Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: The Maverick's Thanksgiving Baby\A Celebration Christmas\Dr. Daddy's Perfect Christmas (15 page)

“But it's late,” he said again.

“It's not quite seven-thirty and the store's open until nine.”

She made the statement matter-of-factly, as if she was perfectly capable of driving twenty minutes to an out-of-town grocery store to pick up a few items. And, of course, she was—he was just taken aback by her independence.

He'd lost count of the number of times he'd suggested to Shaelyn that she should go into Kalispell to go shopping or to a movie or even just to get one of those fancy overpriced iced coffee drinks that she liked and that couldn't be found in Rust Creek Falls.

But she never wanted to go anywhere without him. And she had a knack for making him feel guilty for even suggesting she should be on her own for half an hour when he'd been away from her for most of the day. And what if something happened when she was driving
all the way
to and from Kalispell?

As if he needed any further proof that Maggie was nothing like Shaelyn, she already had her boots and coat on and her keys in hand.

“Wait.”

She paused at the door. “Did you want something from the store?”

“I want to go with you,” he decided.

“That's really not necessary.”

And he knew it was true. She didn't need him to go to the grocery store with her. In fact, she didn't seem to need him for much of anything. There wasn't anything she couldn't do on her own—including having and raising a child.

Which supported what Nina had said—that Maggie wasn't with him because she needed him but because she wanted to be with him.

And he realized that he didn't like the idea of her driving to Kalispell on her own. Not because he was worried about anything that might happen, just because he wanted to be with her.

“I know,” he finally said. “But I'd like to come, anyway.”

She looked at him for a moment, then turned back to the door. “Then let's go.”

* * *

Maggie was undeniably apprehensive about spending Thanksgiving with Jesse's family. Partly because the last time she'd been invited to Todd and Laura's house, she'd abruptly—and rudely—dropped the bombshell about her pregnancy on them, and partly because this was the first time since the wedding that she'd be in the same room with all of Jesse's siblings—and the first time she'd see most of them since her husband had shared the news about their baby.

“What have you got there?” Laura asked, gesturing to the covered bowls in each of Jesse's and Maggie's hands.

“This one's coleslaw,” she said, holding it up. “And Jesse's got the mac and cheese carbonara.”

“Mac and cheese
what
?” Todd asked.

“It's got bacon in it,” Jesse said, knowing that was his father's weakness.

“Well, I'll have to try that,” he decided.

“You didn't have to bring anything,” her mother-in-law protested.

“It's a lot of work to make a meal for so many people,” Maggie acknowledged. “I wanted to at least make a small contribution.”

“Well, that was real thoughtful,” Laura said, basking a little in her new daughter-in-law's compliment. Then she gestured for them to join the rest of the family in the living room. “Come in, come in. We'll be putting dinner on the table shortly.”

“Can I give you a hand with anything?” Maggie offered.

Her mother-in-law shook her head. “We've got everything covered. Oh—except that we do need one more place set at the table.”

“I'm doing it now,” Callie said from the dining room.

“One more?” Jesse queried.

Laura nodded to her husband. “Ask your father.”

His father shrugged. “When I stopped by the store to pick up a pint of ice cream, I saw Homer Gilmore wandering the street. Since I knew we'd have more than enough food to feed the army reserves, I asked him to join us for the meal.”

“That was...generous,” Jesse noted.

And, Maggie could tell by his tone, unexpected.

“Everybody sit,” Laura directed, as Nina and Natalie began to set bowls and platters of food around the table. “Justin—you can pour the wine. Brad—get Noelle's high chair from the kitchen. Jesse—you make sure everyone finds a seat. Nate—you come get the turkey.”

Justin made his way around the table, pouring the wine. “Oops—forgot about the bun in the oven,” he said, lifting the bottle away from Maggie's glass.

“Gramma took the buns out of the oven,” seven-year-old Robbie said, pointing to the basket on the table.

“Yes, I did,” Laura confirmed, sending a narrow-eyed look in her son's direction.

“What would you like to drink?” Natalie asked Maggie.

“Water's fine,” she replied, because glasses of that were already set around the table along with a pitcher for refills.

When everyone was settled, Todd said grace, expressing thanks for the bountiful feast on the table and the gathering of family and friends. Then the bowls and platters were passed around, and people chatted easily as they filled their plates.

