Cowboy Baby Daddy

by Claire Adams

  Eric groaned. “Tonight could be just that bad,” he said.

  “What about you?” I asked. “What's the worst play that you've ever been to?”

  Eric paused for a moment. “Well, I went to this really bad Shakespeare performance on the lake last summer,” he said slowly, but from the way he said it, I could tell that there was more to the story than that. Maybe he'd taken a date to that show as well?

  “What aren't you telling me?” I probed, deciding that this was an innocent enough thing to be blunt about.

  I was surprised to see Eric's sheepish expression. “The worst play I've ever been to, worse even than the Shakespeare, was probably one where I wasn't a spectator,” he admitted.

  “Go on,” I said gleefully.

  Eric sighed. “Back in high school, I played the lead in Arthur Miller's 'Death of a Salesman,'” he admitted. “I was never really a theater person, but my guidance counselor was harping on about how I needed more activities on my resumé if I wanted to get a position in one of the top colleges in the state, and a friend dared me to try out. I didn't think anything would come from a silly try-out, so I agreed. But they ended up casting me. And what's more, they ended up giving me a big role.”

  I laughed. “So what happened?” I asked.

  Eric grimaced. “I was so nervous that I forgot half my lines,” he told me, but he sounded amused by the story. “The director ended up yell-whispering the entire play.”

  I giggled. “You poor thing,” I said.

  “It's funny, in retrospect, but at the time, I was mortified,” Eric said. “Getting up to do my dissertation, years later, I was still having flashbacks about it. Actually, I didn't sleep well for a month leading up to that presentation, because every time I closed my eyes, I had another nightmare that I got up in front of all my peers and opened my mouth, but not a single word came out. And then there was someone stage-whispering all my research, as though I hadn't had any part in the project.”

  I shook my head. “You poor thing,” I echoed.

  Eric smiled over at me. “What about you, do you have any acting background?”

  I shrugged. “When I was a kid, I wanted to be an actress, and I took some acting classes. But I never really got the hang of it. I tried out for a few things in high school, and I got a couple of bit parts,” I told him. “Mostly, I just worked in the costume closet.”

  “That sounds fun,” Eric said.

  “It was,” I agreed, smiling at the memory.

  We pulled up in front of a restaurant, and Eric idled for a minute. “I hope Greek is okay,” he said, looking nervously over at me. “Sorry, I should have asked first, but I had a recommendation for this place.”

  “Greek sounds great,” I said, feeling suddenly compelled to reach over and grab his hand, squeezing it for a moment before releasing it.

  It was worth it, to see the slow smile that spread across Eric's face as he shut off the engine and got out of the car.

  I got out as well and followed him inside. “Actually, theater is where I met my first boyfriend,” I mused after we'd ordered our meals. I took a sip of my drink.

  “Oh really?” Eric asked, arching an eyebrow at me, and I suddenly had a panicky moment where I wondered if it was too soon to be talking about past boyfriends with him. This was only our first date, if it was truly a date. But then again, at our age, we both knew that the other person had dated. Hell, he had even been married and had a kid. What did it matter if I talked about some silly high school crush that I'd had?

  So I continued: “Robbie Harrison,” I said. “He played the lead in our school's production of 'Jesus Christ Superstar,' and I thought he was so cool and so handsome. I finally scored a date with him, and things went from there, but when it finally came down to it, and he kissed me, I was disappointed that he didn't have the beard.”

  Eric blinked at me. “What?” he asked.

  I blushed. “Well, every time I fantasized about kissing him, I imagined it with the beard there. But when he finally did kiss me in real life, he didn't have the beard, and it just didn't feel right. It felt weird. I had to break up with him.”

  Eric burst out laughing. “I just hope Jesus knew how lucky he was to get to kiss you,” he said.

  It was my turn to blink and stare at him. Had he really just said what I thought he had said? If Eric thought some guy was lucky enough to kiss me, did that mean that he wanted to kiss me? Or was he just saying that to be polite?

