My Child, Our Child (Silhouette Special Edition)

by Hagan, Patricia

  Sam lowered himself onto her. She spread her legs to receive him, but he toyed with her instead. With his eyes burning into hers, he spread the petals of her sex and began to stroke.

  Jackie squirmed as he began to manipulate the tiny nub hidden within, making it swell beneath his massaging fingers.

  She twisted from side to side, then fastened her hands around his wrist to try and stop the sweet torture. “No, please. I can’t stand it. I’ve got to have you now...”

  “And you will.” He smiled down at her, enjoying her torment as much as she. He wanted the magic to last, wanted to ensure that when the final moment of ecstasy came, that pinnacle of sensory emotion, they would fly to that wondrous peak together.

  He lowered his mouth to suckle her breast again, and she clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck, trying to bring him closer.

  She reached for his manhood and gently pulled it toward her, beckoning, begging.

  At last he reached his point of surrender but drew back to worriedly say, “Jackie, I don’t have anything...you know...with me. Is it safe?”

  She whispered that it was, not bothering to explain her doctor had put her on birth control pills to regulate her periods. But in that frenzied moment she doubted she would have cared and thrown caution to the wind in order to have him.

  Grasping her hips, he plunged into her.

  She cried out, “Yes...oh, yes...” and lifted her buttocks to receive him. She raised her legs, wrapped them about him, her heels tucked against his buttocks.

  She could not get enough of him, wanting him inside but also yearning for his hands on her body, his lips upon hers, his tongue melding with her own.

  Her hands raced up and down his back, clutching, squeezing, as she raised her buttocks from the furry rug to meet his every thrust.

  He began to move harder. She was bouncing off the floor, struggling to hold back the cries of delight bubbling in her throat for fear of waking Brian.

  And then she felt climax coming and feared she would scream despite all resolve. She burrowed her face in his shoulder and held tight, moving fast, fast, faster. Her breath came in steady, ragged gasps.

  He pumped harder, and she held on, and then it happened—an explosion of pleasure nonpareil. She started to cry out, and he quickly covered her mouth with his to muffle the sound.

  Then his own zenith came, and he seemed to convulse from head to toe as the shudders of release took control of his body.

  For long, long moments they lay there, too enraptured from the wonder of it all to either move or speak.

  Finally Jackie forced herself to wriggle from beneath him and stand. “Brian might wake up,” she said by way of apology for bringing them back to the real world. “He’s in a strange place, you know.”

  “Not really,” Sam said, still on his stomach, face toward the fire. “He stayed here with me a few times before Donna took off.”

  “But that was a long time ago.” She went into the kitchen and gathered her clothes that were on the floor.

  Her head was swimming. What was she supposed to do now? She’d never been to bed with anybody but Kevin till now. And they hadn’t made love until after they were engaged. So what came next? Did she make more coffee? Did they talk about it? What, exactly, was she supposed to do? Wondering was making her nervous, and she wished it weren’t snowing outside, wished it weren’t night, and he could leave to end the misery of not knowing what to do, and—

  “It was wonderful, Jackie.”

  His hands were caressing her shoulders as he nuzzled the back of her neck, sending fresh tingles of desire up and down her spine.

  What is wrong with you? her mind screamed. She had just had the best sex of her life, and all he had to do was kiss the back of her neck and she was ready to go again.

  “Yes, it was,” she managed to say, afraid her voice would crack.

  Then he spun her around in his arms. “Jackie, I hope you aren’t sorry. I mean, I don’t want you thinking I intended to seduce you. It just happened, and I hope you don’t regret it.”

  “I...I don’t,” she said chokily, reveling in the feel of being pressed against him once more. They were still naked, their bodies perspiration-slick.

  His kiss was deep, and by the time he let her go, the fires were raging once again.

  “I think...” she whispered huskily, “the faux fur is going to get a workout tonight.”

  Sam lay very still, his head propped on an elbow as he watched her sleeping.

  He had been awake since the first light of dawn, which always seemed brighter when the world was buried under snow.

  He knew he needed to get going, before anyone was up and about. It wouldn’t do to start gossip about him sleeping over with her. Folks wouldn’t stop to reason that he’d gotten trapped there during the storm and maybe nothing happened between them, after all. There was too much boredom this time of year, and everyone was hungry for something new to talk about.

  But he liked looking at her and hated to leave. She was, beyond a doubt, one hell of a woman. He also knew he’d never enjoyed one more. But that was as far as it was going to go, because he’d be damned if he was going to make a fool of himself again.

  Maybe she would wind up staying. If so, then perhaps things might get serious. But he was taking no chances, because he had too much at stake. His son. His farm. And his pride.

  He got up slowly, quietly. She stirred, and he covered her with the afghan. The cabin was warm. She’d be fine. So would Brian.

  He dressed and left quietly.

  Jackie awoke with a start.

  There was a noise.

  The door closing?

  She sat up groggily, wondering why she was on the floor, naked, with an afghan wrapped around her.

  And then it all came rushing back.

  She scrambled to her feet and ran to the window to look outside. It had stopped snowing, but as best she could guess there was at least four feet on the ground. Worse were the drifts which were much, much deeper.

