Having the Cowboy's Baby

by Judy Duarte

  In a way, yes. Ian had worked with Samuel R. Layton, one of the top managers in the country. So if he wanted to get back to work, one simple phone call to Sam was all it would take to fill his schedule of appearances for the next year.

  Ian lifted his Stetson and raked a hand through his hair. “Thanks for the offer, Ms. Carmichael, but I’m not planning to perform publicly anymore.”

  “Now that’s an even bigger shame,” she said.

  He supposed that depended upon how you looked at it. He’d had his fill of the fame and glamour...as well as the phoniness of people wanting to ride his coattails in order to make a name for themselves. And that was one reason he hadn’t come clean with Carly.

  She merely thought of him as a cowboy or a rancher, and she’d pressed him hard enough as it was. What would she do if she knew of his past success on the stage?

  He watched Carly take the woman’s card, wanting to object, to ask, what about the baby? But he had no right to interfere in her life.

  Ian did have paternal rights, though. And he’d exercise them if he needed to. Surely Carly didn’t plan to go out on the road while she was pregnant.

  In spite of his resolve not to insist that she do things his way, he slipped his arm around her expanding waist, staking a claim he had no right to make.

  “When do we need to head over to the Grange Hall?” he asked her.

  Apparently, his boldness didn’t surprise her, because she seemed to lean into him. “Before dark, but the sooner the better.”

  “Then we ought to go.” He turned his focus to their wannabe manager. “Will you excuse us, Ms. Carmichael?”

  “Of course.” The woman smiled at Carly. “I’ll be in my office on Monday morning, so I’ll expect your call.”

  “All right.” Carly tucked the business card into her pocket.

  “Come on.” Ian guided Carly through the crowd and across the street. As they headed for his truck, he said, “Thanks for not pushing me to meet with that woman.”

  “We made a deal. Besides, I’ve come to realize that I can’t change your mind when it’s made up.”

  He was glad she’d finally come to that conclusion, but could he change her mind? He’d let the baby questions pile up ever since he’d first learned she was pregnant. She hadn’t wanted to discuss the future when she was still trying to get a perspective on the present. But he couldn’t help bringing it up now.

  “How does the baby fit into your career plans?” he asked.

  “I’ll figure out something.”

  Like what? Hiring a nanny to take on the road with her? He’d known performers who’d done that, but it hadn’t worked out very well in some cases.

  “Don’t forget,” he said, “I want to be a part of our child’s life, so you won’t be raising it on your own.”

  “I appreciate that, Ian. And just for the record, I know you’ll be a good daddy.”

  It wouldn’t take much to be an improvement on her old man’s parenting. Or his own father’s, for that matter. But come hell or high water, Ian was bound and determined to do right by his son or daughter—or to die trying.

  He felt a rising compulsion to tell Carly he’d make a good husband, too. But sharing his feelings for her—which were complicated, to say the least—wasn’t as easy as talking to her about their child.

  As they approached his truck, Carly gave his shirtsleeve a gentle tug. “Do you think the baby will inherit our musical talent?”

  He smiled. “I imagine so. Maybe I should write a lullaby or something so we can encourage a love of music early on.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  They continued on to where he’d left his pickup. When they arrived at the parking space, she asked, “Did your parents sing or play any instruments?”

  “Not that I know of. But my grandma McAllister plays the organ at her church.”

  Carly seemed to ponder that as he opened the passenger door for her. After he got in and started the engine, she continued with her questions. “When did you learn to play the guitar?”

  “My grandma insisted that I take piano lessons when I was seven, but once I laid hands on my first guitar, I was hooked. Before long, I was playing country music instead of old hymns.”

  “It’s nice that she encouraged you. My mom always tried to talk me out of following in her footsteps.”

  Ian figured that’s why she’d been so determined to make a name for herself. And while he believed she had talent and ambition, he wondered if at least a small part of that was rebellion.

  “Actually,” he said, “my grandma wasn’t all that supportive of my switch to country music, so I taught myself to play the guitar.”

  “Now I’m really impressed.”

  As far as he was concerned, he hadn’t had any other options. He’d been a quiet and introspective kid who’d often turned to his instrument for solace. And that was about the time he began writing tunes of his own.

  “Did your grandmother forgive you for giving up gospel tunes?”

  Ian couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, yeah. She’s a real sweetheart and would never hold anything against me—or anyone else. But we did strike a compromise. Whenever I’m in Sarasota, which is where she and my granddad retired, I play for her church’s old gospel hour.”

  Carly turned in the seat, her eyes bright, her smile contagious. “That’s very cool. So you really don’t mind performing for an audience.”

  “I told you that was never an issue.”

  She studied him a moment, her smile waning ever so slightly. “You’re an interesting man, Ian McAllister.”

  She didn’t know the half of it.

  Was now the time to tell her about his years of playing with Felicia?

  The thought of confessing his past didn’t last long. He’d finally convinced her that he didn’t want to perform, and they seemed to be reestablishing a relationship—of one kind or another. So he bit his tongue and continued to drive to the Grange Hall. One more gig, and his performing days were over.

