Read And Cowboy Makes Three (Cowboys To The Rescue 2) Online

Authors: Martha Shields

Tags: #Contemporary, #Romance, #Fiction, #Forever Love, #Adult, #Bachelor, #Single Woman, #Sensual, #Hearts Desire, #Harlequin Treasury, #Series, #Cowboys, #Rescue, #Family Life, #Western, #Millionaire, #Groom, #Wyoming, #Rancher, #Marriage, #Deceptive, #Tycoon, #Relationships, #Marriage Minded, #General Romance, #Silhouette, #1990's

And Cowboy Makes Three (Cowboys To The Rescue 2) (8 page)

BOOK: And Cowboy Makes Three (Cowboys To The Rescue 2)
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He tenderly pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry. I was a bit startled, too, when I woke up with you in my arms. But I think I can get used to it. How about you?”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then I suppose you’re going to get a surprise every morning for the rest of your life.” His smile softened. “How are you feeling? Are you sore?”
Claire felt heat sting her cheeks. “A little.”
“Why don’t you take a nice, long soak? That’ll help. Breakfast will be up in about half an hour. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving;” she admitted. She gathered the sheet around her and started to rise, but the sheet wouldn’t come with her. Jake lay across it, watching her.
She cleared her throat, but he just raised an eyebrow.
“Can I have the sheet, please?”
“No. In fact...” He snatched the sheet from her grip. When she tried to cover her breasts, he grabbed her arms and held them apart. “I won’t let you hide from me, angel. You’re too beautiful. And you’re mine.” He pulled her down on top of his chest and brought her lips to his.
His possessive words struck a chord of panic in Claire. She felt the independence she’d worked so hard to achieve slipping away. This male need for dominance, for control was what had ended her relationship with every man she’d dated. But she couldn’t end this relationship as easily as she had the others. She was this man’s wife.
Dear God, what had she done?
But as he rolled her onto her back and the heat of his lips slid down her neck to her breasts, as hot blood began to pound through her veins, as her breathing became ragged, the panic receded. When he touched her like this, she wanted to be his. She wanted him to hold her forever. She wanted to die in his arms.
Suddenly, he raised to one elbow. “Damn.”
She shivered as the cool air of the room swept across the wet tip of her breast. “What is it?”
He shook his head as if to clear it. “I promised myself I wouldn’t make love to you today. You need time to recover.”
Feeling bereft of his touch, she lifted one hand and ran it back through his hair. “Don’t we need to make love as much as possible, to increase the chances of my getting pregnant?”
His eyes burned with hot desire, but he held himself in check. “We’ll wait until tonight at least. Now, go soak. And here, take the sheet.”
But Claire didn’t take the sheet. Though she knew he was right, she wanted to punish him for the control he had over himself, and over her. She stood and walked over to the dresser, nonchalant in her nakedness, and slowly ran her brush through her hair. That and her toothbrush were the only things he’d allowed her to pack. She didn’t even have a clean pair of underwear.
As she worked through the tangles, she could see him in the mirror, watching her with black eyes that glowed like coals.
“Claire,” he said, his voice full of warning.
She turned to give him a full, frontal view. “Hmm?”
He rose from the bed menacingly and whipped off his shorts. Her breath caught and her eyes widened at the rampant evidence of his desire.
“Come over here, then, if you’re not going to bathe,” he said in husky, cajoling tones.
Realizing she’d gone a tad too far, she dropped the brush on the dresser and hurried into the bathroom. She locked the door.
 