  But I could tell, from how embarrassed Eric looked by the words that had slipped past his lips, that he hadn't just said that to be polite.

  Suddenly, it seemed as though the whole mood of the evening shifted, with this new awareness that Eric was interested in me in that way. We weren't just friends; he at least thought I was sexy enough to kiss.

  Right then and there, I decided that no matter how horrible the play was that night, it was going to be worth it. By the end of the night, I was going to kiss Eric, the handsome doctor, whether he was my mother's physician or not. I wanted to make the most of the night.

  I only hoped that he felt the same, but from the way he suddenly reached over and squeezed my hand, I had the feeling that he did.

  Chapter Nine

  Eric

  Sitting through the play was torture, for more than just the poor choreography and the creative liberties that had been taken. I had this sexy woman, in a beautiful, form-flattering dress, sitting next to me the whole night, and I didn't know where I stood with her. But things were looking promising: during the performance, our legs brushed, our knees touching, and Olivia didn't move away. In fact, if anything, she pressed her knee closer to mine so that I could feel the heat radiating between the two of us.

  Emboldened by this, I casually let my arm drop around her shoulders. Not only did Olivia allow the touch, but she actively snuggled toward me, her fingers creeping over to rest on my thigh. “This is really bad,” she whispered up to me, and I stifled a laugh.

  “I warned you,” I reminded her.

  “Which one is your patient again?” she asked a little while later.

  “He called me to let me know that he was sick and couldn't make it tonight,” I admitted.

  Olivia stared up at me for a moment and then dissolved into quiet giggles, which fortunately were appropriate to what was happening on the stage at the moment. “You mean we're sitting through this for nothing?” she asked.

  I shrugged. I hadn't wanted to cancel on her, and even though it might not be ethical to bring her here under false reasons, I couldn't help wanting to spend the evening with her. The real truth of it was that, when pressed, Henry had admitted that he wasn't part of the theater production at all. He'd just given me the tickets in an attempt to do a little matchmaking, because, “You seem so lonely all the time, Dr. Jones.” Typical meddling, small town elders.

  Things seemed to be working out all right, though. I'd been surprised by both of us that night. I had wanted this to be a date, but because I hadn't exactly phrased things that way when I'd invited the woman, I hadn't been sure what this really was. Did she think I was just trying to pawn off that second ticket? Did she think I didn't have anyone else to ask? Did she think I felt like I owed her since she was taking care of Emma every day?

  From the moment I laid eyes on her, though, I knew that she was thinking along the same lines as me. She had put time and effort into her appearance, and she looked gorgeous. She was beautiful, funny, and enticing, and I wanted to know her better.

  And I could tell that she wanted me just as much as I wanted her.

  It was a heady feeling, that tension escalating between the two of us. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, finding myself aroused before we even went to intermission.

  At intermission, we filed out into the lobby with everyone else and found a quiet spot in the corner. Olivia and I exchanged a look. “It's worse than I expected,” I admitted. “I never would have dragged you along to it, if I'd known.”

  “Do you even
understand what's happening?” Olivia asked. “I don't know if it's just the poorly done accents that I'm having a problem with or if it's the plot itself that's needlessly confusing, but I'm lost.”

  “All I've gathered is that everyone seems to be angry with everyone else,” I said.

  Olivia laughed. “Yeah, that's the point I'm at too.”

  I shook my head. “Do you want to skip out early?” I asked. “Since Henry isn't here tonight anyway, I wouldn't feel bad. We could find someplace quiet to talk.” I wasn't ready for the date to end just yet, but I didn't know if I could sit through another hour or more of this.

  “That would be nice,” Olivia agreed warmly. She linked arms with me, and we headed out to the parking lot.

  “Where do you want to go?” I asked as we got to the car. “It's already after 7; most places around here are already closed, or about to be.” I frowned. “I think there's still a 24-hour diner over in Lakefield that caters to truckers. We could get a cup of coffee.”

