by Judy Duarte
She could hardly believe this was happening. “I’d like that, too. And to be honest, I’m ready now.”
“You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. But are you sure?”
“It scares me to say this, but I love you, Drew. More than I ever dreamed possible.”
He took her hand and led her across the small living area to the bedroom. “Is this your first time?”
She nodded. “I’m sure you’re probably used to women with more experience—”
He squeezed her hand. “That’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re giving me a gift. And it’s the best one I’ve ever had.”
He removed his shirt and pants, while she kicked off her shoes and peeled off her slacks. Then he drew her into his arms again and kissed her, caressing her and taunting her with his skilled touch.
Lainie took the time to explore his body, too. Her fingers skimmed his muscular chest, the broad width of his back.
Drew trailed kisses along her throat and down to her chest. Then he took a nipple in his mouth, suckling it, lavishing one breast then the other. She moaned, unable to stand much more of the amazing foreplay.
Before she melted to a puddle on the floor, Drew lifted her in his arms and placed her on top of the bed. He joined her, and they continued to kiss, to taste and stroke each other until Drew pulled back and braced himself up on his elbow. “This might hurt the first time.”
“I know. And it’s all right.” She’d been waiting for Drew—and for this—all of her life.
He entered her slowly at first, letting her get used to the feel of him, the feel of them, until he broke through. It stung, and her breath caught as she gave up her virginity, but her body soon responded to his, taking and giving. Loving and being loved.
As they reached a peak, she cried out, arched her back and let go. An amazing, earth-shattering climax set off an overwhelming burst of love and a sense of absolute completion.
When it was over, they lay still, basking in a sweet afterglow.
Moments later, Drew rolled to the side without letting her go. “It’ll be better next time.”
“I thought it was pretty amazing now.”
He brushed a loose strand of hair from her brow, then traced her scar with his finger, gently and almost reverently. “Don’t ever hide this again. Not from me or from anyone. It’s a part of the miracle of you. Without that surgery, you might not have been here to meet me, to love me.”
“You’re right. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it.”
“Me, too,” he said. “I never expected this to happen, but I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I want to marry you—but only when you’re ready.”
Her heart soared. Christmas had come early this year. For the first time ever, Lainie had a real future stretched out before her and the promise of the family she’d never thought she’d have.
Only it wasn’t that simple.
“I might have a deal breaker,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“I want to apply to be a foster parent so I can take Andre and his brothers. I don’t like the idea of them being separated. I realize the state might find me lacking. But I’m determined to do whatever it takes to get those kids into the same home—either mine or in another where someone will love and care for them.”
Drew slowly shook his head. She waited for his objection, but instead, one side of his mouth quirked in a crooked grin. “I have to admit that getting a wife and family in one fell swoop was never on my radar, but a lot’s changed since I met you.”
“You mean you’re up to being a foster dad?”
“I am if we’re in this thing together. Hell, maybe we can help find more foster families or adoptive parents in the area.”
Her breath caught and excitement built as the wheels began to churn in her mind. “We can create a blog, highlighting kids who need forever homes.”
Drew laughed. “Maybe we’ve found a higher calling than rodeos and advice columns.”
“That’s true. But my biggest and highest calling is you. I love you, Drew.” Then she kissed him, sealing those words the only way she knew how.
* * *
The Christmas party had been a huge success, and everyone seemed to have had a great time.
Joe and Chloe Martinez, the ranch owners, arrived earlier that morning and had been pleased at how Lainie had pulled things together in such a short period of time.
“I had a lot of help,” she’d told them.
Drew had purchased the tree, as well as the ornaments. And the retired cowboys had all pitched in to help him with the decorating.
Molly, Brad’s mother, had slipped away from Kidville several different evenings to help Lainie with the baking. They’d also wrapped all the presents and placed them under the tree.
Sully had returned a few days ago with his brother Homer, a happy-go-lucky fellow who seemed to fit right in with the other retired cowboys. As soon as Homer unpacked his things, he’d jumped right in to party mode, offering his help whenever needed. So Lainie had gladly put him to work.
While Homer made himself useful by decorating the tree, wrapping gifts and frosting sugar cookies, Sully practiced his ho-ho-ho to perfection. The wise old man was a natural Santa as he chatted with the children and passed out candy canes.
Lainie couldn’t believe how well the party turned out. Or how many great photo ops she’d had that day.
There’d been a few disappointments, though. Andre’s brothers had yet to arrive. And Kara, who’d been invited, hadn’t been able to come because she was still taking it easy. But she’d invited Drew and Lainie to her house to spend Christmas Day. Somehow, Drew had convinced Kara to give Lainie a chance. Lainie hoped they’d be able to get past the whole Craig fiasco, and Drew insisted they would.
