by Judy Duarte
On the way home from the doctor’s office, Rickie stopped to get gas. By the time she’d parked in her driveway and shut off the ignition, Clay’s truck had pulled up along the curb. When he got out, he carried a white paper bag holding their food and a drink carrier with two disposable cups.
She didn’t usually eat beef or French fries, but the food would be filling, and the cleanup was going to be a breeze. She would have preferred a more romantic dinner, but Clay’s heart had been in the right place, and his offer to pick up their meal was both thoughtful and sweet.
After unlocking the front door and letting them inside, Rickie caught a whiff of fresh paint, but the odor wasn’t very strong.
Clay set the bag and drinks on the dining room table, then tossed her a boyish grin. “Come on. I can’t wait for you to see how the room looks.”
She followed him down the hall. When she entered her father’s old office, she scanned the green walls, the white cribs, the cute jungle-print bedding, still in the plastic bags and even cuter at home than in the stores.
“This is amazing,” she said. “I can’t believe the transformation. The nursery looks better than I’d hoped it would.”
She turned to Clay, who stood close to her side, watching her reaction to all he’d accomplished. A sense of pride lit his eyes, and her heart took a tumble. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
Without a conscious thought, she wrapped her arms around him and gave him an appreciative hug. But the moment she felt the warmth of his arms and breathed in his musky, mountain-fresh scent, memories of the slow dance in the sand filled her head, reminding her of the chemistry they had the night they’d made love.
Was he having flashbacks, too?
She drew back just enough to look into his heated gaze. She felt compelled to draw his mouth to hers, but he beat her to it and kissed her as if this evening was just a continuation of that first night.
She relished his taste, his skilled tongue, and leaned into him. But before she could lose herself in him, he drew back and removed his lips from hers.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”
“You didn’t.”
He glanced at her baby bump, yet kept his thoughts to himself.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid my belly is a lot bigger than it used to be.” She hoped it wasn’t a turnoff.
“I don’t care about that. It’s just that I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. Pregnant women have sex all the time.” Her cheeks warmed. “I mean, that’s what I read. I haven’t actually...” She paused, trying to regroup, and her cheeks warmed. After all, he’d only kissed her. He hadn’t said a thing about doing any more than that.
Apparently, he knew what she’d been trying to explain, because he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her again, his tongue seeking hers. As his hands roamed along the curve of her back, passion built to the boiling point, and at the same time, so did her hopes and dreams.
Whatever this was, whatever they’d shared in the past, was more than chemistry, more than sex. At least, it meant a lot more than that to her.
Again, Clay paused and took a half step back. His gaze caressed her, a loving touch she felt as strongly as if he’d done it with his hands. “You’re beautiful, Rickie—inside and out.”
She was both flattered and skeptical at the same time. As a result, she let out an awkward little chuckle. “I not only look like a blimp, I feel like one, too.”
He placed his hand on her swollen womb in a way that seemed almost reverent. “Seeing you like this, with the babies growing inside, makes you all the prettier. And all the more appealing.”
His sweet words and his gentle touch stroked something deep in her heart and soul, and she knew at that very moment that she could love this man.
Who was she kidding? She’d already fallen in love with him.
They stood like that for a moment, lost in an unexpected reality. Then she reached for his hand and led him to her bed, where he kissed her again, stirring up a rush of feelings, both physical and emotional.
As they slowly removed their clothing, Rickie knew that this night would be special—and more memorable than the last. They’d reached a turning point to their budding relationship, and it would only get better from here.
She pulled back the coverlet, and they moved to the bed, where they kissed again. Their hands seemed to remember all the right places to touch, to caress. Tongues mated, breaths mingled and hands stroked until she thought she might die if they didn’t make love.
Clay hovered over her, and she reached for his erection and guided him right where she wanted him to be, to come. Home.
He entered her slowly, taking time to consider the babies, to be gentle. But it was nearly impossible for her to hold back. As her body responded to his, harmonizing in a loving tune only the two of them could hear, she reached a peak, arched her back and let go.
He shuddered, releasing with her in a sexual explosion that would have lit up the night sky if they’d been outside, shattering stars and filling the air with a silent profession of love and forever.
She felt compelled to say it out loud, to tell him exactly how she felt. Instead, she held back, savoring the moment and envisioning their future together. Together, they’d create a perfect home, plan family holidays and spend each night like this, wrapped in each other’s arms.
Surely he was having those same thoughts...
* * *
Clay lay still, caught up in an amazing afterglow. He hadn’t expected to make love with Rickie tonight, although, given their off-the-charts chemistry, he couldn’t say that he was surprised. It’s just that he had no idea where to go from here. The renewed intimacy between them would make it difficult for him to maintain a safe emotional distance, but did that matter?
He had to admit that their bodies were in tune with each other, and that the sex had been even better tonight than before. But she was probably going to expect some kind of commitment from him, which would be life altering. And his life had changed enough already.
Still, they couldn’t go on as if nothing had happened. Could they?
