Expecting the Cowboy's Baby (6 page)

She'd fallen deeply in love with Jake Griffin.

C
assie pulled off Highway 395 onto a private paved road that led to another road, this one taking her deeper into the Carson Valley and closer to Anderson Ranch. Packed up to the ceiling with boxes of her belongings, she'd driven her Bug for over eight hours, leaving her family, friends and Los Angeles behind. She'd said a sorrowful goodbye to Brian and Alicia earlier this morning, each one misty-eyed, each one trying to be happy for her. She'd made a promise to Brian that she'd call often and that she'd be fine. Not to worry.

Her brother had only grimaced, giving her a tight squeeze.

Once she'd gotten out of the city, she'd felt better, brighter, and a little less sad. And now, seeing the open spaces, the tall meadows groomed only by animals grazing the land with a backdrop of mountains and clear skies devoid of smog, Cassie smiled.

She drove her Volkswagen Bug through wide white
arches that claimed Anderson Ranch with big, bold, black letters. Cassie drove farther then braked to a quick stop when she viewed the ranch house.

Visions of the television show “Dallas” came to mind, of the ranch named Southfork, and she nearly expected to see J.R. Ewing stepping out of the double doors. The house, more a mansion of sorts, stood in the center of what Cassie believed to be the largest ranch she'd ever seen. The acreage that surrounded the house seemed to go on and on until only the tall, pine-dotted mountains called it to a halt. And the house itself was stately with broad white columns, a two-story combination of adobe and masonry that spelled wealth and elegance.

This is where she'd work. This is where she'd put the past behind her. This is where she'd try to forget about Jake Griffin, the man who kept popping into her life to break her heart. It had been three weeks since she'd seen him—three of the longest weeks of her life. Cassie's focus now had to be on her new job and her new living arrangements. She hoped to fit in well and maybe even make a few new friends along the way.

She'd make a fresh start.

Cassie parked the car and approached the door, her stomach clenching. Nerves, she told herself. Before she could knock, the door opened. “Miss Munroe?”

A tall, tanned man with salt-and-pepper hair studied her. His face appeared rigid, as though he didn't know what a friendly smile could do, and his dark eyes seemed relentless. His eagle-like scrutiny was tempered only by the quiet tone of his voice.

Cassie's stomach did a little tumble. She'd been queasy all morning and she attributed the sensation to the stress of the move, the tearful farewell and the long drive. Looking
at this man only heightened her queasiness. “Yes, I'm Cassandra Munroe.”

He nodded and put out his hand. “John T. Anderson.”

“Oh, uh, Mr. Anderson.” Cassie took his hand and engaged in a firm shake. “It's nice to meet you.”

He backed away from the door, allowing her entrance. “Come in.”

She followed him into the parlor, but he didn't offer her a seat. He turned when he reached the mantel of a gigantic, white-stone fireplace. “You come highly recommended. I understand Lottie, my…well, she used to be my assistant until the fool woman decided to retire. Lottie Fairchild says you're from around here.”

“Yes, sir.”
Sir
seemed to fit. The man commanded respect. Cassie's stomach did another little flip-flop. “I was born and raised just outside of Reno. I lived there for twelve years. I've always wanted to come back.”

“Good. I like that. Don't place much trust in city folk. We got a big spread here. We're a stock contract ranch. We raise bucking broncos mostly, to breed, to sell and to rent out to the rodeo. It's a place where rodeo animals come to rest up during the off-season or between rodeo runs. Got some steer and calves here, too. There're a lot of transactions going on all the time.” He sighed, glancing at her as if suddenly suspicious. “You're almost a mite too pretty to be an accountant.”

Cassie blushed, the heat rising up her neck to burn her cheeks and adding anxiety to her already-blinking stomach. She didn't know how to respond. Was he giving her a compliment or doubting her ability? “I have a head for numbers. Always have. For instance, I can tell you that I drove exactly four hundred, thirty-six miles to get here. I passed five waterholes on my way in, counted twelve oaks lining the entrance to the property, you've got seven buildings including
the house on your land and that Garth Brooks is probably your favorite country singer.”

He raised a brow in question.

“You've got four of his CDs behind you on the mantel.”

“Oh, Lottie gave them to me.” Then the man cracked a small smile, enough for Cassie to see his dark eyes light up some and his face soften. “That's not bad. You're gonna fit in around here, Miss Munroe.”

