by Mindy Neff
“Did your family not celebrate—for religious reasons?”
“I’ve had a lot of families over the years, been exposed to a lot of religions. Nobody ever cited religious beliefs for not celebrating.” She drummed her fingers on the tabletop, repositioned her napkin. “They probably just didn’t know the date of my birthday.”
“What about your parents?”
She shrugged, told herself it no longer hurt, that she was a grown woman now, well over the pain. “They gave me away. Actually, my father left and my mother turned me over to social services, signed away all claim to me.”
His jaw clenched, as did his fist around the stem of the fine crystal. “And you weren’t adopted?”
“People don’t adopt big kids. Only little babies.”
“That’s not true, sunshine.”
She fiddled with her fork, swept her hair behind her ear. “Seemed that way in my case. There were kids who’d lost their folks to tragedies. Some of them found permanent homes. I guess they figured if my parents gave me away, there must be a reason.”
“Damn,” he said softly, and reached across the table, covering her hand, putting a halt to her nervous drumming. She tried to draw back, but he tightened his hold. “That’s not pity, sunshine, so tuck your chin back down. Just makes me mad, is all.”
Her hand relaxed in his. She turned her palm up, linked their fingers. “I always feel compelled to say thanks to you. You’re a good man, Brice DeWitt.”
His fingers tightened over hers, his intense gaze holding her. Eyes the color of a deep lake reflected the flickering of the candle, the intensity of swift and immediate desire.
Snagged by the heat of his gaze, Maddie couldn’t look away. Silverware scraped against china, and voices droned, blending with the occasional laugh. Someone opened the front door, letting in a blast of cold air.
But all Maddie could feel was heat as an odd trembling raced just beneath her skin, humming through her blood as though charged by electricity.
The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift, to narrow, to encompass just the two of them. The moment spun out, a moment that should have been conducted in private, behind closed doors.
Her imagination took off on that scenario, picturing the two of them, the textures, the flavors, the differences in their bodies, soft to hard...
“Keep looking at me like that and I’m liable to forget my civilized manners.”
His voice was low and as rough as a splintery board.
And it sent her heart into a frenzy. Dear Lord, what would it be like to have him unleash all that provocative sexuality? To have his whole attention focused on just her?
She reached for her water glass and turned her gaze to the decorative crafts on the wall.
“Smart woman,” he murmured.
Her gaze shot back to him, and for the life of her she couldn’t help pushing him a bit, playing the game. She was rusty with the social skills practiced between men and woman, but perversely she was willing to give it a shot.
“You strike me as a man who rarely loses control. I really doubt you could act uncivilized.” At least not in public. It was those darn private images that were so enticing.
His brows arched. “There are those who would disagree with you.”
“Oh?” She grinned. “Do I detect a hell-raiser lurking beneath the laid-back-cowboy veneer?”
One corner of his mouth canted in amusement. “I’ve been in a brawl or two.”
She shook her head. “I can’t imagine you busting up furniture and stuff.”
Now he was the one fiddling with the utensils, looking sheepish. “It’s rough on the checkbook.”
“I was kidding,” she said. “But you’re not. You actually damaged furniture?”
“A few bar tables, a couple of mirrors.”
“Hopefully you’re not superstitious.”
“Seven years, bad luck?”
“Fourteen if it was two mirrors.”
“Guess I’ve only got eight years to go, then.”
She grinned. “Hardly. From the looks of your accounts, you’ve had nothing but good luck. Your ranch is very prosperous. And speaking of prosperous, I’ve been meaning to ask you about the price you’ve paid for a couple of bulls. My eyes nearly bugged out. Are you sure you’ve shopped around for the best deal?”
He leaned back in his chair and laughed, making her stare. His face relaxed, and if she’d thought he was merely handsome before, now she couldn’t quite find the word for him. His white shirt fit the breadth of his chest as though tailor-made for his measurements. A red silk bandanna was tied around his neck. Firelight shimmered off his dark hair, playing over his sculpted cheekbones, his square jaw, his sensual lips that could grin like the brightest sun or kiss the very daylights out of her.
She took a gulp of champagne, licked her bottom lip.
His smile faltered, his gaze sharpening. He cleared his throat.
‘‘I’m one of the toughest bargainers around. I got those bulls at rock-bottom prices.”
“Good heavens, why would you want something that expensive?”
“To ensure the quality of my stock. You of all people should understand the concept of artificial insemination.”
She’d managed to go quite a while without thinking about the pall that hung over her life, the threat to her child. With one simple statement, it all came slamming back.
“Aw, sunshine, I didn’t think.”
She pulled her thoughts back from the precipice. “It’s okay. My reasons weren’t based on quality of stock. I didn’t want to know his name or anything about him. I just knew my baby would be special because she was mine, regardless of pedigree.”
He winked to lighten the mood. “Well, she’s got your genes, so she comes from good stock.”
Laurie came out and placed a steaming basket of fresh bread on the table, along with plates of chicken and homemade noodles. “Enjoy, you two.”
The meal smelled wonderful, but Maddie frowned. “Did you order ahead of time?” she asked.
