Best of Cowboys Bundle

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Barbara White Daille, Judy Christenberry, Christine Wenger, Shirley Rogers, Crystal Green, Nina Bruhns, Candance Schuler, Carole Mortimer

  He crossed to the couch and waited. A moment later, she appeared in the doorway. She looked classy, elegant even, in a dark-blue sweater and tan corduroy jeans. Pure city-girl sophistication.

  He shoved the thought away and concentrated on other things.

  “Come sit a minute.” He patted the cushion beside him.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “I want to talk to you, that’s all.”

  She inched across the room and took a seat on the couch, leaning up against the padded arm, as far from him as she could get and still be sitting on the same piece of furniture.

  Her forehead wrinkled in a frown, and her lips tightened into a pressed-down line. She didn’t trust him not to touch her.

  Hell, he didn’t blame her.

  This close, he could see lamplight reflected in her eyes and smell her shampoo. He could barely keep himself from…

  He swallowed a frustrated sigh.

  “Hands off tonight, Marissa.”

  Her lips twisted. One brow rose.

  Nope. She didn’t trust him by a country mile. He held up his right hand, palm out. “I promise you.”

  As she stared at him, the brow slowly came down again. One notch at a time, she relaxed. Her frown lines disappeared and her mouth softened. Her body shifted more comfortably against the arm of the couch.

  He took a deep breath. “Listen. With Warren and the boys gone to Charlie’s, we’ve got a long night alone ahead of us—”

  Bad move. Seeing her start to tense again, he rushed on. “I’m not propositioning you, Marissa.” He tried for a chuckle, but sounded choked instead. “Or maybe I am. But not the way you think. All I’m saying is, why don’t we take it easy tonight. It’ll be a stressful day tomorrow, playing newlyweds at Mrs. G’s Christmas dinner.”

  “If you’re not interested in accepting the invitation, I’m perfectly happy to perform without you.”

  “Yeah, I’ll just bet.” He grimaced, a heartbeat away from backing out on this crazy idea. Pride pushed him forward. He took a long deep breath and let it out slowly. “Look, I’m not saying I won’t go. What I’m asking for is a truce. Why don’t we just start over again, like you said the other night.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re serious?”

  “Darn right, I’m serious.”

  Judging by the way her fingers twisted themselves together, she didn’t entirely believe him.

  “Come on,” he urged, waving toward the corner of the room. “We’ve got a tree over there needs decorating, so why don’t we begin there, see how it goes?”

  “Well…I guess we could try it.”

  A mite begrudging, but he’d take what he could get.

  “Good.” He headed to the tree before she could change her mind. “I’ll get going on the lights.”

  She moved to sit cross-legged on the floor and began threading silver hangers onto ornaments.

  She focused on her work, not looking at him, but her mouth had curved upward at the corners in the sexy smile guaranteed to get him hot. His fist tightened, driving a star-shaped light into his palm. He barely noticed.

  She was so damn beautiful.

  And he’d promised not to touch her.

  Swallowing a groan, he flopped back against the wall beside the Christmas tree. He told himself he’d fallen for a pretty face and warned himself this relationship didn’t stand a chance.

  None of it helped.

  Oh, yeah. He’d hit it right when he said they had a long night ahead of them.

  Chapter Eleven

  Marissa stepped into the living room, balancing a tray holding a plate of cookies and mugs of hot chocolate. She carried it like a protective shield. She had accepted Gabe’s offer of a truce, but she refused to expect anything to come of it.

  She had asked him to court her, to hold off telling people about the baby. Sensitive subjects she had hoped would pierce his defensive armor. His hurtful words about each request, along with his refusal to give her the flowers and candy, made her wary of asking—or even looking—for anything more.

  Gabe had moved to sit on the floor, leaning up against one end of the couch, his eyes turned to the corner of the room.

  “Pretty nice, don’t you think?” he asked her.

  “Very nice,” she answered, swallowing hard, her gaze focused on him.

