by Judy Duarte
As if reading his mind, she lifted her mouth to his, and they came together as if they’d never been apart.
Miranda was the last woman in the world Matt should be kissing, let alone making love with, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now. Not when she was the only woman he’d ever really wanted.
So he took her by the hand. “Come here. I need to get off my feet.”
When he led her away from the kitchen table and past the sofa in the living room, she asked, “Where are we going?”
He paused before reaching the hall. “Unless you have an objection, we’re going to my bedroom.”
* * *
Miranda continued to walk with Matt down the hall and into his room, her heart pounding, her blood racing. They stopped next to the bed, and he pulled her into his arms. She leaned into him, her baby bump pressing against him.
As their lips met, he swayed but quickly recovered.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.
“My knee is messed up and hurts like hell most of the time. But don’t worry. The other parts of me are in perfect working order. So I won’t disappoint you.”
At that, she laughed. “You never have.”
“Good.” He took a seat on the edge of the mattress, following through on the need to take the weight off his knee. “But what about you?”
“Me?”
He nodded at her growing belly. “Is it going to hurt anything if we make love?”
She smiled, appreciating his concern. “Between your knee and my baby bump, we might need to adjust our positions now and then.”
“That’s not going to be a problem.” Matt drew her closer, bent his head and placed a kiss on her belly. When he looked up again, he blessed her with an old Matt grin. “I’ll be careful with this little guy before and after he gets here.”
Miranda didn’t think she could ever love this man any more than she did right now. She brushed her lips against his forehead, and he drew her onto the bed, where he took her into his arms and placed his mouth on hers.
Their hands roamed each other’s bodies, seeking, exploring, caressing. When Matt’s hand worked its way to her breast, and his thumb skimmed across her nipple, she feared she would melt into a puddle on the bed if they didn’t pull back the sheets and remove their clothes.
As a yearning emptiness settled deep in her core, she withdrew her lips from his. With a voice husky and laden with desire, she whispered, “I’ve really missed you, Matt. And I’ve missed this.”
* * *
Matt had really missed her, too—more than he wanted to admit. He’d never ached for a woman this badly. And he doubted he ever would.
Unable and unwilling to prolong the foreplay any longer, he sat up in bed, unbuttoned his shirt, slipped it off and tossed it to the floor. Then he unbuckled his belt and undid the metal buttons on his jeans. As he peeled off his pants, he took care not to jar his knee.
When he’d removed his boxers, baring his body to her, she skimmed her nails across his chest, sending a heated shiver through his veins.
Her gaze never left his as she, too, sat up beside him. She lifted the hem of her yellow sundress, scooting and gathering the fabric until she could lift it over her head and toss it to the floor, next to his discarded clothes.
When she unhooked her bra, freeing her gorgeous breasts, much fuller now than before, he longed to take her in his arms. He wanted nothing more than to feel the heat of her skin on his, to sink deep into her, showing her that he’d missed her, too, and letting her know just how much.
Instead, he drank in the angelic sight he’d never thought he’d see again. “You’re beautiful.”
A slow smile stretched across her lips. “You are, too.”
He didn’t know about that, what with the few scars he’d added since the last time they’d been together.
Unable to ignore the tempting view of her breasts any longer, he took a nipple in his mouth, tonguing it, loving it, then moving to the other until she gasped in pleasure.
Taking mercy on them both, he laid her down and rolled to his side, thanking his lucky stars that he had her in his bed again, that he had the chance to savor the sight of those luscious dark curls splayed on his pillow, those expressive brown eyes glazed with passion as they watched his every move.
An easy grin spread across her face. “This is the point where we used to need a condom.”
He returned her smile. It would be nice to make love without a barrier between them for a change. At least that kind.
As he braced himself on an elbow, intending to rise over her, she placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed him back onto the mattress. “Under the circumstances, it might be better if I get on top.”
“Good idea.”
She moved slowly at first, taking care not to bump his knee, but she soon settled onto his erection. His body responded to hers, up and down, in and out, the world-shaking tempo setting his soul on fire.
He closed his eyes, savoring the magic they’d always created in this room and on this bed.
Their lives might be heading in a complicated direction, one they probably should reconsider, but not when their hormones were spinning out of control. As it always had in the past when they’d made love, time stood still, and the only thing that mattered was the two of them and the love they made.
When Miranda reached a peak, she cried out, arched her back and let it go. He shuddered as she climaxed, releasing with her in a sexual explosion that gave him a glimpse of the heavens and a glittery night sky filled with shooting stars.
Matt had no idea what the future would hold, but at least for this afternoon, she was his.
Chapter Eleven
As they lay in the afterglow of an amazing climax, Miranda nuzzled into Matt, savoring his familiar, mountain-fresh scent and the velvet hard feel of the man she’d never stopped loving.
“How’s your knee?” she asked.
“It’s all right, I guess.” An unreadable expression crossed his face. “I mean, making love didn’t make it any worse.”
