Shameless (13 page)

Somehow her feelings for Devon had become far more than
friendly.
And she was pretty sure he had the same sort of feelings for her. It was those
romantic
feelings she wasn't sure would survive the knowledge that she was pregnant with another man's child.

After that lovely—and sad—start to her day, Pippa spent the rest of it on horseback, happily helping Devon drop hay at various spots around his ranch to feed his cattle. The two of them had ended up at the barn near suppertime, so that she could work with the stallion and he could check on his menagerie of wounded animals.

“Hey, how's it going with that bad boy?” Devon called from the other end of the barn.

A wild neigh and the thump of trampling hooves provided the answer more quickly than Pippa could. She backed away from the stall as the stallion reared and bared his teeth. She sighed as she turned and headed down the center aisle of the barn toward the animal cages and pens at the other end, where Devon was examining his charges.

“It took Sultan at least twenty seconds longer this afternoon to decide to kill me,” Pippa replied.

The first thing she'd done was change the horse's name from
Satan
to
Sultan.
“How can you expect him to behave like an angel with a name like that?” she'd demanded. Devon had laughed at her, but he hadn't called the horse Satan again.

Devon smiled. “Twenty whole seconds? That sounds like progress.”

Pippa managed to return his smile, but she was troubled by how little change there had been in Sultan's demeanor since she'd begun working with him. The stallion remained unapproachable.

Pippa had spent a great deal of time simply talking to the horse, letting him get to know her. She'd also put a single cube of sugar on the top edge of the stall door each time she came to visit. At first he'd knocked it off without seeming to notice it was there. He must have found it after she'd gone, because lately, he was careful to lip the sugar cube and swallow it down before he attacked.

Pippa knew she couldn't expect to change years of poor treatment in a matter of weeks. It was going to take time.

But it was time she didn't have.

The brief movement in her belly this morning was evidence the baby was growing. Pippa had further proof, if she needed it, in the fit of her clothes. Her jeans barely zipped all the way up. Her nearly four-months-pregnant belly was definitely larger than it had been. She wasn't sure how long it would be before Devon noticed she wasn't nearly as slender as she had been when she'd arrived. And the problem was only going to get worse.

She chewed on her lower lip worriedly until she saw Devon notice what she was doing, and then let go.

“This torn ear has finally healed,” Devon said as he gently fingered the remnant of the rabbit's ear that had been half bitten off.

As Pippa joined him she asked, “What happens to that cute bundle of fur now?”

“I'll take Peter here a little way into the forest and release him.”

“Peter?” Pippa teased. “As in Peter Cottontail?”

Devon flushed. “There's usually no one around to hear me talking to these guys.”

Pippa laughed. “That's why I didn't say anything before now. I didn't want to make you self-conscious. I think it's charming.” She took the rabbit from him and checked the ear with her fingertips, enjoying the feel of the smooth fur that had grown over the ragged tear, before handing the animal back to him.

He eyed her sideways as he took Peter back into his gloved hands and placed the rabbit back in its cage.

“What?” she asked, wondering about the look he'd given her.

“Nothing.” He grinned. “I think you're more in love with Peter than I am.”

He was right. She'd gotten attached to all the animals in his menagerie, but she wasn't about to admit it. She couldn't imagine how he could bear to let them go after caring for them day after day, even though she knew they belonged back in the wild. She looked into the owl's nest and asked, “How's Squeaky doing?”

He slipped off the gloves he was wearing and put on a pair that sat on top of the owl's cage, then gently retrieved the tiny bird. He'd moved the owl to the barn when its breathing improved after five difficult days spent under his careful watch in the house. “He's not wheezing anymore, so I'm presuming there was less smoke damage to his lungs than Doc Stevens thought.”

“How long will you keep him?”

“There's a lady in town who has an aviary. As soon as I'm sure Squeaky's recovered, I'll move him there. She'll make sure he knows how to hunt before she releases him.” He returned the owl to the nest in its cage.

Pippa marveled that there was someone who had the willingness—and the financial wherewithal—to spend her time in such a way. “How many people like you
are
there in Jackson?”

He smiled as he pulled off his gloves and laid them on the cage. “Enough to make a difference.”

She reached out to him, laying a hand on his chest. His muscles tensed under her touch. She met his gaze and found the kindness and concern of a friend looking back at her from his warm green eyes—and something else that heated her blood and made her body sing. “I think what you're doing is wonderful.”

