Pregnant by the Cowboy CEO

by Catherine Mann

  Finally—thank God—finally, he saw her in the distance, her dark brown hair streaming behind her as she took the trail with her white Arabian.

  She sat deep in her seat, a saddle of black and silver with a bridle to match. She looked like something out of some Western fairy tale. Her long dress flowed and rippled, hints of bare leg flashing above her turquoise cowboy boots. She was intriguing. Gorgeous. Wild and untamable. Infuriating.

  Irresistible.

  He galloped alongside, shouting, “Amie, slow down. Let’s talk.”

  “Let’s ride,” she shouted back, hair whipping across her face.

  Crystal’s pace opened up and the space between them doubled. Tripled. Her grace, even here, was perfect. The way her arm fell casually to her side. She moved in perfect time to the mare’s beat.

  God, how he wanted to take her up on that offer and just let loose on their horses, riding the expanse of the land. But he had to be careful, for her sake.

  He pushed Chance onward, making sure he was close enough to be heard. “Are you sure this is safe for you and the baby?”

  Her face creased and she didn’t stop, but she slowed to a trot. She sat perfectly balanced, reins gathered in one hand as she swiveled to face him. “You know, pregnant women ride horses, drive cars and even go swimming. It’s quite the revolution.”

  “I’m not laughing.” He eased his quarter horse to a trot in step with hers and reached to take her reins.

  Her eyes flashed with fury at his taking the lead. “Duly noted and not surprising.”

  “Please, get off the horse,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “I wouldn’t risk my child,” she snapped.

  “Our child,” he snapped back, slowing Chance to a halt.

  “Walking up the stairs is more dangerous than riding this horse.” Still, she slid off Crystal’s back, her boot thudding the ground beside his.

  “Then I guess you’ll be taking the elevator.”

  “Are you one of those smothering kinds?” Her chin jutted, challenge in her eyes as she took her horse’s reins back. She stroked the Arabian’s arched neck and clucked softly to her. Crystal sprung to attention as Amie guided her around Preston.

  “I’m one of those careful kinds. It’s how I’ve become such a successful businessman. Why would I take more care with work than with my personal life? I’m learning about balancing that.”

  “Good point. If it makes you more comfortable, I won’t ride again once I return my horse to the stable.” She withdrew from him again.

  Shutting down.

  “What’s wrong?” he probed, dropping his horse’s reins, effectively ground tying the well-trained mount.

  “Nothing.” She tightened her grip on the polished leather of her horse’s reins, not slowing down. Continuing away from him, to the forest line.

  “Damn it, Amie, you’re upset about something.”

  “We don’t know each other well enough for you to read my emotions.” She stopped. Turned.

  “Are we going back to that again? Fine, I won’t press for marriage. We’ll go back to dating.”

  “I’m not some fragile flower.” She dropped the reins at her feet, leaving Crystal as she stomped toward him. “I’m not an airheaded person who’s too stupid to live. Treat me like an equal, damn it.”

  He didn’t have a clue what she meant. Why she was so angry. Or what the hell had gotten under her skin. But he knew a spark when he saw it, and she was sparking all over him.

  “Treat you like an equal?” He fought for calm. Control. Couldn’t seem to find any as he dragged in a harsh breath. “Remember—you asked me to.”

  Her brows furrowed for all of an instant before she seemed to guess his sensual intent. He angled toward her.

  But she beat him to it, lunging closer to fling her arms around his neck and damn near kiss his socks off.

  His brain raised a protest for about a fraction of a second—shouldn’t they be talking?—before his body got fully on board with this plan.

  He wanted this. Needed this.

  Lifting her off her feet, he backed her up against the trunk of a massive bald cypress tree, hiding her from view, even though they were far from the ranch and not close to any trails. Her hands already worked the buttons of his shirt, her lips dipping to follow where her fingers had been. He reached to skim a hand under her hem, letting the dress bunch around her thighs while he cupped a palm between her legs.

  Her head fell back, eyes closed, lips parted. She was so responsive. So hot and ready for him. Despite everything that didn’t work for them, this did. The electric connection that torched away anything else.

  With one hand he palmed her thigh, lifting her leg to wrap around his waist and giving himself better access. With his other hand, he slipped beneath her panties to stroke her until she went breathless, her fingernails catching on his back as she held herself still for his touch.

  She amped him up so much. Unfastening the fly of his denim, he shoved aside her underwear just enough to take her. The thin strip of lace gave way anyhow, leaving her naked as he sank deeper inside her.

  His groan mingled with her soft whimper, the pleasure undeniable. He cupped her cheek with one hand and slid a palm behind her back, making sure not to press her into the tree bark. She didn’t seem to notice, though, her hands stroking through his hair and down his back. She kissed his chest and breathed along his skin, warming his flesh, driving him out of his mind with her sweet, sexy ways.

  A breeze rose, scattering a few old leaves around his feet and plastering his shirt to his back. Amie’s hair lifted, blowing around him, too. She tipped her head back as if she enjoyed the feel of it. The wildness of it. He edged a shoulder sideways a little so he didn’t block her from the brunt of it, letting her feel the force of it on her face.

