Three dozen blueberry, three dozen banana, four dozen apple spice.” Phoebe Harmon signed the check she’d filled out and slid it across her desk to Hannah. “Can you manage a special order for an extra six dozen tomorrow? The Chamber of Commerce is hosting career day at the high school.”

  “No problem.” It would mean getting up an hour early, but Hannah was happy for the extra few dollars it would bring her. “Is assorted all right?”

  “Assorted is fine.”

  Phoebe, a full-figured platinum blonde in her fifties, had married Duke Harmon ten years ago and together they’d opened Duke’s Diner. Phoebe was one hell of a cook, but she didn’t bake. All of the desserts served at Duke’s were brought in from the locals. Shirley Gordon made the pies and cookies, Hannah made the muffins and special-order cakes.

  “So I heard you had quite a scare yesterday.” True concern shone in Phoebe’s big, brown eyes. “How’re the girls doing today?”

  “They’re fine.” Hannah dropped the check in her purse and glanced at her watch. “And they’re going to be late for school if I don’t get going.”

  “Oh, come on, Hannah.” Phoebe pouted. “You’ve got a minute. Just give me the juicy details. Is he really staying with you?”

  Hannah sighed. She’d known, of course, that sooner or later the entire town would find out that Seth was staying with her, but she’d hoped it would take longer than twelve hours for word to spread.

  “Just for a few days,” she said politely. “Until his ankle is better and his motorcycle is repaired.”

  “So tell me, honey—” Phoebe leaned across the desk and raised one brow “—is he married?”

  “No.”

  “Engaged?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  Phoebe’s face lit up. “Under fifty?”

  “Yes.” Hannah leaned in and whispered, “And you know what else?”

  Breath held, Phoebe stretched her neck closer. “What?”

  “I even think he’s got all his own teeth.”

  Phoebe pressed her bright red lips into a thin line and sat back. “Don’t be sassy, Hannah Michaels. You’re a businesswoman. As a businesswoman, you should make the most of any and all opportunities presented to you. Don’t you want a man to warm your bed and be a daddy to your girls?”

  “I have an electric blanket, Phoebe, and the girls are doing just fine.”

  “Pshaw. You’re a young woman. It’s about time you snagged yourself a husband.” Phoebe grinned and wiggled her heavily lined eyebrows. “Or at least time that you did the mattress mambo.”
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  Hannah felt her cheeks warm at Phoebe’s comment. As if it wasn’t bad enough that her best friend was harping at her, now Phoebe was jumping on the bandwagon, too. Next thing she knew they’d form a committee and have weekly meetings to discuss poor Hannah Michaels’s sex life.

  Or should she say, her lack of a sex life.

  “Just do an old broad a favor and tell me what he’s like, honey,” Phoebe said with a wink. “From what I heard, the man is sexy as sin.”

  Sex and sin, Hannah thought. Two appropriate words to describe Seth Granger. In her mind, she could still see him standing in her kitchen doorway this morning, wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt, his handsome face unshaven and his long hair rumpled. Just the image made her pulse quicken and her breath catch.

  Had he been watching her? she’d wondered. She always enjoyed listening to music when she baked or worked around the house and sometimes she got a little carried away. The thought that he might have seen her acting so silly made the blush already on her cheeks burn hotter.

  How could she have guessed he would be up so early? And how absolutely ridiculous she must have looked to him, dancing around in her old robe and nightgown and bunny slippers. Hannah Michaels: femme fatale.

  Well, it didn’t matter what he thought of her, she decided. Why should it? It wasn’t as if anything was going to happen between them. Just because she’d noticed the man’s biceps and chest, and just because she’d fantasized about him—just a little—after she’d gone to bed last night, well, that didn’t mean she was going to sleep with him, for heaven’s sake.

  She owed him a place to stay, that was all. So maybe there was a little chemistry between them—so okay, maybe a lot of chemistry—but she had Maddie and Missy to think about, along with a hundred other things, like baking muffins and sanding the upstairs bedroom and finishing the accounting work on her desk. She needed to stay focused, in control. Thinking about Seth Granger left her out of balance and confused.