by Donna Alward
He smiled. “I called into the office after I ran back to the motel to change. I’m actually going out in the field this afternoon, so I thought I’d play hooky for another hour and stop by. I don’t want to tie you up, though, so I won’t stay long.”
She was stupidly pleased to see him, especially after last night. “What’s in the bag?”
“Muffins. Bran blueberry with walnuts. Something healthy for the both of you.”
“Are you saying I’m getting fat?” She was only teasing, but her question prompted him to move forward. He put the bag and the flowers on the desk and then put his hands on her hips.
“I’m not saying that at all. And I promise you that over the next few months, when you start showing and your curves get a little curvier...you will only be more beautiful.”
“Are you one of those men who have a thing for pregnant women?”
He looked deep in her eyes. “No. Just the one who’s pregnant with my baby.”
If he kept this up she’d be swooning half a dozen times a day. Her stomach rumbled again and she broke the spell with a laugh. “Looks like your muffins are well-timed. Oh, hey, guess what? I wasn’t sick this morning.”
“I was a good distraction.”
“Maybe. Maybe it’s just letting up, like the doctor said it would.” She turned away and reached for the bag. “Are you joining me?”
“Naw. I, um, might have had one on the drive over.”
She laughed. “Couldn’t wait?”
“I seem to have worked up an appetite,” he answered. “Lizzie, about last night...”
Her body tingled with simple awareness. “One day at a time, remember?”
His gaze warmed and he nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know we’re supposed to just take things as they come and see how it goes. I just...” She clutched the top of the bag tightly, hanging on his words. He came close, so that their bodies were only a few inches apart and her breath was coming faster. “I just wanted you to know that it was good.”
There was a hesitancy in his voice that she liked. He wasn’t quite sure of himself. Wasn’t quite sure of them. And he definitely wasn’t taking anything about them for granted.
For the first time, she felt like someone actually saw her for her. Not because of her last name or who the members of her family were or the letters after her name. But her. Liz. The person underneath all the other details that somehow formed an image that bore little resemblance to the person inside.
And that was why she’d gone with him that first night. That was why she’d walked into a bar in jeans and boots and a devil-may-care attitude.
“It was good for me, too,” she murmured.
“It’s a good start,” he decreed. “Listen, I hate to do this, but I’ve got to go.”
“Thanks for the flowers and the muffins. It was so thoughtful.” They were barely an inch apart now.
She tilted her chin just a little, inviting him that much closer. He touched her lips with his, a gentle contact that rocked her right to the bottom of her sensible pumps. He took his time, keeping it light and yet devastatingly intimate as his hands lightly gripped her arms. When the kiss broke off, he ran his tongue over his lips once and murmured, “Mmm.”
“I need to get to work, Mr. Miller, and you’re proving to be a big distraction.”
“Can I see you again tonight?”
So soon. It scared her and exhilarated her at the same time. “I should be home around seven. I’ll make dinner.”
“That sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.” He kissed her forehead just as Emory stuck her head in the nearly closed door once more. “Lizzie, you’ve got a call from legal. Can I put them through?”
Lizzie’s cheeks heated as she looked over Chris’s shoulder at her assistant, whose face was completely deadpan. “That’d be fine, Em. Chris was just on his way out.”
“See you tonight,” he said, backing away from her and turning toward the door.
She watched him leave, her heart pounding in her chest. Who knew he’d end up being so romantic? So spontaneous?
The phone buzzed as Emory put through the call and Lizzie snapped back to reality. She had a job to do and she’d better start doing it, rather than mooning over Christopher all day.
Chapter Twelve
The next few weeks passed in a blur. Lizzie spent long hours at the office and updated Brock as needed, but kept those conversations to a minimum. She never really had time to bring up the stock issue once they were done dealing with other topics, and Brock was particularly grouchy these days since he’d caught his crutch on a rug and taken a fall. Between the pain and the physio, she tried to bother him as little as possible.
Mark hadn’t brought it up again either, so she focused on crisis management for the time being and went home exhausted every night.
The good part of that was the way Chris had become a part of her life. He never pushed about the future, but she knew deep down he was becoming deeply entrenched into her day-to-day existence. After the first few nights at her place, he left a toothbrush in her bathroom and she picked up bottles of his scent of body wash and shampoo at the drugstore to keep in her shower. By the weekend he’d brought over some clothes, and by that Sunday night she’d pretty much told him it was foolish for him to be paying for a motel room when he was never there and gave him a key to her condo. He could stay with her until he found a place to live.
So far he’d found himself a Realtor and had turned down a few properties south of the city due to their price. He was just getting started, though, and in the evenings they often spent a half hour or so looking at properties online. One in particular they both loved, and it was only minutes away from Roughneck. The ranch was small but well-kept, the house a two-story colonial with regal white columns out front. It was also about twice his budget, but each night they brought it up and looked at it just for fun. At times she fantasized about what it would be like to live in such a place together, but then she pushed the thoughts away. They were taking things one day at a time. Nothing serious. No commitments or big decisions.
