Her Favorite Maverick

by Christine Rimmer

  And if Flo and Mack weren’t doing it in the office, she said, they were suddenly heading out the door, going who-knew-where together.

  “Not to visit clients, that’s for sure,” she grumbled. “So yeah. I’m back in my old hometown, still trying to be a good mom while putting in killer hours doing my best to catch up with the workload my parents are currently too busy schtupping to shoulder.”

  He looked at her sideways. “Did you just say schtupping?”

  “I did. And I have no idea where that came from. I’ve never used that word before in my life.” Her sweet mouth was trembling—and not with tears this time. She laughed out loud, tipping back in the chair, the sound free and open and so good to hear.

  He just wanted to hold her, though he doubted she’d allow it.

  Still, he had to try. Rising, he offered his hand. She put hers in it. He pulled her up and into his arms, guiding her head to rest on his shoulder.

  They laughed together, holding on to each other, until he tugged on the end of her ponytail.

  She looked up at him. “What?”

  “Is that it? Is that everything?”

  “Pretty much, yeah. I’m working nonstop and still somehow barely keeping up. I adore my baby, but I hate being constantly frazzled and frumpy.”

  He put a finger to her lips. They were so soft, those lips. He ached to kiss them. “You’re not frumpy. Not in the least. You’re beautiful and you’re doing a great job and it’s all going to work out.”

  She actually smiled at him. “I shouldn’t believe a word you say. But you know what? I kind of love it. Because all this flattery and praise, well, I can use a little flattery at this point. I really, really can.”

  “Sarah.” He touched her silky cheek. And she didn’t even try to stop him.

  She didn’t stop him when he traced the perfect shape of her ear, either. Or when he put his finger under her pretty chin and lifted it a fraction higher. She smelled so good, like flowers and baby lotion and something else, some delicate spice.

  And then she whispered his name so softly and just a little bit hesitantly, lifting her chin even higher, offering up those plump, tempting lips to him.

  He took what she offered. Carefully, at first, not wanting to push her, he brushed his mouth back and forth across hers until she opened to him, her lips parting on a soft, hungry cry.

  It was all the invitation he needed.

  He went for it, settling his mouth more firmly on hers, smiling a little when she made a sweet humming sound.

  Her body was pliant in his arms. Every inch of her felt just right, giving and womanly, soft where he was hard. He could kiss her forever.

  But too soon, with a tiny moan, she lowered her chin and broke the perfect kiss. Suddenly shy, she pressed her face into the crook of his shoulder.

  He kissed her temple, her hair, even gave a quick nip to her earlobe. That brought a giggle. She lifted her gaze to him again. They regarded each other. Her eyes were almost pure gold right now.

  “Let me take you out,” he said. “Friday night. There’s this great little Italian place in Kalispell I discovered a week or so ago when I got tired of eating Xander’s cooking.”

  “Really, Logan. Didn’t you hear a word I said?”

  “I heard every word. Let me take you out.”

  “I just can’t.”

  He touched her chin again, ran his thumb back and forth across those perfect, kissable lips of hers. “Can’t has got nothing to do with it. You know you can. All you have to do is say yes.”

  “You are the sweetest man.”

  Sweet? Had any woman ever called him that? Doubtful. And he wasn’t sure he liked it all that much. But he’d take it if it got him what he wanted. What they both wanted. Because she was drawn to him as much as he was to her. If he’d had any doubts on that score, the kiss they’d just shared had ended them. “So that’s a yes, right?”

  Her head went from side to side, that ponytail swaying slowly. “I’ve got no time for fancy restaurants.”

  “The restaurant I’m thinking of is a great place, but not that fancy, I promise you.”

  She sighed. “Logan, I shouldn’t have kissed you and nothing is going to happen between us.”

  What was it about this woman? He’d never worked so hard to get a girl to say yes—and not even a yes to spending the night in his bed. Uh-uh. So far, he couldn’t even convince her to let him buy her dinner.

