by Laurie Paige
Pushing upward, she realized that was a mistake as her gown slipped off her breasts. She threw her arms over her chest and huddled against the sheet as liquid heat ran in her blood.
“That’s better,” Drake said.
She heard the slosh of the liniment, then felt his hand on her bare shoulders, accompanied by the strong smell and cooling effects of horse medicine. Realizing he wouldn’t leave until he’d accomplished his task, she lay stiffly and let him rub her neck and down her spine to the edge of the nightgown.
When his fingers slipped under the material, every nerve in her body jerked.
“Easy,” he murmured, his voice low and sexy, soft the way it had been when they made love, endlessly tender as he coaxed her into wild passion.
Relentlessly, he continued, rubbing and rubbing, pushing the gown down as he went lower until it finally rested at her waist. Using both hands, he massaged deeply on either side of her backbone and into the small of her back. It was painful, yet perversely made her feel better. Her eyes closed of their own accord as the pain receded.
She groaned with relief as strained muscles slowly relaxed for the first time in weeks. He shifted closer, putting one knee up on the bed to rest by her side.
“That’s better,” he murmured.
Minutes went by in silence, broken only when he wet his hands with the liniment before starting his massage again.
His fingers were magic. The stiffness melted away, replaced by a languid uneasiness that also faded as his touch became gentler. Now he rubbed soothingly.
Exhaling on a deep sigh, she slipped into slumber with no dreams to haunt her rest.
Drake continued rubbing lightly, not quite ready to stop touching her. Her skin was as smooth and soft as he remembered. Her warmth reached down inside him to that place of piercing cold that had been with him almost as long as he could remember. Only Maya had ever eased it.
He screwed the cap on the liniment bottle and placed it on the night table, then turned out the lamp. The moonlight fell in an oblong of brilliance on the carpet. He couldn’t keep the thought from his mind that next door, Teddy slept in the bed that had once belonged to his twin.
Last summer, lying in this bed, he’d told Maya about the accident and his part in it, about the guilt he sometimes felt for being alive. She’d simply held him closer and had made tender love to him until he’d forgotten the past. He grimaced slightly. They’d both forgotten everything, including the need to use protection, during those hazy moments of delight.
It had never occurred to him that she would become pregnant. He’d never thought of having children.
Without considering the act, he ran his hand around her waist and rested it on the hard mound of her abdomen. To his amazement, he felt something press against his palm, then he experienced a series of bumps. A funny feeling washed over him as he realized the baby was kicking the spot where his hand rested. It came to him that the child was alive and well and real.
Very real.
Maybe it was sheer vanity, but he knew it was his. It seemed to him that the baby knew him, too, that it was welcoming him home.
About time.
He started as the words popped into his head as if his son or daughter were speaking to him through mental telepathy.
“Yeah, I know,” he said softly. “Now if we could get your mother to admit the truth, maybe we could figure out where to go from here.”
Maya shifted in her sleep and gave a little moan. She sighed and became still once more, her knee drawn up on the mattress to support the weight of the baby. Feeling an odd constriction in his chest, he stood.
Carefully he lifted the straps of her gown back into place, then covered her. After a last long look filled with needs he couldn’t deny, he rose and slipped out of the room.
In his own bed, he tried to think of a plan of action. That was why his missions were usually a success. He thought of every contingency and had a solution for each and every one. He’d do the same with Maya. As soon as he figured out what her problem was, other than anger at him.
Maya got the boys up and off to school as usual. Life did go on, or else Ms. Meredith would have a fit.
Hearing the vacuum going in the living room, she knew her mother was in there. The sprawling hacienda-style home was vacuumed and dusted twice a week. In the spring and fall, it underwent a cleaning that literally left no bed unturned. The same thing happened in the Ramirez household.
