My Child, Our Child (Silhouette Special Edition)

by Hagan, Patricia

  “I had an accident.” He brushed by her and saw Brian and said with overwhelming relief, “Thank God. I thought he’d be here, but I couldn’t be sure.”

  “What kind of accident?” Jackie prodded, worried he might be hurt. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, I’m all right. I just hit a patch of ice under the snow and slid off the road and hooked up with a fence. I couldn’t get the truck out, and I couldn’t raise anybody on the CB to come help. I guess everybody’s home by the fire—where they should be,” he added pointedly with a glower at Brian. “So I had to walk almost all the way here, and believe me, it was no picnic.”

  Jackie hated that he’d had such a bad time. “Listen, get those wet clothes off. I’ll dry them by the fire. You can wrap up in that afghan over there. Then have some supper, and we’ll figure out what to do. One thing’s for certain, Brian can’t walk home in this.”

  She hurried back to her biscuits. “You can undress in the bedroom.” She grimaced. He must think she was a real bimbo to suggest he would’ve stripped right where he stood unless she instructed him otherwise.

  A few moments later she heard the wet plop of his things as they hit the floor. She picked them up and draped them over the back of a chair she’d positioned near the heat.

  “They should dry in no time. That’s a roaring fire.”

  “And whatever you’re cooking smells wonderful. Beef stew?” He sniffed.

  She was kneading the dough but turned to tell him he had guessed right. That was when she saw him standing there, the afghan wrapped around his waist. With his damp hair tumbling abount his face, arms folded across his bare chest and firm, muscular legs spread apart, it was all she could do to keep from gasping out loud. He looked so sexy and appealing that she gulped, swallowed and spun back to the counter so fast she hit the flour bowl, sending a white cloud into her face.

  She sneezed.

  “Bless you.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, then, clearing her throat said, “And thanks, also, for what you did today—fixing the faucet, making arrangements to have phone lines run out here. And if you hadn’t chopped all that firewood, I’d be in a mess tonight with this storm.”

  “And so would I,” he said cheerily. “Seeing how I wound up here. It’s nice to get warm before plunging out in that mess again.”

  She hated the thought of him having to, but wasn’t about to say so. She didn’t want it to appear that she was happy over his predicament... although she was.

  “Well, it’s really appreciated,” she said.

  “Glad to do it. Call it a happy.” He grinned.

  Quiet moments passed, then, with a thoughtful look at Brian, Sam murmured, “So I’ll have another talk with him about not sneaking off, and it won’t do any more good than all the others, because sometimes I don’t think he understands a word I say.”

  “Yes, he does.” She told him how he’d kept watch for him after she told him to. “He let me know you were on the porch. I left the light on, and he saw you when he was waiting for your truck.”

  “I don’t know.” He sat down at the table. “It’s beyond me. I hate to punish him. He’s been through so much.”

  “Let me think on all this, Sam.” She slid the pan of biscuits into the oven. “I know some people. Let me ask questions.”

  “Thanks, Jackie, but my mother has taken him to the best doctors money can buy.”

  She decided to let the subject drop for the time being and took two wineglasses from a cabinet. They had been a wedding gift, but she hadn’t tossed them. No need to give up good crystal.

  She also had a nice bottle of wine that she had been saving for a special occasion. She remembered asking a friend once how a person could tell when that time came. And her friend had answered, “Believe me, you’ll know.”

  And she did.

  And this was it.

  She poured them each a glass.

  Sam took a sip and smiled. “Burgundy. My favorite. California?”

  “Sure is. It’s my favorite, too.”

  He took another sip, leaned back and closed his eyes. “I’m going to enjoy every drop of this, and I’ll think about it when I’m walking home in ankle-deep snow.”

  But Sam and Jackie were not paying any attention to what was going on in the winter wonderland outside. They were too engrossed in wine, good food...and each other.

  They didn’t know that the snow was coming down even harder.

  And it was way beyond ankle deep.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I haven’t seen him eat like that in quite a while,” Sam said as he watched Brian finish a second helping of stew. “But then I’m not as good a cook as you are. Neither is Bonnie, I’m afraid.”

  Jackie demurely thanked him, basking in his praise as he poured them another glass of wine.

  “I guess your husband misses your cooking.” Then, seeing how she frowned, apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

  “Hey, it’s okay.” She was quick to put him at ease. “The fact is, Kevin didn’t like eating at home. I can’t tell you the number of times he would walk out on a meal I’d cooked to go eat in a restaurant with some of his friends. He was a real social animal. Always wanting to be seen with the right people.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “Once I became dietician at the rest home, I’d help with the cooking there.” Her lips curved in a bitter smile. “It gave me something to do while my marriage fell apart. I spent more time there than I did at home, which made no difference since Kevin was never around, anyway. That’s how I became close friends with some of the residents.

  “Like Libby Pratt,” she added. It still rankled that he had practically accused her of manipulating Libby into leaving her in her will.

  He was quiet for a moment, and she knew he had got the point when he said, “Well, I can see how friendships like that get forged. She was alone, and so were you.”

  “I never knew about the land, Sam, till after she was gone. You have to believe that.”