I think
you're
wonderful.
She thought it, but she didn't dare say it. She didn't have the right to say it. Devon had been sympathetic and supportive over the past three weeks, but the gap between them was miles wide—a huge crevasse created by the secret she was keeping from him.

Pippa wondered if Devon would be behaving the same way toward her if he knew how she was deceiving him. He knew Tim Brandon had broken her heart, but not exactly how he'd done it. He'd probed for details about her hopes and dreams for the future as they sat in front of the fireplace at night, but Pippa had been necessarily vague, because she had no idea what the future held for her—and the child she carried.

She dropped her hand, realizing belatedly that she was still touching Devon. She turned and headed for the door to the barn, and he fell into step beside her. It was time to leave before temptation caused her to make another mistake. “I need to make some plans so I can get out of your hair.”

“You're welcome to stay for as long as you like.”

Pippa wondered if she looked as shocked as she felt at Devon's invitation. “I couldn't do that.”

“Why not?”

She laughed. “Despite my constant offers to change places with you, you've spent the past three weeks sleeping on a couch in your office.”

“It's a comfortable couch. Or we could always share—”

He snapped his mouth shut without finishing. She met his gaze, her body quivering in response to the ardent look in his eyes.

“Are you suggesting we share the bed?” she said with an arched brow.

“It's a big bed.”

He left his expression unguarded, and for the first time she realized the depth of his desire for her. Or was it merely the need to be close to another human being? She thought she saw both but struggled to understand why he'd finally allowed her to see his feelings completely unveiled. A moment later his hot green gaze was gone and it felt as though she were staring at a gray stone wall. She was completely shut out, as though he'd suddenly realized he'd revealed too much.

She tried laughing off his comment, but the sound got caught in her throat. She glanced at him sideways. Maybe she wasn't the only one who'd been keeping secrets.

Pippa felt a welling of despair as she tried to imagine what was going on in Devon's mind. What had happened in the snow that morning suggested pretty clearly what Devon might want from her. It seemed he expected her to recover from her heartbreak at some point, so he'd let himself develop much deeper feelings for her than she'd imagined.
Romantic
feelings. She had to nip those feelings in the bud. Or tell him the truth, which would likely accomplish the same thing.

When they reached the front door to the house, she met his gaze and said, “We need to talk.”

W
HEN
P
IPPA SPOKE
the dreaded words “We need to talk,” Devon knew he'd made a mistake. He should have hidden his feelings a little longer—or maybe a lot longer. But spending the past three weeks with Pippa had only magnified emotions that had begun the moment he'd met her.

The wounded animals he tended allowed him to handle them, but they were still frightened of him, which was why he wore gloves to protect himself when they bit or scratched. With Pippa, they weren't afraid. When she touched them they lay quiescent. The rabbit had twitched when she checked its ear, but otherwise, it had been content to sit calmly in the palm of her hand.

Whenever Wulf entered the cabin, the once-savage beast ran straight to Pippa to be petted. That was another thing. Wulf enjoyed her company, which was further proof, if he needed it, that there was more to her than just a pretty face.

He held the door open for her, but Wulf shoved past them both, once more thrusting Pippa into his arms. He held her close, murmuring, “I need to teach Wulf better manners. Although I can't complain about the results.”

She looked up at him, and he saw that, however afraid she was of loving another man, she wanted him. That wasn't nearly enough, but it was a start. She pressed her cheek against his heart, and he felt her arms tighten around his waist. Then she pulled herself free and hurried into the house.

Devon followed her, knowing it was too late to save himself from pain if she walked away. He'd been very careful for a very long time to keep himself from feeling anything for any woman. But there was something different about Pippa Grayhawk—although, even with her, his first intention had been to make sure she knew the rules and then get her into bed.

But she'd been as aloof toward him as he'd been toward the women he dated.

Maybe it was the challenge of getting past that barrier she'd set between them that had caused him to get more and more involved, to ask more questions about her life—most of which she'd avoided answering—making her a tantalizing, mysterious creature with many layers left to be uncovered.

Or maybe it was the simple fact that he'd allowed a woman into his home to become a part of his daily life. If anything, that should have put him off, because there would necessarily be all sorts of changes to accommodate a stranger.

But he hadn't needed to alter his daily routine to include Pippa. She'd fit into his life as easily as a hand into a glove. The best part was, Pippa seemed to enjoy the chores required on a ranch as much as he did. She'd happily accompanied him when he checked on his livestock, and she was as much interested in the progress of his wounded menagerie as he was himself. He was amazed at her persistence with Sultan, when the stallion resisted every attempt she made to reach him.

