“Oh. Wow.”

Jesse felt stunned … and humbled, as he registered the shape of their baby: the outline of the head and the body, even the skinny little legs and arms, and—most awesome and overwhelming—the rapid beating of the heart inside the chest.

He had some experience with ultrasounds—mostly with respect to equine fetuses. But this was completely outside his realm of experience. This was an actual human baby—his and Maggie’s baby. He knew that he’d done very little to help grow this miracle inside her. Yes, he’d contributed half of the baby’s DNA, but since then, he’d done nothing. She was the one who was giving their baby everything he or she needed, the only one who could.

He wanted to say something to express the awe and gratitude that filled his heart, but his throat was suddenly tight.

* * *

The Maverick’s Thanksgiving Baby

Brenda Harlen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

BRENDA HARLEN is a former family law attorney turned work-at-home mum and national bestselling author who has written more than twenty books for Mills & Boon. Her work has been validated by industry awards (including an RWA Golden Heart® Award and the RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ choice Award) and by the fact that her kids think it’s cool that she’s “a real author.”

Brenda lives in southern Ontario with her husband and two sons. When she isn’t at the computer working on her next book, she can probably be found at the arena, watching a hockey game. Keep up to date with Brenda on Facebook, follow her on Twitter, at @BrendaHarlen, or send her an e-mail at brendaharlen@yahoo.com.

For Leanne Banks,

who shared some honest truths about cowboys …

and other subjects :)

XO

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

July

Jesse Crawford was an idiot. A completely smitten and tongue-tied idiot.

But far worse than that indisputable fact was that Maggie Roarke now knew it, too.

What had ever possessed him to approach her? What had made him think he could introduce himself and have an actual conversation with a woman like her?

While he’d never been as smooth with women as any of his three brothers, he’d never been so embarrassingly inept, either. But being in close proximity to Maggie seemed to rattle his brain as completely as if he’d been thrown from the back of a horse—and that hadn’t happened to him in more than fifteen years.

The first time he saw her, even before he knew her name, he’d been mesmerized. She was tall and willowy with subtle but distinctly feminine curves. Her blond hair spilled onto her shoulders like golden silk and her deep brown eyes could shine with humor or warm with compassion. And her smile—there was just something about her smile that seemed to reach right inside his chest and wrap around his heart. A ridiculously fanciful and foolish idea, of course, and one that he wouldn’t dare acknowledge to anyone else.

It was no mystery to Jesse why a man would be attracted to her, but he was still a little mystified by the intensity of his reaction to her—especially when he didn’t know the first thing about her. The discovery that she was a successful attorney in Los Angeles should have put an end to his ridiculous crush. Experience had proven to him that city girls didn’t adapt well to the country, and there was no way a lawyer—from Hollywood of all places—would be interested in a small-town rancher. But still his long-guarded heart refused to be dissuaded.

He’d come to the official opening of the Grace Traub Community Center today because he knew she would be there, because he couldn’t resist the opportunity to see her again, even from a distance. It had taken the better part of an hour for him to finally summon the courage to introduce himself. And when he did, without muttering or stumbling over words, he felt reassured that things weren’t going too badly.

She offered her hand and, in that brief moment of contact, he’d been certain that he felt a real connection with her. And then she smiled at him, and all his carefully rehearsed words slid back down his throat, leaving him awestruck and tongue-tied and destroying any hope he had of making a good first impression.

He’d almost been grateful that Arthur Swinton intruded on the moment, whisking her away for a private word. Jesse had stood there for another minute, watching her with the older man and wondering if she might come back to finish the conversation they hadn’t even started. But Arthur had no sooner turned away when another man stepped into her path: Jared Winfree—also known as the Romeo of Rust Creek Falls.

The cowboy tipped his head down to talk to her. Maggie smiled at him, though Jesse noticed that her smile didn’t seem to have the same debilitating effect on the other man, who leaned closer for a more intimate discussion. Jesse finally unglued his feet from the floor and walked out of the community center, berating himself for his awkwardness.

His cell phone started ringing before he’d hit the bottom step, and he pulled it out to answer the call. At this point, he didn’t even care who was on the other end of the line—he was grateful for any distraction.

After a brief conversation with Brett Gable, he was feeling marginally better. The local rancher was having trouble with an ornery stallion and wondered if Jesse could take a look at him and let the owner know if he was wasting his time trying to tame the animal or if he just needed to adjust his tactics. Jesse promised that he’d go out to the Gable ranch the next day.

As he tucked his phone away again, he resolved to keep his focus on four-legged creatures and forget about women. Because while horses might not look as good or smell as pretty, they were a lot easier to understand and a lot less likely to trample all over his heart.

Or throw themselves into his arms?

“Whoa.” Jesse caught her gently as she bounced off his chest.

Maggie’s wide, startled gaze locked with his. “I’m so sorry,” she said breathlessly.

“Everything okay?”

She shook her head, an introspective look now competing with the panic in her dark chocolate-colored eyes. “Are you married?”

“What?” He had no idea what thought process had precipitated the question, but he immediately shook his head. “No.”

“Engaged? Involved?”

“No and no,” he said, just a little warily.

“Then I’ll apologize now and explain later,” she told him.

“Apol—”

He’d intended to ask what she thought she needed to apologize for, but that was as far as he got before she lifted her hands to his shoulders and pressed her lips to his.

To say that he was stunned would have been an understatement. But the initial shock was quickly supplanted by other stronger emotions: pleasure, happiness, desire.

He wanted this. He wanted her. As if of their own volition, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him as he kissed her back.

Somewhere in a part of his brain that was still capable of registering anything beyond the heavenly feel of this woman in his arms, he heard the crunch of gravel beneath heavy, impatient footsteps and a frustrated voice muttering, “Where on earth could she have... Maggie?”

The woman in question eased her mouth from his.

There was desire in her eyes—he wasn’t mistaken in that. But there was something else, too—a silent plea?

A plea for what, he didn’t know and didn’t care. Right now, he would have promised her anything. Everything.

She finally turned to look at the other man, and Jesse did the same.

Jared Winfree’s brows were drawn together, his expression dark as he glanced from Maggie to Jesse. “Are you making a move on my woman?”

Since Jesse had no idea how to respond to that question, he was glad that Maggie spoke up.

“I’m not—and never have been—your woman,” she told the Romeo.

But Jared continued to scowl. “We were supposed to be going to grab a bite to eat.”

“No—you offered to take me for a bite to eat and I told you that I already had plans.”

“With this guy?” His tone was skeptical.

She took Jesse’s hand and lied without compunction. “We’ve been dating for the past several months.”

“Then how come I’ve never seen you with him before?” Jared challenged.

“We’ve been trying to keep a low profile and avoid being the topic of gossip,” she said easily.

It was obvious by the stormy look in the other guy’s eyes that he wanted to challenge the claim, but with Maggie’s hand linked with Jesse’s and her lipstick on his mouth, the evidence was pretty convincing.

“When you decide you want a real cowboy, give me a call,” Jared told her, and stormed off in the direction from which he’d come.

Maggie blew out a breath. “Thank goodness.” She released the hand that she’d been holding on to as if it was a lifeline and turned to him. “And thank you.”

“No need to thank me for something that was very much my pleasure,” he assured her.

And the big-city lawyer with the razor-sharp mind and persuasive tongue actually blushed when his gaze dropped to linger on the sweet curve of her lips.

“Do you want me to explain now?” she asked.

“Only if you want to.”

“I feel as if I owe you at least that much.”

Half an hour earlier, he’d barely been able to say two words to her, but locking lips seemed to have loosened his, and he couldn’t resist teasing her a little. “Or you could just kiss me again and we’ll call it even.”

Her mouth curved as she held his gaze, and he knew she was giving his offer serious consideration. “I think, for now, we’ll go with the explanation.”

“Your choice,” he said.

“I met him at the Ace in the Hole a few months back,” she began. “I was there to have lunch with my cousin, Lissa, but before we even had a chance to order, Lissa got called away. I decided to stay and at least finish my coffee, and he slid into the empty seat and introduced himself. He seemed friendly and we chatted for a while, but when he asked for my number, I told him I wasn’t interested in starting anything up with someone in Rust Creek Falls because my life was in Los Angeles.”

Which, Jesse reminded himself, was a fact he’d be wise to remember.

