Amanda's Child

by Rebecca York

  “Oh, sweetheart,’’ he said, “I know you’ve had a rough time.’’ One hand combed through her lush hair; the other stroked up and down her back. For almost three weeks he’d been longing to hold her body against his, and the relief was as great as the sexual pull.

  “If you’d just called me, it would have been all right,’’ she answered, the words ending in a little sob.

  He kissed the side of her face, her hair, knowing that if he brought his lips to hers, his body would start to shake.

  “I couldn’t. Believe me, I couldn’t,’’ he whispered.

  “Matt, you’ve got to tell me what happened.’’

  “Later.’’

  When he felt her stiffen against him and try to pull away, he didn’t turn her loose.

  “Trust me, it’s better if we wait on that.’’

  “Are you trying to drive me crazy?’’

  “I’m trying to get us out of here before the hounds pick up our trail.’’

  She sighed. “Okay.’’

  Then he heard her take a hitching breath. “What is it?’’

  “Ed’s right. The ranch will fall apart without him.’’

  He thought for a moment. “It’s common knowledge right now that we’re at Lake La Platta. That’s no secret. So I’ll make a quick call to Randolph Security and ask them to help you out, then we’ll get the hell out of here.’’

  “Why should they?’’

  “I think they will,’’ he answered, hoping it was true, because he didn’t have any other solution to the problem. Climbing behind the wheel, he gritted his teeth so that he didn’t wince.

  About a quarter mile down the road, he spotted the camp office. There was a pay phone outside. Feeling Amanda’s eyes on him, he pulled out his wallet and found the phone credit card that was still in his name. As long as he was giving himself away, he might as well go all out.

  The call was picked up on the first ring. Jed Prentiss, one of the agents he’d worked with on several assignments, answered. “We’re glad to hear from you, Matt.’’

  “Yeah, I’ll bet. I’ll make this really brief, so just listen and don’t interrupt.’’ Knowing the message was being recorded, he talked fast, figuring that Jed could play it back later.

  “Whatever Roy Logan told you about me and Amanda is a lie. He’s after her because he thinks his son, Colin, fathered her child. He wants to take the baby away from her. You can check out her record at the Highton clinic in Cheyenne, if you want. Hell, check out Colin’s record for all I care. But that’s not the immediate problem. Logan paid off Amanda’s ranch foreman to double-cross her. He was going to scoop her up and deliver her to Logan today. I’m betting nobody informed you about that little operation, or I wouldn’t be taking the chance of making this call. Anyway, she’s in the lurch for someone to run the ranch while we’re hiding out. I’d appreciate it if Randolph Security found someone to do the job. You can send the bill to me. I’ll pay it when I get the mess with Logan cleared up.’’

  “Matt, don’t hang up.’’

  “You know I’ve got to. If you hire the foreman, put a classified ad in the New York Times under Automotive. Tell me you’re selling a—’’ He stopped and thought for a moment. “A 1931 Pierce Arrow in mint condition.’’ Without waiting for an answer, he replaced the receiver.

  He looked up to see Amanda watching intently. “Did they say they’d do it?’’

  “I didn’t stay on long enough to find out. I asked them to put an ad in the New York Times to let me know.’’

  “Oh.’’

  He stopped beside her window, torn between vanity and expediency. Expediency won. “Do you mind driving?’’ he asked.

  She raised questioning eyes to his, and he didn’t know which was worse, her uncertainty or the truth. Well, he wasn’t going to tell her that every time he stepped on the clutch, his leg throbbed. Instead he said, “I’ve been up most of the night. I need some sleep.’’

  She gave him a considering look, and he was glad the sunglasses hid the smudges under his eyes.

  Without a word, she climbed out and opened the driver’s door, then slid behind the wheel. He collapsed into the passenger seat, hoping she hadn’t noticed how much he needed to get off the damn leg before it gave way under him.

  “Where are we going?’’

  “Durango. There should be plenty of motels there.’’

  “You have a route in mind?’’

