Montana Mavericks, Books 1-4

by Diana Palmer

  It was intimate, doing this for him. She hadn’t considered her actions at all, but now she realized that they could be misconstrued by a large number of people, starting with McCallum. She was acting like a lovesick idiot. What must he have thought when she came bursting into the recovery room where he was lying, forcing her way into his life like this?

  She fed him the last of the pudding and, with a worried look, moved the tray to the other table.

  “Now eat your own dinner before it gets cold,” he insisted. “If you’re determined to stay here all night, you need something to keep you going.”

  “I’m not really hungry….”

  “Neither was I,” he said with a cutting smile. “But I didn’t have any choice. Now do you pick up that fork, or do I climb out of this bed and pick it up for you?”

  His hand went to the sheet. With a resigned sigh, she uncovered her own plate and took it, and her fork, back to her chair. She didn’t like liver any more than he did, but she ate it. At least it was filling.

  He watched her until she cleared her plate and finished the last drop of her coffee. “Wasn’t that good?” he taunted.

  “I hate liver,” she muttered.

  “So do I, but that didn’t save me.” He grinned at her. “Turnabout is fair play.”

  She sighed, standing to replace her plate on the tray. She hadn’t touched her pudding.

  “Aren’t you going to eat that?” he asked.

  “I like chocolate,” she muttered. “I hate vanilla.”

  “I don’t.” His eyes twinkled. “Want to feed it to me?”

  Her blush was caused more by the silky soft tone of his voice than by the words. She couldn’t help it.

  “If you like,” she said hesitantly.

  “Come on, then.”

  She got the pudding and approached the bed. But when she started to open the lid, he caught her hand and tugged until she bent forward.

  “Sterling!” she protested weakly.

  “Humor me,” he whispered, reaching up to cup her chin in his lean hand and pull her face down. “I’m a sick man. I need pampering.”

  “But—”

  “I want to kiss you,” he whispered at her lips. “You can’t imagine how much. Just a little closer, Jessie. Just another inch…”

  She sighed against his hard mouth as she moved that tiny distance and let her lips cover his. He made a soft sound and, despite the tubes attached to his arm, his hand snaked behind her head to increase the pressure of his mouth. She stiffened, but it was already too late to save herself. The warm insistence of the kiss worked its way through all her doubts, fears and reservations and touched her very soul. She sighed and gave in to the need to reassure herself that he was alive. Her own mouth opened without coyness and she felt the shock that ran through him before he groaned and deepened the kiss.

  The sound of a tray rattling outside the room brought her head up. He looked somber and his eyes were narrow and hot.

  “Coward,” he taunted.

  Her lips felt swollen. She pulled gently back from him and stood up, her knees threatening to give way. He had an effect on her body that no other man ever had. There were so many reasons why she shouldn’t allow this feeling between them to grow. But other than disappointment, there was no other emotion left in her at the moment. That, and a raging pleasure that turned quickly to frustration.

  Eleven

  The nurse came in to remove the dishes, and somehow Jessica managed to look calm and pleasant. But inside, her whole being was churning with sensation. She looked at Sterling and her mouth tingled in memory.

  She was wondering how she was going to manage the situation, but then the doctor came in on his rounds and ordered a sedative for the patient. It was administered at once, and McCallum glowered as the nurse finished checking his vital signs and the technicians came back to get some samples they needed for the lab. It was fifteen minutes before they left him alone with Jessica. And by then, the shot was beginning to take effect.

  “Hell of a thing, the way they treat people here,” he murmured as his eyelids began to droop. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “You can talk tomorrow. Now go to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

  “Think so?” he asked drowsily. “I’m not sure about that.”

  He shifted and a long sigh passed his lips. Only seconds later, he was dozing. Jessica settled in her chair with a new paperback she’d tucked into her purse after a brief stop at the bookstore on her way to lunch. She must have had some sort of premonition, she mused. And unlike McCallum, she didn’t have to worry about her pet. Meriwether had plenty of water and cat food waiting for him, and a litter box when he needed it. He might be lonely, but he wouldn’t need looking after. She opened the book.

  But the book wasn’t half as interesting as McCallum. She finally put it aside and sat looking at him, wishing that her life had been different, that she had something to offer such a man. He was a delight to her eyes, to her mind, her heart, her body. She couldn’t have imagined anyone more perfect. He liked her, that was obvious, and he was attracted to her. But for his own sake, she had to stop things from progressing any further than liking. Her own weakness was going to be her worst enemy, especially while he was briefly vulnerable and needed her. She had to be sure that she didn’t let his depleted state go to her head. Above all, she had to keep her longings under control.

  Eventually, she tried to sleep. But the night was long and uncomfortable as she tried to curl up in the padded chair. In the morning, McCallum was awake before she was, and she opened her eyes to find him propped up in bed watching her.

  “You don’t snore,” he commented with a gentle smile.

  “Neither do you,” she returned.

  “Fortunate for us both, isn’t it?”

  She sat up, winced and stretched. Her hair had come down in the night and it fell around her shoulders in a thick cloud. She pushed it back from her face and readjusted her glasses.

