She came around the front of the car, all slow moves and a smile, and his gaze swept over her as if he was a blind man who was suddenly given the power to see. He noticed everything about her. A scoop-neck, pale yellow tank top displayed enough creamy, sun-kissed skin on her chest, shoulders and arms to tantalize him. The hem of the darn thing stopped short above the waistband of her grass-green capris, giving him a peek at her belly button and a slash of tanned flesh that made him want to see more. He sucked in a gulp of air, choked it down and kept looking. She wore sandals that displayed that toe ring of hers, and his mouth went dry as he watched her hips sway with each slow, deliberate step toward him.
She didn't stop until she came to the paddock fence. Then she rested her forearms on the top rail, inching the hem of that tank top up a bit more. Mike closed his eyes, hoped for strength, then opened them again to stare directly into hers.
"Who's next?" she asked.
"What?" Blood rushed and pumped through his body, thundering in his ears, and he had to force himself to hear her when she repeated her question.
"I said, who's next on your list?"
He cleared his throat, stuck the claw of the hammer through one of his belt loops and walked toward her. Damned if he'd let her know what just looking at her was doing to him. "What list?"
"You know, prospective deflowerers," Nora said. She tipped her head to one side and asked, "Is that even a word?"
Who cared? "What are you talking about?" He deliberately kept his gaze locked with hers. Way less dangerous than allowing himself another glimpse of tanned, creamy skin.
She smiled and it sucker punched him.
"C'mon, Mike. Seth Thomas couldn't have been your best shot."
The knot that had been lodged in the center of his chest since the night before slowly dissolved. "Didn't like him?"
"Oh, he's nice," she said, "but when push came to shove – or rather when touch came to pawing…"
"He pawed you?"
"That was the idea, wasn't it?" She shifted and ran her fingertips along the edge of the fence rail. "I mean, I can't really lose the whole virginity banner unless some touching is involved."
"Right." His gaze slipped and followed the languorous movement of her fingers until he clenched his jaw and had to look away again.
"But it just didn't feel…" She shrugged, and the clingy material of her blouse tightened across her breasts.
"You know?"
All he knew for sure was, if he didn't get the hell away from her, damn fast, she wouldn't have to worry about finding somebody to "deflower" her. She'd be flat on her back in the paddock, with him right on top of her.
That image flashed into his mind and held there, freeze-framed.
"Mike?" Nora said, waving one hand in front of his face.
"Yeah!" He snapped out of it instantly, shook his head and blew out a rush of air.
"You okay?"
"Fine," he muttered, and snatched his hat off to stab his fingers through his hair. At least, he would be fine as soon as he could find enough cold water to soak his body in. The Arctic Ocean ought to be big enough.
"Well, you don't look okay," Nora said, inwardly smiling. Ah, it was good to know that even if she wasn't much of a flirt, she was girl enough to bring a man to his knees. Figuratively, if not literally. Feigning concern, she suggested, "Maybe you've had too much sun today."
"I'm fine," he insisted.
"It's really hot, though," she said on a soft moan, tilting her head back and stroking her neck with the tips of her fingers. "Feels like my skin's on fire."
He inhaled slowly, deeply. She heard the deliberate intake of air, and it did her a world of good to know that he was totally affected by her.
"I gotta get back to work," he said tightly, and turned away, headed back for the far side of the paddock.
"Oh, okay then," Nora said, shifting her gaze to meet his. "I'll just go on inside and say hi to Emily."
He stopped dead and half turned to look at her over his shoulder. "You're staying?"
"Sure," she said, smiling at him. "We've still got to find me a man, don't we?" Then she spun around and walked toward the house, intentionally swaying her hips in what she hoped was a provocative move. She felt his gaze on her as she walked, and if she'd been made of straw, she'd have burst into flame from the heat of his stare. As it was, her skin hummed, her insides churned, her knees wobbled and places in her body that had yet to be introduced to passion sat up and begged.
So just who was torturing whom here?
