Lone Star Daddy (McCabe Multiples) (12 page)

She tilted her head, and the gentle movement brought the subtle drift of her sun-warmed perfume. “When did you commission the design?”

“A little over a year ago, when I first bought the ranch,” he said. “I just haven’t had the time or the money to implement any of the changes I’d like to see yet.”

She smiled and locked eyes with him. “So tell me what you want done.”

Using his fingertip, he referenced the survey map. “First, separate my ranching operation into two main areas. Put the cattle ranching on the south end. The cutting-horse breeding and training operation to the north. With the ranch house, of course—” he pointed to where they currently stood “—remaining in the middle of the property.”

Rose leaned in close to observe, the delicate warmth of her shoulder brushing his in the process. “There’s only one problem with that. This line here—” she picked up a pencil to illuminate her point “—where the cattle pastures will be is awfully close to the berry patch.” Her soft lips compressed in concern, she pivoted to face him. “Too close, really, since agricultural regulations require a good distance between any livestock and produce operations to prevent cross-contamination.”

Clint nodded, more than familiar with state and federal rules. He also had an idea how the evening would end if they continued down this path. There’d be no more laughing and joking around.

No more quiet conversation.

No more getting to know each other the way they needed to if they were to take whatever this was to the next level.

One day soon, of course, they would have to discuss it. But that was not going to be tonight.

He caught her by the wrist and pulled her close. Placing one hand on her waist, weaving the other through her hair, he guided her against him. Softness to hardness. Woman to man.

She gasped, feeling the electric jolt of pure chemistry, too. “Clint...”

He kissed her temple, her brow, the curve of her cheek, the need to make her his stronger than ever. “Enough business. Talking farming and livestock is not why I brought you over here.”

“Then why did you?” she asked breathlessly, once again seeming to weigh everything he said and did.

Words weren’t always the best way. Sometimes it was better to show someone how you felt. So Clint lowered his mouth to hers. “This.”

Rose saw his
kiss coming, and though she couldn’t avoid it entirely, to his frustration she refused to let it continue beyond the first mesmerizing contact. Hands splayed across the width of his shoulders, she gave him a little shove.

Ever the gentleman, despite himself, he lifted his head. Waited.

She inhaled shakily. “You know there is no future in this,” she reminded him.

He kissed the tip of her nose, his thighs still plastered to hers. “I know you think too far ahead.”

She jerked in a breath. “Someone has to, because I meant what I said, Clint. I really don’t ever want to get married again.”

She could say it as much as she wanted. It didn’t mean that he was going to believe it. If ever there was a woman crying out for love, it was Rose. He could see it in her eyes and feel it in her kiss. He’d felt it in his chest when he had watched her finally let loose tonight, climb up on Silver and ride. She needed to be free as much as he needed to be connected. They could give each other that in so many ways.

“I’ve got too much business,” Rose rushed on.

He took her hand and led her into the living room. Away from the plans for his future, guaranteed to upset her. “You’re right about that.” He sank down in a wing chair and tugged her onto his lap.

“Too many responsibilities.” Rose shook her head.

Most of which were meant to be shared, in an ideal world anyway.

She linked her arms around his shoulders and looked at him seriously. “But as long as you understand that, and accept that whatever this is between us is only temporary, then we can have this.”

We.
He liked the sound of that.

“Tonight anyway,” she amended quickly.

He wanted a hell of a lot more than that. If she were honest, she would have to admit she did, too. “Is this a challenge?” he murmured, taking in the soft cloud of dark-blond hair around her face. He rubbed the curve of her lips with his thumb. “Because I am very good at meeting challenges.”

Lowering her gaze, she traced the pocket on his shirt with her fingertips. “I know that,” she whispered.

He cupped her chin and guided it upward until she had no choice but to look into his eyes. “So what’s really holding you back?”

She shrugged, her lush breasts rising and falling with each nervous breath. “This house is too big.”

For him alone, maybe. With Rose and her kids...well, that would be another story.

“It needs to be filled with a family, Clint.” Intuiting the direction of his thoughts, she added resolutely, “One of your own making.”

Maybe it was time to put that particular theory to the test. He shifted her off his lap and stood, too. “You want to fix me up with someone?”

The crestfallen look on her face confirmed what he already knew, deep down. She did not want to see him with another woman any more than he wanted to see her with another guy.

“Matchmaking is not really my thing,” she hedged.

Talk about an understatement. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Then what is?”