Every day, in every way, he'd been constantly aware of her. Of the shuttered looks she aimed in his direction when she thought he wasn't looking. Of the tension in her body, like a mare watchful of a stud, deciding whether to allow him to mount her. So far she'd held him at bay.

Today that had changed. Pippa was no longer keeping him at arm's distance. He'd believed his wait was over. Until she'd said those fateful words:
We need to talk.

In his experience, those words boded no good. He had a horrible, sinking feeling, as he stood and watched her in the kitchen making hot cocoa for the two of them, that this idyll was ending. If he wanted her to stay, he was going to have to fight for her.

She started the conversation facing the stove, where she was setting a pot of milk to warm. “I need to leave, Devon.”

He'd expected it, but it still caused his heart to skip a beat. He leaned his hips back against the kitchen counter. “And go where?”

“I've seen signs when we've been shopping for food. They're hiring summer workers in town.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I think I might be able to get work with one of the outfitters, you know, taking care of their packhorses, or maybe as a trail guide.”

“That won't make you enough money to pay rent in Jackson. You'd have to live on the other side of the Teton Pass in Idaho Falls.”

“Then that's where I'll have to live. At least, until I can save enough for a plane ticket back to Australia.”

Devon felt sick. “You want to leave the States?”

She kept her back to him as she collected the Hershey's cocoa, sugar, vanilla, salt, and marshmallows from the cupboard and set them on the counter. “There's work for me in Australia whispering wild horses.”

He grabbed a few marshmallows from the bag and popped them into his mouth. His throat was so tight it was hard to swallow them down. “You could do that here. You've already made a good start with Sultan.”

When she turned back to face him, her gray eyes bore the sheen of tears. “I don't want to leave,” she admitted. “But I don't have the means to survive here on my own.”

“What about your mother? Have you thought about contacting her? Surely she'd want to help.”

If anything, her face looked even more troubled. “She doesn't even know I exist. I have no idea whether she'll even believe I am who I say I am, especially since I supposedly died at birth. Besides, I don't want to show up on her doorstep like some beggar needing a bowl of food and a roof over my head. She was a senator's wife. The last thing she needs is—” She cut herself off and lowered her gaze to her knotted hands.

“Then stay with me,” he urged.

She met his gaze, letting him see the barely restrained desire that had caused her to initiate this talk in the first place. “You know why I can't do that.”

He stuck his hands into the back pockets of his Levi's to keep from reaching for her and forced himself to remain where he was. “I can't say I don't want you. I do.”

“This situation—living together, spending every moment of every day together—is dangerous. I don't want to hurt you, Devon. And I don't want to get hurt.”

He knew she was right, but he wasn't about to admit it. He'd lived as a lone wolf most of his adult life, and he'd despaired of ever finding a woman he would want to have invading his territory. With Pippa, it felt like she
belonged
here.

She waited for him to concede the truth of what she'd said, and when he didn't, she said bluntly, “I'm not ready to fall in love again.”

He'd known it, but it was still hard to hear her say it. He'd been so careful since high school about giving his heart to anyone. With Pippa there had been no choice. Somehow, he'd lost his heart before he'd had a chance to protect himself from the pain it would cause if she didn't return his feelings.

Pippa took a huffing breath. “I'm not sure I'll ever be able to love another man as fully or freely as I loved Tim. But I can't help wanting you.”

That sounded promising until she added, “I'm afraid you might equate that longing with love. I'm not going to fall in love with you, Devon. There are things you don't know about me that make that impossible.”

“The milk is boiling.” He closed the distance between them, then reached behind her and turned off the stove.

“Don't change the subject.”

“Nothing else matters as long as you want me as much as I want you,” he said, cutting off whatever excuse she was going to make for why they shouldn't be together. He would settle for making love to her now and hope that by loving her he could make her fall in love with him.

He heard her moan as his mouth touched hers, and he felt her body melt into his as he wrapped his arms around her.

She broke the kiss and said, “Devon, this is—”

He kissed her again to cut off whatever she'd been about to say.
Crazy? Stupid? Risky? Wrong?
He knew all those things, but it didn't make any difference. He wanted her, and she wanted him. He picked her up in his arms, startling a gasp of surprise from her, and headed for the bedroom.

Wulf followed them to the bedroom door and would have gone inside, except Devon turned to him and ordered, “Stay.”

