The Cowboy on Her Trail Read online

  She smiled. “The baby’s a little young to have his or her own phone, don’t you think?”

  Justin let out a long breath and shook his head. “Are you going to let me pay for this meal, or did you want to handle that yourself, too?”

  She might have taken offense at his remark, or thought that he was serious, but she saw the twinkle in his eyes.

  “I don’t mind if you buy us a meal. You are indirectly feeding the baby, after all.”

  “That eating-for-two stuff, is that true?”

  “Pretty much. Eating for two, sleeping for two, peeing for two. I can’t wait to see what the next seven months bring.”

  “And after that, things’ll get really interesting,” Justin predicted. “For about the next thirty years.”

  Chapter Eight

  When they returned to the motel room, Blaire hung up her coat in what passed for a closet area, then sagged on the bed.

  “Kick your shoes off and stretch out for a while, why don’t you?” Justin suggested. He didn’t like the look of those dark circles that were forming beneath her eyes.

  She sighed. “I think I’ll do just that. What about you?”

  “I’m going to join you. I think I feel a nap coming on.”

  She smiled at him and toed off her sneakers. “You’re humoring me so I’ll take a nap.”

  “Am I?” He hung his coat next to hers.

  “But it’s okay.” She let out another sigh and lay down, punching the pillow beneath her head until it was comfortable. “I don’t mind. This time.”

  Justin studied her, tilting his head in thought. “You’re not uncomfortable sharing a room with me like this?”

  “No.” She arched a brow. “Should I be?”

  “No, you shouldn’t be. But I guess, with the way you’ve been running off to visit one cousin then another rather than sit down and talk to me, I thought you might be uncomfortable stuck in close quarters with me this way.”

  “Since you put it that way, I guess maybe I should be. But what can happen? We’ve already talked, you’ve asked, I’ve said no. And I’m already pregnant. What’s left to happen?”

  He stared at her for a long moment then snapped his gaping mouth shut. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Of course not. What do you mean?”

  Justin shook his head. “You think because you’ve said you won’t marry me, and because you’re already pregnant, that I all of a sudden don’t want you anymore?”

  Her eyes widened. “You don’t…what?”

  “I think you heard me.”

  “I think I did, too, but I’m not sure I understand.”

  “I’m not sure I do, either. Is that what you think? That you’re already pregnant so why bother making love anymore?”

  “Oh, boy.” She sat up, sat cross-legged on the bed and, groaning, buried her face in her hands. “Does that sound as stupid to you as it does to me?”

  Justin sat in the lone chair, which occupied the corner beside the window. “I’m not sure I would use the word stupid, but then, I don’t know what word I would use. Alarming, maybe.”

  She chuckled.

  “So maybe you could explain to me what you really meant,” he said.

  Blaire sat there another minute, breathing in, breathing out. What had she meant, if not the obvious, that she didn’t expect him to want her anymore? He wanted to marry her, didn’t he? Why would he want to marry her if he didn’t want to sleep with her anymore? And sex was the most basic way to bind a man and woman together. At least for a while. So it stood to reason that he would want to sleep with her.

  So why was she so comfortable sharing a room—a room with one bed—with the man she was highly attracted to? What enormous conceit made her think she could keep him at arm’s length if he wanted her?

  What idiocy made her even think of keeping him at arm’s length in the first place?

  “Okay.” She raised her head and looked at him. “I take it back. I’m not all that comfortable sharing a room, and a bed, with you.”

  Justin dropped his head against the wall behind his chair. “That wasn’t exactly the outcome I was hoping for.”

  “Oh, really? Just what were you hoping for? An invitation? Did you expect me to pat the bed?” She patted the bed at a spot right next to her hip. “Come on over here, big boy? Let’s have a good time? Is that what you thought would happen?”

  He let out a bark of laughter. “No, that is not what I thought would happen. It’s not what I expected. It’s not even what I hoped for.”

  She smiled slightly. “How deep do you want to dig this hole you’re in?”

  He stared up at the ceiling. “I can’t win now, no matter what I say.”

  “True, but I’d like to see how you think you can get yourself out of it.”

  He took a breath and raised his head to meet her gaze. “I was hoping we could act like two mature adults who happened to be sharing a room through no design of either of them. I was hoping we could try being friends. I was not hoping to get you naked in bed.” He held up a hand to stop her from interrupting. “That does not mean I wouldn’t very much like to get you naked in bed, because I would. But that isn’t why we’re here.”

  “Unlike that night a couple of months ago, right? You got that motel room for the specific purpose of getting me naked and in bed.”

  “No, but even if I did, where else were we supposed to go for privacy?”

  “You had the room booked before you picked me up that night.”

  “And you think I did that because I planned from the beginning to get you into bed?”

  She tilted her head and frowned. “Didn’t you?”

  His lips quirked. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it. I did have hope, but that wasn’t why I booked that room. You think I was that sure of myself?”

  She shrugged and looked away. “I thought maybe you were that sure of me.”

  “What?” he cried, rising from the chair. “Sure of you? Woman, I have never been so unsure of anything in my life as I have been of you from the very beginning. Why would I think you were willing to go to bed with me?”

