And Cowboy Makes Three (Cowboys To The Rescue 2)

by Martha Shields

  Her wedding night. After a lifetime of waiting and wondering, it had finally arrived. Not exactly what she’d expected, but then her whole life had been turned inside out during the past three days.

  She knew what was going to happen during the next few hours. She’d grown up on a ranch, after all. And girlfriends talk—especially in high school. But Alex had told her that the mechanics of sex and the reality were two entirely different things. She’d said lovemaking was a wonderful, often magical experience—if you loved the man making love to you.

  That was the kicker. Claire didn’t love Jake, and he didn’t love her. The sex they would be having was strictly for procreation purposes. Where was the magic in that?

  Jake glanced back at her as the clerk checked the computer, so Claire pasted on the caricature of a smile she’d worn all night. He seemed to be making the best of this bizarre situation. She was determined to do the same.

  As his attention returned to the clerk, Claire let her smile fade. She wondered what he’d think when he discovered he was getting a virgin bride. She knew she was an oddity in this day and age. Her predicament stemmed mostly from lack of opportunity. In high school and college, of course, she refused to have sex because she didn’t want anything to tie her down to some poor cowboy. Later, she refused to become intimate until she fell in love. Since the average number of dates she’d had with the same man was two point four, that hadn’t happened.

  “Are you ready?”

  Jake’s soft question was double-edged. Claire swallowed with difficulty. “I...I...”

  He smiled. “Would you like to get a glass of champagne and toast our marriage? I guess we’ll be the only ones who will. At least tonight.”

  Grateful for the reprieve, Claire nodded.

  Jake gave a generous tip to the bellman who waited patiently with their luggage and instructed him to put the two small bags in their suite. Then he guided Claire through the crowded casino into the bar and ordered a bottle of champagne.

  “Are you tired?” he asked when the waiter left.

  Her wide blue eyes rose to his. “I don’t know. I’m too nervous to tell.”

  He reached across the table for her hand. It felt like ice. “Do you think I’m going to hurt you?”

  “I know you are,” she said softly.

  “Damn it, Claire, I’ve never hurt a woman in my—” His words fell off when her meaning struck him. She couldn’t be. Not at twenty-eight. “Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”

  She nodded, looking miserable. “I’m sorry. I know it’s weird. I just...”

  “Just what?” he prodded gently.

  “Just never wanted to, is all. I guess I should’ve told you earlier. If you want to call the whole thing off, I’ll understand.”

  Shaking his head, Jake reached for her other hand. “Don’t be silly. It’s not a fatal disease. It’s something that can be cured quite easily...and soon will be.”

  Jake didn’t think her eyes could get any wider than they were, or her hands any colder, but she proved him wrong.

  “Damn it, Claire, I’m not—”

  The arrival of the waiter silenced him and forced him to release her hands. She drew them under the table and watched the waiter as if he were the priest at her execution. Jake waited impatiently while their drinks were poured. When the waiter left, he lifted his glass to his wife.

  “May our marriage be long and fruitful, and above all, happy.”

  She smiled valiantly, then reached to lift her glass. Her hand shook so much, champagne spilled onto the tablecloth.

  “That’s it. Let’s go.” Jake drew out his wallet and threw down more than enough to cover the drinks.

  “But we haven’t drunk any of our champagne.”

  He stood abruptly and came around to lean over her chair. “Angel, you’re scared to death of what’s going to happen. The only way I can ease your fear is to show you how enjoyable it’s going to be. Now, let’s go... Please.”

  Knowing any further objections would be useless, Claire stood. Jake took her hand and led her rapidly through the casino. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pressed her close against his side as they waited for the elevator. They stepped in alone. Jake pushed the button for the nineteenth floor. As the chrome doors slid closed, he hauled her into his arms and covered her gasp with his mouth.