  He seemed mesmerized by the twinklers on the fully decorated Christmas tree. She was mesmerized by the way he looked in the reflected lights. Shadows left his eyes in darkness, but the twinklers highlighted his sturdy jawline, the slight growth of his dark beard.

  Her heart ached as she stared at him. Her mind drifted to memories best forgotten…. Those hair-roughened cheeks grazing her lips. The heated firmness of his mouth against hers.

  The thoughts alone sent a rush of heat through her limbs.

  Gabe chose that moment to look up. She almost lost her grip on the refreshments. Hands shaking, she offered him the hot chocolate.

  “Thanks.” He patted the floor beside him. “Have a seat.”

  Relieved to sit down before she fell down, she lowered herself to the floor, setting the tray between them.

  Fortunately, the refreshments proved a good distraction. He sat munching a Christmas sugar cookie. She took a tentative sip of her drink. Hot and delicious…

  But not nearly as tasty as Gabe’s mouth…

  Cradling the mug against her raised knees, she forced herself to stare straight ahead at the Christmas tree.

  They sat a long time without speaking, sharing the companionable silence. After a while, both the hot chocolate and her own raging heat mellowed to a warm glow.

  She could imagine—had imagined—many nights like this one, where they would spend time together as more than lovers. As partners. Friends.

  Real life hadn’t happened that way. In reality, they had come nowhere near to friendship, in fact had never moved beyond the red-hot, pulse-pounding, star-struck-lovers stage. They’d spent glorious days and even more breathtaking nights together the week they were wed and on the short honeymoon that followed. No bride could have asked for a better lover. Was it wrong to crave so much more?

  “I’ve been thinking,” Gabe said, startling her.

  She took a quick sip of chocolate, then cleared her throat, determined to keep her emotions from showing. “Hmm?”

  “About starting over again, like we talked about.”

  She stiffened, not sure where this would lead. Not sure she wanted to know.

  “If we did,” he continued, “and we found out you were pregnant, we’d start getting ready for the baby, right?”

  “It’s still early,” she reminded him.

  “Almost four months now, Marissa. In no time at all, it’ll be getting on for five. More than halfway along.”

  “Yes.” She couldn’t argue that.

  “If we’re in this deal to do what’s best for the baby, then we’ve got to start thinking about him.”

  “Or her.”

  “Or her. Maybe it’s too soon to start buying clothes and stuff, but it’s not too soon to work on readying a place for the baby to stay.”

  “Stay?” She gripped the mug, trying to hold on to a whirl of emotions. Joy at his thoughts about their baby. Elation at the possibility of creating the family their child deserved.

  And panic at the thought of remaining in a marriage that wouldn’t fulfill her.

  Not daring to breathe, she thought again about what she had said to him. About not wanting to tell anyone they had a baby on the way until they had worked things out between them.

  Maybe he had realized how much she meant it.

  Maybe tonight was his way of beginning.

  “I haven’t agreed—” she began carefully.

  “Think about it,” he interrupted. “Remember what you told me. About living with your mama part of your life, staying with your daddy the other. You weren’t raised in a proper family.”

  “No. And neither were you.” The words had spilled out
before she could stop them.

  He turned to look at her, a question in his eyes. “Picking Dillon’s grapevine already, huh?”

  “No, I’m not. The grapevine came to me. And I wasn’t happy learning about you from someone else, instead of having you tell me directly.” He didn’t respond. “Anyway, no matter how I found out, I know your father and grandfather raised you.”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “Wasn’t so bad. They did a good job, far as I’m concerned.” He leaned toward her. “You telling me that’s what you want for our child?”

  “Of course that’s not what I want!”

  Their gazes locked. Again, as once before, she could read the struggle in his eyes, could see it in his body, his stiff shoulders, clenched jaw.

  She held her breath.

  At last, he spoke. “The room upstairs,” he said slowly. “Beside the bedroom.”

  “The one you use for storage?”

  “Junk, mostly. I can clean it out, no problem.” He shrugged. “It was my room, when I was a kid. Daddy’s and Granddaddy’s before me. I want to see my son—or my daughter—in it.”