“He seemed to accept that easily enough and said maybe he’d see me around the next time I was in town. And I know Rust Creek Falls isn’t a big city, but every single time I’ve been back since then, I’ve run into him. And every single time, he asks me to go out with him.”

“So why didn’t you just tell him you had a boyfriend in Los Angeles? I got the impression he would have believed that more readily than he believed you were with me.”

“I don’t think he would’ve believed anything without proof—which you’re still wearing,” she said, and lifted a hand to rub her lipstick off the corner of his mouth with her thumb.

And he felt it again—the sizzle and crackle of awareness when she touched him. And when her gaze locked on his, he knew that he wasn’t the only one who had felt it.

“He hit on Lissa, too, when she first came to Rust Creek Falls,” Maggie told him. “Apparently he even started a bar fight with some other guy who asked her to dance.”

“I don’t pay much attention to the gossip around town,” Jesse said. “But I remember hearing about that—both the sheriff and his deputy got punched and two guys got arrested.”

Maggie smiled. “Lissa insisted it wasn’t her fault, but Gage said something about beautiful women being the cause of most trouble at the Ace in the Hole.”

“Then you better stay away from the bar or you might incite a riot.”

Her cheeks colored prettily, as if she hadn’t heard the same thing a thousand times before. And if she hadn’t, he figured there was something seriously wrong with the guys in LA, because Maggie Roarke was a definite knockout.

“So why aren’t you involved with anyone back home?” he asked now.

“How do you know I’m not?” she asked.

“You didn’t kiss me until you’d confirmed that I wasn’t seeing anyone, and I can’t imagine you’d be any less respectful of your own relationship.”

“You’re right,” she acknowledged. “As for not being involved—I guess I’ve just been too busy to do much dating.”

“Until me,” he teased.

She laughed. “Until you.”

The magical sound of her soft laughter filled his heart, and the sparkle in her eyes took his breath away. He didn’t know what else to say—or if he should say anything else at all. Maybe he should just walk away while she was smiling and hopefully not thinking that he was an idiot.

“I really do appreciate your cooperation,” she told him. “If there’s anything I can do to possibly repay the favor, I hope you’ll ask.”

“Well, I was planning to grab a burger at the Ace in the Hole,” he admitted. “And despite the sheriff’s warning to your cousin, I’d be willing to take the risk if you wanted to join me.”

“Are you inviting me to have dinner with you?”

“It would substantiate your claim that we’re dating.”

“The Ace in the Hole?” she said dubiously.

He shrugged. “Since this isn’t your first visit to Rust Creek Falls, you know that our options here are limited.”

Still she hesitated, and Jesse began to suspect that her gratitude didn’t actually extend to the point where she wanted to be seen in public with him. And that was okay. He understood what she’d been saying about small-town gossip, and he really didn’t want to be put under the microscope any more than she did. But damn, he really did want to spend more time with her.

“I could do better than a burger,” she finally said. “I could make dinner.”

“You’d cook for me?”

“Which part surprises you the most—that I can cook or that I’m offering to cook for you?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted.

She laughed again. “At least you’re honest.”

“I guess I just thought, with you being a busy lawyer and all...”

“Lawyers have to eat on occasion, too,” she said, when his explanation ran out.

“Yeah, but I would figure you’ve got a lot of dining options in LA.”

“We do,” she agreed. “But as it turns out, I like to cook. It helps me unwind at the end of the day. So what do you say—are you going to let me make you dinner?”

He was beginning to suspect that he would let Maggie Roarke do absolutely anything she wanted, but he figured dinner was a good start.

“An offer I can’t refuse,” he told her.

* * *

Maggie prided herself on the fact that she was an intelligent, educated woman. She’d graduated summa cum laude from Stanford Law School and was establishing a reputation for herself at Alliston & Blake—a prominent Los Angeles law firm. She’d gone toe-to-toe with formidable opponents in the courtroom, she’d held her ground in front of arrogant judges and she’d refused to be impressed or intimidated by powerful clients. One of her greatest assets was her ability to remain calm and cool whatever the circumstances. She simply didn’t get flustered.

But as Jesse followed her into Gage and Lissa’s kitchen, she was definitely feeling flustered. There was just something about this shy, sexy cowboy that had her heart jumping around in her chest. She opened the refrigerator, peered inside.

“What do you like?” she asked.

He looked at her blankly.

“For dinner,” she clarified.

He flashed a quick smile. “Sorry, I guess my mind wandered. As for food—I’m not fussy. I’ll eat whatever you want to make.”

“Chicken and pasta okay?” she asked him.

“Sure.”

She took a package of chicken breasts out of the fridge, then rummaged for some other ingredients. She found green peppers in the crisper, onions in the pantry and a bowl of ripe tomatoes on the counter. But what she really needed was fresh basil, and Lissa didn’t have any.

“Do you know if they carry fresh herbs at the General Store?”

“I doubt it,” Jesse said. “You’d probably have to go into Kalispell for something like that.”

“I can use dried,” she admitted. “But fresh basil leaves would add a lot more visual appeal to the dish.”

“I’m going to have dinner with a beautiful woman,” he said. “That’s enough visual appeal that I wouldn’t mind if you made macaroni and cheese from a box.”

She felt her cheeks heat. She’d received more effusive compliments, but none had ever sounded as sincere. No one had looked at her the way he looked at her.

“Even without fresh basil, I do think this will be a step up from boxed mac and cheese.”

She filled a pot with water and set it on the back burner, then drizzled some oil into a deep frying pan. While the oil heated, she sliced the chicken into strips and tossed them into the pan. As the chicken was cooking, she chopped up peppers and onions, then added those, too.

“Can I do anything to help?”

“You could open the wine,” she suggested. “There’s a bottle of Riesling in the fridge and glasses in the cupboard above.”

He uncorked the bottle and poured the wine into two crystal goblets.

She dumped the pasta into the boiling water and set the timer, then took the glass he offered.

“To new friendships,” he said, lifting his glass in a toast.

“To new friendships,” she agreed. “And first dates.”

“Is this a date?”

“Of course. Otherwise, I would have lied to Jared.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” he teased.

She added the tomatoes to the frying pan, sprinkled in some of this and that, gave it a stir. Her movements were smooth and effortless, confirming her claim that she enjoyed cooking. Which was convenient, because he enjoyed eating.

Ten minutes later, he was sitting down to a steaming plate of penne pasta with chicken and peppers.

“This is really good,” he told her.

“Better than mac and cheese from a box?”

“Much better.”

They chatted while they ate, about anything and everything. She learned that he worked at his family’s ranch, The Shooting Star, but had his own house on the property, and that he was close to his siblings but was frequently baffled and frustrated by them. She confided that she sometimes felt smothered by her brothers, who tended to be a little overprotective, and admitted that she could have gone to work at Roarke & Associates—her parents’ law firm—but wanted to establish her own reputation in the field.

She had a second glass of wine while he had a second serving of pasta, and they lingered at the table. He was easy to talk to, and he actually listened to what she was saying. As a result, she found herself telling him things she’d never told anyone else, such as her concern that she’d been so focused on her career that she hadn’t given much thought to anything else, and she was starting to wonder if she’d ever find the time to get married and have a family.

Not that she was in any hurry to do so, she hastened to explain. After all, she was only twenty-eight years old. But she was admittedly worried that if she continued on the same course, she might be so focused on her billable hours that she wouldn’t even hear her biological clock when it started ticking.

Jesse told her that he’d gone to Montana State University to study Animal Science, graduating with a four-year degree. As for dating, he confided that he hadn’t done much of that, either, claiming that most of the women in town had gone out with one or more of his brothers and he had no intention of trying to live up to their reputations.

After the meal was finished, he insisted on helping with the cleanup. While she put the dishes into the dishwasher, he washed the pans.

She’d enjoyed spending time with Jesse, and she wasn’t eager for the night to end. He was smart and interesting and definitely easy to look at, and despite the underlying hum of attraction, she felt comfortable with him—or at least she did until he turned to reach for a towel at the same moment that she straightened up to close the door of the dishwasher and the back of his hand inadvertently brushed the side of her breast.

She sucked in a breath; he snatched his hand back.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, it was my fault.”

But fault was irrelevant. What mattered was that the air was fairly crackling and sizzling with awareness now. And the way he looked at her—his gaze heated and focused—she was certain he felt it, too.