  He just wished Carly would make that same decision—at least until their child was older. But when he glanced across the seat and saw the glimmer of anticipation in her pretty blue eyes, he had his doubts.

  * * *

  Carly and Ian were even better received at the Grange Hall than when they’d performed in Town Square. As he strummed the final chord of their last song, even the couples on the dance floor clapped and cheered. She felt a rush of elation she’d never expected. Still, she’d agreed this would be their final act together.

  In fact, knowing how Ian had dug in his boot heels, she’d actually expected him to grab her hand and hightail it outside before the applause ended. But he surprised her stopping by the refreshment table and getting them each a glass of punch.

  When Bud Mobley and his trio took the stage next and began to play a slow country love song, Ian reached for her hand. But instead of heading for the door, he led her onto the dance floor.

  As he slipped his arms around her, he whispered in her ear, “Just for old times’ sake.”

  For that very reason—and perhaps for another reason she didn’t want to admit—she stepped into his familiar embrace. The musky scent of his woodsy aftershave snaked around her, holding her captive in its warmth and with the seductive sway of his body.

  As they danced cheek to cheek, all the longing she’d ever felt for him rushed back full force, and she struggled to hold it in check.

  Ian was an amazing lover, a good man—one of the finest she’d ever met. And she cared about him—far more than she’d ever let him know. More than she dared to even ponder, if she knew what was good for her.

  Yet when Bud Mobley crooned on about a love that would never die and a man being the kind of lover a woman could build her dreams on, Carly almost believed it was po
ssible.

  Could she and Ian find a way to compromise about their future plans? Could they create a home in which to raise a family, while she pursued a singing career on her own?

  He drew her near, his soft breath warm against her neck. She felt herself weakening. And for a moment, she wasn’t nearly as eager to see her name in bright lights. Not that she’d given up the dream, but it just didn’t feel so pressing.

  She’d never thought that loving Ian and living in Brighton Valley for the rest of her life would be enough for her. But now, as she leaned into him, her heart swelling and desire building deep in her core, she wasn’t so sure about that.

  Did she dare give this up, give him up? Of course, that was assuming he wanted her. But if she’d ever had any doubts about his feelings for her, they eased when the song ended and he continued to hold her close.

  She could have slipped out of his arms, but if truth be told, she’d missed his embrace.

  And she’d missed him.

  “Come on,” he whispered against her ear. “Let’s go home.”

  She couldn’t have objected, even if she’d wanted to. She actually liked the sound of going home to the Leaning R with Ian, no matter how temporary that home might be.

  The ride back to the ranch was quiet, yet the cab sparked with desire and pent-up emotion. She risked a glance at the handsome cowboy, at the intensity of his stare as he peered through the windshield at the road ahead. And she suspected he felt it, too.

  Once they arrived home, they walked along the path that led to both the house and his cabin. A full moon glowed in the star-splattered sky overhead, making the evening seem almost magical. And even though Carly told herself to ignore it, to tell Ian good-night and go on her way, something much stronger overrode her common sense.

  “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee or tea?” she asked.

  “Sure. That sounds good to me.”

  She led the way to the front porch, unlocked the door and let him inside. But once they entered the house, she didn’t dart off to the kitchen. Instead, she turned to the man who’d fathered her baby and touched her heart.

  Could she compromise her dream? Could she lay her hope on having a real home and family? A week or so ago, her answer to both questions would have been no. But now she wasn’t so sure.

  “I want to thank you again for performing with me tonight,” she said.

  “No problem. When I make a deal, I stick to it.”

  As their eyes met and their gazes locked, she eased closer to him. She might be sorry for this later, but she reached up, cupped his cheek with one hand, felt the light bristle of his beard.

  He placed his palm over the top of her hand, holding her touch against his face, melding her to him as if they’d never been apart.

  She didn’t know why it was so difficult for her to speak, to tell him she’d like to make love with him again, but she couldn’t find her voice. Still, her heart pounded in anticipation.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said. “And I’ve missed the closeness we once shared.”

  She’d missed him, too. She’d never known a man like Ian.

  Without another word, she slipped her hand around to the back of his neck and drew his mouth to hers.

  * * *

  The moment Carly’s lips touched his, Ian pulled her into his arms and kissed her with a longing he hadn’t expected. He’d told himself it had been for the best when they’d split up, yet being around her again had him questioning that. Now more than ever.

  As she leaned into him, he intensified the kiss, his tongue seeking hers, sweeping, dipping and tasting.

  It had been so long since he’d felt this kind of fire, this urgency, and he couldn’t seem to get enough of her.

  As their bodies pressed together, their hands stroked, caressed, explored. When he sought her breast, his thumb skimmed across a taut nipple, and she whimpered. Making love with Carly had always been incredible, yet he’d almost forgotten just how good they were together. When she ended the kiss, he thought he might die if she told him she was having second thoughts. But she remained in his arms.