  He should give up.

  But she had those golden eyes and she smelled so good and, well, something about her had him willing to do whatever he had to do just to get the raw beginnings of a chance with her. “How ’bout a quiet evening at your house, just you and me and little Sophia? I’ll bring takeout.”

  “Really, I—”

  “Yes.” He said it firmly. “That’s the word you’re looking for. Three little letters. Just say it. Say it now.”

  “Oh, but I—”

  “Yes. Come on, you can do it.”

  “Logan, you—”

  “Yes.”

  “I—”

  “Yes.”

  She bit her lower lip, adorably torn.

  “Yes,” he whispered yet again, holding her gaze nice and steady, keeping his tone gentle but firm.

  And finally, she gave in and gave him what they both wanted. “Oh, all right. Friday night, takeout at my house. Yes.”

  * * *

  The next day, Thursday, Logan’s other four brothers arrived from Texas bringing a caravan of stock trailers full of horses and cattle. Sarah drove up not long after they all pulled in and Logan made the introductions.

  Once she’d greeted them all, Sarah retreated to the office and got to work. That day and the next were busy ones at the ranch, what with getting the stock and the rest of the family settled in. Logan didn’t have a lot of free time.

  But for Sarah, he made time. He really liked the simple fact of her being there at the Ambling A, of knowing that he could see her whenever he had a spare minute or two. All he had to do was visit the office at the back of the house.

  Both days, she brought Sophia with her. The baby slept in her carrier on the edge of the desk or rolled around in the collapsible play yard on the floor at Sarah’s feet, making her cute little noises, staring up at a mobile of butterflies, birds and airplanes, happily gumming a series of rattles and rubber toys.

  Logan checked in every two or three hours in case Sarah had questions. If Sophia was awake, he would spend a few minutes bent over the carrier or the play yard. The little girl made her goo-goo sounds at him and he answered each one with, “You’re right” or “I agree completely” or “Yes, your mama is looking even more beautiful than usual today.”

  Sarah pretended to ignore him whenever he kidded around with Sophia. She focused on her laptop, her slim fingers working the mouse, swiftly tapping the keys. But Logan didn’t miss the slight flush to her cheeks or the smiles she tried so hard to hide.

  If Sophia was fussy, he would pick her up and walk her around the office a little until she quieted. The first time that happened, Sarah said, “You don’t have to hold her. She’s fine, really. I usually wait a few minutes before I rush to calm her. Half the time, she settles down by herself.”

  He stroked the baby’s wispy hair and kept walking back and forth. “Are you saying you don’t want me to pick her up?”

  “Of course not. You’re sweet to do it. Hey, knock yourself out.”

  “Thanks.” He grinned at the baby and she grinned right back. “Because Sophia and I, we have a good thing going on.”

  Sarah kept right on typing. “She has you wrapped around her teeny-tiny finger is what you mean.”

  “Exactly,” he answered proudly. “And Sophia and I, we like it that way.”

  Once he’d had a little quality time with Sophia, Logan would answer any questio
ns that Sarah had for him and then leave her to her work. It wasn’t easy, keeping his visits to the office at a minimum and his hands to himself. Every time he went in there, he longed to move in behind her, bend close, breathe in the scent of her, maybe turn her chair around and steal a steamy kiss. But he needed to show her that he was capable of respecting her workspace.

  By Friday afternoon, though, he was anticipating the coming evening like crazy.

  He hoped that she was, too.

  * * *

  There was a white van parked at the curb in front of her Pine Street cottage when Sarah answered the door at seven Friday evening with Sophia in her arms.

  “Cute house,” said Logan, looking way too hot in dress jeans, a snow-white shirt and a leather jacket that probably cost more than a Ford Fiesta.