Dark clouds had gathered all morning, and the rain began just before noon, so they’d canceled the hayride and rescheduled it for a warmer, drier day.
Now, as the party was coming to an end, the children sat amid torn wrapping paper and open boxes, admiring their gifts and munching on cookies. Lainie was glad she’d been able to offer them a few hours of fun.
“Congratulations,” Drew said. “Things didn’t go exactly as planned, but from the looks on those little faces, the party’s been a huge success.”
“Thanks, but I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
When he slipped his arms around her, she leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder.
“I have a present for you,” Drew said.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Just having him in her life, sharing his bed and loving him was gift enough for her.
“I’ve been working on it for a week, and...” He glanced out the window and grinned. “Looks like it just arrived.”
Lainie wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but moments later a knock sounded at the door. Jim Hoffman, who’d been standing nearby, opened it for a petite woman and two small boys.
It had to be the social worker, along with Andre’s brothers. But why would Drew say he’d been working on getting them here all week? She’d been the one to invite them. “Come on in,” Jim said. “I’m glad you finally made it, Mrs. Tran.” Then he called out, “Andre. Look who’s here.”
The boy, who’d been reading his new cowboy book, broke into a happy smile and shrieked, “Mario! Abel!” He scrambled to his feet and hurried to the door, his limp hardly noticeable.
The boys greeted each other with hugs and kisses.
“That’s my present?” she asked Drew. “Looks like it’s Andre’s.”
“It’s the paperwork in Mrs. Tran’s folder that’s your gift,” he said.
Bewildered, Lainie cocked her head and looked at the man she loved. “I don’t understand.”
“Cong
ratulations, foster mommy. It’s a boy. Actually, it’s three of them.”
Lainie’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding? They’re going to let me take them? I... Well, my little studio apartment is going to be cramped, but I’ll make it work. Somehow.”
“No need.” Drew reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “I just signed a lease for a three-bedroom house in Wexler. It’ll have to do for now.”
“You did that for me?”
“I did it for us. Kids need a daddy, too. Don’t you think?”
“Drew Madison, you’re amazing. Have I told you lately that I love you to the moon and stars?”
“Just this morning, but I’d like to hear it again.” He tossed her a dazzling smile.
“I plan to tell you every single morning and night for the rest of our lives.”
“I have one last gift for you,” Drew said.
“What more can you give me? My gosh, look at them. Their reunion is heartwarming. And so is their excitement.” She pointed to the tree, where the three adorable brothers gazed up at the twinkling lights in wide-eyed wonder. “This has been the best Christmas ever.”
“It’s just the first of many—and it’s not over yet.” Drew reached into his shirt pocket, withdrew a business card and handed it to her.
DISCREET SERVICES
Damon Wolfe, Owner
She studied it carefully. “What’s this?”
“The guy I hired to find Rickie.”
“But it was a closed adoption.”
“Damon is the best of the best. He told me to leave it to him. If Erica “Rickie” Montoya can be found, he’ll find her.”
She looked at him, her eyes glistening with tears. “I can’t believe this. Drew, this is the very best gift anyone could ever give me.”
He held her in his arms and kissed her again. “That’s nothing compared to the gift you are to me. Come on, honey. Let’s ask the Hoffmans to take a picture of us and the boys so we can have more than a memory of our first Christmas together.”
“Good idea.”
Lainie had always found the holidays to be depressing. But not any longer. She couldn’t wait to create more of her very own family memories from this day forward.
And next Christmas couldn’t come too soon.
* * * * *
Will Elena be reunited with her long-lost sister?
Find out in the next installment of
ROCKING CHAIR RODEO,
the new miniseries by
USA TODAY bestselling author Judy Duarte,
coming in July 2018.
And catch up with everyone on the
Rocking Chair Ranch:
ROPING IN THE COWGIRL
THE BRONC RIDER’S BABY
And if you loved this book,
look for NO ORDINARY FORTUNE,
Judy Duarte’s contribution to
THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS:
THE RULEBREAKERS,
on sale February 2018
wherever Harlequin books and ebooks are sold.
Keep reading for an excerpt from SANTA’S SEVEN-DAY BABY TUTORIAL by Meg Maxwell.
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Santa's Seven-Day Baby Tutorial
by Meg Maxwell
Chapter One
FBI agent Colt Asher’s new mission: infiltrate an Amish village and recoup a stolen black-and-white guinea pig named Sparkles.
What Colt should be doing right now was planning his vacation, some much-needed R & R, maybe on the Gulf of Mexico or a trip to New Orleans for some beignets and good bourbon. Or he could dust off his passport and take off for France. Italy. Germany. Practice his Spanish in Madrid. Instead, late in the afternoon on the day before his two-week vacation would start, his boss, Harlan Holtzman, had called Colt into his office with a special request.