  “Why don’t you wear your contact lenses?” he asked curiously. “And before you fly at me, I don’t mean you look better with them or anything. I just wondered why you’d stopped putting them in.”

  She stood up. “It didn’t seem worth the effort anymore,” she said. “And they’re not as comfortable as these.” She touched the big frames with her forefinger. She smiled. “And they’re a lot of trouble. Maybe I’m just lazy.”

  He smiled. “Not you, Jessie.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Sore.” He moved his shoulder with a groan. “It’s going to be a few days before I feel like much, I guess.”

  “Good! That means you won’t try to go back to work!”

  He glowered at her. “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you meant it, didn’t you?” she pressed with a wicked grin.

  He laid his head back against the pillow. “I guess so.” He studied her possessively. “Are you coming home with me?”

  Her heart jumped up into her throat. “What?”

  “How do you expect to keep me at home if you don’t?” he asked persuasively. “Left on my own, I’m sure I’d go right back to the office.”

  There was a hint of cunning in his eyes, and she didn’t trust the innocent expression on his face. He had something in mind, and she didn’t want to explore any possibilities just now.

  “You could promise not to,” she offered.

  “I could lie, too.”

  “I have a job,” she protested.

  “Today is Friday. Tomorrow is Saturday. What do you do that someone else can’t do as well for one day?”

  “Well, nothing, really,” she said. She hesitated. “People might talk….”

  “Who gives a damn?” he said flatly. “We’ve both weathered our share of gossip. To hell with it. Come home with me. I need you.”

  Those three words made her whole body tingle with delight. She stared at him with darkening eyes, with a faint flush on her cheekbones that betrayed how much the stat
ement affected her.

  “I need you,” he repeated quietly.

  “All right.”

  “Just like that?”

  She smiled. “Just like that. But only for today,” she added.

  His eyebrows rose. “Why, Jessica, did you think I was inviting you to spend the night with me?”

  She glowered back. “You stop that. I’m just going to take care of you.”

  He beamed. “What a delightful prospect.”

  Her jaws tightened. “You know what I mean, and it isn’t that!”

  “I know what I wish you meant,” he teased softly.

  “You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?” she asked with resignation.

  “I’ll try not to cause you a lot of trouble.” He studied her long and intently. “Besides, how difficult can it be?” He indicated his shoulder. “I’m not in any shape for what you’re most concerned about. Long, intimate sessions on my sofa will have to wait until I’m properly fit again, Jessica,” he added in a soft, wicked tone. “Sorry if that disappoints you.”

  She turned away to keep him from seeing the flush on her cheeks. “Well, if you’re going to leave today, I’d better see if the doctor agrees that you can. I’ll go and check at the nurses’ station.”

  “You tell them that even if he says I can’t, I’m going home,” he informed her.

  She didn’t argue. It wouldn’t really do any good.

  By noon, they’d discharged him, and Jessica, after stopping by her house to change clothes and feed her cat, drove him to his house. It disturbed her a little to have her pickup truck sitting in his driveway, but there wasn’t a lot she could do about it. He wasn’t able to cook or clean, and there was no one else she could ask to do it—except possibly Bess, and that was out of the question.

  She hesitated when he unlocked the door and Mack growled at the sight of her.

  “Stop that,” McCallum snapped at the dog.

  Mack stopped at once, eagerly greeting his master.

  McCallum petted him and motioned Jessica into the house before he dropped heavily into his favorite armchair.

  “It’s good to be home,” he remarked.

  “How about something to eat?” she asked. “You didn’t stay long enough to have lunch.”

  “I wasn’t hungry then. There’s a pizza in the freezer and some bacon and eggs in the fridge.”

  “Any flour?”

  He glared at her. “What the hell would I want with flour?”

  She threw up her hands. It wasn’t a question she should have asked a bachelor who liked frozen pizza.

  “So much for hopes of quiche,” she said half to herself as she put down her purse and walked toward the kitchen.

  “Real men don’t eat quiche,” he called after her.

  “You would if you had any flour,” she muttered. “But I guess it’s going to be bacon and eggs.”

  “We could order a pizza from the place downtown.”

  “I don’t want pizza. And you need something healthy.”

  “I won’t eat tofu and bean sprouts.”

  She was searching through the refrigerator and vegetable bins. There were three potatoes and a frozen pizza, four eggs of doubtful age, a slice of moldy bacon and a loaf of green bread.

  “Don’t you ever clean things out in here?” she called.

  He shrugged, then winced as the movement hurt his shoulder. “When I get time,” he told her.

  She came back and reached for her purse. “Please don’t try to go to work while I’m gone.”

  “Where, exactly, are you going?”

  “To get some provisions,” she said. “Some edible provisions. You couldn’t feed a dedicated buzzard on what’s in your kitchen.”

  He chuckled and reached for his wallet. He handed her a twenty-dollar bill. “All right. If you’re determined, go spend that.”

  “I’ll need to stop by my office, too.”

  “Whatever.”

  She hesitated in the doorway, indecision on her face.

  “If you’d rather I sent Bess over—”

  “Bess was a pleasant companion,” he replied. “She was never anything more, regardless of what she might have told you.”

