Cowboy Daddy (24 page)

“My mother always did that,” Anne said, staring at the screen. “She always told me to try and that it was better to face the fear than let the fear win.”

“I wish I’d met your mother,” he said, from his seat beside her. She could still feel his heat and inhale his scent; he still turned her on with his mere presence in the room. Despite that, she was less inclined to pursue a physical relationship. Not after seeing Ellen in a bathing suit. She glanced down at her large breasts and generous thighs. She’d never thought of herself as heavy, but she did have curves. Ellen had been a fantasy woman, long and sleek, elegant and well dressed. Anne worked hard to be put together for the office, but at home, she just couldn’t bring herself to care if her shorts and T-shirt were in perfect

condition or if her bra and panties happened to match. There were too many important things to worry about. But even saying that over and over to herself didn’t stop her from wondering if Jake missed Ellen’s perfection in his life.

The video came to an end. Jake got up and changed it. When he came back to the sofa, he stared at her.

“You’re not crying.”

She smiled. “You sound surprised. I’m really enjoying these. You’ve given me something I thought I’d never have—a chance to see Laurel grow up. As for the tears—” She shrugged. “I think I’m all cried out right now.”

He reached for the remote but didn’t use it. “There’s a bunch of tapes. Help yourself whenever you want to watch them.”

“Thanks, I will.” She angled toward him on the sofa. “The three of you were a real family. Laurel was well loved, happy and with a good home. I’m glad she had Ellen.” Funny the truth didn’t hurt as much as she’d thought.

He raised one hand to her face and brushed his knuckles across her cheek. His skin whispered against her, igniting tiny fires in her nerve endings. Then he dropped his hand and the tingling stopped. She wished he would touch her again.

“I admire your generosity,” he said. “I’d like to think that I’d be the same, but I doubt it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bobby, her ‘birth father’ for lack of a better term. I’m not sorry he’s gone. The last thing I need is more competition for Laurel.”

“Why do you doubt yourself? You’re a terrific father.”

“You don’t know what happened after Ellen died. I—” He shook his head. “I got lost. I missed her so damn much. I know Laurel needed me, but I couldn’t put myself together enough to be there for her. She paid a big price for that.”

“She’s done fine, Jake. You’ve started to make your peace with Laurel. That will go a long way to making up for the past.”

* * *

A
nne briefly closed her eyes and wondered what it must be like to love and be loved that much. To be part of a family and so important that your passing would leave an empty spot that would last a lifetime. What had Ellen Masters possessed that made Jake unable to stop loving her even when she’d been gone for two years? Could he ever come to care about anyone else, for example her, as much?

The last thought shocked Anne. She didn’t need Jake to care about her romantically. They had problems to work out, but none of them required more than a friendship.

Oh, but wouldn’t it be perfect if they could just… Just what? she asked herself. Fall in love? Then she would have to make other kinds of choices. Besides, he couldn’t love her—he loved Ellen. Even if she’d wanted a chance with him, it wasn’t going to happen. There was too much baggage between them.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I was wondering if you would have liked me better if we’d just met as strangers. If we didn’t have Laurel between us.” Or Ellen, but she didn’t say that aloud.

His brown eyes met and held her own. The gold flecks in his irises glowed with a fire that made her want to squirm in her seat.

“Yes,” he said, his voice husky. “I would have liked you too damn much.”

Despite the tension building in the room, and the night around them and the fact that the house was empty, save for the two of them, she smiled. “How can you like someone too much?”

“Easy.” He leaned toward her. “You expose your feelings and they use them against you. They manipulate you or make you feel guilty about something that wasn’t even true.”

She told herself she should pay attention to what he was telling her, that the information was important. But she couldn’t think about anything except the fact that his face was getting closer to hers and his gaze had locked on to her mouth. She licked her lips in anticipation.

The good girl inside her, the one raised in a small Texas town by a conservative single mother, reminded her that this wasn’t a good idea. It would only complicate the situation. He was going to kiss her. If he did there was no telling where this night might end. The two of them had a bad habit of burning out of control in each other’s arms. The voice in her head mentioned all that, then told her making love could easily turn into
being
in love. She needed that complication even less. Jake was still in love with Ellen. She would regret this come morning. Loving him would make it harder to leave. She
had
to leave. She owed it to herself to follow her dreams.

As if he sensed her hesitation, Jake hovered above her mouth. His breath fanned her face. One strong hand gripped her shoulder, but she could have easily pulled back. The voice in her head ordered her to do just that.

“Go away,” she whispered to the voice.

Jake froze.

“Not you,” she said, and slipped her hand behind his head.

But he didn’t kiss her. He straightened and rose to his feet. Passion burned in his eyes, giving him the hungry, powerful expression of a predator. He paused and extended his hand.

“I want to make love to you, Annie Jo Baker,” he said. “In my bed, with the lights on. I want to touch and taste and see every inch of you.”

Instantly moisture dampened her panties. Her breasts tightened. If he’d been touching her anywhere on her body, she would have climaxed right there. Her breathing stopped altogether, then started in short ragged breaths. Their eyes met. He neither pleaded nor warned her away. The decision was hers. It was as inevitable as the tide.

She placed her fingers on his palm and allowed him to help her to her feet. She thought they would walk calmly up the stairs, then undress like civilized people. She’d been wrong.

He pulled her hard against him. Her breasts flattened against his broad chest. Before she could think, he claimed her mouth. Even as his tongue caressed hers, his fingers fumbled with the buttons on her shirt. He didn’t bother pulling it off, instead he left it hanging open and expertly unfastened her bra. When her breasts were free to his touch, he lifted them in his hands and used his thumbs to tease her nipples into delicious hardness.