While she was cautious about their relationship, she was much less so about motherhood. Lizzie started looking for things for the baby. One lunch hour she popped into a shop, found herself misty-eyed staring at plush teddy bears and bought two. She bought magazines to inspire the decoration of the nursery and ordered a padded rocking chair.
The chair was delivered to the condo on Thursday night and the delivery men left it in the living room until Lizzie could decide where she wanted it put. Chris came home and discovered her sitting in it, her hands on the curved arms, sinking into the soft cushions and rocking back and forth.
“New furniture?” He raised an eyebrow and smiled at her, closing the door.
“I couldn’t resist. I was passing by and saw it and it was a total impulse buy.”
“What? Ms. Total Planner? But what if the stain color doesn’t match the crib you want?”
She laughed. “Oddly enough, I’m worrying less about stuff like that lately.”
He came forward and bent down for a kiss. “Good. Less stress is good for you and the baby.”
She frowned and kept rocking. “I wouldn’t say I have less stress. I’ve been meaning to talk to my dad about something Mark brought to my attention last week and I don’t quite know how to bring it up.”
“Oh?” She watched as Chris moved to the kitchen and retrieved a pot, filled it with water and put it on the burner to heat.
“There’s been a lot of stock activity since Dad’s accident. We expected the price to dip, but there’s been a lot of buying lately, too.” She frowned. “You know, our position in the industry took a hit when we lost that contract in the Gulf. I can’t help feeling that we might have weathered that better if we were more diversified.”
Chris poured marinar
a into a pot to heat and began slicing chicken breasts. “You think someone’s making a move on the company?”
“I don’t know. Other than Mark’s ‘feeling’ about the stock, there’s no evidence.”
“But you’re worried.”
“Of course I’m worried.” She stopped rocking, looked up at him as he stood at the stove, his upper half visible through the opening above the serving counter.
He met her gaze. “You’re just particularly sensitive because you’re new to this and you’re feeling pressure, that’s all. I know you don’t want to disappoint your dad.”
“Not just Dad. The company, too. I love it. I always have. It’s more than just an office to me.”
“I know.” He frowned a little.
“What?” She pushed herself up out of the chair. “You don’t like me running the company?”
“If you love it, you should.” He slid pasta into the now-boiling water. “I’m just, well, a bit jealous. Not everyone finds the one thing that they really love and makes a career out of it.”
She felt a little guilty then, knowing he’d given up something he’d loved to be there for her and the baby. But he needn’t have done that so soon. He could have finished out the season.
She went into the kitchen, paused by the refrigerator and watched as he sautéed the chicken, pushing it around with a wooden spoon. “Chris, why did you leave the rodeo behind so fast after I told you the news? I know you said you wanted to support your child, but he or she isn’t even born yet.”
“Because I was kidding myself,” he answered bluntly. “I took a year off to play, but I knew deep down it was just a vacation. It’s not real life.” He smiled at her. “I found out I was going to be a father and I decided I needed to stop wishing for my youth back and start growing up.”
“But are you happy? Really happy?”
He shrugged. “Is anyone ever completely and perfectly happy? I doubt it.”
He came over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Listen. If we hadn’t met, you wouldn’t be expecting a baby. And if you weren’t pregnant, we wouldn’t be here right now. And here isn’t such a bad place to be.” His dimple popped and she couldn’t deny him anything when he smiled like that.
No, here wasn’t a bad place to be at all. But she couldn’t escape the feeling that he was putting on a bit of a show just the same. That not everything was as cozy as it seemed. The problem, she realized, was that it all felt a little too good to be true. And the problem with that was in her experience, if it felt too good to be true it generally was.
“It’s just a job. Don’t sweat it.” He brushed it off and went back to the stove to stir the meat.
She paused for a moment and then decided to let it drop. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.
He smiled brightly. “Salad?”
She went to work making a green salad to go with their dinner when Chris brought up another subject. “I spoke to my parents today. I think we should tell them. How do you feel about going for a drive this weekend?”
She frowned. Things were busy at work and she’d planned to go over some operational reports away from the office. Then again, they’d told her family nearly two weeks earlier and Lizzie was feeling better. After all Chris’s sacrifices, the least she could do was revise her schedule.
“That’d be fine,” she replied, tossing the salad with the forks.
It was all very domestic. Very...settled. She should be happy. He was a good man, they got along well, and the sparks—well, they were there, too.
So why did she feel as if they were living in a house of cards, and the slightest interfering breeze would blow it down?
* * *
CHRIS WAS DEFINITELY aware of the differences between the Miller spread and the Baron ranch. No gated entry and grand stone mansion, no manicured lawns, modern barns or a swimming pool in the back. Just a one-story ranch-style bungalow, a neat lawn with some bedding plants livening the place and a vegetable garden off to one side. A late-model half-ton truck sat in the driveway next to a used but reliable compact car.