  Her eyes popped open then, blue gaze meeting his for one fierce, unguarded moment, and she smiled at him in a way that dazzled the hell out of him. Made him want her more. Forever.

  Fueled by frenzy and too much emotion, he thrust into her again. And again.

  “Preston!” She called his name in a hoarse rush right before she found her release, her body convulsing around him in the soft clench of feminine muscles.

  He followed her a moment later, his own fulfillment slamming through him. His heart pounded hard against his chest, their bodies sealed together while they twitched through aftershocks of a passion bigger than the Texas sky.

  When she went still against him, he could almost feel the taut strain creeping into her shoulders and back. Just like that first time they’d been together, the aftermath went tense as she relegated him to a place outside her life. He settled her on her own feet.

  His head rested in the crook of her neck, his breath coming in pants as he struggled to get his galloping heartbeat under control. “Amie, you’re tearing me apart here.”

  He remembered that moment of connection when the wind had kicked up. He hadn’t imagined that.

  Yet now, her hands smoothed along his hair, over his shoulders, but her eyes were distant. “I’m sorry, Preston, I’m so sorry.” A sigh shuddered through her. “I just think this is all too much too fast. We should keep our distance until we figure out a plan. It’s the only way to stay objective.”

  A cold lump settled in his gut as he angled back. “Are you dumping me?”

  She smoothed her dress into place, not meeting his gaze. “I’m protecting us and our child from heartbreak.”

  Too damn stunned to know what to say. It wasn’t often he’d been struck speechless, but right now was one of those times. He could only stare at her as she moved away from him, talking softly to Crystal as she approached her horse and then stroked the animal’s muzzle.

  She swung up on her horse again. She didn’t race off, giving him time to make the
trip with her. She kept the pace at a slow trot, but she didn’t look at him or speak again all the way to the stable. Once they returned, she slid off her horse, handed the reins to a stable hand and walked away.

  Her silence and stiff spine spoke louder than words. Preston waved off the stable hand, insisting on untacking Chance on his own. He needed time to think. Spending time in the barn was more productive then locking himself up indoors.

  Inhaling the smell of sweat and hay, Preston attached his horse to the crossties. He loosened the girth, gave Chance a pat on the shoulder and heaved the saddle off. The sorrel shuddered from withers to tailbone as his saddle was removed.

  Preston dutifully brushed and hosed the horse down. Once again, he found himself escaping in a rhythm of routine. Avoiding ghosts.

  His window of time to win her over had closed unless he came up with a Hail Mary fast. A way to break through her insecurities and let her know how much she meant to him. How much he cared.

  Cared?

  With a sinking sensation in his chest, he knew that was far too tame to describe the way he felt right now. Her rejection gutted him after lovemaking that had been one of the most incredible experiences of his life. After a week of witnessing her talent, her generosity and her warmhearted ways up close.

  “Cared” was the cop-out of a man too scared to face his own ghosts. But he was ready to do battle now. Because he knew that he felt a whole lot more than that for Amie.

  He loved that woman. Heart, body and soul.

  Twelve

  Amie had never felt less in the mood for a party.

  But this final wrap-up of the Diamonds in the Rough promotional tour was crucial to finishing off her deal with her grandmother. And beyond any “deal,” she wanted Gran to be happy. This would likely be her last celebration, a fact that tore at Amie’s already raw emotions.

  Preston’s overprotectiveness, his anger, then his tender lovemaking had been every bit as much of a roller coaster of feelings as her own. What were they doing to each other? How could love be so damn complicated?

  She stepped into the largest barn, an open space used for entertaining, the same location her cousin had used for his wedding just a week ago. Rustic elegance. The signature of Diamonds in the Rough.

  Bales of hay and leather saddles made eclectic showcases for high-end jewelry with pricey stones and intricate carvings. And not just women’s jewelry but men’s as well, along with belt buckles and boots. Light from the chandeliers refracted off the jewels, sending sparkles glistening throughout the room and over the guests. The room was bathed in splintered, glittering light. All the indications of a lovely evening. One she couldn’t enjoy.

  Amie had reached into the back of her closet for a gown, barely registering what she wore. Somehow, she’d ended up in one of her old pageant gowns. A black strapless number, fitted at the top with a floor-length, poofy tulle skirt studded with tiny diamonds and silver flecks. She’d always felt like the bad Disney princess in this gown. And it was too darn tight across the chest now, thanks to her pregnancy breasts. Her cleavage was getting more attention from some men than the jewels.

  She just had to get through the evening without crying over the mess she’d made of things with Preston. And then she saw him across the room, looking as sexy and brooding as ever in a black tux with a bolo tie and Stetson, cowboy boots polished. He looked so...

  How could she love him so much and still have so many doubts?

  Her stomach rumbled and she realized she’d been so upset she’d forgotten to eat. She turned toward the buffet, only to stop short. Her parents were standing there. On a good day, dealing with them was taxing. But tonight? Tonight they threatened to send her nerves out of control. Undo what little stability she had.