Maya crept into the kitchen. Sure enough, it was empty for the moment, although she could smell a roast in the oven and traces of the bacon from breakfast. Not hungry, but thinking of the baby, she prepared two pieces of toast and poured a glass of milk. She set them, along with a mug of coffee, on the table.
Halfway through the meal, Drake ambled in from outside. He looked devilishly handsome in old jeans and boots, a blue shirt and denim jacket. He brought the scent of the outdoors and horses into the room with him. After getting a mug of coffee, he joined her at the table. There, she got a whiff of his cologne.
It transported her back in time to days of riding and playing with the two younger boys at their heels while they searched for arrowheads and wild berries. To long walks along the beach while they talked their hearts out. To nights—
With a sharp intake of breath, she pulled herself back from that abyss. Remembering brought nothing but pain and the cold light of day to the dreams she’d harbored.
“What is it?” he immediately wanted to know.
She glanced at him. A mistake. His golden gaze held hers for a long, serious minute and asked questions she couldn’t answer. She looked away. “Nothing.”
But the longing was already in her. She wanted him to sweep her into his arms and make everything okay. She wanted him to wipe out the last eight months of worry and embarrassment, of startled and disapproving glances as her family and friends realized she was expecting. She wanted things that weren’t going to happen.
With a stoic smile, she wondered who she thought she—the housekeeper’s daughter—was, to set her sights upon a son of the mighty Colton clan.
“Share,” he requested.
She shook her head. “Just musing on the ironies of life.” She took a sip of coffee, then washed down her vitamins with the last gulp of milk.
Her maternity top fluttered as the baby moved. Maya waited. Sometimes the movements were too vigorous for comfort. Then she would have to sit for a few minutes and wait for the baby to settle down before she could go on.
“Is the baby moving?” Drake asked, leaning closer and peering at her abdomen.
“Yes.”
He wasn’t put off by her abrupt answer. “May I?” he asked and, without waiting, laid his hand on her tummy.
Maya was immediately aware of heat rushing to the spot, as if a sun had suddenly blazed to life in her.
“It kicked my hand last night,” Drake said.
“Wh-what?”
“After you went to sleep, I touched you like this. The baby kicked against my hand several times.”
He grinned, his even teeth a white slash in his tanned face, making him startlingly handsome, the way Tom Cruise was when he flashed his million-watt smile. It was enough to make women fall at their feet, both the actor and this man.
Chalk it up to being human, she advised her smarting heart. She’d had a crush on Drake Colton most of her life. Once, at seventeen, she’d thought he was interested in her when he came home from college, but he’d abruptly withdrawn, avoiding her the rest of his stay.
It had hurt, but she’d gotten past the dreams she’d spun of them at that time. She would again. It was merely a wee bit more complicated this time around.
Removing his hand, she said politely, “Please don’t.”
He leaned back in his chair, steam rising from the coffee as he drank deeply, his eyes never leaving her. When he set the cup down, he asked, “Do you know whether it’s a boy or a girl?”
The silence grew too long to be comfortable.
She had to clear her throat before speaking. “A girl,” she said in a near whisper. She cleared her throat again. “I had a sonogram. It’s a girl.”
He nodded solemnly, and she couldn’t tell whether he was pleased or not.
Really, she had to stop thinking this way, as if he might be delighted at the prospect of their having a child. Those hopes belonged to her younger, more idealistic self. Drake’s note had made it clear his intentions had not extended to a future, not with her at any rate.
“Did you get a picture of her?”
She nodded.
“Maybe you’ll let me see it sometime,” he suggested softly, almost wistfully. “Have you picked a name yet?”
Her chest tightened. “Marissa. Marissa Ramirez.”
His face hardened for a fraction of a second, then the expression was gone. He smiled as he considered the name. “Marissa. I like that. If she’s lucky, she’ll be as beautiful as her mother.”
His eyes glided over her in a visual caress, warm and exciting and promising more than he ever meant to give. Maya set her mug down abruptly as her hand trembled wildly, threatening to spill hot liquid down her front.