She rose up on her elbow and stroked his chest, her fingers tracing a curved scar she didn’t remember him having, reminding her even more of the danger he faced each time he climbed on a bull. “But it’s still bad. Isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” He pursed his lips and frowned. “What’s worse, I’m not going to be able to compete in the Rocking Chair Rodeo.”
“There’ll be others,” she said, telling him what she suspected he wanted to hear.
“I hope you’re right, but the jury’s still out on that.”
Miranda tried to conjure more sympathy for him than she actually had. Even when they’d dated before, she’d known how he felt about the rodeo. He’d loved the roar of the crowd, the thrill of the ride—maybe even more than he’d claimed to love her.
It might be selfish on her part, but if truth be told, she didn’t want him to return to the circuit for safety reasons. And there were a few emotional reasons, too. She didn’t want him to return to the buckle bunnies who were known to fawn over their rodeo hero.
In so many other ways, Matt was her hero, too, and she didn’t want to share him.
“I’m going to Houston tomorrow to meet with the Rocking Chair Rodeo promoters.”
“How long will you be gone?” she asked.
“A couple of days.”
Now that they were back together, she wasn’t ready to lose him, even for that short of a time. “Do you have to go?”
“I made a commitment to bring in more sponsorships and to help the Rocking Chair Rodeo draw a big crowd. And I plan to follow through on it, even if I can’t actually ride.”
Matt might be medically grounded, and he appeared to be back in the saddle again, so to speak. But there was a lot more going on under on the surface.
If he couldn�
�t compete again, his heart would be broken. And if he did go back out on the circuit, hers would probably break instead.
In spite of how special, how amazing their lovemaking had been, that bittersweet truth buffed the shine off the afterglow.
Her chest ached, and tears pricked her eyes. She had to get away before he asked her what was wrong. As she pondered the best way to escape, a familiar engine sounded, saving her from having to explain.
“I think George and Emily are back.” She climbed over Matt and got out of bed. Then she picked up her dress and panties from the floor, slipped them on as quickly as she could and headed for the kitchen to make herself look busy—and guilt free.
She got as far as the living room, where she glanced at her reflection in the glass doors of the antique hutch against the wall and rolled her eyes. Talk about the walk of shame. She’d been in such a hurry to waylay George and Emily before they came inside and found her and Matt in bed, that she hadn’t realized her appearance would pretty much shout out what they’d been doing.
Why hadn’t she taken the time to run a brush through her hair? George was going to suspect that they’d...
Her shoulders slumped, and she blew out a sigh. For some reason, she suspected that the man already knew what would happen when he took Emily for the afternoon.
Either way, she hastily combed her fingers through her hair, then went to the kitchen, where she planned to look busy until they opened the back door.
After she washed her hands and took out the hamburger she’d let defrost in the fridge, they still hadn’t come in to the house.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she went outside, in her bare feet no less, to see what they were up to.
When she spotted George unloading lumber, chicken wire and a small blue plastic kiddie pool from the back of his pickup, she froze in her steps.
A few feet away Emily sat on the ground, smiling as she peered into a cardboard box. Before Miranda could cross the yard to look inside and see what held her daughter’s apt attention, Emily pulled out a little yellow duckling and pressed it gently to her cheek.
Oh, for Pete’s sake. Miranda slapped her hands on her hips. “Emily Jane, I told you not to bring any more animals home.”
“But I didn’t. Uncle George is the one who bought them. I’m just going to take care of them for him.”
“That’s a fact,” the old man said, nodding sagely. “I’ve always wanted to have a flock of ducks. I just never got around to getting any.”
Yeah, right. Once Emily got a look at those cute little yellow balls of fluff at the feed store, George clearly hadn’t had the heart to object. And now he was claiming they were his. And they would be, once she and Emily moved to their new place, especially if they ended up living within Brighton Valley’s city limits.
“Guess what else we bought.” Emily placed the duckling back into the box, scrambled to her feet and ran to the passenger side of the old pickup. After opening the door and reaching inside, she hurried to Miranda, carrying a DVD. “We went to Shop-Smart and found this.”
The Wizard of Oz.
“Cool,” Miranda said with a smile, but her eyes remained on the confined ducklings, which had begun to quack and scurry around the box.
After the conscientious duck-sitter hurried back to her little charges and told them she was back, she looked up at Miranda and smiled. “Uncle George and I already picked out names for them. Dorothy, Toto and Scarecrow.”
Miranda rolled her eyes and muttered, “Ponies and doggies and ducks. Oh, my.”
When the back door squeaked open, Miranda looked over her shoulder and watched Matt hobble outside, fresh from the shower and wearing his brace. He looked good. Refreshed. As if he’d just taken a nap. On the other hand, she was a wreck.
She glanced down at her dusty bare feet and slowly shook her head. She must look worse than she’d thought. Before taking a step in either direction, she raked her fingers through her messy hair, only to snag a nail on a snarl.
