Baby Love (36 page)

Grasping her hips, he slowly entered her. Her eyes fluttered open. She moaned. With his first thrust, she sobbed again, her breath whining in her slender throat.

Heaven, hell.
Explosive need roiled low in his abdomen, the ache for relief so sharp it was nearly unbearable. He held back, determined not to let go until he took her over the edge again. White-hot. Then a red, swirling haze formed before his eyes.
Maggie.
He couldn't see her face.

"Rafe!" she cried out.

He felt her tightness convulse around him. That was all it took to snap his self-control. He made one, final thrust and let go, his body jerking taut as he went over the edge with her.

Afterward they lay intertwined on the bed like two

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wax figures that had melted and run together. Exhausted, replete, so drained that even coherent thought evaded them. Rafe held Maggie close, content in a way he'd never been. She lay snuggled against him like a well-fed kitten that had been petted to sleep, her cheek resting in the hollow of his shoulder.

Sleepily and disjointedly, he tried to recall all that had taken place, wanting to analyze and grade his performance. He couldn't hold onto his thoughts. He had wanted so badly to make it perfect for her this first time.

Unable to succumb to exhaustion until he had assured himself he'd accomplished his goal, he hovered between consciousness and blackness, blurry images of her spiraling through his head. A smile touched his mouth when he recalled how she had come apart in his arms when that first orgasm had rocked her.

Perfect? His smile deepened. Probably not. But he'd come damned close.

His last thought as he plunged into the blackness of slumber was
Practice makes perfect.
He was more than willing to repeat his performance until he got it right.

Maggie awakened to the crackling of the fire in the woodstove, the muted sound of popping embers filling her with a feeling of cozy warmth. She blinked, saw the blur of striped pillow ticking under her cheek, and came wide awake, acutely aware of the man who held her in his arms, his wide chest a sturdy wall of vibrant muscle against her back.

Her heart skittered when she realized one of his big, callused palms was cupping her bare breast. She'd never awakened naked in a man's arms before. Unlike last night when only the dim glow of lantern light had illuminated the room, now the harsh brilliance of a snow-bright morning spilled over the bed.

She lay there and stared at the wall, uncertain what to do. If she moved, she'd wake him. And then what?

"Good morning."

The husky timber of his voice next to her ear startled her. His long fingers curled lightly over her breast, his thumb dragging on her nipple in such a way that her muscles jerked involuntarily. When he made another pass, her stomach did flip-flops.

"This is like waking up with my arms full of heaven," he whispered.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her senses reeling. Then she felt his mouth nibbling her bare shoulder. The sensation, coupled with his teasing strokes over her nipple,

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obliterated all rational thought from her mind.

Magic. He had promised her magic, and that was what he gave her. Pure, sweet magic that made her feel mindless ...

Ryan and another man arrived at the line shack around one-thirty that afternoon, whereupon Rafe went out to help refuel the snowmobiles and check their oil, Watching from a window inside the shack, Maggie had eyes for only her husband as he carried a large gas can from the lean-to. She loved the way he walked, his long-legged stride loose, his broad shoulders shifting with every step. In the frosty winter sunlight, he looked so rugged and deliciously masculine, his badly soiled leather jacket hanging open to reveal the faded red undershirt, which skimmed the muscular bulges of his chest. Without his Stetson, which he had left in the Expedition yesterday, his hair glistened like polished jet in the bright sunlight that shafted down through the snow-laden evergreen boughs.

Ryan and the other man offered to ride double on one snowmobile, leaving the other machine for Rafe and Maggie. After dousing the fire in the stove and helping her to straighten the room, Rafe led her outside, his hand locked on her arm so she wouldn't slip on the ice. His protective behavior made her feel cherished.

"You ever ridden a snow horse?" Ryan called.

Maggie shook her head, eyeing the snowmobile with wariness. She'd seen how Ryan and the other man drove the things—their bodies angled low for balance as they zigzagged the machines through the thick growth of trees and went airborne over the deep drifts.

Never releasing her arm, Rafe swung a leg over the seat and then scooted forward to make room for her behind him. "Climb on, sweetheart," he urged, then helped her as she complied. "Now—lock your arms around my waist."

The man had no waist. He was built like a wedge.

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Maggie put her arms around him, nonetheless, her fingertips barely meeting. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling. In a low voice meant only for her, he said, "I know I'm not that big around.

What's shortening your reach, sugar?"

Maggie blushed. "It's the parka."

"Bullshit. But I'll settle the argument later." He winked at her as he revved the motor to deafening decibels. "You ready?"