*
Mike stayed outside working as long as he could, but, eventually, he had to give it up and go inside. Rick was spending more and more time with Donna, as he should be, Mike thought. But that meant more work for him and less time with Emily.
So, he should be grateful that Nora had come back, right? At least his daughter was happy and well-looked-after. What did it really matter, in the grand scheme of things, that he was going slowly insane?
He stepped into the kitchen, hung his hat on the wall peg and looked around the empty room. A casserole dish, covered with foil, sat on the stove top. Dishes had been washed and put away, but there was a single place setting, for him, waiting on the table. Apparently Emily and Nora had already eaten.
And despite the fact that he'd stayed out late on purpose, he was disappointed to realize he'd missed dinner with them. The clock over the sink read seven-fifteen and Mike felt a stab of guilt. Nearly Emily's bedtime and he'd hardly seen her all day. He could take care of that, though. Just grab a quick shower and—
"Mike?"
Nora's voice, coming from the great room.
He got a grip on his hormones and walked through the doorway and down the hall. "Yeah, I just came in and—" He stopped as he entered the room. Emily lay on one of the sofas, cuddled up beneath a blanket. Nora was sitting right beside her.
Worry and fear roared to life inside him as he crossed the room in a few long strides. Dropping to one knee beside his daughter, he looked up into Nora's worried gaze and asked, "What's wrong?"
She shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know. She was fine a few minutes ago and now—"
"Daddy—" Emily's voice came soft and tired "—I don't feel good."
"What hurts, baby?" he asked, his tone gentle, crooning as he stroked her bangs back from her forehead. "Your tummy?"
"No," she whined, and cupped one small hand around her neck. "My froat's sore."
"Mike, I swear," Nora was saying, and he heard the tension in her voice, "up until a few minutes ago, she was fine. We were coloring." She waved one hand at the abandoned coloring books and crayons lying scattered across the coffee table.
"Kids get sick fast," he muttered, and spared a quick look at the beautiful blonde beside him. "Don't worry about it."
"Daddy, it hu-u-urts…"
Despite the concern washing through him, Mike could still appreciate how a kid was able to shove three syllables into a one-syllable word. "It's okay, baby. Daddy'll fix it."
Emily closed her eyes and turned onto her side, curling up into a tiny cocoon. Mike bent down, planted a kiss on the top of her head and stood up, motioning Nora to follow him as he moved across the room. She did, reluctantly, continually glancing back at the child lying so uncharacteristically still.
"Nora," he said, and she focused on him. "Look, I don't want to ask, but I'm filthy. Will you stay with Emily while I take a quick shower? Then I'll take over caring for Emily and you can go home."
She looked at him as if he had two heads. "I'm not going anywhere," she said after a long minute of stunned silence.
"You don't have to stay," he said tightly. "Emily's had these before. It's just a sore throat. I just have to keep her fever down. She'll be fine."
"I'm sure she will," Nora agreed, folding her arms beneath her breasts and shooting him a look that told him she was going to be stubborn about this. "And I'll be right here with her to see it for myself."
"No-o-ora" came a soft wail f
rom the couch, "read to me…"
Nora winced slightly and sympathy shone in her eyes as she called back, "I'll be right there, sweetie." Then, turning back to Mike, she lowered her voice and added, "Go ahead. Get cleaned up. Have dinner. And get used to me. Because I'm not leaving her."
Then before he could argue, or tell her that he could take care of his own child, Nora was gone, hurrying back to the sofa. Picking up Emily's favorite book, she began to read, and the sound of her voice – calm, loving, gentle – filled the room. Mike simply stood in the shadows, watching the two of them. He was still standing there when Emily reached out and Nora folded that tiny hand in hers.
A pang of something sweet and just a little terrifying ricocheted around the inside of his heart. It had been just he and Emily for so long, he wasn't used to sharing the care of her. But clearly, his little girl had found something in Nora that she needed. Responded to.
And that worried him. Because eventually, Nora would leave and what would that do to Emily?