“Right now? In a very temporary sense, this.” She stepped back into his arms, rose on tiptoe, and pressed her breasts against his chest. Her kiss was everything he wanted, lush and evocative, searching, teasing, tempting. Without warning, she’d become the aggressor in a way he found surprising but incredibly sexy nevertheless. Still, he felt like he was taking advantage of her, pretending that all they had, or really could have, between them was sex. Calling on every ounce of self-control he had, he broke off the kiss and took a step back. “Hold it right there, sweetheart. We’re not done talking.”

* * *

R
OSE
STARED
AT
HIM
.

She had always known, despite his sometimes grumpy nature, that Clint was gallant to the core. Not that he ever seemed to be cantankerous around anyone but her.

It was like she got under his skin as no one else did, and rubbed him the wrong way. Just like he continuously turned her on. And there was only one cure for the quivering need deep inside her. Only one cure for his own physical need.

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, we are,” she returned, as emotional as he was calm. “And you know why? We’re only on this date because you won it in a bet! And since we understand this is just a fling, there’s no point in examining it too closely.”

“Speak for yourself.” He took her in his arms and kissed the corner of her mouth. “If we’re doing this...” He kissed the other corner.

“Oh, we are,” Rose whispered back, unable to help the soft, sultry sound she made in the back of her throat.

Without warning, he scooped her up in his arms and cradled her against his chest. “Then I’m not letting a second of it go without celebrating it the way it deserves.”

Excitement roaring through her, Rose wreathed her arms about his neck as he made his way through the first floor, up the stairs and down the hall to the master bedroom. Breathlessly she murmured, “Hey there, cowboy. This is supposed to be a joint venture!” Equal partners, coming together.

He set her down next to his bed. “Uh-huh. Enough of you taking the lead, Rose.”

Letting her know with a glance there would be no more negotiating, he reached over and turned on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room in a soft, golden glow. He stepped toward her once again, flashing a sexy grin she found irresistible. “It’s my turn to be in charge.”

Just that easily, her cardigan was coming off. The zipper on her dress was easing down. His fingers trailed over her spine. Lazily he met her gaze. “Unless you disagree?”

She watched as he guided her dress past her hips, then grinned at his expression when he saw the rose-colored yoga shorts that had protected her sensitive inner thighs from saddle rub. Definitely not what he was expecting, she thought. Although what lay underneath it might be...

“Oh, I think this is fine,” Rose said. He knelt before her, helping her out of one cowgirl boot, then the other. Her nipples pearled beneath the lace of her bra.

He regarded her ardently, a sense of purpose glittering in his eyes. “Just fine?” He pressed his face into her lower midriff.

Rose shivered as his thumbs traced the most feminine part of her while his lips made a sensual tour of her bare stomach. A slow, warm heat began to fill her. She closed her eyes, lifting herself to him. “Better than fine.”

He peeled off the shorts, then her lace panties, before rising again to reach behind her and relieve her of her bra. “How much better?” he persisted.

Before she could answer, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deep and hard, long and slow, his tongue hot and wet and unbearably evocative. Demonstrating just who was in command, he kissed her again until she was lost in the taste and touch and feel of him, lost in the ragged intake of his breath and her own shuddering moan. Yearning welled up inside her until she was his for the taking, and she wanted him, too. So much.

Still kissing him passionately, she tugged his shirt from the waistband of his jeans and jerked open the snaps. That quickly, his magnificent chest was hers to enjoy. He let all he wanted come through in yet another deep, searing kiss, then stepped back, and his eyes on hers, stripped naked, too. Her mouth was dry as he took her hand and lay down with her on the bed.

“A little bit better?” He cupped the soft swells of her breasts in his palms, loving her with his mouth and his lips and his hands.

She shook her head, her whole body turning hot and boneless. “Extraordinarily better.”

He rolled over to kiss her, still fulfilling her desires with shocking ease. His hands went to her hips, and he arched slowly against her. Over and over. And still they kissed, while she concentrated on the warmth of his touch and lower still, the urgency of his body.

“What about this?” He slid downward.

She quaked as he found her with his hands, then his lips and tongue. “Oh, ah, that’s...nice...too.” Shuddering, she caught his head in her hands, willing him never to stop.

She felt him smile against her skin. Unbelievably, he found a way to stroke her even more slowly and erotically. She threw back her head and moaned, and the sound seemed to inspire him even more. “Nice?” he echoed.

She kept her eyes closed as he stroked around, up, in. “Nice is good,” she defended herself between jagged breaths. So, so good, as a matter of fact.

He chuckled and shot up to kiss her mouth again. “I was aiming a little higher.”

He was sure getting there, she thought, as he found her breasts, the center of his palm rubbing and pressing against the taut tips, while his mouth seared and found solace in hers.