Laura Crawford had indeed prepared enough food to feed an army—or at least the army reserves—confirming Jesse's assertion that Maggie's contribution was unnecessary. But she was pleased to note that Dallas's three sons all wanted to try her mac and cheese.

“What's that?” Brad asked, warily eyeing the bowl that Jesse offered to him.

“It's coleslaw.”

Brad scowled as he looked more closely at the salad. “But it's got raisins...and nuts.”

“And it's delicious,” Natalie said.

“Did you make this?” Brad asked his youngest sister.

“Maggie did.”

“Oh.” He glanced apologetically at his new sister-in-law. “I usually eat my fruit after dinner, inside a pie crust.”

“He says as he spoons cranberry sauce onto his plate,” Nina noted drily.

He scowled at that. “Cranberry sauce isn't fruit—it's a condiment.”

“It's fruit,” his mother informed him.

“Well, my plate's kind of full right now,” Brad said, passing the bowl of coleslaw to Nate's fiancée, Callie, on his other side. “I'll try some on the next go-round.”

“Can I have some more mac 'n' cheese?” Robbie asked, lifting his plate up.

“Eat some of your veggies and meat first,” his father admonished.

“But I like the mac 'n' cheese best,” the little boy said.

Which reassured Maggie that she'd at least made one good choice.

“What kind of cheese is in that sauce?” Laura asked.

“There are four different kinds,” Maggie said. “Cheddar, Asiago, Fontina and Parmigiano Reggiano.”

“Do we carry those in the store?” Laura asked her oldest daughter.

“Cheddar and Parmigiano,” Nina said. “But even I go shopping in Kalispell to pick up items that we don't stock on a regular basis.”

And all three of Dallas's boys were devouring the mac and cheese carbonara as if they'd never tasted anything so good.

Jesse slid an arm across her shoulders. “Better than the stuff that comes out of a box, that's for sure.”

“You haven't tried the coleslaw.”

“Fruit and nuts are for dessert,” he echoed his brother. “And I can say that because I don't eat cranberry sauce, either.”

Across the table, Justin was drowning his mashed potatoes in gravy as he spoke to Nate. “How is construction of the resort coming along?”

Other conversations quieted as everyone wanted to hear the details. Maggie had been surprised to learn that, only a few months earlier, Nate had been thinking about leaving Rust Creek Falls. Instead, he'd decided to buy a piece of local property to open a resort, similar to what was in Thunder Canyon. Work had progressed steadily, and Maverick Manor was scheduled for a Christmas Eve grand opening.

“Is there going to be a honeymoon suite?” Nina asked.

“You've already had a honeymoon,” her oldest brother reminded her.

“But Jesse and Maggie haven't,” she pointed out.

“There is a honeymoon suite,” Callie confirmed. “On the top floor, of course, with a gas fireplace in the lounge area and a jetted tub big enough for two in the bath.”

“It sounds impressive,” Maggie said, because Callie seemed to expect her to say something.

“Let us know when you've got a couple of days free and I'll reserve it for you,” Nate promised.

Jesse looked at his wife. “What do you think?”

She was tempted to ask Nate if the room had two beds, because she didn't think Jesse would be willing to go if they actually had to sleep under the same covers.

“That's a generous offer,” she said instead. “But we're going to be in Los Angeles for Christmas this year.”

Which would present them with the same dilemma under a different roof. As close as Maggie was to her parents, she didn't want to explain to them that she wasn't sharing a bed with her husband. So they were going to have to share a bed—or one of them would have to sleep on the floor, and it wasn't going to be her.

But they had several weeks before they had to worry about that. Right now, she was focused on getting through this holiday with Jesse's family.

She was grateful that his siblings seemed to have accepted her. His parents were still lukewarm, and she didn't really blame them. They didn't know her well enough to know that she hadn't set out to trap their son.

On the other hand, her parents didn't know Jesse very well, either, but they didn't blame him for the situation. Maybe because they at least knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't be here now if she didn't want to be. Baby or no baby, she wouldn't have married him if she didn't love him. She wondered if Jesse was ever going to figure out the same thing.

“How about New Year's Eve?” Nate suggested now. “We've taken a few reservations for December 31 already, but the honeymoon suite is still available.”