“How about this one?”
Claire looked up from the rack of cotton underwear to see Jake holding up a lacy blue bra that would expose as much of her as it would conceal. A quick glance around the lingerie store told her no one was paying them any special heed. Thank goodness. She’d never been shopping with a man—especially not for underwear. She’d been old enough when her mother died to pick out things for herself.
“What size do you wear?” Jake asked, eyeing the tag.
“Like I’m going to shout that across the store,” she told him heatedly.
He arched a brow, then walked over and leaned down. “Okay, whisper it.”
She glared at him. “Why can’t you sit on a bench with a bored expression like normal husbands? Or spend a few hours in the software store?”
“Is that what all your other husbands have done?” he asked with an innocent expression.
“Very funny. Of course, if you’d let me pack a few clothes we wouldn’t be stuck at a mall on our honeymoon.”
He picked a red see-through bra off the rack to his side. “I didn’t know helping a woman shop for lingerie could be so fascinating. I’ve never done it before. Is this your size?”
Claire read the tag. “Thirty-eight double D? In your dreams. You’re stuck with a thirty-two B, buster.”
He leaned closer. “Your thirty-two Bs suit my dreams quite nicely, thank you. And my hands. And my—”
“Okay, I get the picture.” Claire flushed, which irritated her. She pointed to the red bra. “So this is what you’d pick out for me?”
He held the hanger higher. “You don’t like it?”
She studied the contraption he held aloft. It was the kind of bra she’d heard men liked, with fine mesh cups that would leave nothing to the imagination and a front closure that could be opened with a flick of the wrist. She’d never had one like that, preferring sturdy cotton sports bras.
“Do you like it?” she asked uneasily.
He slipped an arm around her waist and said in a low, husky voice, “I’d like to see you in it.”
Claire swallowed hard and took the hanger from his hand, feeling more of her independence slipping away. She’d never stopped to consider that marriage would seep into even the smallest things in her life—like underwear. When she’d accepted Jake, she had this image of them sleeping together a couple of times to make a baby, then pretty much going their own way. Jake would make money through his investments, then turn it over to her so she and her staff could take care of it.
Her fingers ran along the silky lace of one cup. She supposed wearing something like this would entice him—not that she’d needed it the night before. But she had to face facts. She was inexperienced and might not hold his sexual attention very long with her comfortable cotton underwear. And she needed to get pregnant. That was the whole point of marrying the man. Once her mission was accomplished, there would be no more need for sex, and she could go back to wearing what she liked.
“All right then,” she said. “Find my size.”
Jake located a thirty-two B quickly, plus matching panties. Then he moved to another rack and selected another set. For the next few minutes, he gleefully picked out bras and panties. When she thumbed through a rack of nightgowns, he pulled her away, saying she didn’t need them.
Ten minutes into this spree, Claire caught his arm. “How many are you going to pick out? We’re not going to be here a month. And my credit card does have a limit, you know.”
He merely shrugged. “Mine doesn’t.”
He moved on to another rack, blithely unaware of the panic threatening to cut off Claire’s breathing. Of course he expected to pay. Hank always paid for everything Alex bought—even spools of thread. And Jake had a heck of a lot more money than Hank.
She caught up with her husband. “These are my clothes. I’ll pay for them.”
He looked up with a puzzled expression. “These are my wife’s clothes.
I’ll
pay.”
“Jake, I thought I made it perfectly clear that I’m not in this for your money. I will pay for my own things and that’s that.”
He studied her for a long minute, then said, “All right then, pick out what you want to pay for. I’ll buy the rest.”
“But I just said—”
“You can’t stop me from buying what I want, can you?” he asked with a set jaw.
“Well, no, but—”
“I don’t see what difference it makes, anyway. Soon all the money you have will be coming from me.”
Her chin lifted. “But I’ll be earning it.”
“You earned this last night.”
Claire caught her breath in shock at the crude comment.
Realizing what he’d just said, Jake took a step toward her. “Damn, angel, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I’m not your angel. Apparently, I’m your whore.” Claire wheeled around and stalked from the store.