  Olivia shuddered. “First a terrible play, and now a terrible cup of truck stop coffee?” she teased. “What kind of a date is this?”

  I laughed, but I was racking my brain for other ideas. What I'd really like, I realized, was to take her out into one of the fields, lay down a blanket on the dirt, and have my way with her. I bet she'd look incredible, sprawled out naked beneath the glow of the stars and moon. I didn't know how she would take such a forward suggestion, though. After all, this was our first date, unless you counted the dinner at her mom's place or at least the dinner at the Italian restaurant.

  But both of those had been about business. Then again, for all I knew, that's all this was as well.

  “Why don't we go back to my place?” Olivia suggested shyly. “I have a nice bottle of wine that Mom gave me as a housewarming gift, but I haven't wanted to drink it alone.”

  “That sounds nice,” I said, smiling over at her and moving into the driver's seat. I gave myself a strong mental kick. That sounds nice? Couldn't I come up with something better than that?

  Something about Olivia had me tongue-tied in a way that I had never been around Emily. Of course, conversation flowed smoothly enough between the two of us, but I felt like I was second-guessing everything that I said and did. She made me nervous.

  I wasn't normally nervous.

  “I should be the one supplying the wine, after dragging you to such a horrible show,” I joked half-heartedly.

  Olivia laughed. “You paid for dinner,” she reminded me. She paused. “But if you're really worried about that, you could always supply the wine next time.”

  “Next time?” I asked, my blood singing beneath the surface of my skin.

  Olivia nodded, her eyes locked firmly on mine. I swallowed hard and then gave myself a shake, putting the car in drive.

  I headed back to her place as quickly as the law allowed, my hand resting on her knee the whole time. When we arrived, she led the way inside, and I followed. But rather than go for the wine, she paused in the front hall, turning toward me.

  She tilted her head up, leaning toward me, and I could tell that she was going for a kiss. I caught her face in my hands, pressing my lips to hers. I could feel her hesitation, and I did my best to soothe her, taking control of the kiss and nipping at her lower lip so that she opened to me with a soft sigh. Her arms looped around my lower back, drawing me in closer.

  I lingered there, not wanting to push her too much, but from her passionate response, I could tell that she was just as hungry for this as I was. She pulled breathlessly away, looking up at me through her lashes, her eyes molten hot with desire. Slowly, she started undoing the buttons on my shirt, giving me plenty of time to stop her.

  I didn't want to stop her; I wanted this just as badly as she appeared to.

  “It's been a while since I've done this,” I admitted as I pulled Olivia's dress up over her head.

  She tossed her hair out of her eyes, smiling at me. “It's been a while for me, too,” she admitted.

  “No, I mean it's been a while,” I said, feeling almost frustrated by her lack of understanding. I didn't want to admit this in so many words, but I paused and then took a deep breath. “I haven't had sex with anyone since Emily. It's been about two and a half years.”

  Olivia's eyes widened, and her hand crept up over her mouth. “Oh, Eric,” she breathed. There was a long moment of silence, and I started to reconsider even being there. Maybe I should leave.

  But for the first time, it didn't feel like I was dishonoring Emily's memory by being with someone else. In fact, I had a feeling that if Emily were to meet Olivia, she would be fast friends with the kind, intelligent woman. And I knew that all Emily had ever wanted was for me to be happy. In the face of my budding feelings for Olivia, I knew that walking away wasn't something I wanted to do.

  Olivia looked searchingly into my eyes for a long moment and then twisted her fingers in mine. “Come on,” she said, leading the way toward the stairs. “If we're doing this, we're going to do this right.”

  I grinned and followed her, watching her panty-clad behind as she led the way upstairs and down the hall to her bedroom. She paused in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder at me. For the first time, I sensed hesitation. “Are you sure about this?” she asked.