The wolf hesitated before sitting. By the time he had his haunches on the ground, Devon was inside the bedroom and had the door closed behind him.

“He's going to howl to be let in,” Pippa said.

“Let him.” Devon stood her on her feet beside his log-frame bed. He was watching for any sign of reluctance, any hint that she didn't want to make love to him. But there was none.

She put her hand on his nape and slowly drew his head down until their lips met. “Mmmm,” she said, her tongue slipping inside to savor him. “You taste sweet—like marshmallows.”

He realized he was smiling. He wanted to touch her—and suited thought to deed. He slipped his hand up under both her unbuttoned plaid wool shirt and the T-shirt she was wearing to feel the smooth skin of her back, and suddenly realized he didn't feel a bra strap.

His hands trailed down her spine and then back up to her shoulders as he held her close and kissed her deeply. Devon was on fire for her, but he knew he had to slow down and allow her to catch up. He broke the kiss and saw her eyes were half lidded, her lips full, and realized she was not the least bit behind him.

Still, he wanted to relish what was finally his. He tugged off the wool shirt she was wearing, then skinned the T-shirt off over her head, gasping at what he found.

Her small breasts were pink-tipped rosebuds waiting to be plucked. He lowered his head and took one in his mouth.

Her fingers clutched his hair, and she made a growling sound of pleasure in her throat as her body arched toward his. She was grasping at his shirt, trying to get it off, and he released her long enough to tear off both his wool shirt and long john shirt before pulling her naked body close. The friction of flesh against flesh was exquisite, and he kissed her again, tasting the sweetness and the goodness of her.

Her fingernails raked their way down his back, raising gooseflesh, until she finally slid her hands into the back of his Levi's.

He freed himself from her grasp and began yanking off his cowboy boots, which he had to rid himself of in order to get his jeans off. She laughed at him, sitting down on the bed to accomplish the same thing—she was wearing a pair of Australian boots—with a lot more grace. He had both boots off, his belt buckle undone, and was unzipping his Levi's when he happened to glance at her face and saw an expression that stopped him in his tracks.

“Pippa? Are you all right?”

The look on her face was so odd he felt cold inside. He sat down beside her, taking her hand in his. “What's wrong? Tell me. I want to help.”

She sobbed once, then said, “There's no help for what's wrong with me.”

He stared at her, aghast. “Are you sick? Are you dying? What is it?”

“I'm…” She swallowed hard, then scrunched up her face and said, “I'm an idiot.”

“You're not dying?”

She managed a laugh as she swiped at the tears on her face. “No. But you're going to want to kill me, stopping like this before we really got started.”

He pulled her onto his lap, holding her close, aware that he was, in fact, in a very painful condition. “I'm just glad you're not sick or dying or something. Can you tell me what happened?”

She gave a pitiful shrug. “I just…I guess I'm not as ready for this as I thought,” she said at last. “I'm sorry, Devon.”

Devon gritted his teeth against the pain caused by the interruption of their lovemaking. He had no one to blame but himself. He'd pushed and she'd yielded. He still wanted her, but she was no longer willing.

“Let's get you back into some clothes.” That would help him resist the urge to reach out and touch again. He stood, dumping her onto the bed, and searched until he found her T-shirt on the floor. Instead of handing it to her, he said, “Arms up!”

She uncrossed the arms that were hiding her naked breasts and held them up so that he could slide the shirt over her head. He quickly tugged it down once her arms were in the sleeves, trying not to look at what he found so tempting. He grabbed her wool shirt from the foot of the bed and held it so she could put her arms in the sleeves. Then he buttoned it up.
Better safe than sorry,
he thought.

Once she was dressed, he sought out his own long john shirt and slipped it over his head, before snapping his jeans, rebuckling his belt, and pulling his boots back on.

All the while, his mind was racing. What had caused her to have second thoughts? Had he done something to trigger memories of her love affair gone wrong? Or was she simply afraid of whatever hurt or heartbreak might ensue from making love to a man she hardly knew, a man she had no reason to believe wanted more than the pleasure they could give and take from each other in bed.

It was his fault this had happened. She'd warned him to keep his distance, and he'd rushed her into bed—or almost into bed—anyway. His heart was set on having her for his mate. He just had to convince her to stay long enough to give him time to win her heart.

The only problem was, he had no idea how to make that happen. He'd never tried to make a woman love him. He'd never wanted to before now. But it was clear that if he wanted Pippa to hang around long enough for him to woo her, he needed to figure it all out.