Great. Just great. Too bad she couldn’t click her heels and zoom off to Kansas.
She turned and tossed Matt a weary don’t-even-say-it smile. Then she headed for the house—and to the shower—wondering what George must think.
Before she reached the back door, she scolded herself for falling back on a bad habit.
In the past, when she’d been an unwed, pregnant teen, she’d worried way too much about what others thought, which was probably due to her father’s concerns at the time. But she wasn’t going to fall back into that self-deprecating trap anymore.
The only opinions that really mattered to her were Emily’s and Matt’s. As for her daughter, Emily adored Matt and would be thrilled if he and Miranda were to have an intimate relationship, assuming things continued in that direction.
That only left Matt and his thoughts about the future. And so far, as troubling as it was, he hadn’t said a word.
* * *
After taking a long shower and shampooing her hair, Miranda slipped on a pair of comfy black stretch pants and a pink top. Then she grabbed her cell phone and padded to the overstuffed chair in her bedroom.
She’d put off calling her father long enough. And now that she and Matt had reconciled—at least, that seemed like a fair assumption for her to make—she wanted Matt to know that she wasn’t afraid to level with her dad. She’d tell him where she was staying and who was sleeping down the hall. After he blew a fuse, she’d admit that she was pregnant and that she planned to relocate to Brighton Valley. He’d be hurt and angry, of course. But experience told her that it would be best if he blew off a little steam. And then, as usual, he’d get over it.
When she dialed his number, the call rolled over to voice mail. So she left a message. “It’s me, Papa. I’ll try you at the office.”
Less than a minute later, Carolina Sanchez, one of several secretaries, answered the phone. “Contreras Farms.”
“Hi, Caroline. This is Miranda. Is my father available?”
“No, I’m afraid not. He flew to Los Mochis yesterday to meet with Gavin’s father and two other investors. From what I understand, the cell phone reception is pretty sketchy. I’ve already got a list of messages to give him once he’s back on the grid.”
“When do you expect him to return?” she asked.
“Maybe tonight or early tomorrow morning. But since the company jet is having a maintenance check, he’ll have to fly home commercially. Can I give him a message?”
“No, I’ll wait until he gets back to the States and contact him then.”
After ending the call, Miranda went to the kitchen to fix spaghetti for dinner. She really didn’t mind cooking. And she hated to see both Matt and George pick up meals to bring home, even if they both insisted they were used to doing that.
Two hours later, after they’d eaten dinner and she’d put the dishes into the dishwasher, she pulled out a couple of microwave popcorn packets from the pantry, as well as a liter of root beer from the fridge and a gallon of vanilla ice cream from the freezer.
“Whatcha doin’?” Emily asked, as she entered the kitchen.
“Getting ready for movie night.”
“Are you going to eat that sweet stuff, too?”
“Of course.”
Emily joined Miranda at the kitchen counter, then lifted a cupped hand to her mouth and whispered, “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you’ve been getting a little fat. And my teacher said that happens when you eat too much sugar. Want me to get you something healthy to eat, like a cracker or an apple or something?”
Miranda fought a smile. She hadn’t wanted to tell Emily about the baby until after she’d told her father. But since that phone call was as good as made, she turned to her daughter, her eyes glistening in mirth.
“Uh-oh,” Emily said. “You’re crying. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feeling
s. I don’t care if you get big and fat. I just thought Daddy might like you better if...”
She didn’t finish what she meant to say, but she didn’t need to.
“First of all,” Miranda said, “the look and shape of our bodies doesn’t have anything to do with the people we are on the inside. So if your father doesn’t like me just the way I am, he can move on to someone else.”
Emily’s eyes widened. “But we don’t want that to happen, right?”
Miranda laughed. “No, we really don’t. But do you want to know a secret?”
When Emily nodded, she bent down to her daughter, cupped her own hands and whispered, “There’s a reason my tummy is getting big. I’m going to have a baby.”
Emily gasped and her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes, it’s true. You’re going to have a little brother by the end of the summer.”
A smile slid across her sweet face. “Getting a baby is going to be even better than getting a litter of puppies!”
Without a doubt. Especially considering all the furry little mouths they already had to feed.
“Does Daddy know?” she asked.
Miranda nodded. “I told him first.”
Emily let out a gleeful shriek, then turned back toward the living room, where Matt was setting up the DVD.
“Guess what,” she called out as she hurried away, her decibel level high with excitement. “I know the secret, too, Daddy.”
As happy as Miranda was to get such an enthusiastic response from her daughter, and as relieved as she was to have the announcement behind her, she still had one more confession to make.
In spite of her belief that her father, in time, would accept the news, a slither of apprehension swirled around her.
What if she was wrong?
* * *
Last night, after the movie ended and the house grew quiet, Matt had been tempted to slip into Miranda’s room so they could make love again, but he’d remained in his own bed, pondering an uncertain future.