He gripped her hips the way she liked, lifting her and kissing her, until she writhed with passion and moaned for more. “Say, championship-level higher,” he muttered playfully.

Once again, he left a trail of kisses over her abdomen to her silky-wet center. He used pressure from within and soft tender exterior strokes until there was only a driving, urgent need. She gasped again, moving against him pliantly. Already sliding toward the edge, she wasn’t sure she could take much more. “Your turn,” she whispered, wanting to give as well as receive.

He smiled in triumph. “Not necessary.”

She took the condom from him, putting it aside—for now. “You’ll thank me later.” Hand to his chest, she rolled him onto his back.

“I’m thanking you now.”

She laughed gently. Hands sliding beneath him, her hair drifting over his spread thighs, she loved him to the very edge. And then loved him some more.

“Not...without you.” He tightened his hands on her, urging her upward. Together, they worked on his condom, then shifted so her back was to the mattress. His hard body covered hers, surrounding her with masculine warmth, the feel of him pressed up against her giving her a whole-body shiver.

He kissed her again, long and lingeringly. Drawing out the moment, celebrating the occasion, just the way he had said they would. Their eyes met. They were really doing this. Again. And foolish or not, Rose realized, she wanted him with all her heart and soul.

Breathing roughly, he parted her thighs with his knee. She surrendered completely, opening herself up to him as she wrapped her arms and legs around him. More kisses followed. With a whisper of her name and a groan, he finally slid home.

Magic happened. He took; she gave. Then she took and he gave. And suddenly, there was no more waiting. No more wondering. Just the sudden opening of her heart and the fire and passion of their joining. He made love to her as if nothing else in the world mattered. And, Rose realized, feeling more deliriously happy than she ever had in her life, for that brief time, nothing else did.

Chapter Eleven

“I guess it’s my turn now,” Clint teased her long moments later.

Rose’s breathing had finally gone back to normal, but the rest of her was still all riled up. As if sensing the commotion going on deep inside her, Clint rolled onto his side, taking her with him. Arms still clasped warmly around her, he waited until she met his eyes.

His sexy-gruff demeanor had her relaxing, despite her post-lovemaking jitters. “
Your
turn? For what?” she asked, making no effort to disguise her confusion.

He rubbed the moisture from his lips with the pad of his thumb. “To say that this wasn’t exactly how I envisioned the evening going.”

A reference to her remarks after the first time they’d made love...

“There wasn’t going to be any lovemaking tonight,” he continued even more tenderly.

What was it they said about best laid plans...? She cuddled closer, loving the way he used that enticing mixture of humor and gallantry to soothe her worries away. “I guess we blew that objective, huh?”

“Definitely.” He stroked a hand through her hair. “Tonight was supposed to be about romance.”

She luxuriated in the feel of his hands on her skin. “Making love is romantic.”

“And the fun part of getting to know each other,” he concurred, kissing the top of her head.

Rose sighed blissfully. She could feel the strong steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek. “The aftermath is fun, too.”

And, if you discounted the time she spent with her family, she hadn’t had a lot of fun in her life lately.

Clint shifted so he was lying beside her, his head propped on his upturned hand. Looking as sexually content as she felt, he continued, “The point is, I wanted you to know I’m interested in a lot more than just taking you to bed.”

Rose sat up against the headboard, the sheet drawn up over her breasts. “Which is a problem in and of itself.”

He sat up, too. “Why?”

“Because I’ve already explained we’re all wrong for each other in the long run,” she said as gently as she could.

A brief silence fell. “So you weren’t just playing hard to get.” Hurt and disappointment flashed in his eyes. “You really don’t want to get any closer.”

Resisting the urge to get up and run out before things got any more complicated, Rose reached behind her to fluff and adjust the pillows. They were both grown-ups. There was no reason for her to behave in a cowardly manner. “It’s a lot deeper than that.”

He let out a sharp breath. “I’m listening.”

The problem was, she didn’t know quite how to say it so a fiercely proud man like Clint would accept it. All she knew for certain was that it was hard enough just trying to stay friends and limited business partners with a man like Clint.

If they talked too much—or she thought too much—she’d start daydreaming up all the reasons why she and Clint should be together. She’d start imagining him in her life, and herself in his. Before she knew it, those dreams would include her triplets, and maybe even kids of their own. And that was completely crazy, too.

She knew how detrimental it was on a marriage to raise multiples, and that the divorce rate for people who married for a second time was a staggering 50 percent. Put those statistics together, and the odds were stacked against her of realistically making another marriage work over the long haul, or at least until her kids were grown and completely out on their own. And that was going to be another eighteen years from now.