  The shock of his lips on hers, hot and demanding, sent Claire’s thought processes into a tailspin. She wrapped her arms around his neck because her knees had suddenly turned to jelly. Opening her mouth to his questing, forceful tongue, she felt heat flow through her, warming even the frozen fingers that dug into his hair. Just when she was ready to climb up his body and crawl inside, the faint ding of the elevator tugged at her awareness.

  His lips curved against hers. “I know you have a thing for elevators, Mrs. Anderson, but we really should move this into more private quarters.”

  Before she could form a coherent answer, he guided her down the carpeted hall and unlocked the door to their suite. He threw it open and lifted her easily into his arms.

  She threw her arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

  “Carrying you across the threshold.” He shoved the door closed with one foot and strode into a huge room with floor-to-ceiling windows. He stopped in the middle of the gray carpet, his dark eyes searching hers in the light the bellman left on. “I’m not going to hurt you, Claire. At least, not any more than I have to under the circumstances. Trust me, all right?”

  Claire took a deep breath, then nodded. As she did, she realized she meant it. She hesitantly ran her fingers back through his hair. “I do trust you. I have no idea why, but I do.”

  His smile held obvious relief. He strode into the luxurious bedroom and kicked the door closed. Then he slowly lowered her feet to the floor, but didn’t let go. “I’m going to do my damnedest to make sure this night is so wonderful it’ll still bring a smile to your face when you’re ninety—even if it kills me. Which it damn well might.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers and began a torture so exquisite Claire couldn’t find enough air to breathe. Though he’d rushed her to the room, now that they were alone he built their passion slowly, methodically, mercilessly, until she wanted to scream or cry or pummel his chest.

  During the next several hours, she did all three. She barely noticed when he took her innocence, so enmeshed in his web of passion she couldn’t feel anything beyond mind-numbing pleasure.

  When Jake finally allowed his own release, Claire was certain they would both vanish in a puff of smoke, like a magician with a magic wand.

  She smiled faintly as she drifted off to sleep, wrapped in her husband’s arms. There’d been magic, after all.

  Hunger pangs finally woke Jake, but it was the naked curves of a woman’s back pressed against him that made his eyes pop open. He relaxed again as he recognized the thick chestnut hair of his wife.

  His wife. The realization made a smile creep across his face.

  It had been three long years since he’d wakened with the warmth of a woman in his arms. The few encounters he’d had since Melissa were brief affairs, purely for physical relief. He never stayed overnight with those women, leaving soon after the short burst of passion was spent. He’d always left with no regrets, with no desire to wake with the scent of lovemaking sweet in the air.

  But those days were gone now. He would wake up with this woman every morning for the rest of his life.

  His smile widened. After last night, he was definitely looking forward to it.

  He tenderly lifted several strands of hair from her face. As he tucked them behind her ear, she murmured something sleepily and snuggled closer against him. He stirred to life as her bottom wiggled against him, but he firmly put thoughts of renewed passion out of his mind. She’d be sore this morning, for more reasons than losing her virginity.

  A virgin. Jake still couldn’t quite believe she came to him untouched. These days most women lost their innocence
well before they graduated from high school. Yet she’d gotten through college and six years of being on her own without letting a man have her. Amazing.

  Not that he minded. Knowing he’d been where no man had been before made him want to stand naked on the nearest mountain and beat his chest with pride. Like a damned Neanderthal. And here he’d thought he was a nineties kind of guy. His cowboy roots ran deeper than he thought.

  Shaking his head, Jake glanced over his shoulder at the clock. One thirty-six. He wasn’t surprised. They hadn’t gone to sleep until near dawn. And he hadn’t had anything to eat since the light supper on the plane over twelve hours, a wedding and a lengthy bout of lovemaking ago. No wonder he was hungry.

  Jake eased his arm from beneath Claire’s head, slipped out of bed and into his shorts. After a minute in the bathroom he looked over the room service menu. He wanted the largest breakfast they had, but what should he order for Claire? Was she a morning person who ate a hearty breakfast, or a night owl who could only face a cup of coffee in the morning? There was still a hell of a lot he had to learn about his new bride.