  I frowned at her. “Are you sure about this?” I asked. “If you don't want to do this, we don't have to.”

  “I want this,” Olivia said, and I was surprised to hear the raw note to her voice that let me know just how much she wanted this. “But sleeping with someone for the first time since your deceased wife, that's a big deal. If you're not ready for this, we can wait.”

  I trailed my eyes over her body, from her silky skin to her lace panties. “I want this,” I said hoarsely.

  “All right,” Olivia said simply, leading the way into her bedroom. I took a deep breath and followed after her.

  Chapter Ten

  Olivia

  There were a million thoughts whirring through my head, but I didn't stop this, whatever it was. I couldn't believe that we were here, in my bedroom, Eric's naked torso hovering over me while I sprawled out against the sheets. But I wanted this. It might only be our first date, but I trusted him. He was a good guy.

  He had a daughter, after all.

  I giggled, and Eric frowned. “What's so funny?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Sorry, it's just nerves,” I admitted.

  Eric gave me a considering look and then bent down to kiss me. The kiss wasn't as passionate as the one we'd shared just inside the door; instead, it was as though he was trying to prove to me how sweet he could be. His hands were like branding irons along my sides, and I arched against his sturdy chest.

  He pulled back, staring heatedly down at me. “You have no idea, the things I'd like to do to you,” he said, emphasizing the point with a thrust of his hips.

  “Please,” I whimpered.

  Eric looked surprised. “Are you sure?” he asked.

  I nodded frantically, looping my arms around his neck and pulling him into another heated kiss. Normally, I didn't have sex so soon into knowing someone. This was technically our first date. But there was something about the way we clicked with one another. I wanted him, more than words could describe. And I could tell that he wanted me too.

  Slowly, his hands slipped around my back, and he unclasped my bra. He threw it off to the side and then got his hands on my breasts, kneading the skin there, making me moan lustfully. I could feel my panties dampening with each new pulse of lust that went through me, and I started fumbling at his belt. When I'd removed that and unbuttoned the front of his slacks, I slid my hands below the waistband, cupping his behind. He ground his hips down toward me again, and even through all the layers of fabric, I could feel him pressing at my folds.

  I whimpered, head falling back, and Eric grinned dangerously. He leaned down to kiss and suck at my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin and further stoking the fire inside of me. I tremb
led as Eric's kisses trailed lower until he was hovering just at the edge of my panties. He planted a soft kiss to my navel and then pulled away from me so that he could shuck off his pants.

  Then, clad only in his boxers, he loomed over me again. “How far do you want to go with this?” he murmured.

  “How far do you want to go with this?” I retorted. “You're the one who hasn't slept with anyone since his wife. I'd be perfectly happy to just lay here and make out for a while if that's what you want. But if you want to take things further, I'm not opposed to it.”

  I bit my lower lip as he scrutinized me. I was anxious to hear what his response would be, surprisingly. But I couldn't remember the last time I had been this turned on, and by such simple touches as well! I didn't want to press things, but on the other hand, if he didn't get me off, I didn't know what I would do. It felt like my whole body was already ready to go up in flames, lust coursing through me. I was desperate to feel him between my legs, to get him naked and inside of me.

  Something of that must have shown on my face because Eric nodded a little. He reached up to brush back a lock of my hair and then kissed my forehead sweetly. But then, he caught my hands in both of his, pinning them up above my head so that I was stretched out beneath him, arching desperately as he returned his attention to my neck, nipping at the skin there. He released my hands, and I buried them in his hair as his mouth moved lower, until he was lavishing his attention across my breasts.

  We were progressing with glacial speed, and it was starting to undo me. I squirmed beneath him on the sheets, trying desperately to find some relief from the explosion that was building up inside of me.

  “God, you're sexy,” Eric suddenly groaned, repositioning himself over me and just staring at me for another beat. Then, very deliberately, he reached into the pocket of his slacks and came out with a condom. “What do you think?” he asked.