Harlequin Superromance December 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: Caught Up in YouThe Ranch She Left BehindA Valley Ridge Christmas

by Beth Andrews

  He didn’t want to. He still had half an hour until he needed to be at Maddie’s. He could go early or, since Maddie lived across the street from their parents, he could stop there, see how his mom was doing with her college courses, have a beer with his dad.

  He had places he could go. People he could see, people he cared about, who he enjoyed being with.

  He didn’t want to leave.

  Not yet. Not when the tension riding his shoulders since Lena knocked on his door was finally fading. His stomach no longer felt twisted and tied in knots, the tightness in his chest had eased.

  Part of it, he knew, was relief from hearing Max was doing better. No, a D wasn’t anything to cheer about but the tutoring—the individual attention—was helping. And the tips and techniques Harper had taught Eddie gave him a sense of control. A sense that he could help his son.

  The other part was Harper.

  He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since Sunday. Had wondered if he’d gone too far that day. Or if he hadn’t gone far enough.

  They turned the corner and her arm brushed his. She moved away. And then, there they were. At the door.

  She reached for the handle and sent him a polite version of a don’t-let-the-door-hit-you-in-the-ass-on-the-way-out smile. “I’ll see you Tuesday then.”

  Four days until he’d have a reason to be near her. And then, they’d be surrounded by eighteen kids.

  There was only one thing to do, one way to delay the inevitable.

  “You didn’t ask about Max’s mom getting him.”

  “The last time I asked you a personal question regarding your son and your ex-wife, you told me it was none of my business.”

  “That didn’t seem to bother you.” It sure as hell hadn’t stopped her from giving her opinion.

  “I’m changing my ways,” she assured him as she opened the door.

  For some reason, that annoyed him. He didn’t want her to change.

  Except maybe out of that Shady Grove Elementary polo, those ugly khakis. He wanted her in those jeans from the other day. Or maybe a dress, one that swirled around her legs, hugged her ample curves.

  He wanted her in his bed, under his body. He’d only now realized how much.

  He stepped into the doorway then faced her again. Rain hit the roof in a steady beat. A strong breeze blew it across the porch, wetting the back of his jeans. He remained rooted to the spot.

  “Lena loved the butterfly Max made,” he said, as if daring her not to pick up the conversational gauntlet.

  Her grip on the handle loosened. “I’m so glad. He had fun making it and I think he picked up a few vocabulary words, so it was a win-win situation.”

  Leave it to a teacher to make everything, even an art project, educational.

  “Did Max say anything? About seeing Lena?”

  “Yes.”

  He waited. She sent him an innocent look, an expectant one.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Well what?”

  “What did he say?” Eddie ground the words out from between clenched teeth.

  She leaned her head against the door, her hair sliding off her shoulder. “A few things.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Care to be more specific?”

  “Not really.” She straightened. “If you want to know how your son feels about his mother, or anything else for that matter, I suggest you ask him. That’s what I did. It’s really not that hard. You just say, ‘Hey, Max. Your mom’s coming. Are you excited?’ The nice part about it is you can use other words for excited—nervous, scared, angry. Your pick.”

  “I did ask him,” he admitted.

  “And you can’t—” She frowned. “Wait? What? You did?”

  “Yeah.” He’d wanted to know what his kid was thinking. Feeling. Before, he’d wait, let Max come to him, but with Lena’s visit approaching, Eddie had felt as if they were running out of time. “I asked if he was looking forward to seeing her. He shrugged. I told him it was okay if he was nervous or if he wants to come home after dinner and skip the movie. He nodded.”

  Her lips quirked, elongating that perfect heart-shape. “Wow. That must be so frustrating, talking to someone who doesn’t talk back. If you get stuck on deciphering all those shrugs and nods and head shakes, let me know. I think I can help translate.”

  He couldn’t help but grin.

  She stepped closer, bringing the door with her so that it pressed against her back. “Max told me he was excited to see his mom, but the closer it came to today, the more nervous he seemed. I didn’t think it was humanly possible but he got quieter and quieter as the day went on, more withdrawn.”

  “When they walked away,” Eddie said slowly, “hand in hand, Max glanced back at me. He looked so little...lost and scared...I wanted to grab him and race away, drive like a bat out of hell somewhere secluded. Safe. Where no one could ever take him away from me.”

  Not even his mother.

  “Does your ex-wife want custody of Max?” Harper asked.

  “She’s always been happy sharing custody. Seeing Max a few times a year used to be enough for her.”

  “Used to be?”

  “She’s changed.” He understood the reasons behind it and he found himself wanting to share those reasons with Harper. Wanted to tell her about Lena’s illness, to share his worries, to get Harper’s take on it all.

  “But isn’t her wanting to see Max more often, to be a bigger part of his life, a change for the better?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m afraid,” he said, choosing his words, his confession, carefully, “that she’ll want Max with her all the time.”

  It was his great fear, one he’d lived with every moment since she had walked out of their house, out of their marriage, leaving their son behind.

  Harper laid her hand on his forearm, her fingers cool. “It doesn’t do anyone any good to worry about things that might not happen.”

