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

  With more than a little trepidation, she kicked off her bedroom slippers and climbed onto the bed. Gabe lifted his arm, tenting the sheet and comforter over her, enveloping her in the soft fabric and cozy warmth. She grasped the bedclothes close to her and tried to get comfortable. Tried to keep from instinctively gravitating toward him.

  Tried to keep her body from betraying her.

  If Gabe felt disappointed that she didn’t snuggle near, he didn’t let himself show it. Instead, he tucked the covers up under her chin, the way he had tucked her coat collar around her the day before. The way he must have tucked in the blue blanket last night. With that tenderness he tried so hard to hide.

  Between them on the comforter, he rested a big, careworn hand that could thrill her with the merest brush. One that could cherish her, too. How gently he had touched her face as she sat in her car outside Sarah’s bookstore. How carefully he had settled the seat belt around her.

  She could imagine those big, gentle hands holding their child. The image made her heart swell with such tenderness her ribs ached.

  “You like it here?” Gabe said suddenly. “Dillon, I mean?”

  She knew he was picking up the conversation they had started yesterday. She knew she had to tell him the truth.

  “Yes, I like it here. When I was little,” she confessed, “I always dreamed about having a big family and living in a small town, where everyone knew everyone else.”

  “Not what you had, growing up.”

  “No, not at all.”

  The sympathy in his tone touched her and gave her renewed hope. If he could listen and understand, maybe he could learn to share. From that, they could forge a real friendship.

  Her own life would have been so much better if her parents hadn’t been bitter enemies, if her mother hadn’t been the kind of woman she was. She wanted that better life for her baby.

  Just as she wanted this marriage to be real.

  The thought stole her breath. For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think and couldn’t hear Gabe’s voice, until his sudden emphasis told her she had missed something.

  “But you’re here now. In Dillon.”

  “I’m here,” she agreed. “Gabe…”

  She had an appointment with Doc the next afternoon.

  She hesitated to mention it, knowing how Gabe had reacted when she’d first told him about the appointment. Knowing he would recall again another three-week anniversary. The three weeks they had been married, when she left him.

  But she wanted him to visit the doctor with her, to share with her, as a real husband would.

  “Tomorrow…I’m going into Doc’s for an ultrasound. I’d like you to come, too.” She waited, her heart pounding.

  “I’ll be there,” he murmured.

  They lay in silence. Gradually, her heartbeat slowed.

  After a while, he spoke again in the same soft tone. “One thing I’ve wanted to find out, since Christmas Day at Mrs. G’s.”

  “What?”

  “Something Kevin never got around to asking you. What was your best Christmas ever?”

  She turned her head to look into his light brown eyes, then glanced away, afraid her own eyes might reveal too much. But, as with his question about how she felt being in Dillon, she had to answer him truthfully.

  “This one,” she whispered. “This was the best Christmas ever.”

  He reached out a hand to brush her cheek with his fingers. Instead of her usual, electric response to his touch, a slow, satisfying warmth seeped into her skin and flowed through her body in waves that matched the calm rhythm of her heart, beat for beat.

  He followed his fingers with his lips, leaving a trail of kisses down her cheek, across her jaw and, finally, finding her mouth with his. He was searching, thorough, but oh so gentle, teasing a response from her lips. From her body.

  When he reached for her, she went willingly, gladly, longing to relive the closeness of the first time they had made love. Of the night, she was certain, they had conceived their child.

  When he touched her wordlessly, she answered the same way, letting her eyes and body tell him what she felt too shy to say. That this was what she had longed for, in those few short weeks she had spent with him, and during those many long weeks they had spent apart. This was what she wanted. What she needed.

  What she’d found in her heart when she’d met him.

  This savoring of being together. This slow taking of pleasure.

  This celebration of love.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Silently, Marissa crept down the stairs and into the kitchen. The cold glare from the light over the sink greeted her. That light had seemed so welcoming earlier, when she’d left it on for Gabe. When she had foolishly imagined it leading him home to her.