She barely knew him. But she knew she’d never felt the same immediacy and intensity of connection that she felt the minute he’d taken her hand inside the community center only a few hours earlier. But she was a Los Angeles attorney and he was a Rust Creek cowboy, and she knew that chemistry—as compelling as it might be—could not bridge the gap between them.

And Jesse had obviously come to the same conclusion, because he took a deliberate step back, breaking the threads of the seductive web that had spun around them. “I should probably be on my way.”

“Oh.” She forced a smile and tried to ignore the sense of disappointment that spread through her. “Okay.”

She followed him to the door.

He paused against the open portal. “Thanks again for dinner.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “And if you ever need a fictional girlfriend to get you out of a tight spot, feel free to give me a call.”

He lifted a hand and touched her cheek, the stroke of his fingertips over her skin making her shiver. “I don’t want a fictional girlfriend, but I do want to kiss you for real.”

She wasn’t sure if he was stating a fact or asking permission, but before she could respond, he’d lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.

She might have caught him off guard when she’d pressed her lips to his outside of the community center, but it hadn’t taken him long to respond, to take control of the kiss. This time, he was in control right from the beginning—she didn’t have a chance to think about what he was doing or brace herself against the wave of emotions that washed over her.

For a man who claimed he didn’t do a lot of dating, he sure knew how to kiss. His mouth was warm and firm as it moved over hers, masterfully persuasive and seductive. Never before had she been kissed with such patient thoroughness. His hands were big and strong, but infinitely gentle as they slid up her back, burning her skin through the silky fabric of her blouse as he urged her closer. Her breasts were crushed against the solid wall of his chest, and her nipples immediately responded to the contact, tightening into rigid peaks.

She wanted him to touch her—she wanted those callused hands on her bare skin, and the fierceness of the want was shocking. Equally strong was the desire to touch him—to let her hands roam over his rock-hard body, exploring and savoring every inch of him. He was so completely and undeniably male, and he made everything that was female inside of her quiver with excitement.

Eventually, reluctantly, he eased his mouth from hers. But he kept his arms around her, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. “I should probably be on my way before the sheriff gets home.”

“He won’t be home tonight,” she admitted. “He and Lissa went to Bozeman for the weekend.”

He frowned at that. “You’re going to be alone here tonight?”

She held his gaze steadily. “I hope not.”

He closed the door and turned the lock.

Chapter Two

November

Jesse had tossed the last bag of broodmare supplement into the back of his truck when he saw a pair of shiny, high-heeled boots stop beside the vehicle. He wiped the back of his hand over his brow and lifted his head to find Lissa Christensen, Maggie’s cousin and also the sheriff’s wife, standing there.

He touched a hand to the brim of his hat. “Mrs. Christensen,” he said politely.

“It’s Lissa,” she told him, and offered a smile that was both warm and apologetic.

He wondered what she felt she had to apologize for. Maggie had told him that Lissa wasn’t just her cousin—she was her best friend—and he would bet that whatever Maggie’s reasons for ending their relationship before it had really even begun, she would have confided in the other woman. No doubt Lissa knew more than he wanted her to, but she didn’t need to know—he wouldn’t let her see—how hurt he’d been by Maggie’s decision.

“Is there something I can help you with, ma’am?”

“Actually, I’m here to help you.”

“While I appreciate the offer, I’m already finished,” he said, deliberately misunderstanding her.

She shook her head, clearly exasperated with him. “Have you talked to Maggie recently?”

“Can’t say that I have,” he said, his tone carefully neutral.

“You need to talk to her,” Lissa insisted. “Sooner rather than later.”

And though Jesse’s heart urged him to reach out to her once again, Maggie had trampled on it once already and he wasn’t eager to give her another chance. Maybe pride was cold comfort without the warmth of the woman in his arms, but it was all he had left, and that pride wouldn’t let him continue to chase after a woman who had made it clear she wasn’t interested.

“If your cousin wants to talk, she knows where to find me,” he countered.

Lissa huffed out a breath. “If nothing else, the two of you have obstinacy in common.”

He closed the tailgate of his truck. “If that’s all you wanted to say, I need to get back to Traub Stables.”

“There’s plenty more to say,” she told him. “But it’s not for me to say it.”

He lifted his brows in response to that cryptic comment as he moved to the driver’s-side door.

“Please talk to her,” Lissa urged again.

He slid behind the wheel and drove away, but her insistence nagged at the back of his mind all the way back to Traub Stables. Lissa had to know that he’d been out of touch with her cousin for a while, so why was she all fired up about him needing to talk to Maggie? Why now?

Oddly enough, he’d got a phone call—out of the blue—just a few days earlier from his former fiancée. Shaelyn had said she wanted to talk, so he’d told her to talk. Then she’d said she wanted to see him, but he hadn’t thought there was any point in that. Now he was wondering why the women from his past, who had already tossed him aside, had suddenly decided he was worthy of their attention.

He continued to puzzle over his recent conversation with Lissa as he worked with a spirited yearling. And because he was thinking about her cousin, when he got the feeling that someone was watching him, he instinctively knew that someone was Maggie.

He hadn’t seen her since July, and the passing of time was evidenced by the changing of the season. When he’d met her the day of the community center opening, she’d been wearing a slim-fitting skirt and high-heeled sandals that showed her long, slender legs to full advantage along with a sleeveless silky blouse that highlighted her feminine curves. Today she was bundled up in a long winter coat that he’d bet she’d borrowed from her cousin since she wouldn’t have much use for one in Los Angeles. In addition to the coat, she was wearing a red knitted hat with a pom-pom and matching red mittens, and even from a distance, he could see that her cheeks were pink from the cold.

Her choice to stand outside, he decided. And though it was obvious to both of them that she was waiting for him, he refused to cut the yearling’s workout short. He wasn’t being paid to slack off, and he wasn’t going to let her distract him from his job. Even when she hadn’t been there, she’d been too much of a distraction over the past several months.

While he continued to work with the filly, he cautioned himself against speculating on the purpose of her visit. He didn’t know why she was there or how long she planned to stay this time, but he knew it would be foolish to expect anything from her. He finished running the young horse through her exercises before he passed her off to one of the stable hands for cooldown and grooming and finally turned his attention to Maggie.

“Hello, Jesse.”

She looked good. Better than good. She looked like everything he’d ever wanted in a woman, and he knew that she was. He also knew that she was definitely out of his reach.

He nodded in acknowledgment of her greeting. “When did you get back into town?” he asked, his tone polite but cool.

“Last night.”

Which confirmed that she’d already been in Rust Creek Falls when he ran into her cousin at the feed store—suggesting that Lissa’s appearance there had not been a coincidence. “More of Arthur Swinton’s business?”

She shook her head. “I came to see you.”

And damn if his heart didn’t kick against his ribs like an ornery stallion trying to break out of its stall. Because he was feeling more than he wanted to feel, more than he intended to admit, the single word was harsh when he asked, “Why?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”

“Please, Jesse. Can we go somewhere a little more private?”

He wanted to refuse. He definitely didn’t want to be alone with her, because that would undoubtedly remind him of the last time he’d been alone with her—the night they’d made love.

“I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important,” she said.

“Do you know where The Shooting Star is?” he asked, naming his family’s ranch.

She nodded.

“My house is the first one on the left, after the driveway splits. Can you meet me there in an hour?”

She nodded without hesitation. “That would be good.”

No, good would’ve been if she’d come back three months sooner and asked to be alone with him. Then he would have been sure that they both wanted the same thing. Now, after so much time had passed, he had no idea what she wanted, what she thought they needed to talk about.

But he knew she’d been gone 119 days, and wasn’t that pathetic? He’d actually been counting the days. At first, he’d been counting in anticipation of her return. More recently, he’d been counting in the hope that with each day that passed he would be one day closer to forgetting about her.

And he’d been certain he was getting there—but only five minutes in her company had him all churned up inside again, wanting what he knew he couldn’t have.

* * *

What was she going to do for an hour?

She slid behind the wheel of her rental car and considered her options. She was less than five minutes away from Gage and Lissa’s house, but she didn’t want to go back there. Her cousin hadn’t stopped nagging her since she’d got into town the night before. Not that Lissa had said anything Maggie hadn’t already thought herself.

She pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the road, heading toward town. She drove down Falls Street, turned onto Sawmill, crossing over the bridge without any destination in mind. She was only killing time, watching the minutes tick away until the allotted hour had passed.