  He liked how her pale hand looked against his tanned skin. How delicate and feminine it was with her long, slender fingers and pale pink nails.

  As if realizing she was touching him, Harper curled her fingers, her nails scraping his skin lightly as she pulled her hand away.

  She stepped back. “I...I’d better get Cass up or she won’t sleep tonight.”

  He wanted to touch her. Badly. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”

  “Hmm? Oh, right. Yes. See you then.”

  She slammed the door in his face.

  Slapping the folder against his thigh, he walked to his truck, the rain dotting his shirt, wetting his hair. He opened the door and tossed the folder onto the seat. On top of a tinfoil-covered plate.

  Harper’s plate.

  He tapped his forehead against the truck’s door frame a few times but when he straightened, the plate was still there.

  Shit.

  Grabbing it, he stormed up the porch steps, pounded on the door.

  It opened almost immediately—had she been standing there this whole time?

  “Did you forget something?” Harper asked, looking confused, sounding flustered.

  “I wanted to give this back to you,” he said, practically shoving the plate into her stomach.

  She lifted a corner of the tinfoil, frowned and then ripped it off entirely to stare at the plate. “These are brownies.”

  The back of his neck heated. “My mom always said you shouldn’t return a plate empty.”

  “So she made me brownies?”

  “I made them. Max and I made them,” he corrected.

  She stared at him as if he’d admitted they’d added marijuana to the batter. “You made brownies? For me?”

  “For you and Cassidy. Mostly Cass.”

  She studied him as if trying
to figure him out. “You keep surprising me,” she said softly.

  She was so close, he noticed a sprinkling of freckles on her nose. He dropped his gaze to the deep dip in her top lip. His body tightened, his head spun.

  It wasn’t an entirely bad feeling.

  He just wasn’t sure if it was a good one, either. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had captured his thoughts. Had slipped into his dreams.

  He edged closer, gratified and relieved when she didn’t retreat. “You like surprises?” he murmured.

  She visibly swallowed, seemed to have trouble finding her voice. “Love them.”

  “Good.”

  Holding her gaze, keeping his hands to himself, he leaned in and brushed his mouth against hers. Her breath stuttered out, warm and minty across his chin. She held the plate between them and with each inhale he breathed in chocolate and Harper. A nice combination. Tasty. Intoxicating.

  Wanting, needing another sample, he settled his mouth on hers.

  * * *

  HOLY CRAP, EDDIE MONTESANO was kissing her.

  Harper’s eyes widened, her fingers clenched the plate. Still, she stood frozen, numb, as Eddie’s mouth moved gently over hers. Gently and expertly.

  The man knew how to kiss. His lips were warm. Dry and firm. He took his time, explored her mouth as if there was nothing he’d rather do, nowhere he’d rather be than on her porch, a plate of brownies digging into his sternum, kissing her.

  Kissing. Her.

  He stroked his tongue, just the tip, over the cupid’s bow of her top lip.

  She jerked back, shoving against him at the same time so that they both stumbled. He reached out to steady her but she slapped his hand away then raised her fingers to her mouth.

  “What was that?” But her words came out a croak, muffling her outrage. Her fear. She cleared her throat, forced her hand to her side. “What the hell was that?”

  That had been better. Or at least, louder. Much louder.

  “Harper.” His voice was low and soothing, as if she was a wild animal in need of calming. “I—”

  “You what?” Now she was shrieking. She was literally shrieking at the man and she couldn’t seem to stop. “Tripped and just happened to land on my mouth? Were telling my lips a secret? Thought I was having a heart attack and jumped right into mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?”

  “I kissed you. I want to kiss you again.”

  She held up the plate, though he hadn’t made a move toward her, had actually moved to stand at the edge of the porch where he watched her from hooded eyes. Where did he get off, dropping that little bomb on her? And if he kept up with that soothing tone, she was going to hit him.

  Her heart beat hard. Fast. Too hard. Too fast. Good Lord, maybe she was having a heart attack.

  “No. No,” she repeated, shaking a brownie at him. Crumbs flew, scattered on the porch floor. “You can’t kiss me. You...can...not...kiss...me!”

  He nodded, his mouth tight. “Got it.”

  “I don’t think you do.” How could he when he was the one who had kissed her in the first place? “What were you thinking? You weren’t thinking,” she continued when he opened his mouth. “That’s obvious. Or maybe this was all part of your plan?”

  “Plan?” he asked with that damn scowl of his.

  “Oh, it’s all so clear now.” She waved the brownie. A piece flew off, hitting the window. She tossed the rest aside, picked up another one. “You and that whole aw-shucks, bashful act. Telling me I’m pretty, that you...that you dream about my mouth. For God’s sake, you can’t dream about my mouth.”

  The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. How dare he say those things to her, things she wasn’t ready to hear? How could he kiss her? She wasn’t free.

  Without even realizing it, she threw the brownie. It hit him square in the chest.

  He looked down at the chocolate on his sweatshirt, then to the porch where it landed, then, finally, to her. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  His words, so quiet, so honest, and filled with compassion, with concern, had tears pricking her eyes. But she wouldn’t cry. She’d cried enough for one year, had sobbed out her heartbreak over losing her husband. Now was the time for healing.

