One Mother Wanted

by Jeanne Allan

  “I want to be sure she’s the one who made up her mind. I don’t want her pressured into anything.”

  “She’s not ten,” Greeley said. “She’s an adult. She can make her own decisions. She knows the child needs a mom.”

  “That’s no reason to allow Zane to talk her into something against her better judgment,” Worth retorted. “Marriage is a serious commitment. Allie wants a husband she can trust to stick by her. I’m not sure she sees Zane as that husband.”

  “You can’t expect her to ignore the child’s needs,” Greeley said.

  “Worth. Greeley. I know you’re concerned, but this is Allie’s decision to make,” Mary said quietly. “Don’t bring your own prejudices into it.”

  An awkward silence hung in the kitchen. Allie’s gaze went from Greeley’s and Worth’s embarrassed faces to her mother’s moist eyes. “In case everyone’s forgotten,” Allie said loudly, “I’d like to get married, and I’d like to do it before the twenty-fifth century.” She walked out of the kitchen with Zane.

  Her mother followed them into the dining room and gave Allie a wry, loving smile. “But not in blue jeans.”

  Zane grinned at Mary. “It’s okay, Mary. We’ll have something to laugh about on our fiftieth wedding anniversay.”

  Allie managed to laugh with everyone else in spite of the sinking feeling deep in her midsection. The smell of food had affected her empty stomach. “Let’s get married so I can eat.”

  “Waitl” Hannah scrambled down from her perch of phone books stacked on a chair and darted from the dining room. She returned clutching a bunch of bedraggled wildflowers. “Flowers,” she said triumphantly. “I picked ’em For throwing.”

  “Oh, Hannah,” Mary said in dismay, “I forgot about your flowers. I should have put them in water. I’m sorry.”

  Allie took the half-dead flowers. “They’re perfect.” Everyone smiled approvingly. They thought she was being polite. She wasn’t. Half-dead flowers suited a marriage that was an ending, not a beginning.

  Standing in front of the fireplace beside Zane, Allie said firmly to the judge, “Keep it simple. Leave out all that for better and worse and obeying stuff. I take him and he takes me and you pronounce us married. That’s it.”

  Married.

  The two of them alone. Hannah was spending the night with his parents and the Lassiters at the Double Nickel ranch.

  Zane set Allie’s suitcases on the porch. He’d never really believed Allie would marry him.

  He knew she’d expected him to argue about omitting the obeying bit in the wedding vows. Wouldn’t matter if she did promise to obey. Allie would do whatever the hell she wanted. He wouldn’t have her any other way. And he had her.

  For at least one month he had her.

  He opened his front door.

  Whatever her reasons for going through with the wedding.

  She might fool Worth and Greeley into thinking she’d married him for Hannah’s sake, but Zane knew darned well Allie’s reasons had nothing to do with his daughter.

  He suspected she’d married him to make his life a living hell. She gave herself too much credit. It wasn’t in Allie to treat others badly. A guilty conscience inevitably got in her way.

  Turning, he swept her up into his arms.

  “What are you doing? Put me down.”

  He carried her into the house. “Welcome home, Mrs. Peters.” He liked the sound of it. Myriad expressions crossed Allie’s face. Most too fleeting for him to decipher. He wanted her to throw her arms around him and kiss him.

  She fixed a smile on her face and stared at his left ear. “Thank you.”

  Zane stood her back on her feet. “I’ll take your bags up.” Allie’s footsteps echoed his as she followed him.

  To the bedrooms. Tension hummed through him. And need. By marrying him, Allie had agreed to a real marriage, even if she’d never said it in so many words. Zane stopped in the hallway. She’d said he hadn’t given her a choice before. He took a deep breath. He didn’t want to, but he’d give her a choice tonight.

  “Hannah sleeps in what was the guest bedroom, and I’ve been sleeping in my old room.” Belatedly he realized that, between the wedding, caring for Hannah with her broken arm and the haying, he’d neglected to consider the master bedroom. Noisily he cleared his throat. “It’s been a long day. If you’d prefer, that is, since Hannah’s not here, if you want to sleep in her room tonight...”