Cassie grinned. She'd passed the test, she supposed, but her stomach wasn't smiling. And now her head felt funny, as if she were floating on air. She put a hand to her belly, wishing this wasn't happening. “Uh-oh. I don't feel so good.”

Mr. Anderson reached for her, taking her arm. “Darn my bad manners. I didn't offer you a seat or something to drink. You've been on the road for hours. What can I do?”

“The bathroom?”

He held her arm and guided her to a room just off the parlor. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Cassie barely made it inside to lock the door before she heaved. Her muscles clenched and when she was all done, her stomach was better and she felt human again. Except for the embarrassment. Well, she sure made a memorable first impression, didn't she?

Cassie washed her face then reached into her bag to reapply lip gloss. She ran a brush through her hair, tidied up her skirt and blouse, then walked back into the parlor.

“In here,” she heard Mr. Anderson call.

She headed for the sound of his voice, finding him in a large room on the opposite side of the house. Mr. Anderson sat in a bulky, chocolate-brown leather chair behind a no-nonsense mahogany desk. Dark panels made up three of the walls with inlaid shelves housing a mass of books. Deep
burgundy-velour drapes partially covered two bay windows that looked out upon the ranch.

Cassie would say it was definitely a man's room.

“Come in and have a seat. Feeling better?”

“Yes, much better. I think it was car sickness or something.” She took a seat in a smaller leather chair facing him.

“Good. Marie is setting up a light supper on the veranda. And after we eat, I'll show you to the guest house. We just need to go over some things in your contract and have you sign on the dotted line. Lottie assures me you're agreeable to the conditions?”

“Yes, it's all been worked out.”

He nodded. “Take a look at this.” He turned the contract on his desk her way and gave it a little shove. “Read it over and let me know if you have any questions.”

Cassie took a moment to read what was expected of her. The salary was more than generous, considering she'd be living rent-free in the guest house, and everything else seemed to be in order. “No, no questions. This is what we agreed upon.” Anxious to start her new job, Cassie picked up a pen and signed the document.

“Great,” Mr. Anderson said, standing. “You must be hungry. Let's go get us some grub.”

 

Cassie stood in the center of the “guest house” living room, shaking her head. The place wasn't exactly what she'd expected. She'd had visions of a small, cozy, cabin-like home where there would be no mistaking typical ranch-style living. But this house was decorated in modern rustic, with adobe-colored walls and the furniture barely hinting at its Western heritage. There was an open, airy feel to the place that sent endorphins swimming through her body. The minute she'd walked in, she knew she'd love living here. And the place was actually larger than most L.A condos.
Highlighting the living room was a red-stone fireplace and two matching sofas set in soft hues of beige and peach. The house had two good-size bedrooms, a master with its own bath, a full kitchen with a nook overlooking the mountains to the east and a full dining area. There was a small built-in bar halfway between the living and dining areas. The other bedroom Mr. Anderson had designated as her office complete with a computer, fax machine and two phone lines.

He'd explained that Lottie had done her work in an office in the main house, but both had figured Cassie would like her privacy. He'd also explained there were no set hours to the job. When she was through with her work, she was free for the rest of the day. He didn't expect her to work on the weekends, unless there was something pressing that couldn't wait until Monday.

Cassie let out a long, contented sigh, feeling more at peace now that the initial meeting was over. Her stomach was much better and the anxiety over her job was all but gone.

Her car was parked inside a small garage attached to the house. She'd brought in only one suitcase, far too tired to think about unpacking tonight. She'd worry about the rest of her stuff tomorrow. Cassie planned to take a quick shower, change into her nightclothes and go straight to bed. Glancing out the window, she chuckled softly. “The sun's barely setting and you're going to bed.”

This was what she'd wanted—to live easier, simpler and with less stress. Yet, she couldn't help feeling a bit lonely. “Tomorrow, Cassie Munroe, you are going to start your life.”

 

Jake Griffin turned the key in the lock and entered the dark solitude of his home. Exhausted from the long, grueling drive back from Colorado, all he wanted to do was to strip
out of his clothes and get some sleep. He littered clothes from the front room, tossing his boots and shirt aside, his pants made it to the hallway and, by the time he got to his bed, he was down to his briefs. He tossed the covers aside and climbed in, resting his head upon his pillow and closing his eyes.