  She saw over his shoulder that his fancy crew cab pickup was right behind the van—the van that had “Giordano’s Catering for All Occasions” printed in flowing red script across the side. He was having dinner catered? That wasn’t the deal. She was about to question him when Sophia seemed to recognize him.

  The baby pulled her fist from her mouth and giggled out a nonsense word, “Adaduh,” as her face lit up in a giant, toothless smile. Before Sarah could stop her, she swayed toward him, fat arms outstretched.

  “Whoa,” he said. “Okay.” And he caught her neatly on one arm. “I’ve got you.”

  “Gack!” She patted his face with her little hand.

  “She’ll get drool on your jacket,” Sarah warned.

  “I don’t care.” He made a silly face at Sophia, who giggled in delight and patted his cheek some more.

  A dark-haired woman emerged from the passenger side of the van and bustled up the front walk as the driver got out, went around and opened the van’s rear doors.

  “This is a lot more than takeout,” Sarah chided.

  “It’th better than takeout,” he said with a lisp because he was gumming Sophia’s fingers. He caught the baby’s hand and kissed her tiny fingertips. Sophia chortled as he suggested, “Wait and see.”

  Really, the guy was impossible.

  The caterer introduced herself. “I’m Mia.” The burly driver came up the steps behind her. “This is Dan.” She asked where Sarah wanted them to set up.

  Sarah led Mia and Dan into the dining alcove. “How can I help?” she asked.

  Logan took her arm and pulled her over next to him. “Step back and let them work.”

  Mia and Dan swiftly set the table with white linen, fancy china, real silver and shining glassware. There were candles—tall, white ones in silver candlesticks. It was really beautiful.

  Logan still held Sophia. The baby waved her arms and jabbered away as Mia and her assistant took the food into the kitchen. They put the salads and dessert in the fridge and set the rest out on the counter in chafing dishes to keep it warm.

  “We’ll serve ourselves,” Logan said when the caterers were finished setting up.

  Mia explained that she would be by around eleven the next morning to collect the dishes and everything else. “Just leave it all on the porch if you’re not going to be here or if you plan to sleep late.” She and her helper headed out the door. Sarah followed, thanked them again, and stood there in the doorway as the van started up and drove away.

  She turned back to the man and the baby. He’d given Sophia the rubber frog Sarah had left on the coffee table. Sophia chewed on it contentedly, resting her head against his broad chest.

  “You shouldn’t have,” said Sarah flatly.

  “You love it,” he replied.

  And yeah, she kind of did.

  * * *

  Logan was getting downright attached to Sophia. She seemed to really like him, too. Yeah, she got drool on his jacket, but so what? She chewed on her rubber frog and occasionally glanced up at him. “Ack,” she would say, or “Bah,” like she was telling him something really important.

  She was wearing pajamas, white ones with pink sheep printed on them, all ready for bed. Sarah said no way was she sitting down to that beautiful dinner while the baby was still awake.

  When Sophia started to get fussy, Sarah took her. “You can hang your jacket on that rack by the door,” she said, as she knelt to put the baby on a play mat on the living room floor, setting a mobile over her with little forest animals hanging from it. Sophia didn’t even try to turn over as she often did when Sarah had her in the play yard at the ranch. She just gummed her frog and stared up at the slowly rotating bears and squirrels.

  Logan caught Sarah’s hand as she rose from the floor. He turned her around so they were facing each other. Back at the ranch earlier that day, she’d been wearing dress jeans and a pale green button-up. Now, she wore a silky bronze-colored shirt with a nice low neckline that clung to the rounded curves of her breasts. “I like this shirt.” He liked her snug jeans, too, which were a little darker brown than the shirt. On her feet she wore flats in a leopard print.

  “Thank you.” She smiled at him. Slowly. All he wanted was to kiss her.

  Somehow, he controlled himself. “You should give me a tour.”

  She pointed at the short hall a few feet away. “Two bedrooms and a bath through there.” And she gestured past the dining area. “Kitchen through that arch there. It’s small, but it’s home.” She gave a wry grin, a grin that enticed him because everything about her enticed him.