“I promise you'll love it,” Callie said to Maggie. “The painting's done and the window coverings are going to be installed this week. Then it's just the finishing touches—bedding, towels, decorations, et cetera. If you get a chance, you should stop by for an informal tour.”

Maggie appreciated the overture. “I'd like that—thanks.”

“I'll pencil you in for New Year's Eve, then,” Nate decided.

To which Homer responded, “We must rescue the child.”

Maggie looked at Jesse, not sure if the old man was referring to their unborn child or Noelle or one of Dallas's sons. The old man didn't appear to be looking at anyone in particular but was staring at his plate and shaking his head. “We must save the child.”

“Why's he saying that?” Robbie asked Nina.

“I have no idea,” she admitted to her youngest stepson.

“He's creepy,” Ryder muttered.

Thankfully the boy was far enough away from Homer that the old man couldn't hear him. And, truthfully, Maggie couldn't help but agree, at least with respect to his behavior today.

“Who wants pie?” Laura asked brightly.

“I think we're going to skip dessert and get the kids home,” Nina told her mother.

The family matriarch looked as if she wanted to protest, then she glanced at Homer again and finally nodded. “I'll get you some pie to take with you.”

Nina and Dallas ushered the kids away from the table, and Homer turned his attention to Maggie.

“We must rescue the child,” he told her, his tone imploring.

While his eyes were on her, his gaze was unfocused, and she realized he wasn't looking at her so much as past her.

Were his strange prognostications merely the ramblings of a crazy old man—or were his words intended as some kind of warning to her? Was it possible that the child he was referring to was her own? And if so, why did he think her child needed to be saved?

Chapter Fifteen

“I
think we should invite Homer Gilmore to the table every time we have dinner with your parents,” Maggie said to Jesse when they got home that evening.

“Why is that?” her husband asked, sounding amused.

“Because his sporadic outbursts meant that people were staring at him instead of me every once in a while.”

“Was it that bad?”

She shrugged.

“Well, you survived your first Crawford family Thanksgiving relatively unscathed.”

“Pun intended?”

He just grinned.

“Since it's a day to count our blessings, I'll say that your mother is a fabulous cook.”

“And she always makes sure there's enough so that everyone has some leftovers to take home.”

“She even packed a turkey sandwich for Homer Gilmore before your dad took him back to town.”

“Did he freak you out?”

“Homer or your dad?”

Her husband chuckled. “Homer.”

She shrugged again. “Not really. Although sometimes, the way he looked at me when he talked about saving the baby, I wondered if he was talking about our baby.”

“I don't think even he knew what he was talking about,” Jesse said. “He's just a crazy old man.”

“Maybe,” she allowed. “But he seemed sincerely worried. Does he have any children?”

“I have no idea. He's not originally from around here. And while it's hard to imagine him in a relationship with anyone, I suppose it's possible.”

“I just wish there was something I could do to help him.”

“Maybe you should keep your distance from him.”

“He's not dangerous.”

“Probably not,” Jesse agreed. “But I'd rather you didn't take any chances.”

“I wouldn't do anything to risk our baby,” she assured him.

“I'm not just worried about the baby.”

She looked up at him, obviously surprised by his statement.

“Don't you realize how much I care about you, too?”

Care.
There it was—a four-letter word that described his feelings for her. Unfortunately, it wasn't the four-letter word she'd been hoping to hear.

“Well, I'm not going to let anything happen to me or our baby,” she said lightly.

He nodded. “Good. Now, how about a turkey sandwich?”

She shook her head. “I can't believe you're hungry again already.”

“Turkey sandwiches are a Thanksgiving evening tradition.”

“Not for me,” she told him. “I couldn't eat another bite.”

“How about pie?”

She started to shake her head again, paused. “Pumpkin?”

He chuckled. “We've got apple and pumpkin.”

“Maybe just a sliver,” she allowed, and followed him to the kitchen.

“Sit,” he said, pointing to the breakfast bar. “I'll get it for you.”

She sat. He cut a slice of the pie his mother had sent home, slid it onto a plate, added a fork and set it on the counter in front of her.

“I said a sliver,” she reminded him.

“You're eating for two.”

Actually, her doctor had warned her that was a fallacy, but considering the fact that her weight wasn't an issue—not yet, anyway—she picked up the fork and dug into the pie without further comment.

