His green gaze dropped to her belly and a surge of jealousy caught him unaware. She was carrying another man's child. When he'd first taken her in, protected her, it had been more out of pity and affection than anything else. But slowly desire and the need to possess had replaced his initial attraction, and jealousy had become a constant companion since he'd seen Harley holding her hand. But after what they'd shared in bed, he was unexpectedly jealous of her late husband and the baby as well. He didn't understand his own riotous feelings. He was upset at the level of intimacy they'd attained and disturbed by the sense of pos-sessiveness he felt for her. This hadn't been the plan at all. He'd married her to protect her and the baby from Lopez, not with any long-term relationship in mind. He'd proposed a marriage of convenience, which was interesting when he considered how quickly he'd maneuvered her into bed with the flimsiest of excuses. Abstinence alone wouldn't have caused hunger that sweeping.
He didn't understand his sudden lack of restraint, and because he didn't, he was broody. At least he'd had the presence of mind to ask about the risk to the baby first. But that wasn't much comfort at the moment. He'd crossed the line, his own line, and he couldn't put her at risk again. He'd have to keep his uncontrollable urges to himself. As that thought persisted, he forced himself not to stare at Lisa. If he was going to practice restraint, he'd better get a head start, and right now.
She noticed the faint scowl on his heavy brow and looked at him quizzically as she sipped her second cup of coffee. "Is something wrong?" she asked.
He made a dismissing gesture with a movement of his shoulder. He smoothed his thumb absently over the fork he was holding. He seemed deep in thought and he was even more silent than normal.
She was getting more insecure by the minute. In bed, she'd felt as if she belonged to him completely, as if no two people on earth could have been any closer, any more intimate. Now, she was as far away from him as if they were still just neighbors. She wondered if she'd done something wrong. Maybe she'd been too...eager. She flushed, remembering her passionate, wanton behavior. He might be one of those men who didn't like aggressive women in bed. She swallowed the lump in her throat and averted her eyes from his taciturn expression. He hadn't complained, but he was very remote since they'd left the bedroom. She'd have to remember that he didn't like her undisciplined ardor, and not be so uninhibited again. Maybe if she could curtail her headlong response, it would ease the sudden tension between them.
She forced a smile to her face. "Would you like some more coffee?" she asked pleasantly.
He pushed his cup toward her to let her refill it, and finished the last of his eggs. He was furious at himself for the jealousy that had attacked him so unexpectedly. He'd married her to protect her from Lopez and help her take care of the child, and that was just what he was going to do. He'd be better off if he could keep in mind that passionate interludes in the bedroom weren't part of their deal, and stop trying to create new problems for himself and Lisa in the first days of their marriage. He'd broken faith with her by seducing her. Besides, he reminded himself, they still weren't out of the woods where Lopez was concerned. The man wouldn't stop just because Cy had married Lisa. In fact, he was willing to bet that the marriage would tempt Lopez to even further improvisation.
Meanwhile, he still had the problem of Lopez's warehouse behind his property. Since the blatant attack on Har-ley and Lisa, Cy had pulled Harley off the night surveillance, certain that Lopez's people would have night scopes now that would catch anyone spying on them. That excuse about locoweed worked once, but it wouldn't work again. Still, there was surveillance equipment that was undetect-able by infrared glasses, and Cy initiated it. He hadn't shared it with Harley. The younger man hadn't quite recovered from the shock of seeing his supposedly crippled boss take down two professional assassins. He'd stopped asking questions, but he watched Cy from a safe distance and did nothing to upset him. He wouldn't even talk to Lisa unless Cy was around lately. It was almost comical.
She got up to put the dishes in the sink and he stacked his cup and saucer on his plate to simplify the chore for her. She smiled as she finished clearing the table and began to fill the sink with soapy warm water.
"I need to buy you a dishwasher," he said abruptly. "There wasn't much need for it when I lived alone, but we'll have dinner guests from time to time..."