“No. Each night there’s a special and that’s what you get. Like I said, it’s not fancy.”
It almost sounded as though he was apologizing for the place. She could have told him it wasn’t necessary. To her, the special touches of flowers and champagne made her feel like she was in the richest five-star restaurant.
The chicken was so tender she could cut it with her fork. “Isn’t it sacrilegious or something not to eat beef in cattle country?”
He grinned. “Wednesday and Thursday are fish and chicken. The rest of the week is beef. Your birthday happened to fall on chicken night.”
“Well, I’m glad—not to malign your industry or anything. But this is the best meal I’ve had in longer than I remember.” Certainly since she’d been doing the cooking.
“Don’t get out much, do you?”
“I keep pretty busy. There was so much to do getting ready for the baby and setting up my house and the business. My dining experiences ran more toward fast-food takeout.” She smiled. “Or microwave dinners.”
He gave a pained expression.
“Now don’t you go regretting my new appliance. I promise not to feed you guys TV dinners.’’
“You’d surely have a revolt on your hands.”
Two musicians dressed in Western-cut suits took their places by the fire and adjusted microphones. Soon the dining room was filled with the combination of guitar and fiddle music. Maddie listened to the song about riding across prairies and a cowboy’s lament over losing his girl. When the older of the two entertainers went into a gentle yodeling rendition, Maddie laid down her fork and clapped along with the rest of the customers.
She glanced at Brice, noticing that he was watching her instead of the entertainment.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
Brice couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the animation on her face. Everything seemed to delight her, and that made him feel good. Her enjoyment w
as genuine.
Sharon had thought yodeling was silly and backward. And he couldn’t remember his ex-wife ever giving a thought to the bulls he bought. It surprised him how much Madison’s interest in what he did pleased him.
When Laurie came to clear their plates, he shifted his chair closer to Madison’s so they could watch the entertainers. At least that’s what he told himself. More and more lately, he found himself wanting to be close, to touch, to smell, to taste.
To dream.
He was on dangerous ground, and he knew it. But he couldn’t seem to help himself.
When the song ended, Madison clapped louder than anyone else in the room. The guitar player spoke into the microphone.
“Thank you kindly, folks. I’m Clarence, and this here’s my brother Eugene. We’ll be playing some slow dancin’ music for your listening and dancing pleasure, but first, it’s come to our attention that there’s a birthday in the house tonight. Why don’t you all join us in singing to Miz Madison DeWitt.”
Madison’s head whipped around so fast, her hair smacked Brice across the face. “You didn’t!”
He tried to act innocent, but failed. Actually, he was still trying to get his heart rate to settle after hearing her addressed as DeWitt. “It was Laurie’s doing.”
“But you told her.”
“Yeah, I did. Now hush up and listen as everybody sings to you.”
Her cheeks were rosy with pleasure, and he was glad he’d told Laurie what they were celebrating. Madison deserved this. Another first, he realized.
Laurie and Jerome carried out a birthday cake blazing with candles and set it on the table as the whole room sang.
And though obviously not used to the attention, Madison was a good sport about it, standing when the song was over and taking a bow as the customers clapped.
“I can’t believe you did that,” she said when she sat back down.
With his arm across the back of her chair, he toyed with her hair. “Admit it, sunshine. You’re glad I did.”
She nodded, and for a minute there, he thought she was going to cry. Candle wax was melting on the buttercream frosting.
“Make a wish,” he said softly.
She closed her eyes, giving the impression that she was thinking long and hard. Something shifted inside him, a softness around his heart, as he watched her. To go twenty-nine years without somebody making a fuss over your birthday was so sad. She leaned forward, managed all the candles with one puff, then ducked her head when more clapping ensued.
“How about a birthday dance?” Clarence said into the microphone, then strummed his guitar softly. Someone dimmed the lights in the room.
Brice started to stand, but Maddie slapped a hand on his thigh. “Oh, no. I haven’t danced in ages. I’m really rusty.”
He took her hand in his, rose despite her objections and pulled her to her feet. “Then it’s about time we remedied that.”
He led her to a corner of the room that had been cleared for dancing, and pulled her into his arms. Compared to him she felt tiny and he couldn’t help but grin when he noticed that she stood on tiptoe. Normally he found dancing with short women didn’t work well.
With Madison, it felt like a perfect fit.
“If I stomp on your feet, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she whispered.
“These boots have been stomped on before. Relax.”
Maddie tried to relax, but it was difficult. She was in the arms of the most handsome man around. Her husband. In front of an audience.
The muscles of his shoulders shifted beneath her hand. His heat burned her, made her want, made her forget that they were the only couple on the dance floor with a roomful of folks looking on. She felt his lips brush her temple, felt his palm at her back urge her even closer.
Nancy Adams’s words came back to her—Some women are ready in two weeks, claim their hormones have gone haywire.
Well, Maddie could attest to haywire hormones. Hers were all but standing on end, begging to be set free.
Usually her instincts were to think the situation to death, to list the pros and cons, to make sure everything was in balance, to consider the bottom line.