“I wish we had some of that mac and cheese left over,” he said. “I barely got to sample it.”

“It was a hit with the kids,” she agreed.

“Not just the kids—even Brad had two helpings.”

“But he wouldn't try the coleslaw.”

Jesse just shrugged and washed down his sandwich with a tall glass of milk.

She expected him to push away from the table and escape to the barn with the excuse of one chore or another. Sure enough, he slid back his chair and stood up to clear away both of their plates, but then he surprised her by asking, “Do you want to watch some of the football game with me?”

She shook her head. “It's been a long day and I'm ready for bed.”

“Are you feeling okay? You didn't overdo it, did you?”

“I'm fine,” she assured him. “Just...tired.”

And she was—not just physically, but emotionally. She was tired of wanting what she knew she couldn't have, tired of pretending that their marriage was something it wasn't, tired of hoping that he might one day love her the same way that she loved him.

It was her own fault. He'd told her from the beginning that he didn't want to fall in love—he just wanted their baby to have two parents.

It had seemed like a reasonable request at the time, but after almost two weeks of living together, so close and yet with so much distance between them, she realized this was going to be more difficult than she'd anticipated. Not just difficult, but painful, and she wasn't sure that she could continue like this for much longer.

They'd been married for twelve days and living like roommates. She thought they'd made some progress today. They'd spent several hours together, shared some quiet moments and comfortable silences. And he'd admitted that he cared about her. True, it was a long way from caring to loving, but she had to believe it was a step in the right direction.

Maybe she should stay up with him, at least for a little while. But being near Jesse wreaked havoc on her mind and her heart. What she really needed was distance—some time away from him to figure out what she really wanted and needed.

“I talked to my mom yesterday,” she told him. “She invited me to LA for a shopping trip. Well, the invitation was to both of us, but I don't imagine that would be your idea of fun.”

“It's not,” he agreed. “And it seems a long way to go to do some shopping.”

“Aside from the fact that I'd also get to spend some time with my parents, there are some fabulous baby stores in SoCal.”

“Rust Creek Falls might not be a shopping mecca,” he acknowledged, “but it has other advantages.”

“I wasn't making a comparison.”

But obviously he thought that she was, because he said, “I just wanted to remind you that this is a great place to raise a child.

“That's why I'm here,” she reminded him. “So that we can raise our child in Rust Creek Falls, together.”

“You're sure this is where you want to be?”

“This is exactly where I want to be,” she said, wanting to reassure him. But then she realized that while it was true, it wasn't the whole truth. “Or
almost
where I want to be.”

He frowned at the clarification. “Almost?”

She hesitated, doubts creeping in. Did she really want to go down this path without knowing where it might lead? But she decided that she did, because it beat the alternative of continuing to live the way they'd been living for almost two weeks. She hadn't married Jesse so they could live separate lives under the same roof.

She'd married him because she loved him and she wanted to be his wife in every sense of the word. But she didn't think he was quite ready for that heartfelt declaration just yet, so she only said, “I'd rather be in the bed across the hall from where I've been sleeping.”

* * *

Across the hall was...his bed.

Jesse's gaze locked with hers, silently seeking—begging for—confirmation.

She didn't falter, didn't blink, and in the depths of her eyes he saw a reflection of the same desire that hummed in his veins. She wanted him—and he wanted her. He would be a fool to turn down what she was offering, and he never liked to be a fool.

But he realized now that he had been. Living in close proximity to Maggie since the wedding had been a delicious torture. She'd been close enough to touch, but he hadn't been certain she wanted his touch. He'd let himself be swayed by her brother's concern that she didn't know what she wanted instead of asking her what she wanted.

“I put your stuff in the other room because I didn't want to assume we'd share a bed just because we were married.”

“I kind of hoped we'd share a bed because we wanted to,” she told him. “If that is what you wanted.”

“It's what I wanted—what I want,” he confirmed. “I haven't stopped wanting you since the first day I saw you, and believe me, I've tried.”

“Why?”

“Because I pushed you into marriage, and then it bothered me to think that you only married me because I pushed.”

“If you knew me better, you'd know that nobody pushes me to do something I don't want to do.”

“You wanted to marry me?”

She nodded. “I've never felt about anyone else the way I feel about you. And I've never experienced anything like the pleasure I've known in your arms.”