  “Not from this side of the lake. I was figuring we were leaving straight from Henry’s,’’ he answered, glad they’d switched topics as he dug into his pack and brought out a map of Colorado and the surrounding states.

  He’d known plenty of women who refused to read a map and was glad Amanda wasn’t one of them. Folding it to the pertinent section, she found a route, then started the engine.

  AMANDA KEPT HER EYES on the uphill dirt track that led out of the campground, then turned right onto a two-lane mountain road, all the time wondering how long she could keep from quizzing Matt about his activities while they’d been separated. The man had a nerve stonewalling her, after he’d practically driven her out of her mind with worry.

  When she finally couldn’t stand it any longer and turned to him, she found him sleeping. From the slump of his shoulders, it looked as if he needed the rest.

  Thinking this was where she’d come in, she kept herself from shaking him awake and drove toward the western edge of the state, pleased with the truck’s ability to handle the steep climbs and the long sweeps down the other side of each mountain.

  The ups and downs made her think about her own emotions over the past few months. Pregnancy had played havoc with her equanimity, of course. But her mood swings had accelerated to roller-coaster proportions with the arrival of Matt Forester in her life.

  She slid him another look. Even in sleep he was an impressive man. Big. Powerful. Thoroughly masculine, with a half day’s growth of beard darkening his cheeks. Awake, he was devastating—and not just to her.

  He had an ability to handle people that she’d never encountered before. Like the way he’d suckered that kid from town into dropping Ed off in the middle of nowhere. Or the way he’d gotten those refugees from the hippie era to switch license plates.

  He’d laughed and called himself a silver-tongued devil. But it was no joke. He had a line for every situation and she couldn’t quite get over the fear that he had a line for her, too. Was he just stringing her along until he left her flat?

  But why would he do it? Certainly not for amusement. He was in a heap of trouble because of her. More trouble than she knew about, judging from the way he’d put off her questions about his recent activities.

  THE SUN HAD DISAPPEARED behind a distant mountain peek when she reached the outskirts of Durango. As she pulled into a gas station, Matt’s eyes blinked open, and he pushed himself up straighter. Looking at his watch, he swore. “I missed a pill.’’

  “What pill?’’

  “An antibiotic.’’ The way he said it was designed to end the conversation, but she wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

  “What for?’’

  “We’ll talk about it over dinner.’’

  She could feel her facial muscles tightening. “We’ll talk about it now!’’

  “I got knifed,’’ he said, his voice grudging.

  A gasp escaped her lips. “Knifed? Where?’’

  “In the leg. It was no big deal.’’

  “It kept you from getting back to me when you said you would.’’

  “Yeah. It got infected. But I’m okay now.’’

  “Matt—’’

  “I’ll fill the tank. Then I’ll tell you my adventures.’’

  “I’ll do it,’’ she said, looking around for the gas-tank lock.

  Letting her win that round, he handed her a twenty-dollar bill, and she climbed out, glad she had something to do while she absorbed the shock. He’d been wounded. He said it was no big deal, but she knew darn well he was lying.


  When she paid for the gas, she bought him a can of orange soda, which he used to swallow a pill. Then they were on their way again.

  “Let’s find a nice place to stay,’’ he said gruffly.

  “Why?’’

  “Because we can afford it.’’

  “You made a lot of money?’’

  “A hundred thousand.’’ He laughed. “Tax free!’’

  She stared at him, dumbfounded. “You made all that playing poker?’’

  “I told you I was good at it.’’ He tipped back his head and drank more of the soda. “Well, I did take a couple of turns at the craps table, too. Doubled my stake once.’’

  “And lost it the next time?’’

  “Part of it,’’ he allowed.

  “Let’s get back to your poker playing. I suppose some guy who lost to you wanted his money back,’’ she said.

  He nodded. “He came at me from behind, in a parking lot. The cut wasn’t all that deep, but it got infected. I had to find a druggist who would give me the antibiotics.’’

