Wanted--Texas Daddy

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Her golden-brown eyes shimmered in surprise.

  Determined to show her just how important she had become to him, he pressed his lips to hers, until she curled against him in surrender, wanting more.

  Heart pounding in his chest, he laid her down on the bed. While she watched, he stripped down to the buff, then divested her of every inch of clothing, too. Enjoying the soft, supple sight of her, he lounged next to her. She shivered in delight as he ran his hand over her body, from shoulder to breast to inner thigh, then arched as he found her most sensitive spot.

  Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back. “I have to warn you,” she purred as he stroked, and adored her with masterful precision, “it takes very little these days for me to go off like a rocket.”

  Her every quiver was like a match to flame. And though he sensed she was falling as hard and fast for him as he was for her, he also knew he had not yet enticed her to take their relationship to the next level.

  He bent over to kiss her, savoring the soft, womanly taste of her. “Me, too. Which is why—” he kissed her again, even more passionately “—we have to...go slow...”

  And go slow they did.

  Taking it one step, one caress, one kiss at a time. Until there was no more waiting. Only wanting. Only the mewl of her mounting frustration and the need to be as close as they could possibly physically get, again.

  Driven by the same relentless need, he moved behind her. Aware some positions had become uncomfortable for her, he rolled her onto her side, lifted her where she needed to be and slid between her thighs. Kissing the nape of her neck and caressing her languorously with his hand, he possessed her with easy, shallow strokes that were as tantalizing to her as they were for him.

  Again and again, until the need to possess her heart and soul built to a fierce unquenchable ache. And still he loved her, slowly and deliberately, until she sighed and shuddered and called his name. And he lost control, too.

  Replete with satisfaction, they stayed that way, wrapped up tight in each other’s arms.

  When the aftershocks stopped, he turned her to face him again. Their breaths catching, hearts beating in unison, she lifted her lips to his. Pleasure sifted through them anew. They kissed, softly and languidly, until both were ready to make love again.

  And Nick knew, life just didn’t get any better than this.

  * * *

  JUNE HIT TEXAS with a blast of heat that left the entire state reeling, and continued the entire first week. Air-conditioning helped, of course, but at eight months pregnant, Sage was still sweltering, even when the outdoor temperature hadn’t topped 105 degrees every day.

  Dallas was equally hot.

  Concerned, Nick called every evening to make sure Sage and the baby were okay.

  The calls were the highlight of his day.

  Even when she only seemed to be half paying attention to him. “What are you doing?” he asked in exasperation, when another clattering noise interrupted their conversation.

  “Um... Getting some ice from the icemaker.”

  She had just gotten ice two minutes ago, for her beloved decaf chai tea.

  Before that, she had been standing in front of a fan, trying to cool off. And while he didn’t fault her the extra cooling power of an oscillating stand fan, in addition to the central air-conditioning in her apartment, he was aggravated to only hear one out of every three words she was saying to him, due to the background noise.

  “Can you repeat what you just said?” Nick asked. “I can barely hear you.”

  “I’m sorry.” Sage sighed. The background noise faded slightly. The heat and complaint in her voice did not.

  “I’m. Just. So. Hot. I really can’t stand it.”

  He could imagine her beaded in sweat, the way she had been through most of the latter half of her pregnancy, especially when they were making love. Which they did every chance they got together.

  Smiling affectionately, he attempted to tease her into a better mood. “Thought about taking a cold shower?”

  “Already did. The minute I finished at The Cowgirl Chef. But, not to worry,” she continued with a smugness that enticed, “my latest plan seems to be working.”

  The victory in her low voice had his senses humming. “And what might that be?” he returned.

  “I’m running ice cubes down my body.”

  Just like that, he was hard as a rock and missing her so badly he could barely stand it. “Seriously?”

  “Would I joke about this?” She sounded irritable again.

  Wishing he could wrap his arms around her and pull her close, and kiss her until they both forgot why she was piqued, he settled on listening to the sound of her low, sexy voice.

  “Why aren’t we Skyping or FaceTiming right now?” he teased, already getting a pretty good visual in his mind.

  “Because then you would see just how enormous I’m getting this week.”

  He shook his head, wishing she could see herself through his eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he said tenderly.

  Unimpressed, she harrumphed. “I’m fat.”

  “Flat-out gorgeous.”

  “Portly.”

  “Stunning and amazing—”

  She sighed loudly. “Let’s go back to what we were talking about before we got sidetracked. What were you saying about your meeting first thing tomorrow?”

  “It’s a pitch for a group of potential investors for the second store.” One they were still working on, as a matter of fact. He had just taken a break to call home.

  “The one in Houston?” Sage prodded.

  “Denver,” he corrected.

  An uncomfortable silence fell. Finally, Sage cleared her throat. “Did you say Denver—as in Colorado?”

  He’d felt the same way when he heard of the change in venue earlier that day.

  For both their sakes he downplayed the inconvenience of the project location. “There’s a new luxury mall going up there. It’s slated to open in August. One of the original merchants, another upscale Western-wear store, had to drop out, so MR and the partners snapped up the space. Now we just have to find financiers to fund it.”