Her phone buzzed to indicate receipt of a text message, so she turned onto Main and pulled into an empty parking spot by Crawford’s General Store to dig her phone out of her purse.

Have you seen him yet?

The message, not surprisingly, was from Lissa.

Mtg him at SS @ 4, she texted back.

Good luck! her cousin replied.

Maggie was afraid she was going to need it.

Since she had her phone in hand, she decided to check her email from work. There wasn’t anything urgent, but responding to the messages helped her kill some more time.

She knew that she was stalling, thinking about anything but the imminent conversation with Jesse. Now that there were less than twenty minutes before their scheduled meeting, she should be focused on that, thinking about what she was going to say, how to share her news.

She’d hoped to take her cue from him—but the few words that they’d exchanged at Traub Stables hadn’t given her a hint about what he was thinking. His gaze had been shuttered, but the coolness of his tone had been a strong indication that he was finished with her. It wasn’t even that he was over her—it was as if they’d never been.

Maybe she shouldn’t have come back. Maybe this was a monumental mistake. It was obvious that he felt nothing for her—maybe he never had. Maybe the magic of that night had only ever existed in her imagination.

But she didn’t really believe that. She certainly hadn’t imagined the numerous phone calls, text messages and emails they’d exchanged every single day for the first couple of weeks. And during those early weeks, he’d seemed eager for her to come back to Rust Creek Falls, as anxious to be with her again as she was to be with him.

She’d originally planned to return in the middle of August, but only two days before her scheduled trip one of the senior partners had asked for her help with an emergency injunction for an important client threatened by a hostile takeover. Of course, that injunction had only been the first step in a long process of corporate restructuring, and Maggie had been tapped for assistance every step of the way.

She’d enjoyed the challenge and the work and knew it had been good for her career. Unfortunately, it had consumed almost every waking minute and had signaled the beginning of the end of her relationship with Jesse. Four months was a long time to be apart, and he’d obviously moved on.

She rubbed a hand over her chest, where her heart was beating dully against her breastbone. The possibility that their passionate lovemaking could have been so readily forgotten cut her to the quick. Maybe it was irrational and unreasonable, but she’d started to fall in love with him that night. Even when she’d said goodbye to him the next day, she didn’t think it was the end of their relationship but only the beginning.

Of course, her emotions were her responsibility. He’d never made her any promises; he’d certainly never said that he was in love with her. But the way he’d kissed her and touched her and loved her—with his body if not his heart—she’d been certain there was something special between them, something more than a one-night affair. She didn’t think she’d imagined that, but even if the connection had been real, it was obviously gone now, and the pain of that loss made her eyes fill with tears.

Blinking them away, she pulled from the curb and headed toward The Shooting Star.

Jesse’s house was a beautiful if modest two-story with white siding, a wide front porch and lots of windows flanked by deep green shutters.

His truck in the driveway confirmed that he was home, and he opened the door before she even had a chance to knock.

“You’re punctual,” he said, stepping back so that she could enter.

“I appreciate you making the time to see me.”

He shrugged. “You said it was important.”

“It is,” she confirmed.

She continued to stand just inside the door, looking at him, wanting to memorize all the little details she was afraid she might have forgotten over the past four months.

The breadth of his shoulders beneath the flannel shirt he wore, the rippling strength of his abdominal muscles, the strength of those wide-palmed hands. The way his mouth curved just a little higher on the left side when he smiled; the almost-imperceptible scar on his chin, the result of a misstep as he’d climbed over a fence when he was eight years old. His hair was damp, as if he’d recently stepped out of the shower, and his jaw was freshly shaven, tempting her to reach up and touch the smooth skin.

“Do you want to take your coat off?”

“Sure.” But she pulled off her mittens and hat first, tucking them into the pockets of the long coat she’d borrowed from her cousin. When she finally stripped off the heavy garment, he took it from her, hanging it on a hook by the door, beside his Sherpa-lined leather jacket.

“Keep your boots on,” he said when she reached down to untie them. “The floor’s probably cold.”

It might have been true, but the abruptness of his tone suggested that he didn’t want her to get too comfortable or stay for too long. She kept her boots on, but wiped them carefully on the mat before stepping off it.

The main floor plan was open, with a dining area on one side and a living room on the other. The furniture was distressed leather with nail-head trim, oversize and masculine in design but perfect for the open space. Flames were crackling inside the river-rock fireplace, providing the room with both warmth and ambience. Jesse had moved to the kitchen, separated from the dining room by a long, granite-topped counter.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” he asked, already filling the kettle.

“That would be nice, thank you.”

Even she winced at the cool politeness of their conversation. It was as if they were strangers meeting for the first time rather than lovers who had spent hours naked together. Yes, it had only been one night, but it had been the most incredible night of her life. The way he’d touched her, with his hands and his lips and his body, had introduced her to heights of pleasure she’d never imagined.

Even now, the memories of that night made her cheeks flush and her heart pound. Though it took a determined effort, she pushed them aside and forced herself to focus on the here and now.

“You’ve lost weight,” he noted, his gaze skimming over her.

“A few pounds,” she admitted. Actually, she’d been down nine pounds a couple of months earlier, but she’d managed to gain six of them back.

Jesse studied her carefully, noting the bony outline of her shoulders in the oversize sweater she wore over slim-fitting jeans, and guessed that she’d lost more than a few pounds. She was pale, too, and those beautiful brown eyes that had haunted his dreams looked even bigger and darker than he remembered.

The last time they’d spoken on the phone, she’d told him that she’d been feeling unwell, fighting some kind of virus. He’d thought it was just the latest in a long line of excuses for why she’d chosen not to return to Rust Creek Falls. It seemed apparent now that there had been at least some truth in her explanation.

He poured the boiling water into a mug, over a bag of peppermint tea. The day that she’d made him dinner, she’d told him it was her favorite flavor. And, sap that he was, he’d not only remembered but had bought a box so that he’d have it on hand when she came to visit.

The box had sat, unopened, in his cupboard for almost four months. Now, finally, she was going to have a cup—and the other eleven bags would probably sit in the box in his cupboard for another four months before he finally tossed them in the trash.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

She looked up, as if startled by the question.

“You said that you’d been fighting some kind of virus,” he reminded her. “I just wondered if you’ve fully recovered from whatever it was you had.”

She wrapped her hands around the warm mug. “I’m feeling much better, thanks.”

“It must have been quite a bug, to have laid you up for so long,” he commented.

“It wasn’t a bug.” She lifted her gaze to his. “It was—is—a baby.”

Jesse stared at her for a long minute, certain he couldn’t have heard her correctly.

“A baby?” he finally echoed.

She nodded. “I’m pregnant.”

He hated to ask, but he hadn’t seen her since July and he knew he’d be a fool if he didn’t. “Is it...mine?”

He held his breath, waiting for her response, not sure if he wanted it to be yes or no. Not sure how he would feel either way.

She winced at the question. “Yes, it’s yours.”

“I’m sorry,” he said automatically.

“That it’s yours?”

“That I had to ask,” he clarified.

But she shook her head. “I knew you would. If you were one of my clients, I’d insist that you get proof,” she admitted. “And if you want a DNA test, I’ll give it to you, but there isn’t any other possibility. I haven’t been with anyone else in more than two years.”

“You’re pregnant with my child,” he said, as if repeating the words might somehow help them to make sense.

His thoughts were as jumbled as his emotions. Joy warred with panic inside of him as he realized that he was going to be a father—a prospect that was as terrifying as it was exciting.

“I’m not here because I want or expect anything from you,” she explained. “I just thought you should know about the baby.”

Irritation bubbled to the surface. “I don’t know which part of that outrageous statement to deal with first.”

“Excuse me?”

“We made that baby together,” he reminded her. “So you should want and expect plenty.

“As for letting me know—should I thank you for finally, in the fourth month of pregnancy, telling me that you’re going to have my child?”

She winced at the harsh accusation in his tone. “It’s not as if I was deliberately keeping my pregnancy a secret.”

“You were accidentally keeping it a secret?”

“I didn’t know.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t,” she insisted.

“I’m sure you didn’t figure it out yesterday.”