  “Why not in...” Allie’s voice died as she opened the door to the master bedroom. “Did your mom change her mind about leaving her furniture and take it to Texas with her?”

  “It’s in the attic.” Kim had replaced pieces that had been in his family for years with cheap laminated blond furniture.

  “I always loved your folks’ bedroom,” Allie said faintly.

  “The flowered wallpaper had faded, and Kim didn’t like dark walnut furniture.” The psychedelic wallpaper in black and silver with red fuzzy stuff and the shiny pink, frilly curtains literally turned his stomach.

  “What happened to your great-grandmother’s quilt?”

  “I put it away until Hannah gets older.”

  Allie tentatively poked the bed, jerking her hand back when the bed moved. “It’s a water bed. With a fuchsia satin spread.” She bit her lower lip and avoided looking at him. “There’s purple shag carpet over the hardwood floor.”

  That couldn’t be awe he heard in her voice. “After Kim died, I closed the door to this room,” he said stiffly. “No one comes in here except Ruth to dust.”

  Allie cautiously sat on the bed, gingerly bounced the water bed mattress, then threw herself backward with her arms outstretched. Looking up, her eyes widened. “I can’t decide if it’s like an old-fashioned bordello or one of those honeymoon places which advertise in bridal magazines.”

  Kim would be happy to know her bordello theme had been immediately recognized. Zane looked up to see Allie’s face reflected in the mirrored tiles fixed to the ceiling. “You don’t have to sleep in here,” he said curtly.

  The tiles mirrored Allie’s sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. That was tacky.” Her smile turned to a frown. “I’m not sure I can sleep in here. I think they’d give me nightmares. Like a hundred me staring at me. Aren’t they a little dangerous? What if one fell? If it didn’t cut a person to pieces, it’d slice up the water bed and we’d drown.”

  She’d said “we.” Zane forgot the surroundings as hope lurched within him.

  “On the other hand,” she continued before he could speak, “when you think about it, it seems a shame to waste what most newly-wedded couples pay big bucks for.” In the mirror her gaze skittered past his reflection, and she seemed to be studying a far corner of the ceiling. “Maybe we ought to investigate the possibilities. For Thomas. He could install mirrored ceilings in his hotels. They’re supposed to be sexy.” She picked at a button on her shirt. “Do you want to sleep in here?”

  His and Kim’s marriage had been a disaster from the start. Wounded by his inability to love her, Kim had retaliated the only way she knew how. Zane had given her his loyalty while she lived. He refused to condemn her in death. The bedroom, a harsh symbol of how he’d failed Kim, sickened and saddened Zane.

  Ruth had thoroughly cleaned and aired the room so Zane knew the scent of cheap perfume hanging in the air existed only in his imagination. He had no idea how many men Kim had entertained on this bed. He’d never been one of them. “I’m not sleeping in here with you,” he said to Allie. Turning on his heel, he left the room.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ALLIE stared after him in total disbelief. Before the wedding Zane had said he wanted to sleep with her. She’d married him, resolved to sleep with him—admittedly for reasons of her own—and he was rejecting her? She fought her way of the undulating bed and marched into the hall.

  Zane’s bedroom door stood open and she charged into his room. He stopped in the middle of removing his suit coat “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded. “You talked
me into this stupid marriage and you’re refusing to sleep with me? You can’t refuse.” Dragging her gaze from his broad, white-shirted chest, Allie doggedly continued with her grievance. “I’m the only one in this marriage who’s allowed to refuse to sleep with anyone.” An explanation for his behavior suddenly occurred to her. “I’m too skinny, aren’t I? I’m well aware your wife was built like a centerfold model, but—”

  “You’re not skinny.” Zane shrugged out of his coat and tossed it across the back of a chair. “You’re just right.” Unbuttoning his shirt came next. He unbuttoned maddeningly slow.

  Allie wanted to rip his shirt open. “Then why don’t you want to sleep with me?”

  His shirt went the way of his coat. “Who said I didn’t?” Sitting on the edge of the bed, Zane tugged off his boots.