  Sage took a moment to process that. “Is it going to be just like the one in Dallas?”

  He had shown her pictures of the interior in progress, as well as let her peruse the upscale merchandise set to be in the store.

  “MR and the partners have decided that each venue should have a different look entirely, suitable to the overall location. They want more of a boutique feel, instead of a chain.” Which meant a whole truckload more work, from the outset. Most of which would likely have to be done on site.

  “I see.” Sage’s tone was cool.

  “I’m going to limit my travel there, Sage.” That had already been decided.

  More silence.

  “Sage?” Was she angry? Had they been using FaceTime or Skype, he would have been able to see her expression and have a better idea of what she was thinking and feeling.

  “I’m still here.”

  Yet, Nick noted, her voice sounded weak and thready. He began to panic, the way he always did when he was away from her and she might need him. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, ah...”

  His heart stopped at the sound of her high-pitched yelp, followed by a low, tortured moan. “Sage?” Nick pressed again.

  Another sound of distress. This one more intense.

  “Tell me what’s happening!” he demanded.

  All he got was more silence.

  “Right now, Sage,” he warned, adrenaline racing, “or I’m calling 911...” Cell still pressed to his ear, he headed for the MEP office landline.

  “No.” Sage gasped again, and let out a frantic cry. “Don’t do that!”

  Nick stopped de
ad in his tracks. “Are you in labor, Sage?” he could tell from the sound of things she was in pain.

  He heard her draw a deep, halting breath.

  “Yes. I think I am.”

  * * *

  “YOU CAN’T LEAVE,” MR said, when Nick went to the conference room where she and Everett were still working on the PowerPoint slides for the next day’s presentations.

  Did she have a hearing problem? Nick wondered, grinding his teeth in frustration.

  “Sage is in labor.”

  The only reason he hadn’t called 911 was because the contraction had passed, and her good friend, and sister-in-law Adelaide was on her way to take Sage to the hospital.

  MR took off her glasses. “So? It’s a first baby, Nick. Hence her labor and delivery can take anywhere from twenty-four to thirty-six hours on average.”

  There was nothing average about Sage. Or his baby, Nick thought fiercely.

  “Which means—” MR consulted her watch “—since it’s close to midnight now, you can still make our 10:00 a.m. meeting tomorrow, drive back to Laramie afterward and still get there in plenty of time.”

  Nick really did not have time for this. “I’m leaving.”

  Everett studied him, with his usual poker faced expression. He couldn’t be sure, but Nick thought there was a small smile playing around the edges of the assistant’s mouth. As if he were enjoying not seeing his boss get what she wanted, for a change.

  MR leaped up, momentarily losing her cool. “Nick, if you bail on us again, there will be repercussions,” she warned.

  Nothing, Nick thought, like the ones that would happen if he missed the most important day in his life to date.

  “Goodbye, MR.”

  He turned and walked out of the room, down the hall and out of the building.

  He tried calling Sage again when he reached his car, but his call went straight to voice mail. “Sage, it’s Nick, I love you and I’m on my way. I should be there in two and a half hours or less. Call me if you can.”

  Except, she didn’t call.

  And all the hospital would tell him was that she had made it to the ER, no problem, Adelaide by her side, and was being treated. And he should drive safely, as things still appeared to be in the very early stages. But, the nurse promised, she would call him if there were any changes.

  So Nick drove, calmly and safely.

  And thought about how much he wished he were already at his wife’s side. Instead of miles away.

  He reached the hospital at two thirty in the morning.

  Walked in through the only doors open that time of night, the Emergency entrance.

  And saw, to his surprise, Sage, standing in street clothes near the desk, her wheeled hospital bag on the floor beside her. She was completely red-faced and miserable. His older brother, Gavin, an ER physician, was standing with his arm around her shoulders. “...happens to a lot of people,” he was saying.

  Nick crossed the distance between them hurriedly. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Sage could barely look him in the eye. “I wasn’t in labor,” she mumbled.

  “She was having Braxton Hicks contractions,” Gavin explained. “We kept her under observation for a while, just to make sure.”

  “But it was all a false alarm. Apparently, I’m still a good three and a half weeks away from delivery,” she said, then turned on her heel, still shaking her head in abject humiliation, and headed for the exit.

  “Take her home,” Gavin advised with a meaningful look. “See she gets a lot of rest and TLC.”

  More than up for that, Nick grabbed the hospital bag Sage seemed to have forgotten and strode after her. He caught up with her as they reached the outside. The air was still stifling hot.

  “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life,” she muttered as he opened her door for her.

  “You’ll feel better when we get to your apartment,” he soothed.

  Sage stopped, her mouth open in a round O of further distress.

  Nick paused, not sure why she would find fault with that. “I figured you’d want to go there instead of the ranch since it’s close, and bound to be way cooler, because I turn the AC way up when I’m away, but if you’d prefer to be at the ranch house...” With all the privacy...