“No,” she admitted. “But for the first few weeks after I returned to LA, I was so busy with work that I thought the fatigue and nausea were symptoms of my erratic schedule and not sleeping well or eating properly. Even when I missed my first period—” her cheeks flushed, as if she was uncomfortable talking about her monthly cycle despite the intimacies they’d shared “—I didn’t think anything of it. I’ve skipped periods before, usually when I’m stressed.”

He scowled but couldn’t dispute her claim. Instead he asked, “So when did you first suspect you might be pregnant?”

“Mid-September. And even then, it was my mother who brought up the possibility. Which I didn’t think was a possibility, because we were careful both times.”

Both times. He didn’t carry condoms in his wallet anymore, and she’d only had two in her makeup case. So they’d done all kinds of things to pleasure one another but they’d only made love twice.

And both times had felt like heaven on earth—the merging of their bodies had been so perfect, so right—

He severed the unwelcome memory.

“So I took a home pregnancy test.” She continued her explanation. “And even when it showed a positive result, I wasn’t sure I believed it. The next day, my doctor confirmed the result.”

“This was mid-September?” he prompted.

She nodded again.

“So you’ve known for six weeks, and you only decided to tell me now?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” she admitted. “It wasn’t the kind of news I wanted to share over the phone, and my doctor advised me not to travel until the morning sickness was under control.”

“Did you ever think to invite me to come out to LA to see you?”

She blinked, confirming his suspicion that she had not. That the possibility of reaching out to him had not once entered her mind. “You never showed any interest in making a trip to California.”

“If you’d asked, if you’d said that you needed to see me, I would have come.” And he would have been glad to do so, overjoyed by the prospect of seeing her again.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I never thought... And when I called to tell you that my planned visit to Rust Creek Falls was further delayed, you sounded as if you’d already written me off. And that’s okay,” she hastened to assure him. “I know neither of us expected that one night together would have such long-lasting repercussions.”

“I didn’t think it was going to be only one night,” he told her.

“I bet you didn’t think you’d end up having this conversation four months later, either,” she said.

“No,” he agreed.

“I know you’ve only had a few minutes to think about this, but I wanted you to know that I’m planning to keep the baby.”

He scowled, because it hadn’t occurred to him that she might want to do anything else. “You thought about giving away our baby?”

“There were a few moments—especially in the beginning—when I wasn’t sure what I would do,” she admitted. “I was stunned and scared—having a baby at this stage of my life wasn’t anywhere in my plans.”

“You don’t just give away a baby because it wasn’t in your plans,” he told her.

“Some people do,” she told him.

Only then did he remember that she was adopted, given up by her sixteen-year-old birth mother when she was only a few days old.

While he was busy trying to extract his foot from his mouth, she continued, “And not necessarily because it’s the easy choice. I don’t know whether my birth mother wanted to keep me or not—Christa and Gavin always told me that she recognized that she couldn’t give me the kind of life that I had with my parents, and I’ve always been grateful to her for that. So yes, I thought about giving up my baby, because I know that’s sometimes the best option.

“But,” she continued before he could protest, “I don’t think it is for my baby. And maybe it’s maternal instinct or maybe it’s because I was adopted, but I felt an immediate bond with this baby who shares my DNA, and I can’t even imagine letting him or her go.”

“The baby shares half of your DNA,” he pointed out. “The other half is mine.”

She nodded. “And if you want to be part of our baby’s life, I’d be happy to accommodate whatever kind of visitation you—”

“Visitation?” he interrupted, his voice dangerously soft.

She eyed him warily. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s not.”

“Oh. Okay. In that case, I’ll have papers drawn up—”

He interrupted her again. “The only paper we’re going to need is a marriage license.”

Chapter Three

Maggie stared at him, certain she couldn’t have heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”

“We’re having a baby together, which means we should get married to raise that child together.” His tone was implacable.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious. I’m not going to shirk my responsibilities.”

“There’s a lot of ground between shirking responsibility and marriage,” she said, determined to remain calm and reasonable despite the outrageousness of his proposition.

“I want to be a father to my child.”

“You are the baby’s father.”

“I want the baby to have my name.”

She’d been so apprehensive about this meeting—worried about how he’d respond to the news of her pregnancy. Obviously she knew he’d be surprised, and she’d prepared herself for the possibility that he might deny paternity. But in all of the scenarios that she’d envisioned, she’d never once considered that he might propose marriage. And while she’d feared that he might reject both her and the baby, his grim determination to do “the right thing” was somehow worse.

This wasn’t at all how she’d planned things to happen in her life. Yes, she wanted to get married someday. Her parents had given all of their children the wonderful example of a true partnership, and Maggie wanted to find the same forever kind of love someday. And when she did, she would get married and then have a baby. So while she hadn’t planned to get pregnant just yet, she didn’t intend to change anything aside from the order of things. She would be the best mother she could be to her child, but she wasn’t going to settle for a loveless marriage with a stubborn cowboy—even if his kisses had the power to make her lose all sense and reason.

If Jesse had been offering her something more... If he’d given any indication that he’d been genuinely happy to see her, if he’d wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with even half of the passion and enthusiasm she knew he was capable of, she might have ignored all of her questions and doubts and followed him to the nearest wedding chapel. But the coolness of his initial response to her return to Rust Creek Falls proved that he didn’t want her—he only wanted to ensure the legitimacy of his child.

“We don’t have to get married for your name to go on the baby’s birth certificate,” she told him. “I would never deny my child’s paternity.”

“Our child,” he reminded her. “And it’s about more than just a name. It’s about giving our baby the family he or she deserves.”

“What about what we deserve?” she challenged. “Don’t you want to fall in love and exchange vows with someone you really want to be with instead of someone you inadvertently got pregnant?”

“What I want—what you want—isn’t as important as what our baby needs,” he insisted stubbornly.

She blew out a breath. “I don’t think our baby needs to be raised by two parents trapped in a loveless marriage.”

“You don’t have to make it sound so dire. If we want to, we can make this work.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

He ignored her question as if she hadn’t even spoken. “We should be able to make all of the necessary arrangements for a wedding within a couple of weeks.”

“Did you get kicked in the head by a horse? I am not marrying you.”

The lift of his brows was the only indication that he’d heard her this time, as he steamrollered over her protest. “We can have a quick courthouse ceremony here or a more traditional wedding in LA, if you prefer.”

“So I do have some say in this?”

“The details,” he agreed. “I don’t care about the where and when so long as it’s legal.”

There was something about his determination to make her his wife that thrilled her even as it infuriated her. And she suspected that, deep in her heart, she wanted what he was offering: to get married and raise their baby together.

But she didn’t want a marriage on the terms he was offering. She didn’t want a legal union for the sake of their baby but a commitment based on mutual respect and affection. Unfortunately, that offer wasn’t on the table. And even if it was, there were other obstacles to consider.

“What about the detail also known as my job?” she challenged.

“What about it?”

“How am I going to represent my clients in Los Angeles if I’m living in Rust Creek Falls? Or am I supposed to happily sacrifice all of my career ambitions for the pleasure of becoming Mrs. Jesse Crawford?”

His only response was a scowl that proved he hadn’t given much thought to the distance that separated them geographically.

“I’m sure you can find a job in Rust Creek Falls, if you want to keep working.”

“Or maybe you could find work in Los Angeles,” she countered.

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“And you’re being completely unreasonable.”

“It’s not unreasonable to want our child to be raised by two parents.”

“Look at us, Jesse. We can’t even have a simple conversation without fighting and you want us to get married?”

“Yes, I do,” he said again.

She shook her head. “Obviously we have a fundamental difference of opinion.”

“I don’t recall there being any differences of opinion when we were in bed together.”

And with those words, the air was suddenly charged with electricity.

The heat in his gaze spread warmth through her veins, from her belly to her breasts, throbbing between her thighs. He wasn’t even touching her—and she was fairly quivering with desire.

No one had ever affected her the way this man did. No one had ever made her feel the way she felt when she was with him. But even more unnerving than the wanting of her body was the yearning of her heart.

She pushed away from the breakfast bar and carried her empty mug to the sink. She had to leave, to give them both some time and space to think about how they should proceed.

“Maggie.”

She looked up, and he was there. Close enough that she couldn’t breathe without inhaling his clean, masculine scent. Close enough that he had to hear her heart pounding. And although his eyes never left hers, she felt the heat of his gaze everywhere.

He lifted a hand to touch her hair, his fingers skimming over the silky tresses to cradle the back of her head. Then his mouth was on hers, his lips warm and firm and sure, and she melted against him.