  “Okay.” She went out and closed the door behind her.

  She stopped by the office just long enough to delegate some chores and answer everyone’s concerns about McCallum. Bess was interested, but not overly so, and she smiled reassuringly at Jessica before she told her to wish him well.

  After that, Jessica went shopping. When she got back to McCallum’s house, he was sprawled on the sofa in his sock feet with a can of beer in his hand, watching a movie.

  “What did you buy?” he asked as she carried two plastic sacks into the kitchen.

  “Everything you were out of.” She handed him back two dollars and some change.

  He glanced at the grocery bags. “What are you going to cook me?”

  “Country-fried cubed steak, gravy, biscuits and mashed potatoes.”

  “Feel my pulse. I think I’ve just died and gone to heaven. Did I hear you right? I haven’t had that since it was a special at the café last month.”

  “I hope it’s something you like.”

  “‘Like’ doesn’t begin to describe how I feel about it. Try ‘overwhelmed with delight.’ But to answer your question, yes, I like it.”

  “It’s loaded with cholesterol and calories,” she added, “but I can cut down on the grease.”

  “Not on my account.” He chuckled. “I love unwholesome food.”

  She prepared the meal in between glimpses of the movie he was watching. It was a thriller, an old police drama set back in the thirties, and she enjoyed it as much as he did. Later, they ate in front of the television and watched a nature special about the rain forest.

  “That’s a good omen,” he said when they’d finished and she was collecting the plates.

  “What is?”

  “We like the same television programs. Not to mention the same food.”

  “Most people like nature specials.”

  “One woman I dated only watched wrestling,” he commented.

  She stacked the plates and picked them up. “I don’t want to hear about your other dates.”

  “Why not?” he asked calculatingly. “I thought you only wanted to be friends with me.”

  She stopped, searching for words. But she couldn’t quite find the right ones, so she beat it back to the kitchen and busied herself washing dishes. Mack sat near her on the floor, watching her without hostility. It was the first time since she’d been in the house that he didn’t growl at her.

  She put away the dishcloth and cleaned up the kitchen. There was enough food left for McCallum to have for supper. She put it on a platter and covered it, so that he could heat it up later.

  He’d turned off the television when she came back into the living room. He was lying full length on the sofa with his eyes closed, but he opened them when he heard her step. His dark eyes slid up and down her body, over the simple blue dress that clung to her slender body. The expression in them made her pulse race.

  “I should…go home.” Her voice faltered.

  He didn’t say a word. His hand went to his shirt and slowly, sensually, unfastened it. He moved it aside, giving her a provocative view of his broad, hair-roughened chest.

  “I have things to do,” she continued. She couldn’t quite drag her eyes away from those hard, bronzed muscles.

  He held out his good arm, watching her in a silence that promised pleasures beyond description.

  She knew the risks. She’d known them from the first time she saw him. Up until now, they’d weighed against her. But the realization of how close he’d come to death shifted the scales.

  She went to him, letting him draw her down against him, so that she was stretched out beside him on the long sofa, pressed close against his hard, warm body.

  “Relax,” he said gently, easing her onto her back and grimacing as he moved to loom ov
er her. “I’m not stupid enough to start something I can’t finish.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked a little worriedly, because the minute her hips tilted into his, she felt the instant response of his body.

  “Not really.” He groaned and laughed softly in the same breath, shifting her away slightly. “But let’s pretend that I am. I like you in this dress, Jessie. It fits in all the right places. But I don’t like the way it fastens. Too damned many buttons and hooks in back…. Ah, that’s better.”

  “McCallum!” she cried as the bodice began to slip. She made a grab for it, but his fingers intercepted the wild movement.

  “What are you afraid of?” he murmured softly, smiling down at her. “It won’t hurt.”

  She bit her lower lip. “I…can’t let you look at me,” she said, lowering her eyes to the hard throbbing of his pulse in his neck.

  He frowned. “Now, or ever?” he asked with a patience he didn’t feel.

  “E-ever,” she clarified. She pulled the bodice closer. “Let me up, please, I want to…McCallum!”

  Even with a bullet wound, he was stronger and quicker than she was. The dress was suddenly around her waist, and he was looking at her body in the wispy nylon bra with its strategically placed lace. But it wasn’t her breasts that had his attention.

  She closed her eyes and shivered with pain. “I tried to stop you,” she said harshly, biting back tears. “Now, will you let me go!”

  “My God.” The way he spoke was reverent. But there was no revulsion, either in the words or in his face. There was only pain, for what she must have suffered.

  “Oh, please,” she whispered, humiliated.

  “There’s no need to look like that,” he said quietly. “Lie still. I’m going to take you out of this dress.”

  “No…!”

  He caught her flailing hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the palm gently. His dark eyes met her wild ones. “You need to be made love to,” he said softly. “More than you realize. You’re not hideous, Jessica. The scars aren’t that bad.”

  She fought tears and lost. They fell, hot and profuse, pouring down her cheeks. Her hand relaxed its hold on her dress and she lay still, letting him smooth away it and her half-slip and pantyhose until she lay there in only her briefs and bra.