  He held up a hand in capitulation, reaching for his wineglass with his other. “I do believe it.” He took a quick sip. “And I’m sorry I ever thought otherwise, but you have to agree it came as a shock. But what’s done is done.”

  “You mean you’ve accepted the fact I’m here to stay?”

  He looked her straight in the eye. “I’ve accepted the fact that you think you are.”

  “Then what about Brian?”

  Sam looked at his son, who was polishing off a huge slice of pecan pie covered in whipped cream. “What about him?”

  “Are you still going to forbid him to come to see me?”

  Sam took a big sip of wine before saying, “I’m afraid so. Maybe it is a clear path from my house to here, and it would probably be okay if he didn’t wander off it, but the fact remains that I don’t want him to get attached to you, Jackie. Come spring and you decide you can’t cut it and want to sell out to me—or continue like Libby did and just collect your share of the profits—I don’t want him hurt by having someone else in his life disappear.”

  She waited until Brian got up from the table and went to sit on the sofa. Then she lowered her voice and said, “I understand your reason but not your logic, especially when you’re considering sending him away.”

  “Not before spring.”

  “Well, I won’t encourage him,” she said finally, “but as I’ve told you before, I won’t run him off.”

  “Then Bonnie will just have to keep a better watch. I’ll also put a lock on his door.”

  Jackie cleared the table, then brought coffee and pie for both of them.

  They talked about things concerning the farm for awhile. Then the coffee mugs were empty... along with the wine bottle. There were a few moments of awkward silence, and Jackie was beginning to suspect that maybe Sam just didn’t want to leave. But that didn’t mean he liked her company that much. After all, it was a nasty night out, and he had a long walk ahe
ad of him.

  Finally he stood. “Well, this has been nice, Jackie.”

  He had pulled the afghan up to his shoulders while he ate but let it drape back down around his hips. Her pulse started racing again, and she knew if she did not get busy washing dishes or doing something, he was going to see how the sight of his naked chest was affecting her.

  “What... what about Brian?” she asked, hardly trusting her voice to speak. He was sound asleep on the sofa.

  “I guess I have no choice but to leave him here for the night if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t,” she said softly and went to tuck a blanket around him. “You’d have a fight on your hands if you tried to leave here with him walking in this weather.”

  “Well, it’s probably stopped snowing by now, anyway.” He went to the door, opened it, and promptly cried, “Oh, my God.”

  “What is it?” Jackie rushed to look and repeated his stunned exclamation, hand flying to her mouth. The snow was almost waist high.

  “Dammit, it must be three feet, and it’s still coming down. That’s the problem up here. Despite weather forecasts, we never know how bad it’s going to be, because the elevation is so high. Anything can happen.”

  An awkward silence descended, as neither knew what to say, because it was obvious Sam could not walk home.

  Jackie drew a nervous breath so deep it went to the pit of her stomach, and she let it out in a rush. “Well, I can take Brian to bed with me, and you can sleep on the sofa. Then in the morning, we can figure out what to do.”

  “Oh, in the daylight I can make it. There’s a pair of snowshoes in one of those storage sheds out back unless you got on a cleaning kick and threw them out.”

  “No. They’re still there. I remember seeing them when I was checking things out to see if it would make a good hen house.”

  “Hen house?” he echoed with an incredulous laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding. You can’t have chickens up here unless you go to the expense of a heater. What would you do on a night like this? Invite them to dinner like you did me?”

  Jackie had already realized it was not feasible, but joined Sam in laughing about the foolishness of such a notion. It lightened the tension that had wrapped about them.

  “Well, I’ll get the kitchen cleaned up, and you can move Brian to my bed. I doubt he’ll wake up.”

  Her hands were shaking as she ran hot water in the sink and poured in liquid detergent. It was so terribly unnerving to think that Sam was going to sleep in the next room, and no doubt in the nude, too, and—

  She clapped her hands together in the suds to dispel such thoughts, sending a spray of tiny bubbles flying to her face and making her sneeze.

  “Bless you.”

  She jumped.

  He was standing beside her, the afghan still draped around his waist, only he had not realized it had dropped a few inches.

  Her eyes had a will of their own, gaze lowering to trail the thick mat of hair on his chest tapenng to his navel and below.

  He saw her staring and yanked up the afghan. “Sorry. I was about to look like a male stripper and didn’t know it.”

  “You’d make a good one,” she blurted out, instantly wanting to cram her fist in her mouth. She had no right to make such a remark, for goodness sake, especially under the circumstances. It was the wine talking, because she was feeling so mellow, so relaxed. It was also the ambience of the situation, as well. Cozy and warm inside. A winter wonderland outside. And a Kenny G CD playing to fill the air with soft, sensuous music.

  For a moment neither spoke.

  Jackie thought about apologizing for her remark, but decided that would just prolong the awareness that had sprung between them.

  She also thought about getting back to washing the dishes, but, try as she might, she could not tear her locked gaze from Sam’s blue eyes.

  He found his voice first. “That’s a compliment. Thanks.” His smile was wry. “But I’m not really a good dancer.”

  “I—I’m not either,” she managed to say past the lump in her throat.

  “Maybe—” he moved closer “—we could learn together.”