“I have studying to do.” She rose, refilled her cup and retreated to the relative safety of her room. She stayed there until lunch.
Hearing the others congregating in the dining room and kitchen, she knew she had to make an appearance. If she didn’t, her mother would come to check on her, worry on her brow as she fretted about lack of appetite and its effects on the baby. There would be no retreat from harsh reality at the present.
Maya squared her shoulders and walked down the hall, ready for the firing squad, so to speak. Drake wasn’t in the kitchen. Relieved, she turned to her mother. “Can I help?”
Inez nodded distractedly. She dumped a stack of homemade tortillas into a cloth-lined basket. “Take these to the dining room,” she said. “Check if there’s enough salsa on the table.”
Maya’s heart dropped straight to her toes, but pride wouldn’t allow her to refuse. After all, she had opened her mouth and volunteered. Another lesson in life from the school of hard knocks, she reminded herself, trying for humor to bolster her flagging courage.
“Oh, and butter,” her mother added, stirring a pot and tasting the contents before adding more seasoning.
Maya put fresh butter on a crystal dish, picked up the basket and went into the formal dining room. Maybe none of the family had gathered yet.
As if she would have such good fortune.
It was worse than she imagined. Drake and his father were at the table, deep in conversation, when she walked in. There was a beat of silence, then Joe rose with a smile.
“Maya, you’re looking beautiful today.” He glanced at his son. “There’s something about an expectant mother, isn’t there? A glow that’s special.”
“Yes.” Drake’s voice was low, sexy.
Maya felt the blush start at her toes and work its way up. By the time it reached her hairline, she felt like a fresh-boiled lobster.
“Didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Joe murmured, his gaze so full of delight and kindness, she could have wept.
“No, it’s all right,” she managed to say past the lump in her throat.
When she dared look at Drake, his gaze was noncommittal, with no emotion that she could detect. “Mom sent some tortillas and butter.” She placed them on the table near the men.
After checking the salsa dish, she hurried back to the kitchen. “Here,” Inez said, thrusting a platter into Maya’s hands. “Take these. The new helper I hired didn’t show up. I have to get the rest of the food ready.”
Maya suppressed a twinge of guilt. Had it not been for Drake, she would have been giving her mom a hand. Instead, she’d hid in her room all morning. And accomplished nothing in the way of studying. She had a big test coming up later in the month.
She took the huge platter of burritos to the dining room table. Mexican food was one of Joe’s favorite meals and in spite of Ms. Meredith, her mother served it often.
Maya returned to the kitchen for bowls of refried beans and Spanish rice. In the dining room, after checking the table to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, she again turned toward the kitchen, aware of a brooding gaze on her each time she’d entered the room.
“Why don’t you join us?” Joe asked.
Her feet took root and she couldn’t move. She shook her head and felt her hair swish against her face. Realizing she was overreacting, she managed a smile and tried to decline politely, but it was useless. Drake had already pulled a chair out for her. Joe took her arm and guided her into it.
“Well,” she said with a strained smile, “since you insist.”
Joe’s smile was understanding and benign. She wasn’t sure about Drake’s. It held a more menacing quality.
“How are your studies going?” the older Colton asked, serving her the platter of burritos before taking two for himself.
“Fine, sir. I made the dean’s list.”
“As usual,” Joe said in approval. He passed the plate to Drake.
The son, she noted, took four. How could his lean frame burn up so much food, she wondered, something she had asked once before.
“I think a lot,” he’d answered at the time. He’d kissed her deeply. “And engage in vigorous activity,” he’d added, then he’d proceeded to show her what he meant.
The heat surged to her face at the memory. She spooned out rice and beans, then passed the bowls to Joe, who sat at the end of the long table with Drake on his left, directly across from her so that she met his eyes every time she looked up.