She’d forgotten how strong he was, how solid every inch of his body was. Hard and unyielding. And yet, for all of his strength, he was incredibly gentle. It was that unadulterated masculine strength combined with his inherently gentle nature that had appealed to her from the first.

His hands slid down her back, inched up beneath the hem of her sweater. Then those wide, callused palms were on her skin, sliding up her torso to cup her breasts. Her blood pulsed in her veins, hot and demanding. His thumbs brushed over her nipples through the delicate lace, and she actually whimpered.

He nibbled on her lips. Teasing, tasting, tempting.

“I want you, Maggie.”

She wanted him, too. And though she knew it might be a mistake to let herself succumb to that desire while there was still so much unresolved between them, that knowledge didn’t dampen her need.

“Tell me you feel the same,” he urged.

“I do,” she admitted. “But—”

She forgot the rest of what she’d intended to say when he lifted her off her feet and into his arms.

He carried her up the stairs and down a short hallway to his bedroom with effortless ease. When he set her on her feet beside the bed, she knew that if she was going to protest, now was the time to do so. Then he kissed her again, and any thought of protest flew out of her mind.

Her mouth parted beneath the pressure of his, and his tongue swept inside, teasing the soft inside of her lips. His hands slid down her back, over the curve of her buttocks, pulling her close. The evidence of his arousal fueled her own. Blood pulsed in her veins, pooled low in her belly, making her want so much that she actually ached.

She lifted her hands to the buttons of his shirt and began to unfasten them. She wanted to touch him, to feel the warmth of his bare skin beneath her palms. But the cotton T-shirt under the flannel impeded her efforts. With a frustrated sigh, she tugged the T-shirt out of his jeans and shoved her hands beneath it.

Jesse chuckled softly. “I didn’t realize this was a race.”

“I want to feel your body against mine,” she confessed.

He released her long enough to get rid of his clothes. She sat on the edge of the bed, intending to do the same, but she was still struggling with her boots when his jeans hit the floor. As he kicked them away, she couldn’t help but admire the knit boxer briefs that molded to the firm muscles of his buttocks and thighs at the back and did absolutely nothing to hide the obvious evidence of his arousal at the front.

Her mouth went dry and her fingers froze on the knotted laces. He knelt beside her and efficiently untied the boots and pulled them from her feet. Then he unfastened her jeans and pushed them over her hips, down her legs, finally stripping them away along with her socks.

“Your feet are cold,” he realized, warming them between his palms. “You need thicker socks.”

Not in California, she thought, but didn’t say it aloud. She didn’t want to speak of the distance that separated their lives; she didn’t want anything to take away from the here and now.

“Or I could get under the covers,” she suggested.

“That’s a better plan,” he agreed.

But first, he lifted her sweater over her head and tossed it aside, leaving her clad in only a lace demi-cup bra and matching bikini panties. He sat back on his haunches, the heat in his gaze roaming over her as tangible as a caress, making her nipples tighten and her thighs quiver.

“You absolutely take my breath away,” he told her.

She tugged the covers down and rolled over the bed to snuggle beneath them. Jesse immediately slid in beside her, his hands skimming over her, tracing her curves. He lowered his head to nuzzle the tender skin at the base of her throat, making her shiver.

He glanced up. “Are you still cold?”

She shook her head; he smiled slightly before he lowered his head again, his lips skimming across her collarbone, then tracing the lacy edge of her bra. She could feel his breath, warm on her skin, as his mouth hovered above her breast. Her hand lifted to his head, silently urging him closer. He willingly acquiesced to her direction, laving her nipple with his tongue. The sensation of hot, wet heat through the silky fabric made her gasp, then his lips closed over the lace-covered peak, sending fiery spears of pleasure arrowing to her core.

He found the center clasp of her bra and released it, peeling the fabric aside so he could suckle her bare flesh, making her groan. He tugged the straps down her arms, dropped the garment to the floor. His hands stroked down her torso, his fingers hooking in her panties and dragging them down her legs and away, so that she was completely naked. All the while, his hands and his lips moved over her, teasing and tempting, until her body was fairly quivering with wanting.

Genetics had blessed her with a naturally slim build and the loss of those few pounds had pushed her from slender toward skinny, but she knew that was only a temporary state. Because although her hip bones and ribs were visible now, there was also a subtle roundness to her belly—evidence of the baby she carried.

He splayed his hand over the curve, his wide palm covering her almost from hip bone to hip bone, as if cradling their child, and the sweetness of the gesture made tears fill her eyes.

“Everyone says that a baby is a miracle,” he said. “But the idea of you growing our baby inside of you is every bit as miraculous.”

“You call it miraculous now. In a few more months, you’ll be calling it fat.”

She’d been teasing, attempting to lighten the mood, but as soon as she spoke the words, she wished she could take them back. Talking about the future as if they would be together was a mistake, even if it was—deep in her heart—what she wanted.

But he shook his head. “You’ll always be beautiful to me—the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

Which might have sounded like a well-rehearsed line from another man, but the sincerity in his tone made her heart swell inside her chest.

“I want to be with you through every step of your pregnancy,” he continued. “I want to see the changes in your body as our baby grows. I want to be the one who runs to the grocery store in the middle of the night when you have a sudden craving for ice cream.”

“I didn’t think the store in Rust Creek Falls was open in the middle of the night.”

“Lucky for you, I have a key.”

“That is lucky,” she agreed. “But I don’t want to worry about the future right now.”

“What do you want?”

She lifted her arms to link them behind his neck. “You. I only want you.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” he said. “Because I want you, too.”

Then he captured her mouth in a long, slow kiss that went on and on until her head was actually spinning. The hand that was on her belly inched lower. His fingers sifted through the soft curls at the apex of her thighs and her hips automatically lifted off the bed, wordlessly encouraging his exploration. He parted the slick folds and dipped inside. She didn’t know if it was the pregnancy hormones or Jesse, but all it took was that one stroke, deep inside, and she flew apart.

He continued to stroke her while the convulsions rippled through her body. Her hands fisted in the sheet, as she tried to anchor herself against the onslaught of sensations. “Jesse, please.”

He leaned forward to reach into the drawer beside his bed and pulled out a small square packet.

Though she was reassured by this evidence of what was obviously a long-ingrained habit, she had to smile. “Isn’t that a little like closing the barn door after the horse is out?”

“I guess it is,” he agreed. “Although there are more reasons than pregnancy for using protection.”

“Oh.” She blushed. “Of course.”

“But there’s been no one since you,” he said sincerely. “And no one for more than six months before that.”

She took the square packet out of his hand. “Then we don’t need this,” she said, and set it on the bedside table.

He parted her legs and settled between them, burying himself deep in one thrust as she arched up to meet him.

He groaned in appreciation as she wrapped her legs around his hips. “You feel...so...good.”

“You make me feel good,” she told him.

He smiled at that and lowered his head to kiss her, long and slow and deep, as he moved inside her.

Maggie had never thought of herself as a particularly sensual woman. She certainly wasn’t the type to get carried away by passion. She’d always thought sex was enjoyable, if unremarkable, but that was before she’d had sex with Jesse.

Over the past few months, she’d decided that her memories of the one night they’d spent together had been exaggerated by her imagination. It wasn’t really possible that just standing close to him had made her knees weak, that breathing in his unique scent could make her insides quiver, that the touch of his mouth against her was enough to make her bones melt. Of course it wasn’t. For some reason, she’d romanticized the memory, turned their one-night affair into something it never was and was never meant to be.

And then she’d seen him again, and her knees had gone weak. He’d stepped closer to her, and her insides had quivered. It didn’t matter that his gaze had been guarded and his tone had been cool. All that mattered was he was there, and every nerve ending in her body was suddenly and acutely aware of him, aching for him.

Then, finally, he’d touched her. Just a brush of his hand over her hair, but that was enough to have her heart hammering inside of her chest. And then he kissed her, and not just her bones but everything inside of her had melted into a puddle of need. There was no thought or reason, there was only want. Hot and sharp and desperate.

As he moved inside of her now, she felt the connection between them. Not just the physical mating of their bodies but the joining of their souls. Maybe it was fantastical, but it was how she felt. She couldn’t think of anything but Jesse, didn’t want anyone but him.