  There were traces where Sam had struggled to get off the porch and go around back to find the snowshoes.

  Then she saw him, coming around the side of the cabin, walking in stride, ski poles to help him along.

  She watched till he was out of sight, the memories of their lovemaking as warm and glowing as the fire in the grate.

  It seemed now like a dream, but she had only to touch her kiss-swollen lips and feel the soreness from their passion in delicate places to know that it was very real indeed.

  But, once again, she asked herself, What to do now?

  Was it the beginning of something between them or . was it to be a one-night stand, brought about by fickle fate and nature’s folly?

  Only time would tell, and in that instant she realized she didn’t have any to spare. Brian would wake up any minute, and she could not let him find her naked.

  She scrambled for her clothes just in time, because no sooner had she pulled her shirt over her head than the bedroom door opened and he came padding out sleepily.

  She hugged him and told him his daddy would be back soon, that he had gone to get his truck out.

  He ate the hot oatmeal she cooked for him with gusto, but when she set the mug of hot chocolate in front of him, smothered in melting marshmallows, she thrilled to see him smile for the first time since she’d known him.

  The morning passed slowly. She read to him from a children’s book she’d bought from Willa’s bookstore. She could not tell whether he enjoyed it, but as least he sat still and listened.

  Then, finally, she heard it—the sound of a tractor grinding through the snow.

  “Hear that, Brian?” she grabbed his hand and pulled him from the sofa. They went to the door, and she yanked it open. “See? There’s your daddy now. He’s come to get you.”

  Sam waved. He was so bundled up she wondered how he could even lift his arm. It was freezing cold, despite the sun, and the snow didn’t look as though it had begun to melt at all.
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  “Everybody okay?” he asked when he drew the tractor right up to the porch steps.

  She searched his face for... what? A lusty smile? A knowing smirk? But there was nothing except anticipation for an answer to his question.

  It was—she was stunned to realize—as though nothing had happened between them.

  “We’re fine.” She managed to speak as normally as always. “How about your truck?”

  “It will take some digging to get it out. I just wanted to come over and get Brian. He’s been pestering you long enough. Bonnie wasn’t there, so she doesn’t know I was out all night.”

  Translated, she knew, he meant that he did not intend for Bonnie to find out, either.

  Well, Jackie wasn’t about to climb up on the roof and shout for all the world to hear, either.

  He came inside long enough to help get Brian wrapped good and warm, then took him back outside and hoisted him up on the tractor.

  “I’ve got to check around and see if anybody needs anything,” he said. “I’ve got the only tractor around here. You stay warm, and I’ll be by later to see how you’re doing.”

  There was meaning there. She sensed it. Felt it. In his voice. In his eyes. And in his soul-warming smile as he nodded goodbye.

  He would be back.

  Something told her they would make love again. Beyond that, she had no clue.

  And, for the time being, perhaps that was best.

  Chapter Twelve

  The first thing Jackie did when the roads were clear was drive into town to the closest service station and use the pay phone to call Mr. Burkhalter.

  When he came on the line, she got right to the point. “How soon before I’ll get any money?”

  He told her he wasn’t sure. “I’ll have to check Libby’s file and see about when she received hers every year. Hold on.”

  Jackie tapped her foot impatiently and glanced around to see what was going on in town. The station was on one of the busiest corners, and she could see Main Street. Christmas decorations were everywhere, and workers were busy stringing additional tinsel around the utility poles.

  Snow had been scraped from the streets into ugly, dirty piles that would melt slowly. Temperatures had warmed a bit, and people had to pick their way around the mud puddles.

  The phone was inside the station, and as she waited for Mr. Burkhalter to return, one of the attendants walked by and asked, “Is that your car out there, lady?”

  She said it was.

  He chuckled. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s not a four-wheel-drive.”

  He kept on going, whistling as he went. She felt like yelling after him that the reason she was on the phone was to try and find a way to get the money to buy one.

  Mr. Burkhalter came back on the line. “Looks like around the first of March. Colton Farms is incorporated, and corporate returns are due March 15. The accountant waited till all the tax work was done before paying. Apparently that worked for Libby.”

  “Libby didn’t need the money to buy a car to get around on these roads. I do, but I’m nearly broke. I don’t have a pay check coming in, you know, and I’ve spent almost all my savings on settling in.”

  “Well, I can always call the accountant for you and ask him if he can get a partial payment to you right after the first of the year.”

  “No, don’t do that.” If he did, the accountant would turn around and tell Sam, and she didn’t want him to know any more about her personal business than could be helped.

  Especially after that night.

  “I wish there was something I could do. You don’t have any family, do you?”

  “No, but it’s all right. I’ll survive.” She hoped. Now that she and Sam had been intimate, she was all the more determined to be independent. Otherwise, he might think she was taking advantage of the situation, using him or, worse yet, playing the role of helpless female to get closer to him.

  God forbid he think that.