  She and her brother had always thought her mother’s collagen-puffy lips and cheek implants had changed her appearance until she looked like a distant-relative version of herself. Not her mother, yet eerily familiar. Her father always worked to look like an efficient businessman. Ironic as hell, since Garnet McNair carried an in-name-only title with the company, some kind of director of overseas relations. Which just meant he could pretend he worked as he traveled the world. Mariah only requested that he wine and dine possible contacts and charm them. On the company credit card, of course. Her parents were masters at wringing money out of Gran. But they would have to learn to live within their trust-fund means soon enough.

  Her eyes burned with tears at the thought and she turned away fast, searching for Gran. She found her grandmother in the back of the room, away from the noise, sitting in her wheelchair, holding court with different loyal business contacts.

  Amie angled through the crowd, smiling and nodding, her full-skirted gown brushing tables, chairs and people on her way past. As she neared, Gran ended her conversation with two jewel suppliers and turned her attention to Amie.

  Gran patted the chair next to her. “Your business trip seems to have been a success.”

  “We completed the events.” She smoothed the back of her dress and sat in a cloud of black tulle. Her hair was swept back on one side with a large pewter-and-diamond comb, leaving half the silky mass to fall over her shoulder.

  “So you believe you and Preston can work together? You can accept him as the CEO of Diamonds in the Rough?”

  It would be so easy to just say yes. Instead, she found herself asking, “Gran, why didn’t you ever ask me if I wanted to be considered for the job?”

  “Did you want the job?”

  “God, no,” she answered quickly, surprising even herself. “I believe I could do it, but I’m like Gramps. I’m the artist. I just wanted to be considered. To be asked.”

  Her grandmother took her hand and squeezed, her grip still firm in spite of her thin frailty. “I know you could have handled the job, but I also knew you wouldn’t want it. I assumed you understood that. You are my amazing girl, everything I could have hoped for as the next matriarch to lead the family. The family. You know that’s much more important than the company. You are the McNair glue that’s going to keep our empire cohesive—Diamonds in the Rough, Hidden Gem Ranch and HorsePower Cowkid Camp.”

  Her grandmother’s words surprised—and touched—her. “You really think so?” Amie’s own words came out in a half whisper.

  “I do.” She nodded with confidence. “And if you feel the artist well is drying up and you need a change of pace, I can also see you on the board of directors, even leading the table someday. You’re a force to be reckoned with, my girl.”

  Tears welled in her eyes that had nothing to do with hormones and everything to do with a lifetime bond she felt to this woman who’d been the true mother figure in her life.

  She leaned in to hug her grandmother. “I love you, Gran.”

  Her grandmother wrapped her in a hug, the familiar scent of gardenias enveloping her with memories. “I love you, too, Amie dear.”

  Amie held on tighter, her voice choking. “I’m going to miss you so very much.”

  “I know, sweetie.” Gran pulled back, brushing the two fat teardrops from Amie’s cheeks. “And I’m sorry we didn’t have more time together. But I am at peace about all of you and the legacy your grandfather and I built. I miss him. We’re going to have a beautiful reunion in heaven, he and I.”

  Amie smiled, wobbly but heartfelt. “Say hello to him for me.”

  “I will.” She touched Amie’s stomach lightly. “If it’s a girl, will you name her for me?”

  Amie blinked in surprise. “You know?”

  “I suspected, yes, and I am assuming Preston is the father.” She narrowed her gaze. “I didn’t miss the quick exit you two made for a certain coat closet that first night.”

  Oh, but those eyes had always seen so much, hadn’t they?

  Amie could only nod slowly, her eyes darting to Preston then ba
ck to her grandmother. “Is that why you sent me on the trip?”

  “I didn’t know then, actually, just knew there was something between you and Preston. I guessed about the baby when you got back.”

  “How?” She had to know what gave them away.

  “He treats you like spun glass.”

  Amie winced. Now, wasn’t that a sore subject? “I don’t want him to be with me because of the baby or the business.”

  “Good Lord, Amie, have you looked in that man’s eyes when he’s watching you? He’s been in love with you since day one.”

  Amie shook her head, wanting to believe but still too scared to hope. “You’re just seeing what you want to see.”

  Her grandmother took her face in her cool hands. “You’re afraid to see what’s really there. But take a look. Take a risk. The payoff is beyond anything you can imagine. Watch with your heart rather than your eyes.” Her voice softened and she cut off any chance of response as the chandeliers dimmed. A spotlight illuminated the dais where the band finished their song and Preston stepped up to the microphone.

  Amie’s throat burned as she looked at him. And wished.

  “Thank you, everyone, for joining us here this evening.” His voice still made her nerve endings twitch to life, just like that first night when they’d met. “For those of you who may not know my face, I’m Preston Armstrong, the CEO of Diamonds in the Rough. I’m also known as the interloper brought into a tight-knit family business.”

  He paused as laughter rippled through the room. Once the silence settled again, he continued, “I’m a man of numbers, a businessman, but in my soul I appreciate the beauty of art my skill set could never create. However, it is my honor to use my experience in the business world to bring that beauty into the lives of others.”

  That’s what she wanted, too. She found herself nodding, embracing his company philosophy in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to before. She’d been so busy avoiding him, she truly hadn’t let herself hear the good things he was doing for the business.