The delicious friction between their bodies was every bit as incredible as she’d remembered—maybe even more. Every stroke, every thrust, sent little shock waves zinging through her blood. She could feel the anticipation building inside of her. Her body arched and strained, meeting him willingly, eagerly, aching for the ecstasy and fulfillment she’d only ever found in his arms.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, her fingers digging into his muscles, her nails scoring his skin. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps as he drove her higher and higher to the pinnacle of their mutual pleasure.

Yes.

Please.

More.

And he gave her more. With his hands and his lips and his body, he gave and he gave until it was more than she could take. Pleasure poured through her, over her, a tidal wave of sensation that was so intense it stole her breath, her thoughts, her vision. There was nothing but bliss...and Jesse.

He was everything.

With a last thrust and a shudder, he collapsed on top of her, his face buried in the pillow beside her head.

She lifted a hand to his shoulder, let it trail down his back. His deliciously sculpted and tightly muscled body was truly a woman’s fantasy—and he’d proven more than capable of satisfying every one of her fantasies, even the ones she hadn’t realized that she had.

He lifted his weight off her, shifted so that he was beside her. But he kept his arm around her, holding her close. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Her lips curved. “I’m very okay.”

He pulled her closer, so that her back was snug against his front and her head was tucked beneath his chin. “I almost forgot how good it was between us.”

“I tried to convince myself it couldn’t have been as good as I remembered.” It was somehow easier to make the admission without looking at him. “But I was wrong.”

“I missed you, Maggie.”

“I missed you, too. But this...chemistry,” she decided, for lack of a better term, “between us doesn’t really change anything.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Wanting you—and wanting to be with you—doesn’t alter the fact that our lives are twelve hundred miles apart.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he told her.

He made it sound so easy, but Maggie knew there wasn’t a simple answer. His suggestion that they should get married and raise their baby together wasn’t a viable one. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—give up her career and her life in LA simply because he wanted to be a hands-on parent to their child. She admired his willingness to step up and respected his commitment to his ideals of fatherhood, but she was determined to focus on reality. And the reality was that her life, her family and her career were in California.

It wasn’t likely that they were going to figure anything out—certainly not easily. She suspected it was more likely that there would be a lot of disagreement before any decisions were made, but it wasn’t a battle she wanted to wage right now. Not while she was cradled in the warm strength of his arms, her body still sated from their lovemaking.

Within a few minutes, his breathing had evened out, and she knew he’d fallen asleep. As her own eyes started to drift shut, she found herself thinking about his impromptu offer of marriage. Not that she intended to accept—there were too many reasons to refuse, too many barriers to a relationship between them. But she couldn’t deny that the prospect of sharing a bed with him for more than a few hours was undeniably tempting.

Chapter Four

When Jesse woke up, he was alone.

He could still smell Maggie’s scent on his sheets, and there was an indent on the pillow where she’d slept, so he knew she couldn’t have been gone long. He rose from his bed and moved to the window.

He didn’t realize that his chest felt tight until he saw that her rental car was behind his truck in the driveway and the tension lessened. He’d been left with nothing more than a note on his kitchen table once before, and he didn’t want to go through that again. He hadn’t chased after Shaelyn—he’d had no interest in forcing her to stay in Rust Creek Falls when it was obvious she didn’t want to be there.

But the situation with Maggie was different—she was carrying his baby, and that meant they had to figure out a way to work things out. If she had gone, he would have chased after her. He was glad he didn’t have to.

He retrieved his jeans from the floor and tugged them on, then shoved his arms into the sleeves of his shirt and headed down the stairs. He found her standing at the stove, a spatula in her hand. The pressure in his chest eased a little more.

A glance at the numeric display on the stove revealed that it was after eight o’clock. “I guess we skipped dinner.”

She looked up and offered a shy smile. “I hope you don’t mind—I woke up hungry, and I thought you might be, too.”

“I don’t and I am,” he told her. “French toast?”

“Is that okay?”

“Perfect.”

She flipped the last piece of bread out of the frying pan and onto the plate, then carried the plate to the table, already set for two.

As she sat down across from him, he put a couple of slices on his plate, then liberally doused them with maple syrup. She took one slice, slowly ate it, cutting neat little squares that she dipped in a tiny puddle of syrup on her plate.

“I thought you said you were hungry.”

“I was.” She popped the last piece of toast into her mouth, then folded her napkin and set it on top of her plate. “And now I’ve eaten.”

“You had one piece of French toast.”

“I had two.” One corner of her mouth tilted up in a half smile. “I ate the first one as soon as I flipped it out of the frying pan.”

“Two whole slices?” He transferred another two to his own plate. “You must be stuffed.”

“Don’t make fun of me—I’m just happy to be able to keep down what I’m eating these days.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, sincerely contrite. “That must have been awful.”

“It wasn’t fun,” she agreed.

“You should have called me.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”

He wanted to stay angry with her, but what was the point? Nothing could change what had happened since she left Rust Creek Falls in July, nothing could give them back the first four months of her pregnancy. But he couldn’t help but think that, if she’d told him sooner, they might be in a different place right now.

Instead, he’d spent weeks dealing with the tangled emotions inside of him. He’d been hurt and angry and frustrated that he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d tried to get over her—he’d even let his younger brother, Justin, set him up with a friend of the girl he was going out with. The date had been a complete bust, primarily because he couldn’t stop thinking about Maggie. But recently he’d managed to convince himself that he was starting to forget about her—right up until the minute he saw her standing outside the paddock at Traub Stables.

“So,” he began, thinking that a change of topic was in order, “things have been busy for you at work over the past couple of months?”

She nodded. “Busier than usual. Maybe too busy.”

“Can you cut back on your hours?”

“Not if I want to keep my job.”

“Do you?”

“Of course,” she answered immediately, automatically.

Then her brow furrowed as she picked up her glass of water and sipped.

“Tell me about your new job,” she finally suggested. “When I was here in the summer, you were working here, at your family’s ranch, and now you’re training horses.”

“I still help out here, but it’s the horses that have always been my focus.”

“I heard they call you the horse whisperer in town—what exactly does that mean?”

“It’s not as mystical as it sounds,” he told her. “It just means that I don’t use restraints or force when I’m training.”

“How did you end up working at Traub Stables? I thought there was some long-standing feud between the Crawfords and the Traubs.”

“There is,” he acknowledged. “Although no one really seems sure about its origins, whether it was a business deal gone bad or a romantic rivalry. Whatever the cause, I think my sister’s marriage to Dallas Traub in February has helped build some bridges between the two families.”

“So your family doesn’t mind that you’re working for Sutter Traub?”

His lips curved in a wry smile. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he acknowledged. “My father saw it as a betrayal. My mother warned that I was being set up—for what, she had no idea, but she was certain it was some kind of disaster in the making.”

“Did you take the job despite their objections—or because of them?”

“Despite,” he said. “I’ve wanted some space from my family for a long time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love and respect them.”

“And you don’t mind that your boss is a Traub?”

“Sutter’s a good guy who values the animals in his care and appreciates what I bring to his stables.”

“I read a series of books when I was a kid, about a girl who lived on a ranch and raised an orphaned foal,” she told him. “She fed it and trained it and entered riding competitions with it. After reading those books, I was desperate to experience the feeling of racing across open fields on horseback. I begged my parents to put me in a riding camp for the summer.

“They were always encouraging us to try new experiences, so they found a local camp and signed me up. I was so excited...until the first day. I’d never seen a horse up close until then,” she confided. “And when we got to the Northbrook Riding Academy and I saw real, live horses galloping in the distance, I was terrified.”

“What happened?” he asked, both curious about and grateful for this voluntary glimpse into her childhood.

“I begged to go home as passionately as I’d begged for the camp, but they made me stay. My parents are very big on commitment and follow-through. I was the one who wanted the experience, and they weren’t going to let me quit.”

“Did you ride?”

She shook her head. “The instructors tried to help me overcome my fear of the horses, but whenever I got too close, I would actually start to hyperventilate. Of course, the other kids made fun of me, which made the whole experience that much worse.

“Then I met Dolly. She was a white Shetland pony who was too old and lame to do much of anything, but she had the softest, kindest eyes.

“I spent most of the week with her. I brushed her and fed her and led her around her paddock. At the end of the week, I still hadn’t been on the back of a horse, but I’d fallen in love with Dolly. For the next six months, I went back to Northbrook once a week just to visit her.”