  But not the time for moving on.

  She threw another brownie at him, this time missing his head by inches. “I’m not upset. I’m mad.” Another throw, this one he caught neatly before it smacked his face. “What did you think, that because I’m...alone...I’d be...easy?”

  The next brownie bounced off his shoulder.

  “Harper,” he grumbled, “there is nothing easy about you.”

  “Damn right there’s not.” She threw another one. And another, pelting him again and again while he silently stood there. “I’m not some lonely, pathetic, needy widow.”

  He strode up to her, took the last brownie from her hand and threw it out into the yard. His face was red, whether from anger or because he was embarrassed, she didn’t know. Didn’t want to know because if he was blushing, she might start feeling guilty. Might soften toward him.

  As if sensing she wasn’t above using the plate to coldcock him, he snatched that away, too, tucked it under his arm. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice incredibly gentle despite his hard expression. “Go on inside now. Cassidy’s calling you.”

  Only then did she hear Cass’s voice.

  “Mommy! Mama! Someone get me out of here!”

  Here being her crib. If Harper knew her daughter, Cass was holding onto the rail, bouncing like Winnie-the-Pooh’s buddy Tigger trying to get enough height to reach blessed freedom.

  “Cass,” Harper breathed with a frantic glance into her house. She turned, winced at the chocolate crumbs on Eddie’s shirt, the smear of it on the side of his neck. Blinking furiously to contain the tears she’d promised herself she wouldn’t let fall, she swallowed. Swallowed again. “Could we...could we forget any of this...all of this...ever happened?”

  “Believe me,” he said, handing her the plate, “I wish it never had.”

  She didn’t move as he walked down the sidewalk, climbed into his truck. Forced herself to stay rooted to her spot as he drove away.

  Inside her house, she leaned against the door and slid to the floor, let the plate fall with a clatter. Her legs were weak, her knees shaking. She’d yelled at him. Yelled and screamed, accused him of thinking she was some sort of...of...harlot, and then, as if that hadn’t proved she was, indeed, a raving lunatic, she’d thrown an entire batch of brownies at him.

  All because he’d kissed her.

  “Mommy! You coming?”

  “One minute, baby,” Harper managed to say, though it felt as if she had a marble stuck in her throat. “Hang on. And no bouncing.”

  “Okay!”

  Her reaction hadn’t been that overboard, had it? Not considering her circumstances. For one thing, she’d been taken by surprise.

  She nibbled on her lower lip. Okay, maybe she hadn’t been that shocked when he’d made his move. It hadn’t exactly come out of nowhere. And she had touched him first. Sure, it was just a hand to the arm but some could construe that as flirting.

  With a groan, Harper brought her knees up and laid her head on them, covered her face with her arms. She really, really wished she hadn’t whipped those brownies at him.

  She could use some chocolate right now.

  She’d flirted with him. Had encouraged him by not putting a stop to it before his mouth had touched hers.

  Because she’d been stunned. She pressed the palms of her hands against her temples. Hard. Oh, who was she kidding? She’d wanted him to kiss her. Was attracted to him.

  She didn’t want to be.

  She hadn’t been kissed by a man in almost a year. The last time Beau kissed her, had been the
morning he’d died. He’d been running late and hadn’t had time for breakfast. He’d poured coffee into his travel mug, rubbed Cass’s head, given Harper a quick peck on the cheek and hurried out the door.

  A sob broke free. Then another. She pressed her fist against her mouth to muffle the sound, bit down hard on her knuckle. How she wished she’d pulled him into a hug, had kissed him properly, held on to him for as long as possible. But she’d been distracted trying to get ready for an early morning meeting, had been irritated he couldn’t help get Cass fed or drop her off at day care.

  Now he was gone and she could no longer smell him on his pillow. Didn’t expect him to be there, next to her, when she awoke. She’d stopped listening for his car to pull into the drive at the end of the day. Couldn’t clearly remember the sound of his laugh.

  Rocking back and forth, she lost her battle against the tears. They coursed down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking with the effort to keep from crying out. From calling her husband’s name aloud.

  “Maaamaaa!”

  Harper lurched to her feet, staggered before regaining her balance. “Coming.” Her voice was a croak. She sniffed, wiped the wetness from her face and tried again. “Coming, honey.”

  It was okay, she assured herself. She had no reason to feel guilty, no reason to feel as if she’d cheated on Beau. Yes, Eddie kissed her, but there was one thing she needed to remember, one very important fact.

  She hadn’t kissed him back.

  * * *

  “YOU READY?” EDDIE asked Maddie when he stepped into her kitchen.

  She looked up from the laptop she had set up on the island. “Come on in,” she said dryly. “You know I love nothing more than when one of my brothers lets himself into my house.”

  He scowled at her. Ornery, contrary cuss that she was, she grinned.

  “I need a beer,” he muttered.

  A beer, ten beers, maybe a couple shots of whiskey. Would that be enough to wash away the taste of Harper? To deaden the humiliation he’d endured?

  He twisted the lid off a beer, drank deeply. If he didn’t have to be present and responsible for his kid in approximately three hours, he just might find out.