  Sinking into a chair, she pulled her robe closer around her, still feeling the warmth of his bed, still tingling from his sure touch, his knowing hands. But not from his loving embrace.

  Not once had he held her to him during their lovemaking—

  No. She couldn’t call it that.

  Only moments later, he had turned onto his side, facing away from her, and fallen deeply asleep. No repeat performance or two, as there had always been during the nights of their honeymoon. No holding her close until she drifted to sleep. No time to linger for pillow talk…although Marissa had always done most of the talking.

  Gabe had had sex. He had satisfied himself, gotten what he’d wanted and gone serenely to sleep, while she had lain awake, hot tears of shame soaking her pillow.

  Because Gabe wasn’t the only one at fault.

  She had gone to him willingly, giving in to him, showing once again that she had no willpower where he was concerned.

  Proving Father right. She was no better than her mother.

  She crossed her arms on the tabletop and shoved her hands into the sleeves of her robe, trying to warm them. Trying to push away old memories. Still, they came….

  Four days after meeting Gabe, that night at the show, she was still living in a magical world with him.

  They avoided the fancy restaurants, gaudy casinos, risqué shows. Instead, they ate at open-air Western barbecues and local Mexican restaurants. He taught her to two-step at a country dance hall. They took a stagecoach ride in the desert, in a town so far from Las Vegas the bright lights of the city couldn’t dim the sky full of stars.

  He gave her gifts she’d never had before. Candy made from prickly-pear cactus. A balloon in the shape of Nevada. Someone who listened when she talked about her dreams.

  And something else.

  “I’m thinking we ought to try out one of those wedding chapels,” he told her as her week in Las Vegas came to an end.

  “One without an Elvis impersonator, I presume?”

  “You got that right.”

  She smiled. “Is this another proposition, cowboy?”

  “No, Marissa, it’s not.” He put a forefinger under her chin and tilted her face up to his. “It’s a proposal.”

  A proposal she eagerly accepted…

  Just as, tonight, she had eagerly accepted his invitation into his bed. She had responded to her overwhelming desire to feel loved and cherished and wanted.

  And she had given in to her lust.

  The last thought hit like a slap of ice-cold water. She put her head down on her crossed arms, trying to fight off the resulting sting of tears.

  When would she finally come to terms with the truth?

  The fantasy was over. The fairy tale had ended. The magic had disappeared in the face of real life.

  GABE WALKED INTO Doc’s waiting area the next afternoon, spotted Marissa on the other side of the room, and froze in his tracks.

  His mind flashed back to the night before.

  Then, his thoughts and hands and body had been focused on only one thing.

  Today, he’d looked back without those sexual urges driving him.

  Today, he’d closed his eyes and seen Marissa naked beside him, noted w
hat he hadn’t taken time to register. The little differences in her body, brought on from carrying a child. The heavier feel of her breasts. The thickening around her middle. The new shape of her belly, the soft roundness she hadn’t had there before.

  He took a deep breath and nearly crushed his Stetson in one hand.

  When Marissa looked up and saw him coming, her eyes widened. He smiled and slid into the chair beside hers.

  “Guess you forgot I said I’d join you this afternoon.” It took a powerful effort to keep his voice level. And his hands to himself. He rested the battered Stetson on one knee.

  “You really didn’t need to come with me today, after all. It’s just a routine ultrasound.”

  “No problem,” he said, notching his voice down a bit, mindful of Doc’s nurse standing a few feet from them in the reception area. “This is what daddies do, isn’t it?”

  She looked away, but not before he saw the sheen of tears filling her eyes. He reached for her hand.

  Gladys came up to them, her white shoes silent on the carpet. “We’re ready for you.”

  He leaned closer to Marissa. “I’ll give you and Doc some privacy for the examination,” he said gruffly, “but I’ll be waiting here when it’s time for the next step.”