He didn’t need to ask what had happened after six months. Considering that the pony had been old and lame, he was certain he knew. Instead he said, “Did you ever get over your fear of horses?”

“I haven’t been around them much since that summer.”

He pushed away from the table. “Get your coat and boots on.”

“What? Why?”

“I want to introduce you to someone.”

She shook her head. “I got over my childhood fascination with horses—I’m good now.”

“Not if you’re still afraid,” he told her.

“I wouldn’t say afraid,” she denied. “More...cautious.”

He took her coat from the hook, brought it over to her.

“I need to clean up the kitchen.”

“The dishes will wait.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re pushy?”

He took her hand and guided it into the sleeve of her coat. “Not pushy—persuasive.”

“I’m not feeling persuaded,” she told him, but she put her other arm in her other sleeve. “My boots are still, um, upstairs.”

In his bedroom, where he’d taken them off her along with the rest of her clothing before he’d made love with her.

“I’ll get them,” he said.

When he came back down, she had her coat zipped up to her chin, a hat on her head and a scarf wrapped around her throat.

He held back a smile as he knelt at her feet and helped her on with the boots. To someone who had lived her whole life in Southern California, Montana in November—even the first of November—was undoubtedly cold, but he knew it would be a lot colder in December, January and February.

He hoped she would be there to experience it.

* * *

Maggie could tell that Jesse was amused by her efforts to bundle up against the climate. As she carefully tucked her hands into woolen mittens, he stuffed his feet into his boots and tugged on a jacket, not even bothering to button it.

She stepped outside and gasped as the cold slapped her in the face and stole the breath from her lungs.

“It was seventy-two degrees when I left Los Angeles,” she told him.

He slid an arm across her shoulders, holding her close to share body heat—of which he seemed to have an abundance. “The weather takes some getting used to for a lot of people.”

She couldn’t imagine ever getting used to the cold—or wanting to. Thankfully, the barn was only a short distance from his house, and she was grateful to duck into its warm shelter.

The facility was brightly lit and immaculate. The alleyway was interlocking brick and the wooden walls fairly gleamed. Jesse pulled the door closed and stood beside her, giving her a minute.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

She nodded, because she wanted it to be true, but she wasn’t entirely certain. She’d heard that the olfactory sense was one of the strongest for evoking memories, but she’d never experienced it herself until she stepped inside the barn and breathed in the scent of hay and horses. Suddenly her brain was flooded with memories of that long-ago summer camp, and with the memories came apprehension and anxiety.

“Just breathe,” he said.

It was only then that she realized she’d been holding her breath. She let it out now, and drew fresh air into her lungs. But that fresh air carried the same scent, and made her heart pound hard and fast inside her chest. “I feel stupid.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m scared,” she admitted.

“I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” he promised.

“It’s late,” she said. “I should get back before Lissa starts worrying.”

He took her hands, holding her in place. “Do you trust me?”

She nodded without hesitation.

“So let’s just stand right here for a minute until you relax.”

“I’m not going to relax in here.”

“You just need to focus on something other than the horses,” he said.

And then, before she could assure him there was absolutely nothing that would take her focus off the enormous beasts behind the flimsy wooden doors, his lips were on hers. And within half a second, her mind went completely, blissfully blank.

He released the hands he’d been holding to wrap his arms around her, pulling her closer. Then his hands slid up her back, and even through the thick layers of clothing, she could feel the warmth of his touch. Or maybe the heat was all in her veins, stoked by his caress. His tongue traced the curve of her bottom lip, teasing, coaxing. Her mouth parted on a sigh, not just allowing him to deepen the kiss, but demanding it, as her tongue danced in a slow and seductive rhythm with his.

Her blood was pumping and her head was spinning as she gave herself over to the pleasure of his kiss. She could still smell hay and horses, but mixed in with those scents was the essence of Jesse. His heat, his strength, his heart.

He eased his mouth from hers, but continued to hold her close as they each took a moment to catch their breath.

“What are you thinking about now?” he asked.

“That I won’t ever be able to walk into a barn without thinking about you and remembering this moment.”

He smiled. “Good.”

“My heart’s still racing.”

“But not because you’re afraid,” he guessed.

“No.” She blew out a breath and tipped back her head to meet his gaze. “Is that your usual method for helping people overcome their apprehensions?”

“It’s not one I’ve ever used before,” he told her.

Her brows lifted. “So I was a guinea pig?”

“No, you’re the woman who makes me forget all thought and reason.”

The words, and the sincerity in his tone, mollified her.

“But I haven’t forgotten why we came out here,” he said, looping his arm around her waist and gently guiding her along the alleyway.

They’d moved only about six feet when a huge head appeared over the top of the door of the closest stall. She let out a squeak and immediately jumped back.

Jesse’s arms came around her, holding her steady. He didn’t force her to move any closer, but he didn’t let her back any farther away, either.

“This is Honey,” he told her. “And she is as sweet as her name.”

“She’s...beautiful,” Maggie realized. The animal had a sleek chestnut coat that gleamed in the light, a white blaze, glossy mane and tail and eyes the color of melted chocolate. “And...big.”

The horse tossed her head, almost as if she was nodding, and Maggie couldn’t help but smile.

Jesse chuckled softly, and she felt the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck.

“Do you see how her ears are turned forward?”

She nodded.

“That shows that she’s relaxed and paying attention to you.”

“Is she hungry?”

He chuckled again. “No, she’s had her dinner,” he promised, reaching around Maggie to tug her mittens off. Then he took her hand and guided it toward the horse’s long muzzle.

She felt herself start to tremble and had to fight against the urge to snatch her hand away.

“Steady,” he murmured.

The mare watched her, its huge, liquid eyes patient and trusting. With Jesse’s guidance, she stroked the smooth hair of its blaze. Honey blew out a breath—an equine sigh of contentment—and Maggie fell in love.

“Now I really wish I’d learned to ride,” she admitted.

“I could teach you,” Jesse said. “Not now, obviously. But after.”

After.

The word seemed to hang in the air for a long minute, teasing her with possibilities. Neither of them knew what would happen after—they didn’t even know what the next five months would hold, but she couldn’t deny that she liked the idea of after.

“I think I’d enjoy that,” she finally said.

* * *

“What are the rest of your plans for the weekend?” Jesse asked Maggie, as they made their way back to the house.

“I didn’t really have any other plans,” she told him. “I came to Rust Creek Falls to tell you about the baby, and I’ve done that.”

“Maybe we could spend some more time together,” he suggested. “Get to know one another a little better before we bring a baby into the world.”

“That baby’s coming in another five months whether we know one another or not,” she pointed out.

“Then we shouldn’t waste any time.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing too crazy,” he assured her, opening the back door to lead her into the house. “Maybe a drive up to Owl Rock to see the falls or a walk through town. Dinner at my parents’ house.”

“I’m sorry—what was that last part?”

“Dinner at my parents’ house,” he said again.

“You want me to meet your parents?”

“And I want them to meet the mother of their grandchild.”

She blew out a breath. “I didn’t think about the fact that our baby will have a lot more family in Rust Creek Falls than a daddy.”

“We don’t have to tell the grandparents-to-be right away. I just thought it might be nice if they had a chance to meet you before I told them that I got you pregnant.”

“I guess that’s reasonable,” she allowed.

“We don’t even have to spend a lot of time with them,” he promised. “In fact, I’d prefer if we didn’t.”

She smiled at that. “Are you trying to talk me into—or out of—this?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Okay, we’ll have dinner with your parents.”

“What about your parents?”

“It’s a long way for them to come for dinner.”

He managed a wry smile. “Don’t you think I should meet them?”

“Maybe not,” she teased. “Because they already know I’m pregnant.”

“Then they should also know that I want to marry you.”

“I thought we’d agreed that wasn’t a good idea.”

“You said it wasn’t a good idea, then we spent some time together in bed, proving that it is, in fact, a very good idea.”

“That is definitely my cue to be going.”

“Or you could stay.”

She shook her head. “If I stay, we’re both going to start thinking that this is something it’s not.”

“What do you think it isn’t?” he challenged.

“A relationship.”

He hung his coat on a hook. “We’ve had sex, we’re having a baby, but we don’t have a relationship?”

“We’ve spent the past four months in different states,” she reminded him. “Does that sound like a relationship to you?”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.