  “Because I was? That’s exactly where we ended up, isn’t it?”

  “You think I knew that was going to happen?”

  “If you didn’t,” she said carefully, “how did we end up in a motel room you had already booked?”

  “Damn, Blaire, has that been eating at you all these weeks? Everybody in town knows that none of us in my family drives home if we’ve had more than two beers to drink within two hours of going home. Any more than that and we stay the night in town.”

  Blaire felt heat sweep up her face. “Because of your father.”

  “That’s right. You didn’t know? I thought everybody knew. It’s been a topic of conversation around town for years. I can’t tell you how many times one or all of us have ended up the butt of some yahoo’s stupid joke.”

  “But you’re all live butts.”

  “Exactly. It’s a pact between us, and we never break it.”

  “A pact? Like, what, a blood oath?”

  “A blood oath is just what it is. I imagine Sloan and Caleb had one between the two of them when I was little. But when I turned about twelve, we made a pact among the three of us that we would never end up wrapped around a telephone pole like our dad did when I was a baby, from driving when we’d had too much to drink. We vowed we would never do that to each other. And by damn, we’ve kept that vow, and we always will.”

  “And you knew, that night before you picked me up, that you’d be drinking because we were going to hear that rock and roll band, Squatty and the Bodies, at the Road Hog.”

  “That’s right. There’s a law or something against listening to sixties rock in a bar and not drinking beer.”

  “I’m sure there is. I had a few that night myself.”

  “And we got closer as the night went on,” he said, his voice softening, deepening. He moved to stand next to the bed so he cou
ld touch her cheek with the tip of one finger.

  The touch went all through her, a hot shiver that raised gooseflesh along her arms. She was grateful for her long sleeved sweater, so he could not see what he did to her.

  “I remember telling you I had a room,” he said, “asking you if you would go there with me.”

  “Yes.” Her mouth and throat dried out. She remembered every second of that night vividly. Her body remembered, too.

  “When you said yes,” he whispered, “I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

  Her smile may have wobbled, but it was still a smile. “When you asked, I thought the same thing.”

  He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “I know I said that I wanted this time, in this room, to be friendly, but if we don’t change the subject real quick…”

  Realizing how right he was, that they were treading on shaky ground, Blaire swallowed. “As soon as we get home,” she said in a rush, “I’ll check the prices on cell phones and service plans. If I need help paying for it I’ll let you know.”

  He took a step away from the bed and stuffed his hands into his hip pockets. “Thank you. About the phone, and for the change of subject.”

  “You’re welcome, for both. And thank you, for the warning. I think I’ll try that nap now.”

  “Okay.” With a nod, he took another step back. “Will it bother you too much if I read the paper?”

  She shook her head. “I probably won’t sleep anyway, so don’t worry about it. Resting will be enough.”

  She was still, her breathing even, in fewer than ten minutes, despite the occasional rustle of the newspaper coming from the corner where Justin sat in the stiff, uncomfortable chair.

  But Justin, too, was tired. From lack of sleep, lack of physical activity. He wasn’t used to sitting around all day, and that’s all he’d done for the past couple of days.

  Carefully, and as quietly as possible, he folded the newspaper and placed it on the small table next to his chair.

  Blaire lay curled on her side on the far side of the bed, her back to him and the rest of the room. If she opened her eyes, she had nothing to see but a blank wall barely two feet from the bed.

  Even without being able to see her face, he knew she didn’t open her eyes. Her breathing was deep and regular. The stiffness had gone from her shoulders.

  He hadn’t realized how tight her shoulders had been until he now saw them relaxed.

  She was sound asleep.

  So much for her not being able to sleep unless it was dark and quiet.

  Of course, the only light in the room was the hanging lamp over the table in front of the window, right next to him. And the only sounds had been his rustling of the paper, and the monotonous roar of the room heater that struggled to blow enough warm air to keep the freezing outdoor temperatures from seeping through the thin walls.

  Snippets of their previous conversation ran through Justin’s mind. He shook his head, certain he would never understand the female thought processes.

  But whatever she’d been thinking about the two of them sharing this room, she was apparently okay with it. Again. Or still. Or whatever.

  Because she thought he didn’t want her anymore?

  Fat chance of that. The way he felt right then, he’d still be wanting her when he was ninety.

  Want, but not necessarily understand. Who could understand a woman who would run, literally, half the length of the damn state, to avoid talking about marriage, then calmly share a motel room with one bed with the same man she’d been running from.

  Across the room, on the far side of the bed, Blaire was not asleep. From the moment she had lain down she had heard every breath Justin had taken, every creak of the chair as he had shifted his weight, every rustle of his newspaper.

  Now she heard him fold the paper and set it aside. She felt his gaze travel over her, from the back of her head, down her shoulders, her back, her legs.

  She wished she had pulled the bedspread over herself. Had she done so, she wouldn’t now feel quite so exposed.

  She wondered what he was thinking, sitting over there staring at her. He was probably shaking his head, thinking she’d lost her mind, running from him in the morning, sharing a motel room that afternoon.