  “And you didn’t think that was worth telling me about, instead of just leaving me in the Colorado wilds for an extra week?’’

  “Six days,’’ he corrected. “And it was the lesser of two evils—having you worry about me when there was nothing you could do, or having you angry because I was coming home late.’’

  “I was more scared than angry,’’ she admitted in a low voice, keeping her eyes straight ahead on the road.

  “I know.’’ He reached over to gently stroke his knuckles against her cheek. “So it’s not so surprising that you called Stanton. I’m sorry I yelled at you.’’

  She still felt compelled to explain. “I’ve known him all my life.’’

  “And he never let on that he held a grudge against your father?’’

  “They used to argue. I thought it was because they disagreed about ranch stuff—and my father always had the final say.’’

  “Yeah. I understand.’’

  She let out a long breath. “I should have guessed. He was acting funny the night you came to the house.’’

  “You trusted him. But it’s over now.’’

  Well, she’d escaped getting hauled back to the Logan Ranch, but she and Matt hadn’t settled anything. They’d just agreed not to argue for the moment.

  They passed a motel on the other side of the road with a carved wooden sign reading Little Switzerland suspended over a blacktop driveway. The main building looked like a Swiss chalet with decorative boxes of colorful flowers under the windows. Behind it, spread across an upward-sloping meadow, were smaller replicas, each with fancy woodwork and peaked roofs.

  “Make a U-turn and let’s stop there,’’ Matt said.

  Amanda waited for a break in traffic, then swung around in the opposite direction. When she pulled up beside a bed of pink-and-purple petunias, Matt put his hand on her arm. “I don’t want us seen together. So you wait here.’’

  She glanced around at the quaint buildings and the flowers waving gently in the breeze. The place looked like a set for The Sound of Music, but that didn’t mean they weren’t in danger. “You’re sure it’s safe to stay here—so close to Lake La Platta?’’

  “Like I said the last time we made a break for it, they’re expecting us to drive farther.’’

  “Okay,’’ she agreed, accepting his judgment.

  But she noticed that he reached for his baseball cap and pulled it down to partially hide his features before approaching the office. He was gone longer than she’d expected, but he returned looking smug. “I got a suite with a living room and fireplace. And I ordered dinner. They’ll bring it over in an hour.’’ He pointed up the hill to the small chalets. “It’s the last one on the right.’’

  The mention of dinner made her stomach rumble.

  He must have heard, because he reached into his pack and brought out a bag of apples, which he handed to her. “Munch on one of these.’’

  The apple was tart, juicy and just what she needed. Pulling into the parking place in front of their unit, she followed Matt past the flower boxes that flanked the door. The inside was just as appealing as the exterior. They stepped into a large living room with two comfortable couches. Beyond were two separate bathrooms—one as big as the ranch kitchen back home—and a bedroom with a king-size bed.

  When Matt had left, he’d kissed her and told her he wanted something to look forward to when he saw her again. And she’d been thinking about their reunion quite a bit—until she’d gotten so upset about his failure to return. Now she didn’t exactly feel easy with him.

  Nervously she glanced at the bed, then back at Matt. But he was busy getting something out of his pack.

  “You’ve been driving for a long time. Go on, take a shower and unwind,’’ he said.

  “Okay,’’ she agreed too quickly, then made her escape into the larger of the bathrooms, debating about whether to lock the door. Even after she’d decided he wouldn’t come barging in, she glanced at the door a couple of times as she took off her man’s shirt and elastic-waist jeans. She was unsnapping her bra as her reflection in the two wall mirrors captured her attention. She hadn’t gotten a good look at her naked body since before Henry’s Camp. Now she inspected herself from the front, then the side, seeing how large and dark her nipples had become, seeing that she’d definitely grown rounder since she and Matt had parted.

  Did he really want to make love to a totally inexperienced woman who happened to be close to five months’ pregnant? Did he really know what he was letting himself in for?

  When they’d spent the night in bed last time, he hadn’t taken off her clothes. If she let him make love to her, he’d want her naked. She was pretty sure about that.