Poncho had suggested that they could become lovers without moving in together or making any serious promises, but Clay couldn’t suggest something like that now. Not when he wasn’t sure how he felt about all that was happening. Hell, he wasn’t sure how he felt about anything.
“Are you hungry?” Rickie asked, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “We could eat those burgers. They’re probably cold, but I can warm them up.”
Actually, Clay would prefer to pass on dinner altogether. He needed time to wrap his mind around what they’d just done—and what it might mean.
“I know that I was the one to suggest we eat together, but now that we...” He glanced at her, still wrapped in his arms, and forced a smile. “Well, we got a little sidetracked. Would you mind if I took a burger to go?”
“No, that’s fine. What’s going on?”
Nothing, actually. He just needed some time alone, time to think and sort things through. But he’d have to come up with a believable excuse, and one that wasn’t an out-and-out lie. “My grandfather and I have an early day planned, which means it’ll start before dawn. And I have to stop at a neighboring ranch to pick up a few things beforehand, so I really need to go.”
“Okay. I understand.” She offered up a smile, but it seemed a little...uneasy.
Damn. He didn’t mean to stress her out. He just needed some space so he could figure out how he felt about her. About this.
He stroked her cheek, then kissed her brow. “I’ll see you on Monday evening.”
“All right.”
He got out of bed, picked up his discarded clothing and got dressed, taking his time so he didn’t appear to be eager to escape. The excuse he’d given her seemed to be working, but he didn’t feel too good about it.
Rickie stepped out of bed, pulled a robe out of her closet and slipped i
nto it. She tied the sash under her breasts, which emphasized her baby bump.
The sight intrigued him, yet scared him, too.
It might help if he knew he wasn’t leaving her high and dry.
“Are you okay with...?” He nodded toward the bed, the sheets rumpled from where they once lay. “With what we just did?”
She smiled. “Yes, but it would be nice if you could stay longer. And spend the night.”
“Maybe next time.” But would there even be a next time? He wasn’t sure.
Rickie followed him out to the living room. The house was quiet, other than the sound coming from the antique clock on the mantel, its second hand clicking a steady cadence. With each tick-tock, Clay’s uneasiness rose.
He’d done his best to avoid love and family in the past. He’d always blamed his philosophy on the need to be a man and a war hero like his father. That’s also why he’d resisted his mother’s attempts to smother him and keep him under her wing. He’d also done his best to keep her at an emotional distance. But now he wasn’t so sure about anything.
There was something nice to be said about having Rickie in his life. He had feelings for her.
Could it be love? He wasn’t sure. If it was, he had no idea what to do about it.
Once he reached the front door, he gave Rickie a kiss goodbye. Then he headed for his pickup, both glad to be on the road and a bit hesitant about leaving.
It had been an interesting day, to say the least, and as he pulled out onto the highway, he was still reeling from all that had transpired. And that feeling didn’t ease until long after he got home.
Even then, when he’d gone to bed for the night, he still hadn’t come up with a suitable answer to his dilemma—other than he needed time to sort it out.
More than once, he felt the urge to reach for his cell, to apologize for leaving so quickly. But then what?
That would only lock him into a relationship that scared the crap out of him. For that reason, he decided not to talk to Rickie again until she arrived at the ranch on Monday night.
He just hoped he’d have it all figured out by then.
Chapter Eleven
Rickie wished Clay had spent the night with her, but she understood why he couldn’t. He had responsibilities and commitments, and he took them seriously. That was just one more reason why she’d fallen in love with him.
“Maybe next time,” he’d said.
She wasn’t sure why he’d used the word maybe. Probably because it would be up to her to extend the invitation. And, of course, she would. Hopefully, she’d have that opportunity soon, because she couldn’t wait until they would be together again.
The next morning, she woke early, glad that it was Saturday and eager to get a few household chores done so she could begin decorating the nursery.
She fixed a bowl of cereal for breakfast and set it on the counter, where she intended to eat. She’d no more than poured a glass of orange juice to go with it when her cell phone dinged, indicating an incoming text.
When she glanced at the screen and spotted Clay’s number, her heart swelled. She quickly she clicked on the message box to see what he had to say and read, Poncho sent me the contact info for a PI, so I’m forwarding it. Hopefully he can help you find Lainie. If you mention his name, he knows Poncho as Detective Adam Santiago.
The investigator was with a firm located in Wexler. And his name was Darren Fremont.
Rickie looked at the clock on the microwave. It was probably too early to call, but she decided to do it anyway. Worst case, she’d be able to leave a voice mail message.
As luck would have it, the phone was answered on the second ring. “Langley Investigative Services. This is Darren Fremont.”
After introducing herself and telling the man who’d referred her, Rickie explained the reason for her call.
“My sister’s name is Elena Montoya. We were both in foster care until we were nine, when she had open-heart surgery. I’d been told she hadn’t lived through it, but I’ve just learned that wasn’t the case. As far as I know, she stayed in the system. Either way, I haven’t seen her since.”
“I’ll need as much information as you can give me,” the PI said. “For starters, give me the name of the last school she attended and the county where you lived back then. I’ll start there and see what I can do.”