"I don't mind washing dishes in the sink, Cy," she faltered, her wide dark eyes in their big lenses searching his.
He leaned against the counter, watching her deliberately, his face scowling and remote. "I wasn't as gentle as I should have been. Do you feel okay? Any queasiness or discomfort?" he asked bluntly.
"I feel great!" She smiled. "No cramping and I haven't had a hint of morning sickness since I've been pregnant."
Cy frowned. It had been a long time since his late wife had been pregnant, but he remembered everything he'd read on the subject. It was hard to overlook the lack of visible changes in Lisa's soft body, especially her breasts. He felt suddenly uneasy. Pregnancy tests weren't foolproof. Maybe she wasn't pregnant after all. But if she wasn't pregnant with her late husband's child, she could quite easily be pregnant with his right now. Especially, he thought ruefully, after his exhaustive lovemaking. He hadn't held anything back and he hadn't tried to protect her—useless when she was already pregnant, which he'd thought at the time. He'd proposed a temporary marriage to protect her. Making her pregnant with his own child wasn't part of the plan. He didn't want a binding relationship...did he?
She noticed his curious stare. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked uneasily.
"I like your hair loose around your shoulders," he said evasively.
"Do you?" She pushed the heavy fall of it back over her shoulders with a tiny smile. "It's a nuisance to wash and dry."
"I had Harley bathe Puppy Dog, by the way," he mentioned, searching for a neutral subject.
"Did you? That was nice."
"Bob needed a bath, too," he said. He didn't add that putting Harley to work bathing dogs had made him feel pretty good. He was still brooding about the way Harley had tested his reflexes with the pistol. He hadn't wanted any of his men to know about his old life. That was wishful thinking, he supposed.
She hesitated, washing the same plate until it threatened to rub the pattern off.
"Speaking of Puppy Dog," he said, "didn't he stay in the house with you before you moved over here?''
"Yes," she agreed, "but he's big and clumsy, like his father, and you've got lots of breakable stuff. Anyway, he seems to like being out in the barn with Bob. It's almost as warm in there, with the doors closed, as it is in the house. And it's amazingly sanitary. For a barn."
"I like healthy stock. Sanitation is important." He glanced around the kitchen. "I thought I was a fairly decent housekeeper, but you've brightened the place up considerably."
"I like housework," she said absently. "I do know a few things about the cattle business, but I enjoy cooking and cleaning and even ironing shirts." She fingered his. "I always thought I'd take to family life like a duck to water. I just never had the chance to prove it."
He scowled, thinking of the difference she'd made here. He'd gotten used to finding her in the kitchen or the living room when he came home every evening. He liked the little touches, the frilly curtains in die kitchen, the silk flowers on the table, the visible signs of her presence in his life. He thought about having her move back into her old house, and it was distasteful. He refused to pursue that line of thought.
His eyes went to her waistline and quickly away. She noticed and bit her lower lip while she finished washing utensils and put them in the other side of the sink to rinse.
"Does it bother you that I'm pregnant?" she blurted out.
He hesitated. He didn't know how to answer her. "The baby must be a comfort to you," he said slowly, "with your husband gone."
She didn't even feel as if she'd been married, she thought to herself. She'd slept with her husband exactly twice
and the rest of the time he'd either been away from home or pretending that she wasn't there. He'd married her on the rebound.
He'd proposed to Lisa, having already confessed about the woman he'd loved leaving him. Lisa had no hope of marrying anyone else and she'd been very lonely since her father's death. A marriage of convenience wouldn't be so bad, she'd told herself. But Walt couldn't love her, and she couldn't love him. Now here she was in a second marriage of convenience with a man who didn't want her permanently any more than Walt had.
"I've always wanted children," she said noncommit-tally.
He was remembering the little boy who hadn't been his, and how painful it had been to lose him in such a violent manner. That led him to thoughts of Lopez and revenge.