But those instincts were obviously on vacation tonight.
Because tonight all she wanted to do was feel, to go with the emotions, to see just where they would lead.
She tipped her head back, looked into his eyes, tried desperately to read his expression.
The love she felt for him swelled, pounded through her veins.
She wanted a real marriage with this man, wanted the world to stand still, to wrap them in a blanket of security, wanted to forget every worry, every threat, every outside intrusion.
“You’re doing it again,” he said quietly, a muscle working in his jaw.
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me in a way that’s testing my civilized manners.”
She licked her lips. “I don’t recall ever asking you to be civilized.”
His eyes flared and his palm tightened against hers. “Careful, sunshine. I’m trying to remember that you’ve just had a baby.”
“Over four weeks ago.”
“Hell,” he muttered and gently pressed her face to his neck. “You make me forget my own name. Whatever you do, when the music stops, just keep dancing.”
She felt his body’s response to her, felt a heady sense of feminine power that she could affect him so, knew that if they stepped apart, anybody who cared to look would see his body’s reaction, too.
“And what happens when the band takes a break?”
“Hush. I’m counting.”
She grinned, and perversely pressed closer.
He groaned. “Now I’ve lost my place.”
“What are you counting?”
“Cattle.”
A bubble of laughter tickled her insides. “Should I be insulted?”
He exhaled a long breath. “You’re determined to distract me, aren’t you.”
“Yes,” she admitted honestly, boldly.
He leaned back, met her gaze. She wasn’t good at this sort of thing, was probably making a hash of it. But it somehow felt right.
She wanted him. She loved him. He was her husband.
The final notes of the guitar faded away. He turned her around, walked behind her to the table and grabbed his hat.
“We’ll take the cake to go.”
11
Maddie was certain her frayed nerves and thoughts were emblazoned across her forehead as she let herself into the house. Brice was still outside, tending to the horses.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Nancy asked, rising from the sofa and hitting the Remote button to turn off the television.
“Yes.” Major understatement. “How was Abbe?”
“A perfect angel.”
Maddie smiled. “Cried a bit, did she?”
“Nope,” Moe said, coming out of the kitchen. “Little girlie slept the whole dang evenin’.” The older man looked so forlorn that Maddie laughed.
“I appreciate the two of you keeping her for me.”
“That’s what friends are for.” Nancy hugged Maddie and kissed her cheek. “Will we see you in church Sunday?”
Maddie nodded, surprised by the warm hug, the support. These people were amazing.
“Okay. Call if you need anything in the meantime.” The nurse gathered up her coat and keys and let herself out the door.
“Guess I’ll turn in, too,” Moe said. “Happy birthday, missy.”
“Thank you, Moe. It’s been the best ever.”
“That’s the way it’s s’posed to be.”
Alone in the house, Maddie went to check on Abbe, who was indeed sleeping like an angel. She adjusted the blanket, smoothed a hand over the baby’s downy soft head, wishing her daughter would wake up.
Now that she’d all but propositioned Brice, she was suddenly nervous.
What now? Should she change clothes? Put on something sexy? She nearly laughed out loud. She didn’t own a
nything sexier than a floor-length flannel gown.
Should she wait in the bedroom? In the living room? Or should she act casual, heat a cup of chocolate in her new microwave?
She went to the bedroom, stood in the middle of the room, stared at the bed.
Brice’s bed.
For heaven’s sake! She wasn’t a virgin. Yet she felt more high-strung than one.
Casual, she decided. She’d go make that chocolate, take her cue from Brice when he came in. For all she knew, he’d changed his mind—or worse, she’d misread his signals.
She turned and nearly screamed.
He stood in the doorway, hat brushing the top of the jamb, shoulder resting against the wood, watching her.
She licked her lips, laced her fingers together.
Casual.
“I’m not sure what to do.” She closed her eyes. So much for casual, she chided silently.
She felt his fingers touch her chin, cold from being outdoors, smelled the tangy scent of his aftershave mingling lightly with the earthy scent of horses. For such a big man, he moved so silently.
“We don’t have to do this, you know.”
She opened her eyes, looked up at him. Desire was there, and it was mutual. It gave her courage.
“I think we do. Or at least, I do. There’s snow on the ground outside, but I’m burning up.”
He kissed her then, spoke against her lips. “You can’t imagine what your honesty does to me.” He held her close, his hands stroking a path of fire across her back. “Do you feel it?”
“Yes.”
“Be sure, sunshine.”
“I’m sure.”
“It’s been a while for me.”
“Me, too.”
“Yes, but I’m not sure I can be gentle, be what you need. Frankly, I’m scared to death.”
“Then you’re in good company. My insides are shaking like mad. But Nancy said it was...um, okay to do it.”
He went stock-still, astonished. “You asked her?”
She giggled, stunned by the sound. She rarely did such a thing. “No. She volunteered that permission when she, uh, examined me last.”
“In that case...” With his lips pressed to hers, he walked her backward toward the bed, then combed his fingers through her hair, looked at her for a long moment as though battling with some inner demon.