Time in which Clint should be marrying for love and starting his own biological family.

But, knowing he was unlikely to accept that argument, she met his probing gaze and recited another sobering statistic. “You know multiples run in my family.”

He trailed his fingertips from her shoulder to elbow, eliciting evocative tingles wherever he brushed. “And that is important right now because...?” He bent his head and pressed a kiss to her wrist.

She brought her knees up between them, like a shield. “I can’t have another baby, Clint.”
Not even with you
.

Watching his brow furrow, she wrapped her arms around her knees and pressed on, “Because if I got pregnant again, I might have another two or three all at once, instead of just the one.”
Just like before.

She recalled the stricken look on Barry’s face when he heard they were having multiples. The completely overwhelmed way he had acted.

She couldn’t bear the thought of ever seeing Clint look at her that way. Another tsunami-like wave of anxiety shifted over her. “And that’s another reason why you and I can’t even—”
think about having any kind of future
. Because it wouldn’t be fair to deprive him of the magical experience of having his own baby.

“Slow down, now.” Clint sat up against the headboard, too, and gathered her in his arms. Holding her close, he stroked a hand through her hair. “That’s not the kind of thing I can run statistics on in my head, Rose, but I think the odds of you having another set of multiples are pretty small.”

Her throat tightened. “Don’t forget, my parents had twins and triplets.”

“And one single birth, too.”

True. They’d had Poppy...

Rose let her head drop to the comforting curve of Clint’s shoulder. Closing her eyes, she let herself curl into the soothing ministrations of his massaging palm.

“Furthermore—” the sexy rumble was back in his voice “—I wouldn’t mind if you and I did have multiples together.”

Which was what Barry had said to everyone right up until the time he had told her the truth—that it was too much—and left her, when the triplets were three months old.

Rose pushed her unease away. “Well, there’s no need to worry about that. I went on the pill after I had the kids, and I’ve stayed on it to regulate my hormones. So between that and the condoms we’ve used, we’re doubly protected.” They would not have to worry about an unexpected pregnancy.

He shifted her over onto his lap. The sheet was twisted between them, but she could still feel the depth of his desire for her. “You’re determined to keep this as unsentimental as possible, aren’t you?”

The tips of her breasts pearled. Lower still, there was an enormous amount of heat. She released a shuddering breath. “I just want us both to know where we stand.”

“Oh, I think we do.” He kissed her deeply.

She clung to him, aware she hadn’t yet figured out what all of this meant or would ever come to mean. “Clint...”

“We don’t have to decide everything tonight, sweetheart. All we have to do right now is focus on what we feel in this moment.”

And what he seemed to want, Rose realized as he made love to her all over again, was to be in the here and now. And that, she found, she could do.

* * *

S
UNDAY
CAME
ALL
too soon, and with it, dinner with the entire family. “These are, without a doubt, the most magnificent blackberries I have ever tasted,” Rose’s mom said.

“I agree,” her dad chimed in.

Rose smiled at her parents. “Thanks.”

“Too bad it’s the last year for them,” Gannon put in.

Rose arched a brow at her brother-in-law. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Clint is going to mow them down.”

“I know that was the plan,” Rose said. “But that was before he saw how much money he could make from them.”

Gannon nodded and said nothing more, but her sisters and her parents exchanged worried glances.

“How close are you and Clint?” her mom, Lacey, asked later as the two of them loaded the dishwasher.

All the other adults were outside, supervising the kids.

“What do you mean?” Rose asked, stalling.

Her mom put the leftover blackberry pie in the fridge. “Are you dating him?”

Rose shrugged and worked on cleaning the counters. “We went riding—”
and had dinner and made love repeatedly
“—last night as payoff for a bet he won. That’s it.”

“It doesn’t look quite as simple as that.”

Rose felt herself flush. “Mom...”

Lacey touched her shoulder. “Just be careful, honey. I know how vulnerable you are, deep down.”

Rose dried the pans and then handed them over to her mom to hang on the overhead pot rack. “And how I tend to rush into things?”

“You’ve only done that once before, with Barry.”

Rose jerked in a breath. “And it was a disaster.”

Lacey waved off the mistake. Gently she said, “The two of you just weren’t right for each other, that’s all. You didn’t want the same things out of life.”

The question was, did she and Clint?

Rose was still pondering the matter the next morning when she arrived at the Double Creek. She wasn’t surprised to see the advertising team and film crew already there. They’d been gung ho about crafting this next section of the advertising campaign. Clint looked less pleased.