  He shrugged and reached for the phone. He’d err on the hearty side. She’d only picked at the food on the plane, so she was bound to be hungry, especially after last night’s strenuous activity.

  His smile held no remorse as he placed the order.

  He opened the curtains to let the November sun stream into the room, then eased down on the side of the bed facing Claire. His wife. Soon to be the mother of his children. What a surprise she’d turned out to be. After all her reluctance to marry him and her nervousness about the wedding night, he’d worried she might be cold in bed. Luckily he’d been very, very wrong. Innocent, yes. Nervous, yes. Inexperienced, yes. But when he’d set about teaching her the delights of the marriage bed, she’d been an eager pupil.

  Smiling in pure male satisfaction, he leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Wake up, angel.”

  She stirred sleepily. “Five more min—”

  As the sound of a male voice registered, Claire froze and her eyes popped open. Spotting Jake sitting on the side of the bed she cried, “Oh!” and sat up. The sheet fell away from her breasts, making her look down in horror at her nakedness. “Oh!” She snatched the sheet up, but something scratched the inside of her right wrist as she did, and she glanced down at her left hand. A wedding ring. “Oh.”

  “That’s right,” he said in clear amusement. “You’re married.”

  She flicked her pinkie to kick the huge diamond up to its proper position. “Yes. I remember now.”

  He chuckled as he leaned forward and kissed her soundly on the mouth. “And here I thought I’d made the night unforgettable.”

  Claire thought back on the incredible experience he’d given her. Unforgettable? Oh, yes. Her wedding night was now burned indelibly into her memory—and every other part of her body. “I just...I’m not used to waking up with anyone, much less a man.”

  He tenderly pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry. I was a bit startled, too, when I woke up with you in my arms. But I think I can get used to it. How about you?”

  “What if I don’t?”

  “Then I suppose you’re going to get a surprise every morning for the rest of your life.” His smile softened. “How are you feeling? Are you sore?”

  Claire felt heat sting her cheeks. “A little.”

  “Why don’t you take a nice, long soak? That’ll help. Breakfast will be up in about half an hour. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Starving;” she admitted. She gathered the sheet around her and started to rise, but the sheet wouldn’t come with her. Jake lay across it, watching her.

  She cleared her throat, but he just raised an eyebrow.

  “Can I have the sheet, please?”

  “No. In fact...” He snatched the sheet from her grip. When she tried to cover her breasts, he grabbed her arms and held them apart. “I won’t let you hide from me, angel. You’re too beautiful. And you’re mine.” He pulled her down on top of his chest and brought her lips to his.

  His possessive words struck a chord of panic in Claire. She felt the independence she’d worked so hard to achieve slipping away. This male need for dominance, for control was what had ended her relationship with every man she’d dated. But she couldn’t end this relationship as easily as she had the others. She was this man’s wife.

  Dear God, what had she done?

  But as he rolled her onto her back and the heat of his lips slid down her neck to her breasts, as hot blood began to pound through her veins, as her breathing became ragged, the panic receded. When he touched her like this, she wanted to be his. She wanted him to hold her forever. She wanted to die in his arms.

  Suddenly, he raised to one elbow. “Damn.”

  She shivered as the cool air of the room swept across the wet tip of her breast. “What is it?”

  He shook his head as if to clear it. “I promised myself I wouldn’t make love to you today. You need time to recover.”

  Feeling bereft of his touch, she lifted one hand and ran it back through his hair. “Don’t we need to make love as much as possible, to increase the chances of my getting pregnant?”

  His eyes burned with hot desire, but he held himself in check. “We’ll wait until tonight at least. Now, go soak. And here, take the sheet.”

  But Claire didn’t take the sheet. Though she knew he was right, she wanted to punish him for the control he had over himself, and over her. She stood and walked over to the dresser, nonchalant in her nakedness, and slowly ran her brush through her hair. That and her toothbrush were the only things he’d allowed her to pack. She didn’t even have a clean pair of underwear.