  “You did. You said you weren’t sleeping with me.”

  “In there.” Zane stood and walked purposefully around the bed. “I didn’t say anything about sleeping with you in here.”

  The look in his eyes propelled her backward. “This is an awfully small bed, and I’m a restless sleeper. I kick off the covers and stuff.” She backed into a wall. “You won’t be able to get any sleep.”

  Zane braced his hands against the wall on either side of her head. “Sleeping’s the last thing on my mind tonight.”

  She couldn’t look away from him. The raw need and desire burning in his eyes took her breath away. For a second she panicked, and raised her hands to his chest to push him away. His body heat warmed her palms. Impossible not to slide her hands over his smooth, tight skin. He didn’t move. Unless one counted his quickened breathing or the slight tensing of his muscles. Tiny hard bumps pressed against her fingers. Bumps Allie wanted to explore.

  Zane’s eyes darkened. “You said you’re the only one who gets to refuse to sleep with anyone. Are you refusing?”

  “What if I am?” Her thumb caught on his nipple.

  A small, ragged sound came from him. “Your choice. I told you,” he said in a husky voice. “I won’t kiss you again until you want me to.”

  “Oh, that.” Allie trailed a finger along the edge of his collarbone. “I thought agreeing to marry you took care of that business.” She risked looking up at him.

  A tiny smile played at one corner of his mouth. “Does that mean you want me to kiss you?”

  “Since when have you had to have all your t’s crossed and your i’s dotted?”

  “I’ll take that as yes.” Moving his hands to cup her breasts, Zane lowered his head.

  Allie closed her eyes at the first touch of his lips against hers. Nothing about their deal said he had to nibble her bottom lip or outline her mouth with his tongue or deepen the kiss until her entire insides turned to flame and nothing existed except for his kiss.

  And his hands. His hands couldn’t be ignored as they caressed her breasts through her clothing, and then through the wisp of lingerie she wore. When nothing separated her breasts from his work-toughened hands, she knew exactly how dangerous Zane Peters could be.

  His ever-deepening attention to her mouth turned pleasure into need. With a quiet moan, Allie dropped back her head, giving him fuller access, surrendering, and at the same time demanding. The outside world faded. Nothing existed but Zane’s mouth and the magic he worked on hers. When he finally abandoned her mouth to trail tiny kisses along the side of her face and around the outer edges of her ear, she was clinging to him for support.

  And stark naked.

  “You’re going to freeze.” Zane picked her up and carried her to his bed.

  The bedsheets were icy cold. Then Zane joined her, his long, lean body warming her from their touching lips to the tips of her toes. Their lower bodies tangled, and the hairs on his legs rasped erotically against her sensitized skin. Allie slid her hands over his shoulders, taking pleasure in the width, the warmth, the strength of them.

  Zane lifted his head, his face inches from hers. “I’ve pictured your head on my pillow so many times...” He brushed a kiss against her lips. “You have the sexiest mouth in creation.”

  “It’s the same mouth Cheyenne has.”

  He shook his head. “It’s sexier on you.”

  Muddled, needy sensations built up deep within her, and she moved restlessly beneath him.

  “Oh, Allie,” he said with a half laugh, half gasp. And then his mouth devoured her.

  She’d never dreamed it would be like this. Just body parts slipping and sliding and coming together, but somehow... Hands and fingers and mouths and lips and tongues... Secret places and age-old movements. Spiraling need and exhilaration and a slow circling back to earth. Two hearts pounding in unison.

  She didn’t need to fake it.

  Zane lifted his weight from her and pulled the covers up to her chin. He lay beside her, his side barely touching hers. “Thank you. That was nice.”

  Nice. All warm, fuzzy feelings toward him evaporated. Nice. Allie hated nice.

  Everyone had praised her for being nice about Zane marrying another woman. Called her nice because she refused to say a word against him or the woman he’d married. They’d endlessly hashed and rehashed the details of her niceness.

  Nice was for well-bred older ladies who served you tea. Nice was for polite little girls on the Hyman Avenue Mall who asked permission to pet your dog. Nice was for courteous teenagers who held doors for you when your arms were full of packages.