Maggie nodded, and the next second, she was clinging to him for dear life as they flew over the frozen snow. As they executed the first sharp turn, Rafe roared, "Lean with me!" Maggie leaned and lost her stomach in the apex of the curve, her heart in her mouth. His emphatic "Hold tight!" was an unnecessary warning. She even had her thighs clamped to his hips.

Ryan zoomed up on his snowmobile beside them, swung his Stetson above his head, and whooped, his dark face creased in a grin. "Eat my dust!" he yelled, and then shot ahead of them.

Maggie felt Rafe's back jerk with laughter. She half-expected him to take up the challenge, but he lagged behind, keeping their speed within reasonable limits. To her surprise, she began to enjoy the ride. It was exhilarating, and she was almost disappointed when she finally saw the road ahead. Ryan and the hired hand had already dismounted from their machine and were awaiting Rafe's arrival, their stances conveying intense boredom.

As Rafe parked on the shoulder of the road near the Expedition, Ryan yelled, "What is this? You turn into a wimp the last two years?"

Rafe steadied Maggie as she swung off the seat, then got off behind her. "I was carrying precious cargo.

Challenge me to a race when I'm riding alone, and I'll whip your ass."

Ryan hooted. "That'll be the day. Marriage! It ruins all of a man's fun."

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Rafe looped an arm around Maggie's shoulders. "Jealous, little brother?"

Ryan fixed a twinkling gaze on Maggie. "If I were, I'd never admit it. Well, sis, what do you think of snow horses?"

"It was fun," Maggie said breathlessly. "I'd like to do it again."

To Rafe, Ryan said, "You wanna ride on in? I can drive the Ford."

Rafe grinned. "1 think Maggie's had enough excitement the last two days. We'll drive. You gonna meet us at the main house?"

Ryan glanced at his watch. "I've got work scheduled. Unlike some lazy cusses, I can't play around all day."

He narrowed an eye at his older brother. "That vacation you promised me is sounding better all the time."

"Take off anytime. I can handle it."

"I just might do that. A warm tropical island sounds good right now."

Rafe led Maggie toward the Ford. "Catch you later," he called to his brother over his shoulder. "Don't work too hard. I'm taking the rest of the day off."

"Newlyweds," Ryan said with a teasing note of disgust in his voice. "The world comes to a screeching halt."

It was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon when they finally reached the driveway to the main house. As Rafe drove up the long, curving road, Maggie gazed at the sprawling brick home on the distant knoll. For the first time since marrying Rafe, she had reason to believe she might actually be able to spend the rest of her life there. She recalled how intimidated she had been when she'd first seen the house. Now it seemed familiar and comforting—a safe haven she could call home.
Home.
If all went well, Heidi would call this home as well, and it would be where her son grew up. He would play someday on that knoll and run wild in the surrounding

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woods, a healthy, happy little boy with every advantage.

If all went well
... That was the kicker. There were no guarantees in life. Oh, how she wished that there were.

"Penny for them."

Jerked from her reverie, Maggie looked over at her husband. His black hair, still damp and windblown from their ride on the snowmobile, lay in loose waves over his forehead. His smoky gaze glinted with a new pos-sessiveness and bold familiarity as he gazed back at her, a result, she felt sure, of their recent intimacy.

Afraid he might think her silly, Maggie nearly fibbed about what was on her mind. But then she looked deeply into his eyes and couldn't, for the life of her, lie to him.

"I was just thinking that this really is my home now," she admitted. "Until last night, it was always in the back of my mind that I might have to leave soon."

She glimpsed an aching regret in his eyes just before he returned his attention to the road. "I never would have asked you to leave. I hope you realize that now."

Hugging her waist, Maggie smiled. "Yeah, I realize that now. It's just—I don't know quite how to explain it.

But there's a part of me that's almost afraid to feel this happy. Oh, Rafe. It's magical, just like you promised. And you know what they say about magic. It can vanish in a puff of smoke."

"Is it Lonnie you're worried about?"

After all he'd done to protect her and her loved ones, Maggie hated to admit she still felt threatened by Lonnie, but the truth was she did. "It's just so hard to believe he's out of my life forever. You know?" She looked over at him, fairly certain her heart and all her fears were shining in her eyes. "Oh, Rafe, I love you so, and being here has made me so happy. Most of the time, I try not to even think of Lonnie, but sometimes, like now, I just get this awful, frightened feeling, and I can't shake it off. I'm so afraid something may happen to ruin everything. Do you think that's silly?"

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"No, not silly. But sweetheart, I really do think the danger is mostly over now. And if something does crop up, I'll handle it. I promise you that. He's never going to hurt you again." Flashing her one of those grins that always made her heartbeat skitter, he backed off the gas and slowed the Expedition to a crawl. "The sky won't fall just because you're happy, Maggie. And this particular brand of magic isn't going to vanish in a puff of smoke. I'm real. My love for you is real. If you can't trust in anything else, trust in that."