  As she worked through the tangles, she could see him in the mirror, watching her with black eyes that glowed like coals.

  “Claire,” he said, his voice full of warning.

  She turned to give him a full, frontal view. “Hmm?”

  He rose from the bed menacingly and whipped off his shorts. Her breath caught and her eyes widened at the rampant evidence of his desire.

  “Come over here, then, if you’re not going to bathe,” he said in husky, cajoling tones.

  Realizing she’d gone a tad too far, she dropped the brush on the dresser and hurried into the bathroom. She locked the door.

  “How about this one?”

  Claire looked up from the rack of cotton underwear to see Jake holding up a lacy blue bra that would expose as much of her as it would conceal. A quick glance around the lingerie store told her no one was paying them any special heed. Thank goodness. She’d never been shopping with a man—especially not for underwear. She’d been old enough when her mother died to pick out things for herself.

  “What size do you wear?” Jake asked, eyeing the tag.

  “Like I’m going to shout that across the store,” she told him heatedly.

  He arched a brow, then walked over and leaned down. “Okay, whisper it.”

  She glared at him. “Why can’t you sit on a bench with a bored expression like normal husbands? Or spend a few hours in the software store?”

  “Is that what all your other husbands have done?” he asked with an innocent expression.

  “Very funny. Of course, if you’d let me pack a few clothes we wouldn’t be stuck at a mall on our honeymoon.”

  He picked a red see-through bra off the rack to his side. “I didn’t know helping a woman shop for lingerie could be so fascinating. I’ve never done it before. Is this your size?”

  Claire read the tag. “Thirty-eight double D? In your dreams. You’re stuck with a thirty-two B, buster.”

  He leaned closer. “Your thirty-two Bs suit my dreams quite nicely, thank you. And my hands. And my—”

  “Okay, I get the picture.” Claire flushed, which irritated her. She pointed to the red bra. “So this is what you’d pick out for me?”

  He held the hanger higher. “You don’t like it?”

  She studied the contrapt
ion he held aloft. It was the kind of bra she’d heard men liked, with fine mesh cups that would leave nothing to the imagination and a front closure that could be opened with a flick of the wrist. She’d never had one like that, preferring sturdy cotton sports bras.

  “Do you like it?” she asked uneasily.

  He slipped an arm around her waist and said in a low, husky voice, “I’d like to see you in it.”

  Claire swallowed hard and took the hanger from his hand, feeling more of her independence slipping away. She’d never stopped to consider that marriage would seep into even the smallest things in her life—like underwear. When she’d accepted Jake, she had this image of them sleeping together a couple of times to make a baby, then pretty much going their own way. Jake would make money through his investments, then turn it over to her so she and her staff could take care of it.

  Her fingers ran along the silky lace of one cup. She supposed wearing something like this would entice him—not that she’d needed it the night before. But she had to face facts. She was inexperienced and might not hold his sexual attention very long with her comfortable cotton underwear. And she needed to get pregnant. That was the whole point of marrying the man. Once her mission was accomplished, there would be no more need for sex, and she could go back to wearing what she liked.

  “All right then,” she said. “Find my size.”

  Jake located a thirty-two B quickly, plus matching panties. Then he moved to another rack and selected another set. For the next few minutes, he gleefully picked out bras and panties. When she thumbed through a rack of nightgowns, he pulled her away, saying she didn’t need them.

  Ten minutes into this spree, Claire caught his arm. “How many are you going to pick out? We’re not going to be here a month. And my credit card does have a limit, you know.”

  He merely shrugged. “Mine doesn’t.”

  He moved on to another rack, blithely unaware of the panic threatening to cut off Claire’s breathing. Of course he expected to pay. Hank always paid for everything Alex bought—even spools of thread. And Jake had a heck of a lot more money than Hank.