“Claire, wait!” He started after her, then realized his arms were laden with delicate merchandise. He threw them at the nearest clerk and told her to ring them up. Then he sprinted out into the mall.
She was three stores down before he caught up with her. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her to a stop. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
She jerked out of his grip. “I’m going to catch a cab to the airport.”
“I didn’t mean that the way you took it, Claire.”
Her slender brow arched. “Oh? How else am I supposed to take it? I slept with you, and now you’re trying to pay me for it.”
“Men don’t marry whores.”
“Don’t they?” Her eyes glistened with tears she blinked furiously back. “Then tell me what the difference is.”
Since they were blocking the flow of traffic and attracting attention, Jake grabbed her hand and hauled her over to a store window where a dozen televisions played silent pictures. He ran his hands up slender arms held stiff at her sides. “I wasn’t paying you for sex. I just wanted to thank you for the incredible gift you gave me.”
She regarded him warily. “What gift?”
He glanced around to see if anyone was listening, but no one paid them any attention now that they were out of the way. He gently ran a finger along her jawline. “Your virginity.”
“My virginity?” she repeated, clearly surprised. “That was something that had to be gotten out of the way so we can make a baby.”
“Maybe to you, but to me it meant a lot more.”
“Like what?”
He slipped an arm around her waist and drew her closer. She didn’t resist, but didn’t relax against him, either. “I guess you can’t understand how a man feels when his wife comes to him pure, untouched by any other man.”
“You’re talking like some medieval lord.” Then she added quietly, suspiciously, “And even more like a cowboy.”
His lips twisted. “You have to remember that though I don’t resemble one much now, I was raised a cowboy.”
“Thank heaven you grew out of it,” she murmured, then said a bit stronger, “So with you everything relates to money, doesn’t it? Someone does something for you, and you pay them for it. Tip them.”
Jake didn’t like the way she said that, didn’t like the truth that stabbed deep. “No one has complained until now.”
Her face softened, and she laid her hands on his chest. “Poor Jake. Hasn’t anyone ever given you anything you didn’t have to pay for?”
He stiffened at her obvious pity. Poor
Jake?
Didn’t she know how much he was worth? “Everything has to be paid for, one way or another.”
She looked even sadder and ran a hand along his jaw. “That isn’t true. Love is free.”
“Love?” he scoffed. “Love is the most expensive commodity in the world. Fools waste millions pursuing it every day.”
For the briefest instant, Claire looked as if she’d been slapped, but she quickly schooled her features to a mask of indifference. “I know you believe love is a fairy tale, but you’re wrong. Just wait until our son or daughter wraps his or her chubby little arms around your neck and squeezes tight.”
The memory that flittered across Jake’s mind at her words had been tucked into a dark corner of his soul so long ago he couldn’t remember tucking it. His own chubby arms reached out to his father who roughly pushed him away.
She’s gone, boy. Take it like a man.
That must’ve been when his mother died. He was only three. After that his father hadn’t said two kind words to him until the day he died—a year after Jake had paid off the debt on the Bar Hanging Seven. Eli Anderson never even thanked him for saving the ranch.
“You’ll understand about love then, Jake Anderson,” she said solemnly.
He leaned close to brush his lips across his wife’s forehead, but more to hide the stabbing memory that flashed across his face. His voice was a hoarse whisper as he asked, “I will?”
She shuddered in his arms. “You’d better, or this marriage doesn’t stand a chance.”
 
Claire came awake easily, drifting from dreams to a reality that was almost as good.
She smiled because she knew immediately where she was. In a fancy hotel room high above Las Vegas with a hulking furnace against her back, skin to skin, and a hard, bulky bicep forming her pillow. After only three nights of marriage, she was already accustomed to waking in Jake’s arms. Of course, she’d spent most of the last thirty-six hours enfolded in these arms—in passion, in sleep, in tender moments as they talked. Long enough to memorize the little details, like the musky scent underlying the soap she’d lathered over every inch of him when they shared a shower. Like how many times his long arms could wrap around her. The firmness of this muscle, the curve of that one. The tickling of the hair on his forearm rubbing against her cheek.
BOOK: And Cowboy Makes Three (Cowboys To The Rescue 2)
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