  “I’m willing to take this to the bedroom,” she said, “if you are.”

  “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

  Carly led him to the guest room in which they’d made love in the past. She’d once laughed about it, telling him she didn’t feel right about sleeping with him in Granny’s bed, especially with the elderly woman’s portrait looking on. But at this point, Ian would agree to make love anywhere, including the living room floor.

  When they reached the double bed in the room that had become their love nest, Carly pulled down the spread. Then she turned to him and opened her arms, letting him know she was far from changing her mind.

  This was the warm and willing woman he remembered, the one he’d nearly fallen heart over head for. He kissed her again, long and deep. As their tongues mated, a surge of desire shot through him, and he pulled her hips forward against his erection.

  She moaned, then clutched at his shoulders, moving against him, making him wild with need. When he thought he might explode from the pent-up passion, he tore his mouth from hers. His breath came out in soft, ragged pants when he said, “You have no idea how badly I want you.”

  “Yes, I do. I want you, too. And even though—”

  He placed his finger against her lips, stopping her from mentioning any second thoughts, any concerns. “Don’t think about the past or worry about the future, honey. Just concentrate on the here and now. I want us to make love the way we used to.”

  Apparently, she did, too, because she began unbuttoning her blouse. Her breasts were much fuller than he remembered. Her pretty black lace bra could scarcely contain them.

  He watched as she slid down the zipper of her jeans, and peeled the denim over her hips, revealing a pair of skimpy black lace panties. He’d never imagined that he could find a pregnant woman so damned sexy.

  The swell of her baby bump was the sweetest and most amazing thing he’d ever seen. And when she stepped out of her black Wrangler jeans and kicked them aside, he placed his hand over the mound of her belly where their child grew. Then he looked into her eyes and smiled. “This is beautiful. You’re beautiful. And it makes you more desirable than ever.”

  An “I love you” nearly rolled off his tongue, but he bit it back. The last thing he needed to do was to scare her away, even though he’d never actually realized the truth of those three little words until this very moment. He loved Carly. He wanted her. Needed her.

  He removed his clothes, then slipped his arms around her waist. She skimmed her nails across his chest, sending a shiver through his veins and a rush of heat through his blood. Then she unsnapped her bra and freed her breasts, full and round, the dusky pink tips darker than he’d remembered, yet peaked and begging to be kissed.

  He bent and took a nipple in his mouth, using his tongue and lips until she gasped in pleasure. Then he scooped her into his arms and placed her on top of the mattress. He wanted nothing more than to slip out of his boxers and feel her skin against his, but he paused for a beat and savored the angelic sight of the woman he was sorely tempted to offer marriage—if he thought she might agree.

  He joined her on the bed, where they continued to kiss, to taste and to stroke each other until they were both wild and breathless and flinging their undergarments across the room.

  When he rose up and over her naked body, she opened for him. He entered her slowly at first, this time without the need of a condom, relishing the feel of being inside her. But passion soon took over.

  As her body responded to his, giving and taking, any reservations either of them ever had seemed to disappear. Nothing else mattered but this very moment and the pleasure they gave each other. When he felt her reach a peak and heard her cry out, he let himsel
f go, releasing along with her in a sexual explosion.

  As the last waves of their climax ebbed, Ian rolled to the side, taking Carly with him, holding her close. “It’s like our bodies knew right where they’d left off.”

  “I know.” She smiled and placed a hand on his chest. “We probably should talk about the future.”

  He wanted to object, to tell her to let it wait until morning—or next week. Or better yet, even after the baby came. But she was right. And he feared that making love had only complicated the issue.

  * * *

  As Carly lay in Ian’s arms, fully sated, she realized how deeply she cared for him—and how hurt she’d be if he refused to give up his job at the Leaning R and support her quest to make a name for herself in the country music world.

  She no longer expected him to sing with her, but if they were going to create a family together, they couldn’t do it from the Leaning R, especially since the ranch might belong to someone else within a few months.

  He drew her close and nuzzled her neck, a move that should have comforted her. Instead, it set off a sudden onslaught of bells and whistles.

  This wasn’t going to be easy. Where would they live? How would they work things out so they could both fulfill their dreams?

  Or would she be expected to give up hers?

  She’d grown up as Charles Rayburn’s daughter, a princess in many ways. But her life in the castle hadn’t been very happy. Her father had rarely come to any school plays, award ceremonies or sporting events. He’d even missed her high school graduation. “I’m sorry, baby girl,” he’d said over the telephone. “I have a critical business meeting I have to attend. But I’ll add five thousand dollars to your trust account. Go shopping on me.”

  He hadn’t always given her an excuse for his paternal absences, but when he did, they were always business related.

  Then there’d been her mother—a country star who’d lit the stage with her dazzling smile and talent. But Carly had always remained in the shadows, watching her mother on TV or hearing her hits on the radio. She’d just nod when people said, “Aren’t you a lucky girl.” But she’d quit smiling by the time she was ten. It was hard enough to hold back the tears, let alone feign happiness.