Lisa saw the expression on his face and frowned. He hadn't wanted to harm her child, but it was obvious that he regretted their intimacy. She wished she could, but it had been the only time in her life she'd felt as if she belonged to someone.
"I'm sorry, by the way," she said quietly. "About not letting you carry me over the threshold," she added, avoiding his sudden intent gaze. "I really was trying to spare your pride."
He stared at her for a few seconds before he spoke. "There was some nerve damage and loss of muscle tissue to my arm after the fire," he said. "But I can do almost anything I could before. I don't advertise it," he added slowly. “It gives me a psychological advantage if people think I'm less capable than I am—especially since Eb's line of work became public knowledge."
"You don't want people to know what you did," she said with understanding. "Well, you may fool everyone else, but Harley goes out of his way not to upset you these days," she murmured.
"He's lucky I didn't shoot him," he muttered. His eyes narrowed. "Did you see it?"
She nodded.
"And you still didn't think I could carry you into the house."
She cleared her throat. "I was terribly shy of you, if you want the truth," she told him. "Walt was an ordinary man who never made me nervous. But my knees started shaking the minute I saw you. I didn't know what you'd expect of me. I was a little afraid of you."
"Why?"
Her shoulders rose and fell. "I haven't been completely honest with you about a few things. Not important things," she was quick to emphasize. "But I'd only been intimate with Walt twice and it was uncomfortable and quick and embarrassing. I...knew you were experienced, and that you'd expect more from a woman than Walt had. I thought I wouldn't be enough for you. If you meant us to have a real marriage, I mean, and not just one on paper."
So that was why. She hadn't been challenging him at all. She'd been afraid of the very thing her behavior precipitated.
"I'm sorry. I didn't understand," he added irritably.
"Not your fault. I sort of got carried away, too." She blushed.
A lot of things were becoming clear to him, predominantly her total lack of experience with intimacy. If she'd only slept with her husband twice and hadn't liked it, the past few hours must have shocked her speechless. Funny, most women weren't naive these days. His gaze darkened as he stared at her. She seemed mature sometimes. And then she'd throw him a curve, from out of nowhere. He couldn't fathom her.
"Are we going to sleep together at night?" she asked before her courage failed.
"No," he said flatly. "This afternoon should never have happened. I'm not going to put your baby at risk a second time."
She worked not to let her disappointment show. Now she was certain that she hadn't pleased him. She seemed to an ongoing disappointment to men in bed, and she didn't know how to change it. "Okay," she said with forced carelessness.
He was glad she was taking it so calmly. She might not have loved her husband, but she genuinely wanted the baby and there was still a chance that she was pregnant, despite the lack of symptoms. He recalled now that some women did have cramping in the early stages, and it usually went away, just as hers had. And a lot of women never had morning sickness.
If she really was pregnant with Walt's child, he wasn't going to be the cause of her losing her baby. Nor was he going to touch her for the duration of their marriage of convenience. Once the threat of Lopez was removed, he was going to let her go back home and go to work for Kemp. They could have the marriage quietly annulled and it would be the best thing for both of them. He wasn't going to let himself love anyone ever again. He couldn't go through the hell of losing anyone else.
Lisa felt embarrassed, but she didn't let it show. It shouldn't have surprised her that she'd disappointed him in bed, considering the sophisticated women he'd probably attracted before his marriage. She was just a country woman with no experience, and thank God he didn't know her real age or he'd be doing more than clamming up when they talked. "I'll have supper when you come in," she said.
“I’ll be late."
She nodded. "Okay."
He went to the door, hesitated, looked back and a flash of possessiveness showed in his green eyes as he stared at her. Her face colored and he forced himself to look away. She wasn't the first woman he'd taken to bed, and she wouldn't be the last. He had to stop seeing her as some sort of permanent fixture in his life. There was simply no
future in it. He grabbed his hat off the rack, slanted it over one eye and walked out without another word.
Lisa went back to her dishes on shaky legs. She wondered if he had any idea what that smoldering look of his did to a woman.