  Not waiting for a response he thumped his mug onto the tray between them, then began gathering up the empty ornament boxes strewn on the floor beside him.

  Tears clogged her throat and stung her eyes, blurring everything in the room. Gently, she placed her mug beside his. With a deep, soundless sigh, she rested her chin on her upraised knees and wrapped her arms around them, hugging them the way she wanted to hold on to her newfound hope. Gradually, she allowed herself a small, tremulous smile.

  She’d long ago given up any belief in Christmas miracles. Now, maybe she ought to reconsider the possibilities.

  Because just before the twinkling lights had dissolved into a tear-streaked blur, she had seen the tiniest—most resistant—most miraculous crack in Gabe’s defensive armor.

  GABE SURVEYED the smiling faces of the people gathered around Mrs. G’s dining-room table. Mrs. G herself. Doc. Sarah Jones and her boy Kevin. And last of all, his wife.

  She looked relaxed and happy, something she never seemed to be around him. He lifted his cider glass to his mouth to hide his grimace.

  “Marvelous dinner, Lily,” Doc said. “Don’t know when I’ve had a better Christmas.”

  Kevin looked at his mother. “Mom, what’s your best Christmas ever?”

  “The year Santa left you under my tree.” Sarah leaned across the table to ruffle his hair.

  “Aw, Mom.” He ducked out from under her hand and looked at Mrs. G. “What’s your best Christmas?”

  “The year I got my teaching certificate.”

  Kevin frowned. “Why?” His brow suddenly cleared. “Oh—because that meant you didn’t have to go to school anymore.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “What about you, Gabe?” Mrs. G asked.

  “Gotta be the year I got the alligator.”

  He saw Marissa, beside Kevin, fighting to hold back a smile.

  The boy’s jaw dropped. “You got an alligator for Christmas? A real one?”

  “Sure enough.”

  “Wow! How big was it?”

  “About half the size of the elephant.”

  “Eleph—?” He stopped. “You’re fooling! Isn’t he, Doc?”

  Doc shrugged.

  “Isn’t he, Mrs. Miller?”

  Gabe shifted, trying to get her to meet his gaze, but she looked only at the boy. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask him,” Marissa said.

  Kevin turned to him again.

  Gabe grinned. “Yeah, I’m fooling you, Kev.”

  The boy rolled his eyes and blurted, “Is it time for the presents now?”

  Everyone shared a smile, including Sarah, who then shook her head and said, “Kevin! That’s not polite.”

  “But you said after supper. And we ate.”

  Gabe could fully understand the youngster’s confusion. He’d felt much the same way himself, after being sent in circles by the woman sitting across and down the table from him.

  “First we have to do the dishes.” Sarah rose, an empty plate in each hand.

  Marissa followed suit, grabbing a dessert tray.

  “You leave those be,” Mrs. G scolded.

  “Oh, no.” Marissa shook her head. “After all you’ve done to get dinner ready, the least we can do is help clean up.”

  “That’s right,” Gabe agreed.

  In the kitchen, they loaded their dishes onto the counter.

  Doc gravitated toward Kevin, who had set down a plate of cookies and climbed up onto a tall stool beside it.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Gabe saw Marissa slip through to the dining room again. He followed, timing his steps just right. When she leaned across the table to pick up a crumb-filled platter, he curled his hands around her hips. She started, and he heard her quick intake of breath. He smiled and wrapped both arms around her. When he nibbled at the soft skin at the back of her neck, her body trembled against him.

  “Hey, honey,” he whispered in her ear, “thought you could use a hand. Or two.”

  “This is not the place—”

  “What is, then? Name it—I’ll be there.”

  “Gabe, please.”

  She shifted in his arms, causing his body untold agony. He released her and stepped back before she could do any more damage.

  From the kitchen, he heard laughter and a little-boy giggle.

  It brought him to his senses in a way nothing else could have done at that moment.

  He wouldn’t risk antagonizing Marissa. Not right now, at any rate. He had to keep his end of their bargain. Keep doing what he could to court her. Then, when the worst happened and she took off, she’d have no reason to deny him contact with his child.