Her thighs trembled, her knees threatened to give out. She had to wrap her arms around him to keep from falling. He tasted of coffee and something masculine and heady. His hair slipped through her fingers like raw silk. She kneaded his shoulders, then gripped him as his fingers plied their wondrous touch on her sensitive skin.

He raised his head and stared at her. “Tell me you wanted me this afternoon. When I touched your belly.”

“I wanted you.”

“And now?”

“I want you more.”

He groaned low in his throat, then bent down and locked his arms below her buttocks. He raised her so he could suckle on her sensitive breasts. His tongue circled around each tip, leaving a moistness that cooled quickly in the night air. The contrast of hot and cold, wet and dry, made her blood run faster. She rained kisses on his head, then wrapped her legs around his waist. Her most sensitive spot rubbed against his erection, the thick fabric of their jeans the only barrier to their mutual pleasure.

He moved out of the room and toward the stairs. On the third step he released her and let her slide until her feet touched the carpeted flooring. He was one step below her so they were almost at eye level. He kissed her mouth, then sucked her bottom lip. She clutched at his shoulders. Her shirt and bra hung open. She wanted to press bare skin to bare skin, so she reached for his front buttons. He reached for her jeans.

He couldn’t pull the denim off over her shoes, so he sat her on the stair and took them off. Her socks followed, then he slipped the pants down her legs. He knelt between her thighs and ran his fingertips along her bare skin. From ankle

to calf, from knee to hip. Shivers raced through her. She braced herself on the stair and watched him. Their eyes met and he smiled.

“What happened to making love in your bed?” she asked.

“We’ll get there.” He touched the elastic band of her panties and followed it from her hips to between her legs. “You’re wet. I can feel it through these.”

Before she could be embarrassed, he bent down and nipped at the skin right below her belly button. She jumped, then laughed because it tickled. Even as he licked her belly, he moved to one side and pulled off the scrap of damp cotton.

He stared at the exposed femininity. “Auburn,” he said, as if he’d just made a wondrous discovery.

“I have red hair. What did you expect?”

He looked up and winked. “Just checking. You have freckles.” He touched her chest, then her legs. “And curves.” He touched her breasts.

“Jake, we’re on the stairs.”

“I know where we are.”

“But what if someone finds us?”

He slipped his fingers into her damp curls. “The doors are all locked.”

“But I—”

“You’re talking too much. I must be doing something wrong.”

With that, he bent down and kissed her thigh. With his fingers, he gently stroked her waiting heat, then urged her legs farther apart. Despite the stairs and the remote possibility of discovery, she complied with his silent command. Every touch led her closer and closer to her release. When he lowered his head and brought his mouth to her tiny place of pleasure, she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. He knew exactly what to do, exactly how fast—her breath caught—then how slow—she gasped—to move against her. His tongue slipped over and around, then dipped inside, mimicking the act of love. He left her hanging on the taut edge of ecstasy, then gently sucked her to oblivion.

Jake knew the precise moment she began to climax. He kept his ministrations moving in time with her contractions. When her body ceased to tremble beneath his, he pulled her close and held her. Only when her breathing returned to normal, did he pick her up and carry her to his bedroom.

The place, the bed itself, everything was new. He firmly closed his mind to any memories that might wish to intrude on this perfect time. He placed Annie on the bed, then quickly pulled off his own clothes. She was slick with perspiration. He wiped her with his shirt, then slipped in next to her. Her small hands reached for him, cradling his arousal. Instantly his hips flexed.

She looked up at him. “Something tells me that if I mentioned I had some mending to take care of right now you’d be most unhappy.”

“Most,” he agreed, and kissed her. Her mouth opened without urging. Their tongues mated, causing him to harden even more. The pressure was uncomfortable, but he didn’t want his release yet. He liked being tempted to the edge.

He rolled onto his back and pulled her up against him. Her full breasts burned into his chest. God, she felt good. He traced her hips, then gripped her rear, squeezing the rounded flesh. He liked the curves and the way she tasted. He liked—

He gasped. She suckled his nipple as he had hers. Her fingers brushed his chest, then ran down his belly, tangling with the thicket of hair. His hardness flexed in anticipation. She moved her fingers lower to his thighs, then brushed delicately against his testicles. He parted his legs to allow her to explore that part of him he’d always thought useless. Aching need grew, but he held back, waiting, letting her lead the way.

She raised her head and smiled at him. Moving slowly, she straddled his midsection. Her moist center dampened his stomach. Bracing her arms on the mattress, she slipped back until the tip of him teased at her.

Before she could continue, he gripped her waist and tumbled her to her back. He poised between her legs.

“So you want to be in charge,” she teased, her eyes bright with anticipation. Her pale red hair fanned out on the pillow. Her generous breasts moved with each breath. He wanted to kiss each freckle, discover every inch of her, as he had promised, but first he had to be inside her or he would die.

“I can’t wait,” he said, by way of apology.

“Then don’t.” She tilted her hips toward him, bringing his erection in contact with her waiting warmth.

“Ah, Annie, how do you do this to me?” He slowly slipped home.

It was as explosive as that night in the desert. There was no time to discover a mutually satisfying rhythm, no conscious thought left to deal with finesse. There was only the feel of her around him, the heat and the need. Her legs embraced his hips. His fingers held her breasts, her hands urged him closer.

When her eyelids slipped shut and her mouth parted, he forced himself to slow enough to take her with him. At her moment of climax, he held back a heartbeat. As his body shuddered and expelled his seed, he reveled in the power of knowing this is how he had created their child. This mystical act that bonded the generations. This moment from which he’d felt excluded and so much less than a man.