  “I’d rather be at my apartment. But...” She threw up her hands in frustration. “We probably shouldn’t. Not without ruining everything else.”

  She was not making any sense. “What are you talking about?” Nick asked.

  She shut her eyes, sighed and motioned him on. “You’ll see.”

  * * *

  WHEN THEY WALKED into her apartment and approached her bedroom, Nick could only stare.

  “You don’t like it,” Sage guessed desultorily.

  “What’s not to like about a king-sized bed?” It was perfect for making love, cuddling. He wouldn’t have to worry about taking up too much of the space, thereby exacerbating the back problems that had been plaguing her the entire pregnancy.

  As if on cue, Sage put a hand behind her waist, rubbed. “It takes up most of the room.”

  He stepped behind her to take over the massage, gently kneading until he felt the knotted muscles on either side of her spine began to ease. “But what a way to take it up.”

  Sighing luxuriantly, she leaned into his touch.

  Feeling her start to relax, he turned her to face him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this?”

  “Because it was supposed to be a surprise for Father’s Day, Nick.” New misery lit her eyes. “Only I was going to have to give it to you early, since we’re going to be in Dallas that weekend for the grand opening.”

  “I gave you the ergonomic kitchen stools a couple days early,” he pointed out. Mostly because he hadn’t been able to wait.

  “I know. But when you saw your present for the first time, I wanted it to be completely made up with all the linens. Instead of just with the wrong-sized pillows, plain white sheets and a single blanket. But the accoutrements haven’t come in yet, and won’t get here until Thursday, so...darn it all—” she balled her fists at her sides “—why are you smiling?”

  Joy rushing through him, he wrapped his arms around her. “Because this bed is the best present anyone has ever given me.” It meant Sage wanted to get closer to him, the same way he wanted to get closer to her.

  She blinked up at him, whispering, “Really?”

  “Really,” he confirmed thickly, hugging her close.

  He cupped her chin and lifted her face to kiss her. Then stopped, when she burst into tears.

  * * *

  “YOU’RE SURE WE don’t need to go back to the hospital,” Nick asked, half an hour later, when Sage still hadn’t stopped crying.

  Her silent flow of seemingly unstoppable tears was really starting to worry him.

  “It’s j-j-just h-h-hormones,” she cried, fisting her hands in his shirt. “And the fact that I’m just so tired of being pregnant, and hot all the time, and achy and moody. And the fact that I cry when I don’t know why, and laugh when I shouldn’t and never seem to get a full night’s sleep.” She hiccupped. “And I know I have a healthy baby and I shouldn’t complain...”

  Nick gathered her even closer, loving the feminine feel of her against him. “In your place, I’d complain, too.”

  “No you wouldn’t,” she argued, “because you’re a saint.”

  He couldn’t help it—he laughed at that. “Oh, Sage,” he said, pressing a kiss in her hair as they snuggled together in their new king-sized bed. “If you only knew...how flawed I am.”

  “You aren’t,” she insisted stubbornly, beginning to sound a little sleepy now.

  But he was.

  Otherwise, he never would have pretended that they could be just friends,
and then lovers, and then co-parents, and wife-and-husband-in-name-only and want nothing more from her than what she offered.

  Because the truth was, he wanted a hell of a lot more from her. And from himself.

  He wanted to be able to tell her how he felt without fear of losing her. He wanted them to have it all. Marriage, a kid. Hell, half a dozen kids! And the kind of love that would last a lifetime, just like his parents had, and hers apparently had enjoyed, too.

  But if that wasn’t in the cards for them—and he had to admit, it increasingly looked like they would never move past the status quo—then he would have to find a way to be satisfied with what they had, and not waste time looking for anything more.

  Because to do so could spoil everything. And that was the last thing he wanted.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “So what do you think?” Nick asked Sage, when he took her to the Galleria after hours for her first look at Upscale Outfitters.

  “Very nice,” she said.

  And it was. The distressed white-and-beige brick walls contrasted nicely against polished floors with the patina of rich aged dark brown leather. The lighting was perfect, the strategically placed mirrors and carpeted dressing rooms of the finest quality. The expensive designer clothes, boots and hats were gorgeous, too.

  Nick looked around. Pleased, and yet...

  She came closer, inhaling his brisk masculine scent. “What is it?” she asked softly, taking his hand.

  For a moment, they stood pensively side by side, linked by so much more than their entwined palms. Then he shook his head, as if kicking himself for looking a gift horse in the mouth. “Nothing.”

  When they had first become friends, they had told each other everything. Or so it seemed. Since they’d been married they had started censoring themselves from time to time. If it continued, she knew they would lose the intimacy that had bound them together thus far. And that scared her.

  She drew a breath, then prodded, “Nick?”

  For a moment, he remained silent. Seeming to do battle with himself, even as he studied his handiwork. Finally, he said in that sexy, gruff voice she loved, “There’s nothing here of what I envisioned when I came up with the idea of turning Monroe’s Western Wear into a chain of stores.”