  He squeezed his wife’s motionless hand, then released it.

  As she moved through the doorway to Doc’s examining rooms, he sat back and took stock of what had happened last night.

  Yep, making love with Marissa had been the best thing. It had reinforced the wisdom of his plan. He’d gotten close to her, given her what she wanted—what he wanted, too, if he had to confess it.

  All without risking his heart.

  He thought hard about what she’d told him a couple days ago. How she’d felt when he’d first brought her to the ranch.

  Now that he knew what had gone wrong the first time, he had the power to fix things. And he would. He’d keep her happy, just like he did last night. Keep her here in Dillon, on his ranch, where his child belonged.

  Gladys appeared in the doorway. “Your turn, Gabe.”

  He followed her down the hall. “I know the way, Gladys. You know, I’ve visited this office all my life. Checkups. Vaccinations. Once in a while, some stitches.”

  “But never for the reason you’ve come here today.”

  “True enough.” For a minute, his step faltered.

  Gladys opened the door to Doc’s examination room, gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, then left.

  Gabe looked across the room.

  Marissa sat on a long leather table, a paper sheet draped across her lap. In the background were a couple of machines he had never seen before. Never had need to, till now.

  “Well, looks like we’ve got all the interested parties on hand.” Doc adjusted the stethoscope around his neck. “You both ready to take a look at your little one?”

  “Yes.”

  “You bet.”

  Doc had Marissa adjust herself the way he needed, did whatever he had to with his instruments and the small machine on the rolling cart.

  Gabe crossed the room and took his wife’s hand in his.

  At the press of a switch, the machine’s dark screen crackled to life.

  A moment later, the black rectangle turned gray-white with the fuzzy image of the inside of his wife’s womb. Their hands tightened around each other. The screen blurred, and he blinked his eyes a few times, waiting for the picture to clear.

  Suddenly, he saw the image on the screen flicker. He heard his own gasp, matched by Marissa’s soft exclamation. He saw the outline of a head, a shoulder—a body.

  His breath caught tight in his chest.

  The outline moved.

  His insides shook. He gripped Marissa’s hand tighter.

  “Active little tyke,” Doc said in a low voice. “Want to know what you’ve got here?”

  “Yes,” Gabe and Marissa said together.

  Gabe stared, fascinated, as the image…as the baby shifted.

  “Well,” Doc said. “Looks like you have yourselves a son.”

  A son.

  He thought again of the soft roundness of Marissa’s belly, the slight curve that just fit the palm of his hand.

  That was his son, brought to life inside her.

  The rest of the visit passed in a blur. He knew Doc gave Marissa instructions, knew he himself helped her from the examining table, waited till she’d finished dressing and then escorted her down the hall. He knew he walked her outside, helped her into the Mustang, shut the door behind her.

  And then a wave of emotion hit him so strong it near knocked him off his feet.

  Up till that moment in Doc’s office, “baby” had been a concept. An event that wouldn’t come to pass for a while. A reason to keep Marissa here. An heir to inherit his ranch.

  Now he knew all that had just been words. None of them really mattered.

  Because now that baby was living and breathing and truly his.

  The thought left him spinning.

  He sucked in a deep breath and braced his hands on the side of his pickup. He blinked hard and shook his head to clear his vision. He made himself a solemn vow.

  He’d do whatever it took to keep the mother of his child happy.

  Because he was damn well going to raise his son.

  WHEN HE MET Marissa in the ranch yard after driving home in their separate vehicles, she stayed quiet. Too quiet.

  It worried him as he went to the bunkhouse to change into his work clothes.

  It worried him on his way to the barn to saddle up Sunrise.

  Halfway along, he stopped in his tracks to retrace his steps to the main house.

  There, nothing moved. Nothing made a sound except his boots thumping as he walked through the empty rooms, and his pulse pounding in his ears.