“You grew up here?” Lizzie asked from the passenger seat. They’d brought his truck today; his parents would expect it and he enjoyed driving it more than Lizzie’s luxury car if he were being honest.
“All my life,” he answered, strangely nervous. “Dad works at a neighboring ranch and my mom has a part-time job at the library in town.”
It was nothing compared to her lifestyle in Dallas.
“It’s nice growing up in one spot, isn’t it?” She turned her bright eyes to him and smiled. “We had some instability in our lives, with our mom and with Peggy dying, but we always had Dad and Roughneck. There’s a lot to be said about the security of constancy.”
He’d always felt so, too.
“It must have been hard for you to move. You were so close to your parents and could visit whenever you wanted.”
“It’s not that far to drive,” he said, but she was right. He’d missed being a little closer. Checking in to make sure they were all right. His mom had had a bout of angina the year before and years of handling livestock had left his dad in good shape but dealing with a bit of arthritis in his knees.
He parked next to the car and got out right away to open Lizzie’s door. She reached into the middle of the bench seat and took out a bakery box containing an orange chiffon cake. Lizzie had insisted on bringing dessert and had planned on baking, she said. But in the end she’d worked late into the evening and they’d stopped at a bakery instead.
When he shut the door behind her, he turned around to find his mother on the front steps. “Christopher Miller. About time you got your sorry hide back here.”
He wouldn’t have expected any other greeting and his heart lightened as he smiled. “Where’s Dad?”
“Just finishing up in the shower. When he heard you were bringing a woman home with you, he decided to spruce up.”
Mrs. Miller smiled at Lizzie. “We’re very happy to have you here. Should I call you Liz? That’s what Chris has called you.”
To his relief Lizzie smiled in return. “Liz is fine. Thanks for having us over for dinner, Mrs. Miller.”
“Oh, go on and call me Debra, none of this Missus business.”
He was thankful she hadn’t insisted on being called Mom—and also thankful for the warm welcome. His parents hadn’t been totally happy about his move to Dallas, after all.
“Come in, come in,” Debra invited, holding open the screen door. “I’ve got fried chicken ready to go on and Chris’s favorite mashed potatoes. Hope you’re hungry.”
Lizzie smiled up at him as they crossed the threshold into the house. “Always,” she whispered, and Chris laughed. It was true. She had a healthy appetite for sure.
His mother took the bakery box from Lizzie and put it on the kitchen counter after peeking beneath the lid and oohing over the cake. “Let’s take a cool drink out on the back verandah,” she suggested. “And we can catch up while Robert makes himself pretty.”
Chris watched as Lizzie accepted iced tea from his mother and then went outside to the shaded verandah. His mom picked a comfortable padded chair and left the two-seater swing empty. He held out a hand, inviting Lizzie to sit down and then he sat beside her.
“Oh, this is lovely,” Lizzie said, letting out a breath. “There’s nothing like wide-open space to blow your troubles away, is there?”
Chris looked over at her, surprised at her observation. She was the kid who enjoyed the business, living in the city. And yes, she fit in at Roughneck but even that was very different from the simple life his folks led.
“How right you are,” his mom agreed. “Now that it’s just Bob and me, sittin’ on that swing at the end of the day is just about perfect.”
He watched Lizzie as she smi
led and her eyes lit up with impish humor. “We had a tire swing at our house when we were little. I used to sit in it and spin around and look up at the sky. My brother thought it would be fun to spin me around and around and let me go. But it backfired.”
“What happened?” Chris asked, intrigued by this side of Lizzie. She was so open. So guileless.
So much like the woman he’d met at the bar. Unencumbered.
“The ride ended, I got out of the tire and threw up on his boots,” she replied, and the three of them laughed. “He never tried that again.”
A slap of the screen door announced Chris’s dad’s arrival. He came outside dressed in clean jeans and a button-down shirt, his face freshly shaved and a glass of tea in his hand. “Sorry I’m late to the party,” he greeted, pulling up a chair beside Debra. “I smelled like the barn.”
Once again Chris was surprised by Lizzie, pleasantly so. “Hi, Mr. Miller. I’m Liz. And you shouldn’t have worried about the barn. I’m pretty used to it.”
He nodded. “So you’re the reason our Chris has run off to Dallas.” He winked at Chris. “I can see why, son.”
Chris was expecting Lizzie’s blush and sure enough, the pink hue blossomed on her cheeks. “We figured it was time you met,” Chris began, unsure of where to insert the details into the conversation. Now or after dinner? Or during?
“What do you do, Liz? Chris never really said.”
Lizzie’s gaze swerved to his and he half shrugged. “It didn’t come up,” he explained, though he knew he’d kept it a bit quiet. Not for any reason other than they had kept their relationship fairly secret until the last week or two.
“I’m Lizzie Baron,” she explained. When no one answered, she added, “I’m the acting president of Baron Energies at the moment.”
“Baron Energies?” Bob’s jaw dropped. “The oil company?”
She nodded.
“But Brock Baron always ran that. Chris, you competed against his boys, didn’t you?”