Yesterday, Harlan had taken his eight-year-old niece out to lunch for her birthday in their hometown, Grass Creek, a suburb of Houston, where the FBI office was located. On the way to the pizzeria, the girl had spotted a black-and-white guinea pig in the window of the pet shop and wistfully said her birthday and Christmas wish combined was to have that guinea pig for her very own and she’d name it Sparkles and take good care of it. Harlan, the old softy, planned to surprise the girl. So this afternoon he’d gone back to the pet shop and bought the critter and a bunch of whatever guinea pigs needed, like a cage and wood shavings and hidey tunnels. He then set down Sparkles in his new cage on the curb near his pickup while he went back in the store to collect the huge bag of shavings and guinea-pig pellets. A clerk had then talked his ear off about proper care of the critter and got him to add a book called Caring for Your New Guinea Pig to the bundle.
“A twenty-four-dollar Christmas present ended up costing me over one hundred and fifty bucks!” Harlan muttered.
Bigger problem: when Harlan finally came out to the truck with the shavings and pellets and book, Sparkles and his cage were gone. A guinea-pig thief in Grass Creek? Most unusual. The boss asked around, and one woman reported that she did see an Amish girl with red pigtails take the cage off the curb and put it in her buggy sometime before it moved on, but the woman hadn’t realized she was witnessing a theft. According to her statement: I mean, the Amish don’t steal, right?
Apparently, they did. Or this one girl did, anyway.
What wasn’t unusual was seeing Amish folks in Grass Creek. The Amish community was about ten minutes away from the large town with its bustling center, where Amish folks had a very popular indoor market to sell their baked goods, wares and handcrafted furniture. Though Colt lived fifteen minutes away in Houston, he’d gone to the Amish market for all the tables in his condo, and last spring, when he wanted to buy two cribs for his then pregnant-with-twins sister, he wouldn’t have shopped anywhere else. The craftsmanship was impeccable. Colt also never passed the stall with the Amish-baked lemon scones and sourdough bread without buying enough to stuff his freezer. There were always several Amish buggies around Grass Creek every day. He’d never been to the Amish community itself. But if there was one thing Colt knew from ten years as an FBI agent, it was that anyone, even an Amish girl with red braids and a bonnet, was capable of anything. Colt had arrested men who looked like bad guys in action movies and h
e’d arrested the most angelic-looking women who you’d never suspect of a thing.
Guard up, always. That was Colt’s motto. It had to be.
His guard hadn’t been up on his last case. He needed this vacation to clear his head, to forget what had happened. But there was something he’d never forget: that one of those angelic-looking women had managed to con him and betray him and it would never, ever happen again.
“I wouldn’t ask you to drive out there, Colt,” Harlan said. “But Jones and Cametti just left on the gun-running case, and I’ve got that damn fund-raiser dinner I can’t get out of, and since your vacation technically doesn’t start until you leave tonight, I can ask you while you’re still here and not feel that guilty.”
Colt laughed. “No problem, Harlan. I’ll have Sparkles at your house in a couple hours.” A drive out to all that farmland and fresh air was probably just what he needed. A perfect start to R & R.
“Appreciate it, Colt. Thank you.”
He’d drive to the Amish village, flash his badge around and ask about a red-haired girl who’d been to town today, recover the guinea pig and drop him off at Harlan’s, and then he’d pack his bags and throw a dart at the world map hanging in his living room. Where it landed was where he’d go to forget that disaster of a last case...and remember.
* * *
As Jordan Lapp’s buggy came around the curve in the road, Anna Miller glanced up from the calf she was bottle-feeding in the barn of her farmhouse and sent up a prayer: Please, please, please do not be here to propose.
She was twenty-four. And unmarried. Spinster age for an Amish woman. Over the past five years, she’d turned down ten potential suitors and the eight marriage proposals that had come anyway. Some of those proposals were more about her being the right age and not married. Some of the men had truly liked her. One had loved her, and she’d broken his heart, which had broken hers.
Anna had always hoped that the undeniable fact that she was “different” would make her unappealing to the men of her community. It hadn’t. She was outspoken. She talked too much about what she read in novels and nonfiction. She didn’t understand why cooking and laundry were “women’s work.” She wore overalls instead of dresses to do her barn chores and paint the handcrafted furniture their community produced. Orphaned when her mother passed away two years ago, she lived alone, unusual for the Amish, but her onkel Eli preferred she live in her family home and not with him and her aenti Kate because Anna was a “bad influence” on their eight-year-old daughter, Sadie.