  And he couldn’t resist a moment longer. He reeled her in, caught her face between his hands and kissed her. She tasted so good and she kissed him back, shyly at first and then more deeply.

  The feel of her against him was temptation personified. He wanted to take it further. But now was hardly the moment, with their dinner still uneaten and her baby staring up at them from the floor.

  Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. “I could get used to this.”

  She pulled back. He caught her fingers before she could fully escape him. They stood in the middle of her small living room, holding hands, regarding each other. “You’re a very determined guy, Logan.”

  “You noticed, huh?”

  She did that thing, catching her lower lip between her teeth. He loved when she did that. It also drove him just a little bit wild. He ached to bite that lip for her.

  “You’re here in my house,” she said. “My baby has a crush on you. I don’t believe this is happening. This is everything I promised myself I wasn’t going to do again.”

  “It’s just dinner,” he reminded her—though it was a whole lot more than that. And both of them knew it.

  But he would tell whatever little white lies he had to tell to get closer to her.

  She glanced down at Sophia. He followed her gaze. The baby lay, her arms above her head, rubber frog abandoned, sound asleep, as the mobile of forest animals continued to turn slowly over her head.

  “I’ll just put her in her crib,” Sarah whispered, easing her fingers from his grip and kneeling to gather the little girl into her arms. Sophia’s tiny mouth stretched wide in a yawn, but she didn’t open her eyes.

  Sarah carried the baby down the short hall and Logan followed. She entered the room on the right. He remained in the open doorway as she laid Sophia in her crib and settled a light blanket over her.

  When she turned and saw him standing there, he felt a little guilty for trailing after her. He was constantly pushing the boundaries with her and he knew he had to be careful not to go too far. Sarah just might send him packing.

  But apparently, the sight of him in the doorway to her baby’s bedroom didn’t bother her. Those golden eyes were soft and accepting of his presence there.

  She came to him. “Let’s have dinner,” she whispered. “I’m starving.”

  * * *

  Sarah dished up the food as Logan lit the candles and opened the bottle of Chianti he’d ordered to go with the meal.

>   They sat down to eat. It was heaven, Sarah thought, even if it was exactly the kind of intimate evening she should never have let happen.

  But still...

  A beautiful meal and a nice glass of wine, a gorgeous man across the table from her. It really was a special treat. She hadn’t had a single sip of anything with alcohol in it since the day the home pregnancy test came out positive. Not only was drinking bad for the baby, who had time for it? Not Sarah.

  However, she’d stopped nursing two months ago. The stress in Chicago had been killing her and it was just too much, all that pumping to get enough milk for when Sophia was at day care. Sarah had given up the fight and switched to formula. It wasn’t as good for her baby—or her wallet—but at least Sophia seemed to be doing fine on a bottle. She was even starting to eat pureed foods.

  And if Sarah had a glass of wine or two tonight, her baby wouldn’t suffer for it.

  “Hey,” said the killer-handsome guy across the table.

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re frowning. Something wrong with the wine?”

  “No way.” She raised her glass to him. “It’s delicious. And the veal is amazing.”

  He seemed pleased. “Told you so.”

  The conversation flowed easily. They talked about her progress on the Ambling A accounts. Logan reported that his second-born brother, Hunter, and his six-year-old daughter, Wren, had moved into one of the three cottages on the property. Knox, fifth in the birth order, had claimed a second cottage. Finn and Wilder had taken rooms in the main house with Max, Logan and Xander.

  “Six of you boys and Max, too,” Sarah teased. “That’s a lot of testosterone.”

  “We get along,” he said. “Mostly. Dad can drive us all kind of crazy, but his heart’s in the right place.”

  Was it? She didn’t know what to think about Max. “If you say so. How did your brothers react to the news that Max has offered Viv and Caroline a million bucks to find you guys brides?”