"I'm trying."

Feeling almost giddy with happiness as they drew closer to the house, Maggie noticed an unfamiliar vehicle parked near the side door where the Expedition usually sat. "Somebody's here."

As the Ford rounded the final curve of the driveway, Rafe studied the dark blue, sporty Cadillac parked by the atrium door. Then he grinned. "I'll be damned. Ten bucks says it's my folks. Ryan told me they bought a new Cadillac right before they left. I wasn't expecting them until next week. They didn't think they could make it for Thanksgiving."

Maggie's stomach lurched. His folks? Ever since her marriage to Rafe, she'd been dreading their return to Oregon. Unless they were rare individuals indeed, they weren't likely to be very happy about their son's marrying so suddenly.

"Sweetheart, you look scared to death. Mom and Dad don't bite."

Maggie gulped and shot him a beseeching look. "Could I go in by another door? I'm a wreck. I'd really like to freshen up before I meet them."

"Don't be silly. You look beautiful. If you run off to the bedroom without even saying hello, it'll hurt their feelings. Just excuse yourself after the introductions and go change. I'm sure Becca's told them you got lost yesterday. They won't expect you to look like a fashion model. I sure as hell don't."

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Maggie curled her hand over the door handle and made a tight fist. "What if they don't like me?"

"They're going to love you." He killed the engine, drew the keys from the ignition, and leaned across the console to kiss her. "Sweetheart, don't do this. Just relax and be yourself."

With a sinking sensation, she opened her door and climbed from the vehicle. Rafe fell in beside her as they walked to the house, one strong arm encircling her shoulders. Maggie tried to draw away from him as they entered the atrium, but he tightened his hold. "Always present a united front."

The kitchen was bustling with activity when they entered by way of the sliding glass door. Her heart squeezing with anxiety, Maggie breathed in a fishy smell. She was so nervous, it made her feel a little sick to her stomach. She pressed closer to Rafe, suddenly glad for the hard, warm strength of his arm.

Across the room, Becca and a diminutive blonde dressed in gray slacks and a burgundy sweater were preparing dinner. In front of the hearth, a dark-skinned man with steel-gray hair sat on one of the rockers. Dressed in the usual rancher garb, a blue chambray shirt and Wrangler jeans, he looked like an older version of Rafe. Holding Jaimie in the bend of one arm, he was trying to read the evening newspaper with only one hand, a task greatly complicated by the baby's wiggling and the rhythmic motion of the chair.

Maggie couldn't stop staring at him. The family resemblance was so strong, there was no mistaking him for anyone but Rafe's father. He had the Kendrick chiseled profile, and even with him sitting down, she could see where his sons had gotten their height and well-muscled builds.

As if he sensed her gaze on him, he glanced over his shoulder. Maggie found herself staring into twinkling, gray-blue eyes very like her husband's. "Well, now," he said as he pushed to his feet, "just look what the cat

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dragged in!" He dropped the newspaper and jiggled Jaimie to get a better hold on him. Then in a booming voice that made Maggie's nerves leap, he hollered, "Annie, the kids are finally home!"

Clutching green-leaf lettuce in her slender hands, Ann Kendrick whirled from the sink. She gave a glad cry when she saw her son, and her wide gray eyes went bright with tears.

"Rafael!" She flung the lettuce back in the sink and came racing across the room. "Oh, Rafael!"

Rafe drew away from Maggie in the nick of time to catch his mother in his arms. He chuckled and lifted her off her feet to swing her in a circle. Ann hugged his neck, laughing and crying at once.

"I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life!" she told him.

"The feeling's mutual," Rafe assured her as he set her down. "Damn, Mom, I've missed you! I didn't expect you today. I thought Dad had a stress test early next week."

"They had a cancellation, and he got in early. We didn't phone because we wanted to surprise you for Thanksgiving."

"And the test results?"

"There's not a thing wrong with him that some common sense wouldn't cure. The chest pain isn't from his heart. It's indigestion from eating too much fatty food. So what did your father do? He celebrated his clean bill of health by eating country-fried steak with biscuits and gravy at a greasy-spoon restaurant!"

"And topped it off with a cigarette, I'll bet." Rafe grinned at his dad. "Ornery as the day is long. Why do you put up with him?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm fond of him." Ann ran her hands over her son's face. "Oh, Rafael.

It's so good to have you back."

Rafe bent to kiss her cheek. "I'm home to stay now. I promise."