As before, there were also a half-dozen farm-equipment execs and several members of the local sales center, including Jeff.

Rose wasted no time in joining them. “How’s it going, fellas?” she asked cheerfully.

Aaron Diehl, the marketing director of Farmtech, said, “We were just telling Clint that while the footage we already shot of him driving the berry picker is fine, it doesn’t give us what we need. We have to figure out a way to make it look sexy.”

Clint shook his head in frustration. “I’ve been telling them there’s no way to do it.”

He was right.

“There’s a lot to love about the berry picker,” Rose agreed, “but it’s not sexy. Clint, on the other hand, is.”

Suddenly everyone was listening to what she had to say.

Aware she was on a roll, Rose continued, “You hired him because he’s a rodeo star and a rancher, so why not use that? Why not shoot some film of him riding around his ranch on his horse? He has a beautiful stallion.”

And Clint looked amazing in the saddle. Masculine and strong, all alpha male. Inspired by their previous evening together, she went on, “You could also use footage from his rodeo days, in the cutting-horse competition. Tie the champion he was then to the champion he has in the berry picker or whatever.” She waved an airy hand. “I don’t know. It’s not really my field of expertise, but...”

Ted beamed. “I like it.”

“So do I,” Jeff put in.

So did everyone else.

Except Clint, who reacted with a grimace, but appeared to go along with it reluctantly, nevertheless.

“Then let’s get to it,” the director of the commercial campaign said.

While Clint was off with the team, Rose took over the driving of the berry picker. It was more fun than she had imagined. Easier, too.

By the time Clint was finished, hours later, she had brought in the day’s haul. Volunteers from the co-op had taken the crates of fruit and loaded them into the refrigerated truck.

“You want me to go with Swifty to Rose Hill Farm and get the fruit all put away?” Mary Beth Simmons asked.

Rose smiled at her good friend. The local PTA president had a knack for always being where she was needed and quickly taking charge. “I’d really appreciate it.” She handed Mary Beth the keys to the barn.

“No problem.” The young woman waved at Swifty and then headed off.

Clint joined her a moment later. Trying not to notice how handsome he looked with his skin bronzed from the spring sun, Rose gazed up at him. “How did it go?”

He swept his hat off and came closer, inundating her with the intoxicating smells of soap and leather. “I didn’t fall off my horse, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Rose turned her eyes away from the plaid Western shirt that covering his broad shoulders and the tan leather chaps he’d put on over his dark-blue jeans. She’d heard they’d had him riding horseback through heavy brush on some of the still neglected areas of the Double Creek.

She could only imagine how sexy those shots had been, given his dark, brooding mood. After all, he had not exactly been thrilled with the whole idea of being used as eye candy.

“It’s almost over,” she said soothingly.

He frowned. “I wish.”

She was about to ask what he meant by that when she was joined again by the director of the ad team filming the commercial as well as several other execs. “We’d hoped to get at least part of the interview with Clint on the front porch of his ranch house, on film today.”

Obviously it hadn’t happened.

Clint’s eyes never left hers. “Did you know about this?” he asked brusquely. “That they planned to use my
home
in the commercials?”

Without specifically asking him.

Bad enough they were doing this on his ranch, Rose knew. He’d accepted that because it was the only way to bring in the crop.

Opening up his private domain to the public at large was another matter entirely.

Understanding this was an unwanted turn of events and an invasion of his privacy, she shook her head. “We could do it at my home, if you like,” she offered. Although it would slow down the process considerably. Something Clint was unlikely to tolerate well, either.

Clint winced—her idea no more acceptable than the first. In a voice dripping with sarcasm, he asked, “How about I just stand next to the berry picker instead? Out in the field somewhere?”

Everyone on the team looked at Rose, again expecting her to do something to calm the “talent” and sweet-talk him into cooperating fully.

As pleasantly as possible, Rose said, “I think it will be easier and more comfortable for everyone this way, Clint.” Especially since the porch had already been staged, the lighting and cameras set up.

“Fine,” Clint said brusquely. “Let’s just get it over with.”

Make-up was called in once again. Sound and lighting checks followed. Finally, Clint was seated in one of his rustic wooden armchairs. Aware their star was about to implode, Rose lingered in the foreground, watching.

“So how has the berry picker made your life better?” the interviewer, a pretty blonde in Western clothing, asked Clint.

Looking stymied, he lifted his hands. “It really hasn’t.”

She tried again. “Was the berry picker easy to use?”

He shrugged. “If you can drive a tractor, you can drive a berry picker.”