  GABE SETTLED on Mrs. G’s plushy flowered couch and balanced a mug of cider on his knee. The women had shooed the men out of the kitchen.

  Sarah’s son moved to the other side of the room, near the stereo currently belting out “Here Comes Santa Claus.” Taking advantage of the noise, Kevin rummaged through the wrapped presents under the tree. He was a cute tyke, with his gap-toothed smile and the hank of dark hair over his forehead.

  Gabe had grown up with Tanner and Sarah. A real shame, how long it’d taken them to get together, to work things out.

  Would he and Marissa?

  His mind couldn’t finish the question.

  He welcomed the distraction when Doc pushed the bentwood rocker closer to the couch and lowered himself into it. He patted his belly, covered by a red-and-white-striped vest. “Turkey and ’taters and all the trimmings. Can’t beat that for a Christmas meal.”

  “Sure can’t.” Gabe forced a grin. “Cleaning off the table didn’t put a dent in it. Beats me how you’ve got a place to put dessert.”

  “Always room for dessert—especially if your good woman’s baking.” Doc shot a glance toward the other room, then looked his way. “How’s the courting going, son?”

  Gabe frowned down into his cider. “Not so hot.”

  Irritation set in as he remembered the flowers he’d bought for nothing, the candy he’d tossed away. He shouldn’t have bothered. He knew he wasn’t good at this. They might’ve come to a temporary truce last night, might have had a fairly civil morning, but he wouldn’t take bets on how long it lasted.

  He felt a pang somewhere inside his chest but ignored it.

  Without meaning to, he’d gotten Kevin sidetracked from his game of “best Christmas ever” before the boy could get around to asking Marissa. Didn’t matter. Still, it would have been nice to hear her share a memory, even though Gabe already knew she had never had a good Christmas.

  She hadn’t stuck around anywhere—being on the move was part of her nature now. He couldn’t trust her when he knew for certain that, sooner or later, the big city would lure her away. She’d take off, just like the first time. Deep inside, where he kept the things he didn’t want to think about, he knew the relationship wouldn’t work out.


  Maybe a tiny part of him refused to give in. That could be why he’d mentioned to her about setting up the baby’s room. But the rest of him still hedged his bets.

  “Things’ll turn out fine.”

  Gabe looked up, startled, as if Doc had read his mind.

  “You get her something for Christmas?”

  “You bet, Doc. All taken care of.” Something else that wouldn’t measure up. He forced another grin. “Planning a private party for later this evening.”

  “Now that’s just what I like to hear.” Doc beamed. “Good goin’, son.”

  “What’s he done that’s so spectacular?”

  Gabe jumped at Sarah’s unexpected approach. “Uh…just telling Doc I’m prepared to do justice to some more of those desserts, soon as everyone else is ready for seconds.”

  “Oh, really? You might have a bit of a wait.”

  Mrs. G and Marissa followed her into the room.

  Sarah claimed the easy chair beside Doc, leaving the recliner for Mrs. G. And the rest of the couch for Marissa. She hung back, sending Gabe a stern look from under her lowered lashes.

  He knew full well she’d rather sit at the other end of the couch. But, to her credit, she settled on the cushion right beside him. So he circled his arm around her shoulders and held her against him.

  “You’re spoiled, Gabe Miller,” Sarah said, “keeping Marissa all to yourself.”

  If only he could.

  “And,” she added, “we’ve decided it’s high time you share the wealth. I get her first—she’s going to give a cooking demonstration at the bookstore. Isn’t that right, Marissa?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  He glanced sideways at her, then pressed a quick kiss to her temple.

  He’d hear about it later, he knew, recalling her claim that he got all the perks in this relationship—a crazy notion if ever he’d heard one.

  Besides, it was Christmas, wasn’t it?

  “Sounds like a good plan.”

  “That’s not all,” Mrs. G put in. “We’re going to have her run the dessert booth at the Founder’s Day festival.”

  Not likely.

  “Festival’s in June. That’s too long away to think about now, isn’t it?” He stared down at Marissa.