  She stepped into his arms without thinking about it, and they began moving slowly to the rhythm of the music.

  His hand moved farther down her back, firm, caressing, as he pulled her closer still.

  She was wearing a lounge outfit made of pink velour and no bra beneath. She had high, firm breasts, and straps made her uncomfortable. Besides, she had not been expecting company, did not know she would wind up with a dinner date.

  Her chest pressed against his, and she felt her nipples grow hard. Frantically she wondered if he could feel them against his bare skin. She tried to pull back, but he held her tight.

  Her eyes were level with his chin, but she would not look up at him...did not want him to see how her cheeks had to be flaming, for heat was coursing through her body like a mountain stream running wild.

  His warm fingers laced through hers, his thumb making circles on her palm that sent tantalizing needles into her spine.

  Gently, as natural as breathing, she turned her head to rest on his broad shoulder.

  He hugged her even closer; not a pin could have been placed between them.

  And then she felt it—his hardened manhood pressing against her.

  He did not pull back.

  Neither did she.

  They continued to dance, taking small, sometimes clumsy steps, but always they clung together, never backing away for even an instant.

  Jackie did not at first realize how she had turned her mouth to brush his flesh. When she did, she continued, lips nuzzling ever so lightly.

  She felt him kiss her forehead and shivered to the tips of her toes.

  Never in her whole life had a man made her feel this way. She found herself praying the music would never end, that they could stay in each other’s arms all through eternity.

  His hand slipped beneath her shirt, his touch hot like fire on her already steaming body.

  With his other hand, he cupped her face, devouring her for an instant with his eyes before closing his mouth over hers.

  He tasted of warm, sweet wine, and she boldly parted his lips with her tongue to enjoy the erotic zest all the more.

  His hands moved around to gently knead her breasts as though sampling fruit for ripeness. Then he squeezed each nipple between thumb and forefinger, like plucking a sweet cherry, then rolling, only to pull, pluck, then pinch ever so lightly, ever so sweetly.

  Her knees threatened to buckle.

  He felt it and held her up and against him.

  The tips of their tongues met, hungrily teasing, then devouring greedily as though they could not get enough of each other.

  She clung to him as he moved his lips to trail down her neck.

  They were no longer dancing.

  He pressed her back against the sink and deftly lifted her shirt, exposing her breasts.

  Her head fell backward, neck arching, as she offered herself to him, breath harsh, heaving, in anticipation.

  Fire exploded in her chest as his lips dove to fasten around one nipple and suck hard, then soft, then repeating again and again, suckling, tasting, devouring. Ever so lightly, then roughly sucking as much of her as he could take into his mouth, again and again, nibbling, licking.

  Jackie was dizzy. Her own hands began to move. Up and down his back. Nails slightly raking. Her hips began to undulate.

  And then she touched where the afghan rolled at his waist. Without hesitation, she pulled it apart, and it fell to the floor.

  He kicked it out of the way and pressed himself into her, then pulled back long enough to hook his thumbs in the waist of her slacks and yank them down.

  Cupping her bottom, he lifted her to stand on her toes as he slid his shaft between her thighs.

  To and fro, he rubbed again and again, touching the nucleus of her sex and sending hot daggers of fire into her belly.

  Kevin had been the
only man who had ever made love to her, but never, ever, like this.

  Heaven and hell rolled into one as a part of her screamed for fulfillment and another whispered to back away lest he take her heart along with her body.

  Boldly, she reached for him, softly, tenderly. And even as he continued to stroke himself between her legs, she ran her fingertips up and down his manhood.

  She marveled at the size of him.

  He was huge.

  She wondered if she could take all of him, but knew she had to find out.

  Her hips began to undulate once more, and she moved from caressing him to clinging to his shoulders instead. Weakness from want made her afraid she could not continue to stand.

  “Tell me that you want me,” he whispered, breath burning into her neck as he bent her back over the sink. “Or tell me to stop....”

  She could more easily have moved the mountains they called home than deny him...or herself, and, for answer, reached down and guided him inside her.

  He grasped her waist, lifting her up and onto him, and she strained on tiptoe to slide up and down the rigid shaft. She moaned softly to feel the girth of him.

  He drew back. “Am I hurting you?” He searched her face.

  She clutched his shoulders, pulling him closer, wanting all of him. “No, no. I want all of you...”

  He laughed, deep and throaty. “Then you shall have me, my sweet.”

  He lifted her up, still impaling her and carried her to the sofa. She held on tight, wrapping her arms around him tightly, raining kisses all over his face.

  She was wanton.

  She was wild.

  And she didn’t care.

  To hell with tomorrow and anything else, because she felt in that instant if she did not have him she would surely die from want.

  He started to lay her on the sofa.

  “No. There.” She pointed to the faux fur rug in front of the fireplace. She had splurged and ordered it from a catalog the same day she made the decision to move to the mountains. She’d imagined lying on it sipping hot chocolate, never dreaming she’d know the delicious feel of it against her naked flesh while a man made her realize what it truly meant to be a woman.

  Never had she felt so uninhibited, and, oh, it was wonderful, she sighed to think as she wriggled against the rug.