  The prospect was embarrassing. But exciting, too, judging from the way her breasts had suddenly become heavy and tight, and her sex had begun to throb. Silently she acknowledged that she wanted to feel what he’d made her feel before. And more. If he was telling the truth about that.

  But in the bedroom, with the lights off, so he wouldn’t see how big she was.

  Quickly she turned on the shower, adjusted the water and stepped under the spray. As she lathered her hair, she thought she felt a draft. Peeking through the shower curtain, she spotted Matt and drew in a sharp breath. “What are you doing?’’

  “Leaving you the clothes I bought you. Unless you want to come out of there and climb back into the jeans and shirt you’ve been wearing all day.’’

  Before she could tell him that buying her maternity outfits wasn’t in his job description, he withdrew from the bathroom, leaving her wondering what she was going to do with the man. She’d worked out a method for dealing with guys that had carried her through the bad times and into a self-reliant maturity. Matt Forester kept making it impossible to follow her own rules.

  She toweled off and dried her hair with the hairdryer that the motel provided, before letting herself open the bags he’d laid on the counter.

  There were two pairs of stretchy slacks, two pretty flowered tops, and a navy blue nightgown and robe that made her heart lurch. The gown was full and flowing, but the neckline plunged into a deep V that looked indecent. When she tried it on, she found it practically exposed the inside curves of her breasts. But the robe would cover that, she decided as she slipped it on and turned first one way and then the other, inspecting herself in the mirror, liking the way the dark color set off her hair and eyes.

  She could put on slacks and a top instead. But she’d be going to sleep anyway soon, she reasoned. And this would give her a chance to wash and dry her underwear.

  Still, she had to urge herself to step out of the bathroom dressed in the gown and robe. Padding down the hall, she found Matt sitting on one of the sofas. He must have taken a shower, too because his hair was wet. The dark shadow was gone from his cheeks. And he’d changed into black jeans and a black T-shirt that emphasized his dark good looks.

  He had a notebook-size com
puter on his lap and his feet up on the coffee table, the casual intimacy of his bared toes starting her pulse pounding.

  He looked up, saw her and swept his gaze over her, his eyes brightening, so that she wondered if she’d been wrong about the modesty of the outfit. Maybe he really could see her breasts through the robe. Somehow she stopped herself from looking down to see.

  But all he said before turning back to the computer was, “I see I got the right size. And the color is good on you.’’

  “What are you doing?’’ she asked.

  “Nothing. Playing Minesweeper,’’ he said, moving his hand to touch the keyboard. “I’ll put it away.’’

  Crossing to his side, she peered at the screen and saw the game.

  Still, something about the look on his face made her think that he wasn’t being straight with her. After thinking for a moment, she asked, “Before you changed the window, were you looking at the disk you got from Francetti’s office?’’

  He pulled a guilty face like a kid who’d been caught sneaking out of school early. “What if I was?’’

  “Were you planning to share the information with me?’’ she asked, struggling to keep her voice even.

  “Yes, but I didn’t want to get into it right now.’’

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why do I detect a pattern here?’’

  “Meaning?’’

  “Meaning every time you think you have some information that’s going to upset me, you try to hide it.’’

  He set the computer on the coffee table with a thump. “I was hoping to stay off the subject of Colin Logan for the evening.’’

  “Why?’’

  “Because you need to relax.’’

  “I need—’’

  Before she could finish, there was a knock at the door, and every muscle in her body went rigid as she pictured Ed or one of Logan’s men breaking down the door.

  Matt saw her expression. “It’s okay, that’s just dinner,’’ he said, although she saw him reach for the gun in the waistband of his slacks, saw him check the spy hole carefully before opening the door.

  He kept the gun out of sight as a waiter brought in a rolling cart with covered dishes. Before the man could get a good look at her, Amanda moved to the shadows of the hall, watching as he cleared the table under the window and set it with a white cloth, then gleaming china and cutlery, before withdrawing.