  “There’s something else,” Mr. Burkhalter said. “I was going to write you a letter, but since I have you on the phone I’ll just tell you about it. In going over Libby’s papers, I discovered that she never had a contract with the Coltons for them to farm her land.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  He laughed. “That Libby, may she rest in peace, did not have any business sense. She let them do whatever they wanted with her land and never asked questions. I suggest that you let me put you in touch with a lawyer in your area, once the will has been probated. He can draw up a contract so everything will be legal, with no misunderstandings.”

  She wondered how Sam would react to that. “I suppose you’re right, but I’m in no hurry. Meanwhile, as soon as I can get some money out of the estate, I’ll be grateful.”

  She thanked him and hung up. She had no idea what she was going to do. Maybe she should not have been so cocky as to think she could survive on her meager savings. Now she needed a job to tide her over, but how could she get to work? Certainly not in the klunker, when she was slipping and sliding all over the roads. It wasn’t safe. And certainly not reliable. She had also found out that the nearest nursing home was in Boone. So it was out of the question to look for a job there till she got a car safe for the mountains.

  It had been five days since the snow. Sam had been by a couple of times to see if she needed anything, but Hank had always been with him. For her part, she had avoided eye contact, afraid her feelings might show, because, since that night, she could not get Sam out of her mind.

  She told herself it had only happened because of the storm. Soft lights, a glowing fire, music and wine...all had combined to set the stage for passion. She supposed it had to have happened.

  So she would not start thinking romance. Jackie cynically mused how Sam might just be trying to get on her good side so he could eventually persuade her to sell and leave. Sure, he had chopped her firewood and done a couple of favors, and he also made sure she was okay during the time she was snowed in, but he might also be gloating inside that she was getting a good dose of what life would be like during the winter.

  But she had to put all of it out of her mind in lieu of her first priority, which was finding the means to buy a car.

  She had been sipping a Coke she’d gotten from a machine and walked over to toss the can into the trash.

  The man who had spoken to her earlier was seated behind a chipped wood desk covered with dirty, oil-stained invoices. Paper cups half-full of coffee, some with cigarette butts floating on top, were crowded into the mess.

  She started to walk by but stopped when he said, “I heard you on the phone. When you get the money, I know where you can get a good four-wheel pickup cheap. My brother-in-law is trying to sell it, so you just let me know. The name’s Linwood Bean.” He tipped his oil-stained cap.

  It annoyed her to know he had been listening, but the phone was just around the corner. Maybe he couldn’t help it. She’d give him the benefit of the doubt, anyway.

  “Thanks, but I won’t be buying anytime soon.”

  She went her way, thinking how good it felt to be out of the cabin. She was in no hurry to return. Neither was she anxious to get on the road again. The drive in had been tricky. She’d had to constantly be on guard, lest the car slide in mud and send her into a drift of snow left by Sam’s tractor when he ploughed.

  It was not quite noon, so the café wasn’t crowded with the lunch bunch. She enjoyed a cup of chili with melted cheese and sourdough rolls. By the time she finished, the booths were filled and there were customers waiting, so she didn’t linger over a second cup of coffee as she would have liked.

  Back on the street, she saw the holiday display at the Book Nook and paused for a closer look. Tiny animated elves, dressed in green velvet, sat nodding their heads with interest before a jolly Santa Claus supposedly reading them “The Night Before Christmas.” Gift books were scattered amidst artificial snowflakes and
glitter.

  There were a lot of children’s books, and she decided to buy more for Brian for Christmas. He liked it when she read to him, but if Sam kept him from seeing her, maybe he would read to him, or Bonnie. But she would try to get ones with lots of pictures for him to look at in case they didn’t.

  “Well, hello there,” Willa said when Jackie came in. “If you had a phone, I’d have called to ask how you made it through the snow and tell you how happy you made some folks with those trees you gave away.”

  “I’m glad.” Jackie headed straight for the coffee bar.

  “The Sunday school class had fun making ornaments, too. You know, kids don’t do that anymore. We enjoyed making them, and I think the tree, and Christmas, meant more to us that way. How about you?”

  “I’m afraid we had an artificial tree and store-bought decorations. Both my parents worked, so they didn’t have a lot of time for things like that.” Jackie sat down by the stove and took off her jacket.

  Willa’s place was so cozy. A plate of decorated Christmas cookies was on the table, and she helped herself to a couple. Cold weather revved up her appetite.

  No other customers were in the store, so Willa joined her. “Are you going home for the holidays?”

  “No. I don’t have any family left. My parents are dead.”

  Willa put her hand on her shoulder. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Me and my big mouth. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “No, it’s all right. It happened a long time ago. They drowned in a boating accident. I was twelve. I went to live with my grandmother. She died right after I graduated from high school, but I was married by then, and—” Her hand flew to her mouth. What was wrong with her, rattling on like that? She was always a private person. Was that what living alone did—make a person so crazy for company they couldn’t stop talking when they got around people?

  “I didn’t mean to talk so much,” she said, nervously taking another cookie.

  “Oh, that’s quite all right. I have that effect on folks, I guess, ’cause if this old stove could talk, it would give away most of the secrets in this town. And don’t you worry about being alone for Christmas. I always cook a big turkey and have lots of company. You’re invited.”