  What happened in Zane’s bed had nothing to do with nice.

  Allie would bet Zane had never called sex with Kim nice.

  If he’d told Allie he loved her after they’d had sex, she might have tried to convince herself he wasn’t lying. She might have considered abandoning thoughts of revenge.

  Instead he’d called making love to her—no, having sex with her—nice. If she’d been at all ambivalent about seeking revenge—which she hadn’t—Allie no longer was. Zane Peters had given her an engraved invitation to do her worst.

  She’d show him nice.

  His eyes closed, Zane lay on his back, savoring the heat from Allie’s bottom tucked up against his side.

  She’d said nothing about love. He didn’t deserve the words, but the omission ate at him. After they’d made love, Allie had rolled over and gone to sleep. When he’d awakened her during the night, she’d willingly, but wordlessly, made love with him.

  He knew better than to speak words of love to her.

  With every kiss, every touch, he’d tried to show her how much he loved her. He’d relished the tiny sounds she’d made in the back of her throat, the way her body had tightened and vibrated before collapsing against him.

  Loving each other for the first time, there’d been awkward moments, none of which detracted from the sheer joy and satisfaction of finally having Allie in his bed. The night had surpassed anything he’d experienced. Surpassed his dreams.

  In the beginning he’d tried to be an adequate lover for Kim. Sadly she’d guessed he had to try. Her reactions had ranged from seduction to pleading to rage. She’d begged him to tell her she was as good in bed as Allie. Kim had never believed he and Allie hadn’t made love.

  They’d made love last night.

  They’d make love again tonight

  He’d laid his proposal before Allie. One month as his wife. By marrying him, she’d agreed, even if she’d never said the words. One month to win, not her forgiveness, but a second chance. One month to prove to her he wasn’t the irresponsible person he’d been five years ago. One month to convince her she belonged with him.

  Unable to stop himself, Zane ran his hand along Allie’s bare hip. Reassuring himself. Her leg slid the length of his.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Peters.”

  “Ms. Lassiter,” she said sleepily.

  “Don’t tell me I married a liberated woman.”

  She rolled over to face him. Under the covers her fingers playfully investigated his belly button, then glided downward. “Is that a problem?”

  “I don’t know. I�
�m an old-fashioned kind of guy.” Zane dug his fingers into the mattress to keep from tossing her on her back. “As a former teacher, maybe you could educate me on the advantages of having a liberated woman for a wife.”

  “I’d be happy top.”

  She was one hell of a teacher.

  Leaning back against the passenger seat, Zane tugged his wide-brimmed hat down over his face. “I could get used to being married to a liberated woman.”

  “Don’t.” Allie hoped he didn’t notice the heat crawling up her face. Her campaign to become the woman Zane couldn’t live without before she dumped him didn’t require the level of enthusiasm she’d shown this morning. “It was a one-time aberration.”

  “I’m talking about you doing the driving. I have a feeling you’re referring to something else.”

  She decided to ignore the amusement in his voice. “It makes more sense to take my car since I have to swing by the condo and pick up a few things. Worth is leaving Moonie there before he meets us for dinner at St. Chris’s. The back seat of your pickup would be too crowded with Hannah, Moonie and Amber’s cage.”

  “Who’s Amber?”

  “My cat.”

  “That’ll please Hannah. We have barn cats, but she’s never had a cat in the house. She’s thrilled to have you and Moonie moving in.” He chuckled. “Maybe Moonie more than you. We have a couple of border collies on the ranch, but they hang around with Wally at his and Ruth’s place. I’ve tried to tell Hannah that Moonie is your dog, not hers, but I’m not sure she understands the distinction.”

  “Moonie’s good with kids. Very patient. I used to take him to school on occasion. The kids loved him.”

  “Are you going to miss teaching?”

  “I’ll miss the kids. I won’t miss grading papers or parent conferences. And leading tours is great for a couple of exteachers. A captive audience for our lectures.”

  “Did you cancel your tours for this week?”