In response to that, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bedroom.

He set her back on her feet beside the bed and lowered his mouth to hers. Her eyes drifted shut as her lips parted, welcoming a deeper kiss. Her tongue danced with his, a sensual rhythm that had his blood pounding in his veins, hot and demanding.

It took him a minute to figure out the wrap-style dress she was wearing. He thoroughly enjoyed running his hands over her torso, tracing her feminine curves in an effort to find the hidden zipper, but he really wanted to feel her bare skin beneath his palms. When he finally discovered the tie at her side—when she finally guided his searching hands to it—he nearly chuckled with giddy relief. With one quick tug, the knot loosened and the fabric parted. Then he was touching
her
, and the silky softness of her skin was even more tantalizing than he remembered.

He pushed the dress off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, then he took a step back to look at her. She was wearing a pale pink bra, matching bikini panties and those thigh-high stockings that he'd always suspected were designed to drive a man to his knees. Literally.

He dropped to the floor in front of her, splayed his palms on her belly then slid them around to her back, pulling her closer to kiss her belly. Then his mouth moved lower to nuzzle the sweet heat between her thighs. Maggie sucked in a breath. He stroked her with his tongue, through the thin barrier of lace, and felt her thigh muscles quiver. He wanted her to tremble for him, but he didn't want her to sink to the floor.

He rose to his feet again and peeled away her bra, her panties, one stocking and the other. Then he eased her back onto the mattress and started to lower himself over her.

She lifted her hands, holding him away. “I want you naked, too,” she told him.

He quickly stripped away his own clothes, then glanced at her with his brows raised. She answered his silent question with a smile and lifted her arms to embrace him.

He kissed her again, softly, sweetly. “You are so beautiful,” he told her.

When Jesse looked at her the way he was looking at her right now, with warmth and affection in his gaze, Maggie felt beautiful. When he touched her the way he was touching her now, gently and reverently, she knew he saw her that way.

But if she was beautiful, he was breathtaking.

Maybe the life of a rancher wasn't as romantic as it was depicted in the movies, but there wasn't any big-screen star who could hold a candle to Jesse Crawford. She let her hands roam over him, absorbing the smooth texture of bronzed skin stretched taut over all those glorious muscles, sculpted not in some Hollywood gym to look like a cowboy but through years of hard work actually
being
a cowboy.

She'd never known anyone like him, had never felt the way she felt with him, and the memory of what he had done—could do—to her body left her breathless and aching for him.

“Jesse...please.”

“I will please you,” he promised.

And he did. He made his way down her body, kissing and caressing every inch of her. Loving her with his mouth and his hands until everything inside of her twisted and tightened—and released.

He held her close—he was her anchor in the storm as endless waves of sensation washed over her. When those waves gradually subsided to ripples, he finally parted her thighs and buried himself in the wet heat between them, and the storm started all over again.

As they moved together in the thrillingly familiar rhythm of lovemaking, she felt connected to him in a way that was so much more than physical. And the way he looked at her, their gazes linked as tangibly as their bodies, she was sure that he must feel it, too.

Afterward, he held her tight against him, as if he couldn't bear to let her go. And she fell asleep listening to his heart beating, steady and strong, beneath her cheek and knew she was exactly where she wanted to be.

* * *

Maggie wasn't sure why she'd awakened—a quick glance at the clock on the bedside table confirmed that it was still early. Not surprisingly, Jesse was already up—and getting ready to walk out the door.

“Where are you going?”

“You're awake.”

“After last night, I didn't expect to wake up alone.” She sat up, tugging the sheet to cover her breasts.

“I got a message from Sutter.”

“It's the day after Thanksgiving—a holiday for almost everyone in this country who doesn't work in retail.”

“One of his friends has a yearling with some behavioral issues and he asked me to take a look at him,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“And you have to go right now?”

“I told him I would.”

And because Jesse was nothing if not a man of his word, she nodded. “When do you think you'll be back?”

“I don't really know.”

It wasn't just the noncommittal response, it was the way his gaze kept shifting away, as if he couldn't bear to look at her, as if he was already out the door.

No—she wasn't going to jump to conclusions. They'd had a fabulous night together. She wasn't going to assume anything was wrong and sabotage the closeness they'd shared.

“Will you be home for lunch?”

“Probably.”