Rickie told him everything she remembered, going back as far as when their father had custody. “I don’t remember the exact date he died, but it happened during a bar fight. I’m sure it made the local news.”
“I’ve got a big case coming up at the end of the week,” Darren said, “and that’ll keep me pretty busy. But finding your sister shouldn’t be too difficult.”
Rickie hoped he was right. And that her sister hadn’t been adopted in a closed adoption, like she’d been. Not only would it be more difficult to find her, she’d probably have a new last name. They discussed the payment, which included a hundred-dollar-per-hour fee, as well as all expenses.
“That’s not a problem.” Rickie didn’t care about the cost. She’d mortgage the house to the hilt if that’s what it took to find her twin.
“I’ll be in touch,” Darren said.
Rickie thanked him, then ended the call. For the first time in ages, her life was finally coming together and the future looked bright and full of promise.
Hopefully Darren Fremont was as good at finding people as Poncho—or rather, Detective Santiago—said he was. If that were the case and Rickie’s luck held out, the sisters could be reunited within days.
* * *
On Monday afternoon, Clay drove into town to pick up supplies. Rather than rushing home for dinner, when Rickie would be there, he found himself dragging his feet and looking for various reasons to stay away.
He realized that he and Rickie would eventually talk about Friday night and what it might or might not mean in the future, but he wasn’t ready to discuss it yet. Not when he still wasn’t sure how he felt about it. A part of him liked the idea of taking their relationship to a deeper level, yet another part was afraid of what she might expect from him.
By the time he arrived home and entered the house through the mudroom, he heard his mom and Rickie chatting in the kitchen.
“Clay,” his mom said. “You’re finally home. I put your dinner on the stove to keep it warm.”
“Thanks.” After washing up in the mudroom sink, he proceeded to the kitchen and found his plate on the table, across from where Rickie sat.
She looked especially nice tonight in a white blouse and dark slacks, and she blessed him with a smile. He did his best to return it, then took a seat. As he began to eat, the women lapsed back into the conversation they’d been having.
“Did the investigator say how long he thought it would take to find Lainie?” his mother asked.
“Not exactly. He said it shouldn’t be too hard. I got the feeling I might hear something from him by the end of the week.”
“That’s great news. I’m so happy for you, Rickie.”
Clay continued to eat as the women went on to talk about the importance of family. He couldn’t argue with that. But what caused him some concern was the way his mother had warmed up to Rickie. The two of them seemed to have grown awfully close in a very short period of time. But then, his mom had always wanted more children, especially a daughter. And she’d made it pretty clear that she was determined to have a relationship with the twins.
By the time Clay carried his plate to the sink, the two women had moved on to baby talk.
“I’d love to schedule that shower within the next two weeks,” his mom said. “I’ve already bought the invitations, but I think we should wait to set a date until you hear something from the private investigator. That way, we can make sure your sister is able to attend.”
“That would be awesome, Sandra.”
“I think so, too. Fingers crossed.” Mom scooted her chair away from the table and got to her feet. “Let’s have a bowl of ice cream to ce
lebrate.”
“I’m pretty full after that delicious meal,” Rickie said.
“Try to make room.” Mom winked. “The calcium will be good for the babies.”
Rickie laughed. “Good point.”
Clay blew out a sigh. His mother was certainly doting on Rickie. Not that there was anything wrong with that. But it was easy to see that she was going to be a helicopter granny.
Mom pulled three bowls out of the cupboard, then turned to Clay. “I’ll dish up a large helping for you, too, son. I know how much you like ice cream.”
Damn, Clay thought. He was getting sucked into the female chatter, which made him want to bolt. So on principle alone, he said, “I’ll pass on dessert tonight.”
“Suit yourself.” She dished up two bowls then handed one to Rickie.
Before he could rinse his plate and put it in the dishwasher, his mother brought up Thanksgiving. “I hope you’ll join us here on the ranch.”
“Thank you, Sandra. I’d love to.”
Clay supposed it was only natural to include Rickie. Where else would she go?
“I know it’s still three weeks away,” Mom added, “but it’s not too soon to plan the menu.”
“I have my mother’s recipe book, so I can bring candied yams. Or maybe a pie.”
“That sounds good, but don’t bother making it at home. It’ll be fun to cook and bake together.”
When Rickie’s face brightened, Clay’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t mind having Rickie spend the holiday with them or helping his mom cook. But it seemed to be a foregone conclusion that he and Rickie had become a couple.
After they’d made love on Friday, Rickie seemed to have made that jump, too. Not that Clay was completely opposed, but he didn’t want to be pushed.
Or rushed.
Unlike his mom, he didn’t rush heart first into anything. Life was simpler that way. And safer.
Before Clay could excuse himself and escape to his bedroom, Rickie’s cell phone rang. She reached for it, glanced at the lighted display and gasped. “Oh my gosh. It’s Darren Fremont.”
The investigator? Clay decided to stay put, although he doubted the man had uncovered any news yet. He might only have a question or two for Rickie.