Nine
Two more weeks passed with the occupants of the Parkses' house being polite to each other and not much more. Cy had swept the house for "bugs" the same day Lopez's men made their assault, making sure that he didn't miss any of Lopez's little listening devices. He had no idea how long the drug lord's men had been eavesdropping, but there hadn't been that many opportunities for them to get into the house. He didn't imagine it had been long.
He checked his surveillance tapes periodically as well, noting that the warehouse on the land behind his property had been joined by what looked like a small processing plant, supposedly for honey from the row upon row of beehives on the property. He saw nothing to indicate a drug presence, but Lopez had added several more men to the site, and there were several big eighteen-wheel trucks on the premises now. It looked very much as if Lopez planned to start shipping his product fairly soon.
Meanwhile, Cy had gone to see Eb Scott to check on Rodrigo's progress, and the status of the cocaine shipment he'd already reported.
"Narcs got it down in the Gulf," Eb murmured coolly. "The Coast Guard homed in on the boats that were carrying it and strafed them with gunfire. Needless to say, they gave themselves and their shipment up. The DEA made several arrests and confiscated enough cocaine paste to addict a small country."
"Damn," Cy murmured angrily. "So here we sit."
"Don't knock the confiscation," Eb mused. "I'd love to see them make that kind of haul on a daily basis."
"So would I, but I want to catch Lopez with his fingers in the cookie jar," the other man said. And soon, he could have added, because his hunger for his wife was growing less controllable by the day. He looked at her and ached. Anger made new lines in his lean face. "Meanwhile, he sits on the edge of my property like a volcano about to erupt and I can't do a damned thing about it. I suppose you know that the sheriffs department and the DEA were all over it because of an 'anonymous' tip."
"I know," Eb replied. "One of Lopez's men phoned in the tip, apparently, and then the man in charge of the honey operation threatened to sue everybody for harassment if they came out again and did any more searches." He shook his head. "You have to admire the plan, at least. It was a stroke of genius. Nobody's going to rush out there again to look around unless there's concrete evidence of drugs."
"And that," Cy agreed, "will be hard to come by now."
"Exactly." He leaned forward in his chair and studied Cy intently. "You look older."
Cy scowled. "That's what marriage does to a bachelor."
"It had the opposite effect on
me," his friend replied. "I've had a streak of good luck since I married Sally."
"I noticed. Is Micah Steele still in town?" he asked abruptly.
"He's in and out. He had an assignment and he's due back next week. Had an apparently disastrous argument with his stepsister Callie Kirby over his father before he left."
"Callie isn't much for arguments," Cy pointed out. "If there was an argument, he started it."
"Could be."
"I wish we could nab Lopez and get Rodrigo out of there before he gets himself shot," Cy said, changing the subject. "He's good people. I don't want him killed on our account."
"Same here. He's been in the business at least as long as Dutch and J.D. and Laremos," he replied. "And they taught him everything he knows."
"They were the best."
"We weren't bad, either," Eb said on an amused laugh. "But I suppose we either settle down or die. Personally I consider marriage an adventure."
"Some do," he said without enthusiasm and changed the subject.
"Did you hear that Sally's aunt Jessica married Dallas and moved back to Houston with their son Stevie?" Eb asked unexpectedly. “Nobody was exactly surprised about it."
"At least she'll be looked after," Cy remarked.
"That's true." Eb frowned as he stared at his friend. "It's none of my business, but is it true that Lisa's pregnant?"
He was going to say yes, but Eb was watching him with the insight of years of friendship and he let his guard drop. "That's a good question," Cy replied, leaning forward. "I thought that she was, just after Walt was killed," he added. "But she had some symptoms I don't like and she doesn't show the normal signs of pregnancy." He grimaced. "We don't talk about it."
"She's young," Eb agreed. "I don't imagine she knows very much about pregnancy, since she was an only child more or less raised by her dad. He wasn't the sort to discuss intimate issues with her."
Books By Diana Palmer Page 269