*
Two hours later, Nora was a wreck. All thoughts of hot seduction were long since banished from her mind and every ounce of her concentration was focused on Emily. She looked so small, so helpless, lying in her bed surrounded by her stuffed animals. The little girl's cheeks were flushed and her eyes held the glassy sheen of a fever.
"Read it again," she whispered, and the scratchy sound of her voice brought a sympathetic ache to Nora's throat.
"Okay, sweetie," she said, and drew the child in close, wrapping her arm around her. Emily nestled her head on Nora's chest, and even through the fabric of her shirt, Nora felt the heat radiating from the small body pressed close to her.
Worry tugged at her heart and tore at the edges of her mind. But she read the storybook one more time, trying to keep Emily's mind off her own misery. And while she read the story about a sick little bunny and his friends, Nora concentrated on the feel of Emily's slight body curled into hers. Though she hated that the child was sick, Nora loved feeling needed, loved that Emily felt comforted by her presence.
"Will I still be sick on Friday?"
Nora stopped reading and shifted her gaze to the wide blue eyes looking up at her. "I don't know, honey, why?"
"'Cuz Mandy in my class is having her birthday and we get to sleep over at her house and everything." Emily's bottom lip curled and one fat tear slipped from her left eye and rolled along her cheek.
"Aw, sweetie, don't cry…"
"Who's crying?" Mike asked.
Nora turned to look at the doorway, where Mike stood, leaning against the jamb, hands in his jeans pockets, bare feet crossed at the ankle.
How long had he been standing there?
"Me, Daddy," Emily said as more tears joined the first one.
He smiled softly and pushed away from the door, walking into the room to take a seat across from Nora, next to Emily. "Don't worry about the party, baby," he said softly, and ran his fingertips along her cheek. "You'll be okay by then."
"Really?" A half smile curved her mouth.
"Really. Now, why don't you try to sleep, okay?"
"'Kay," she said, and cuddled in closer to Nora.
Mike watched her and shook his head. "Maybe you should lie down?"
"Nora's readin' to me."
"Yeah," Nora said, smiling. "I'm readin' to her." One corner of Mike's mouth tilted into a smile that set off firecrackers deep inside Nora. She felt the pop and sizzle of them as they scattered, throughout her bloodstream. Pulling in a long, slow breath, she forced her gaze from his and looked instead at the pages of the book she could barely see through the haze of desire clouding her vision.
How did he do that? How did he look at her and make her want to rip her clothes off and throw herself at him?
"Mind if I listen, too?" he asked, his voice a low rumble of sound that rippled along her spine and settled into an ache deep inside her.
"You can cuddle with Nora, too, Daddy," Emily offered.
Nora sucked in a gulp of air.
Mike heard her.
And gave her a look that made her head spin.
In a good way.
* * *
Chapter 8
«^»
Emily was sound asleep and her fever was down. But Nora still refused to leave. Mike watched her from the hall doorway, and in the soft glow of the princess night-light gleaming in the corner of the room, she looked … too damn good.
He leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of the doorway and squeezed until he wouldn't have been surprised to hear the old wood snap in his grip. To indulge himself, he let his gaze slide over her. That fresh-as-a-daisy outfit she'd been wearing when she arrived was now wrinkled and stained with a few drops of liquid ibuprofen. She'd raked her hands through her hair so often it was a tangled mess, and her eyes looked tired and worried.
Still, desire flashed inside him, even brighter and stronger than it had that afternoon. This was more than a reaction to her good looks, though God knew that was there, too. He was responding to who she was. How she'd cared for Emily. How she'd worried and fretted and read one story time after time until he was pretty sure she knew it by heart.
This desire raging and pulsing inside him was fueled by what he'd seen of her in the last few weeks. It was the flowers in his house. The laughter that had brightened every corner of a home that had grown too dark. The warmth that had invaded his soul no matter how much he tried to fight it.