  He didn’t know much about women. The past had taught him that. So had his experiences with Marissa up to now. Dumb as a fence post he might be, but he could still tell in his gut when something wasn’t right.

  He found her upstairs, fast asleep in his bed.

  One notch at a time, his pulse came down. He thought long and hard for a moment, trying to figure things out.

  She needed rest for carrying his baby. Or the night before had tired her out. Sure, one of those reasons would explain her unnatural silence, her quick retreat. Wouldn’t it?

  He left the room, taking extra care to be quiet with his boots on the stairs.

  And taking a powerful load of dread right along with him.

  As he headed out to the barn again, clouds rolled in, dark and brooding as his mood. He stomped through the open doorway.

  Warren looked up from the feed pen he’d been filling.

  “What’s going on, Gabe?” he asked. Using his name was a dead giveaway. Warren knew something was up.

  So Gabe just blurted it out. “I saw my son today.”

  “Dang.”

  Warren never cussed.

  “Yeah,” Gabe agreed. He took a deep breath. “Closest thing to a miracle I’ve ever seen.”

  “A boy, huh?”

  “My son.”

  “Dang,” Warren said again. “Double dang.” He slapped Gabe on the back nearly hard enough to send him flying.

  Gabe laughed.

  All the rest of that afternoon, his hands moved, but his mind strayed four hundred acres away.

  It didn’t make sense for Marissa to be so closemouthed after seeing the baby.

  Of course, the sight had staggered him. And he’d kept his reactions to himself. Natural enough, for a man. But a woman would’ve acted differently. Would she not?

  The temperature dropped and the sky got darker, and so did the feelings churning his insides.

  BY LATE AFTERNOON, Gabe quit fighting himself. He gave Sunrise her head, let her take him home. Had to, because his mind wasn’t on the ranch, but back at the house with Marissa.

  He turned the reins over to Warren, and the old cowboy’s face deepened in wrinkles. “Wha
t’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Something’s worrying Marissa.”

  “Not surprising. Carrying a baby, she’s bound to be a bit touchy. She just needs some extra attention, is all.”

  He nearly laughed aloud. Warren had less experience with women than he did, yet he seemed eager enough to impart his wisdom.

  At this point, he’d take the man’s advice. And Doc’s.

  “That’s why I headed in early. Thought I’d surprise her with an invitation to supper out.”

  “Good idea.”

  Yeah, a nice meal would do the trick. Not Delia’s. Someplace out of town. Fancy. Someplace a professional chef would find worthy. They’d have to go a few miles to find a restaurant like that.

  He’d drive all night, if need be.

  He stopped first at the bunkhouse, showered, grabbed a bottle of the aftershave he kept stowed away in the corner cabinet. The same bottle he’d taken to Vegas with him. The kind Marissa said she couldn’t get enough of.

  He gave a final pat to his jaws, grinned at himself in the mirror and left, whistling.

  Inside the house, he looked around the kitchen. No sign here of Marissa getting supper ready. None in the bunkhouse, either. Just as well. Warren and the boys would be chowing down at Delia’s this evening, for the first time since Marissa had come back. She sure had spoiled them.

  And that’s just what he planned to do for her.

  Get her so spoiled, so comfortable, so happy, she’d never want to leave Dillon. Or the ranch. Or him.

  A wave of uneasiness hit him. He pushed it away.

  “Hey, Marissa!”

  No answer.

  He strode across the kitchen and clomped up the hall stairs, calling her name again. Still no answer.

  That gave him pause.

  Of course. She’d been sleeping like a baby when he’d left the house earlier. She probably still lay curled up under the covers.

  He turned on his heel and went to the bedroom.

  The bed was empty, sheet tucked in, comforter squared off and without a wrinkle. As if she had never slept there.

  His heart skipped a beat.

  He checked the closet, the bathroom, the hallway again.

  “Marissa,” he yelled.

  Still no answer.