Ms. Meredith breezed into the room, bringing the scent of expensive blended perfume. Without acknowledging Maya’s presence, she wrinkled her nose at the food, then informed her husband she had a luncheon engagement in town and, without so much as a goodbye to her son, left.
Maya tried not to feel sorry for Drake and the other Colton children, but it was hard. Her own mother, Inez, loved kids and lavishly showed it. Other than periods of intense interest in her two youngest children, Drake’s mother mostly ignored her children. It was a riddle because she hadn’t always been that way.
From her childhood, Maya recalled Ms. Meredith as a gentle, laughing woman who would run and play with her children and husband as if she, too, were young and full of life.
Glancing up, she saw Drake’s eyes follow his mother as she left the house.
Maya suddenly sensed the need of the boy for the comfort his mother would have once given him. Then his gaze hardened and he was a man again, tough, resilient and determined, the kind of man the Navy called on for its most dangerous missions.
It was a life he relished. As if he courted death. As if he dared it to come close.
She ate quickly, sorrow in her heart. Maybe Drake didn’t know it, but there was something in him…not exactly a death wish—nothing so drastic as that—but a core of darkness nevertheless, one that he had never come to grips with.
“I wanted to ask you about the Hopechest Ranch,” Joe continued after the brief interruption. “I want your opinion. Do you think it’s helping the children?”
“Oh, yes. It’s a wonderful place and has a fine reputation. The reading program is excellent. In my opinion,” she added, realizing she might have sounded arrogant.
“I’m thinking of increasing the endowment this year.”
“That would be good, sir. The courts are referring more children there than the school can take.”
“Mmm.” The older man thought a bit. “Drake, while you’re home, maybe you can take a tour of the Hopechest and recommend something more we can do—a new stable or arena, perhaps? Or an additional bunkhouse.”
“I’ll look into it,” Drake promised.
“Good. That’s good, son.”
Maya was touched by the obvious pride and trust the elder Colton placed in his son. Drake needed to see he was appreciated for himself.
Abruptly, she cut off the thought. Dr
ake didn’t need her concern and pity. He was a grown man. She’d do well to keep out of other people’s business, especially when her own emotions were totally unreliable at this point.
Remember that advice, she mocked her soft heart, and you’ll get along a lot better in the world. Except she was going to love her child devotedly and show that love just as her parents had done with her and her sister, Lana.
She sighed in resignation. Yeah, she was one tough cookie.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Drake asked, looking directly at her.
His father turned his kind gaze on her, too, while they waited for an answer.
“Fine,” she murmured. “I’m just fine.”
“Back not hurting?”
The question sounded so intimate, she felt as if he were making love to her right there at the table. The awful blush started again. “No. Excuse me. I have to be at the Hopechest soon.” She picked up her plate of half-eaten food and fled.
“You didn’t eat much,” her mother noted as soon as Maya entered the kitchen.
“I had plenty. I have to run now, Mom.” She kissed her mother’s cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you,” Inez repeated, her dark eyes checking her over anxiously.
On the drive to the children’s ranch, Maya wished she didn’t have to hurt her parents. They loved her and worried about her, but she just couldn’t admit Drake was the father of her child and that he didn’t want them.
The contents of that note still burned in her heart, making her chest tighten so that she could scarcely breathe whenever she recalled it. His lovemaking had meant nothing. He’d made no promises, not one.
Pushing her troubles into the background, she turned in at the Hopechest Ranch. The kids who lived here had it rough. Compared to them, her life was a piece of cake.
“Hey, Miss Ramirez,” Johnny Collins called, spotting her getting out of her car. He came over to help carry her books and papers.
“Hey, Johnny,” she greeted the fourteen-year-old, one of her favorites. His mother had abandoned him and his father years ago. The boy’s father had taken to drinking and couldn’t keep a job. Johnny had been caught with his hand in the till, so to speak, at a fast-food place where he’d lied about his age and gotten a job. “Did you get through the book I assigned last week?”