And he knew there would be no relief from the wanting because he couldn't give her what she was looking for. Couldn't take that kind of risk. If he only had to consider his own happiness, then he might surrender to these feelings. But he had Emily to think about, too. And to protect her from another possible rejection, he would do anything. Even if it meant denying himself the one woman he wanted more than his next breath.
As if she sensed him watching her, she shifted her gaze to him. When their gazes locked, Mike knew he was in deep trouble. She stood up, bent down and stroked Emily's forehead, then straightened again and moved across the room.
Mike stepped aside as she got closer. When she passed him, she brushed against his body and his skin caught fire. That was the only explanation for the sudden explosion of heat that damn near swamped him. Shaking his head, he gave his sleeping daughter one last look, then turned and followed Nora out into the great room.
She kept walking until she stood in front of the now-cold hearth. On the mantel above the stone fireplace was a line of framed photos. Most were of Emily, but there were a few others, too.
"Are these your parents?" she asked without turning around.
"Yeah," he said, and stopped a good five feet from her. Couldn't hurt to keep a little distance between them. "They live up north. Near Reno."
"Pretty up there," she said, and let her fingers trail along the oak mantel, sliding up to the next picture. "And this?"
"My sister," he said, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. "She and her family live in Montana."
"You're spread out far and wide, aren't you?"
"Just worked out that way." But his family had never really been close, anyway. Oh, they visited, called and e-mailed. But tight, they weren't.
"That's a shame," she mused, her voice quiet, thoughtful. "My family drives me nuts occasionally, but I can't imagine not having them close by."
"I have Emily."
"And she's enough?"
"She's everything."
Finally, Nora turned to look at him. There were tears in her eyes, and since he hadn't been expecting it, those tears hit him hard. He took a step toward her, then stopped again, unsure just what to do. Damn it, tears always threw him for a loop.
She used both hands to swipe her cheeks dry, then sniffed and gulped in air like a drowning woman. Shaking her head, she gave him a watery smile and said, "She is everything to you. I can see that when you're together."
She took another deep, shuddering breath and continued. "I envy you that, you know?"
> What was he supposed to say to that? he wondered. Thank you?
But she didn't give him a chance to think of something to say. Instead, she kept talking, her words rushing from her, tumbling over one another into a long, blurred stream of sound. He listened hard, straining to keep up, to hear everything.
"I watched you with her and you were so good, so gentle, and you knew exactly what to do and you weren't scared. You weren't worried. I saw your eyes," she said, wagging a finger at him as if accusing him of something dire. "You weren't worried. Concerned, maybe, but not scared. I was so scared, I didn't know what to do. She got that fever in just a few minutes. It came up out of nowhere and…" She shrugged, threw her hands high and then let them slap down to her sides again. "If you hadn't walked in the door when you did, I would have been running out into the dark to find you. I was terrified. I mean, I've been sick and that's no biggie. I can take aspirin and tuck myself into bed. But watching Emily cry and seeing her face flushed and her eyes go all glassy…" She cringed even at the memory. "It was terrible. I felt so helpless. So stupid. How can you deal with that so easily? How do you watch a kid be perfectly healthy one minute and then sick in the next?"
"Nora…" Eventually, he had to try to stop the flow of words. Her tears were running again, coursing down her cheeks in a flood of misplaced guilt.
"My God," she whispered as her voice wound down into a hoarse echo of what it had been, "I have no business wanting a family. Kids of my own? If I react like this, what good would I be to them? I mean, what if they fell and cut themselves? Would I faint at the sight of blood? Would I just sit on the floor and cry with them?" She pushed her hands through her hair. "Yeah, I'm the one you want around in a crisis."
"That's bull."
"What?" Her head snapped up and her gaze shot to his.
Mike looked at her and felt his heart squeeze at the sight of her tear-streaked face and misery-filled eyes. He just couldn't stand it another minute. In three long strides, he was beside her. Grabbing her upper arms in a firm yet gentle grip, he drew her up onto her toes and stared deeply into her eyes.
KISS ME, COWBOY Page 7