  In truth, she didn’t know what she was doing. Maybe pregnancy really did make a woman stupid. It would be nice to be able to blame it all on raging hormones.

  In her case, however, it was due more to her own insecurities than hormones. At least, she thought so.

  When the subject of marriage arose, she panicked. Marriage terrified her. She was so afraid of ending up like her parents that running to Enid, then Ponca City, then Stillwater, then heading for home just to keep some sort of distance between her and Justin made perfect sense.

  So did sharing a motel room with that same man.

  Go figure.

  They’d already shared a motel room, she was already pregnant. Nothing else bad could happen.

  Not that she thought of being pregnant as bad! Unplanned or not, she wanted this baby, welcomed it with her whole heart.

  She was utterly comfortable sharing a room with Justin. She was completely uncomfortable discussing marriage.

  There. That made perfect sense to her.

  Behind her she heard Justin rise and walk to the bed. The mattress dipped with his weight. It took him a minute to tug off his boots, then she felt him stretch out beside her.

  She concentrated on remaining relaxed. He thought she was asleep. If she tensed up he would know she was faking it. That would be too embarrassing.

  A few minutes later his breathing grew deep and even. He was asleep.

  Or he was faking it, as she was. She smiled at the thought of the two of them sharing a bed and pretending to sleep.

  That was not what they’d done the last time they’d shared a bed. Nobody had faked anything that night.

  At the memory, a deep warmth rushed through her and settled between her legs. It was all she could do to swallow the moan that threatened.

  He wasn’t even touching her. She couldn’t even see him. Yet still, she wanted him in the worst way. She wanted to feel his hands, hard and callused from work, on her bare flesh. Wanted to feel his warm, naked skin, surprisingly smooth, beneath her fingers. She wanted to taste him, smell him, take him inside and hold him there as he filled her so that she felt as if she would never feel alone again.

  She let herself drift on images of him until she imagined she lay facing him and could feel the hard dips and bulges of the muscles in his arms and shoulders beneath her hands. The warmth of him drew her closer. The breadth of his chest invited her to snuggle.

  Oh, it felt so good to be close to him this way, even if it was only in her imagination.

  She let herself drift further, until she imagined his arms surrounding her, pulling her flush against him. His heat was incredible, and yet she knew the two of them would generate more, until they both went up in flames.

  She wanted that. That mindless pleasure, the likes of which she had felt with no other man.

  Sure, she’d had orgasms before, but none so sharp and intense as when she was with Justin.

  His hand slid around her ribs and up to cup one breast.

  Ahh. Such warmth, such pleasure. Then she pictured his thumb flicking across her nipple and she whimpered. Even in her imagination she felt the sharp pull of pleasure reach down to the core of her and make her squirm.

  She wanted to feel his flesh, but there was fabric in her way. A shirt. Why was he wearing a shirt?

  With nimble fingers she unbuttoned several buttons until she could slide her hands inside and feel his chest muscles flex under her touch.

  She wanted to taste him. She stretched up and started at his neck. With lips and tongue and teeth, she indulged herself. Never had her imagination been so real. She could swear she tasted the slight salty flavor of his skin, and farther up, over his jaw and onto his cheek, the slight rasp of a day’s worth of whisker growt
h. She loved his whiskers, the way they rasped against her hand, the way they made her lips tingle.

  She wanted better access. She pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. This was her fantasy, wasn’t it? She could do whatever she wanted.

  But when she leaned forward to kiss him, his hands pressed against her shoulders and stopped her.

  “Blaire?”

  Blaire blinked and looked down in shock. Justin lay beneath her while she straddled his hips. One of her hands was inside his unbuttoned shirt. His chest was heaving. Her loins were throbbing. Her nipples were erect and hard.

  “Oh, Justin!”

  “It’s all right.”

  “No! I’m sorry.” She tried to scramble off of him and away, but couldn’t seem to move. “I didn’t—”

  “Shh.” He placed a forefinger across her lips. “Look at me. Blaire, look at me.”

  Realizing she had her eyes squeezed shut, Blaire forced herself to open them and look at him.

  “It seems to me,” he said, tugging on her arms to pull her down to his chest, “that you and I were having the same dream.”

  She saw it then, in his dark brown eyes. That look of heat, of passion. Of a man’s attention focused solely and intently upon one certain woman.

  It was a look that took her breath away. He pulled her down until her breasts met his chest. The same chest she had bared and run her hands across in her imagination. In her sleep.

  The most natural place for her mouth to settle was against his.

  “Justin,” she said on a sigh.

  Their lips met with an explosion of soft heat. Blaire felt every bone melt right there inside her own body. It had been weeks since she’d been this close to him, kissed him, tasted his heat, felt his hands on her.

  How she had missed being with him this way.

  Was that the same as missing the man? She feared it was. There was so much more to him than simply a great lover, but in that particular moment, she put it all aside and enjoyed. She might never have a chance to be with him again this way, so she would take advantage of it while she could.

  His lips were soft yet firm, hot and slick. His tongue dove into her mouth and danced with hers. She tasted salt, and coffee, and Justin. With a moan, she deepened the kiss.