A familiar scent drifted by, a soft, subtle, fragrant smell that brought back memories of the woman he'd been trying darn hard to forget.

Cassie Munroe.

Jake squeezed his eyes shut tighter and scoffed at his addled brain. Fatigue, he figured, lowered your resistance, because he'd made a great effort in the past three weeks to put the woman and that weekend behind him.

A soft feminine sigh, the barest of sound, had him turning toward the far end of his king-size bed. Jake blinked and rolled a bit closer, wondering if the apparition was real or some trick of his imagination. No trick, he realized immediately. There
was
a woman in his bed.

And as he took a better look, relying on a slim sliver of moonlight edging its way into the window, there was no mistaking who she was.

Cassie Munroe.

A dozen emotions whirled around, creating havoc in his head, his gut and his groin. Stunned, Jake could only stare. Cassie was in a deep sleep. He'd watched her sleep before and the sight of her sexy body, so serene and peaceful in his bed, brought forth many questions. Why was she here? Why had she come to him?

He'd been royally ticked off when she hadn't come to the rodeo as he'd asked. He didn't quite know what he'd say to her, what he'd expected, but he had wanted to see her again. Anger had surfaced then and all of his stubborn pride wouldn't allow him to call her in Los Angeles. He
figured he'd served his purpose by taking her to her brother's wedding. She'd had no use for him after that.

Jake was accustomed to being abandoned. He'd dealt with rejection all of his life. He wasn't that needy kid, looking for love any longer. In truth, he scoffed at the notion. In Jake Griffin's world, love didn't exist.

But after the incredible night they'd shared making love, Jake hadn't expected Cassie to run out on him. Okay, maybe his ego had been bruised. But he'd wanted to say something to her that day. He'd wanted to ask her if he could see her again if he happened to visit California?

Hell, he didn't know. The woman made him nuts.

And now, she was lying next to him in his bed.

Jake edged himself closer and the immediate impact, the way he responded to her, had him silently swearing. His body hadn't forgotten her. Hard and tight, Jake rolled away, a mental debate going on in his head whether he should wake her or not. He ruled in favor of sleep. Morning was just hours away.

He'd find out soon enough what Cassie Munroe wanted from him.

C
assie had slept the sleep of the dead. She'd never been so tired in her life. She lay there reluctant to open her eyes to welcome the new day. Just another five minutes, she told herself, then she'd bounce out of bed and start unpacking. The thought made her sigh and she rolled onto her side, grasping her pillow, snuggling in, but something solid, unyielding and vaguely familiar stopped her.

A soft kiss brushed her lips. “Morning, Cassie.”

Startled, Cassie blinked her eyes open. Hazy from sleep, she fought to focus, to make sense of it all as quick, dreadful sensations ripped straight through her. She knew those lips, that deep voice, the appealing scent of the man she'd been dreaming about. This was no dream. He was real, and holding her in his arms.

What piece of this puzzle had she forgotten?

She pulled back and away quickly, grasping her pillow
tight. “Jake? W-what are you doing here? And w-why are you in my b-bed?”

“Your bed?”
Jake chuckled, coming closer, running a finger down her face and tucking strands of her hair behind her ear, sending shivers along her spine. “Sweetheart, did you mix your allergy pills with liquor again last night?”

“No. No, I most certainly did not. This is my bed, Jake. And what on earth are you doing here?” She peered out the bedroom doorway, but couldn't see the front door. She knew she'd locked everything up tight last night before turning in. She glanced at her bedroom window, as well—still closed. It was way too early in the morning for Cassie to try to figure out this mystery. She narrowed her eyes. “How did you get in?”

“The usual way, with a key.”

Cassie sat up straighter in the bed, dragging the covers to her chin. Her heart pumped overtime, seeing him again, recalling the exquisite feel of his lips on hers just seconds ago, but she couldn't dwell on those sensations now. She had more pressing things to think about, such as how he'd found her. “But how, I mean—”

“I live here,” he said simply, as though he expected her to know that. “This is my home.”

Baffled, Cassie opened her mouth but no words sputtered out. He lives here? How could that be?

“You're in my bed, Cassie.” He shot her a sexy grin, as if to say he didn't know her game but he'd be willing to play, anyway.

“But, but…Mr. Anderson said—”

“What does my father have to do with this?” Jake's expression suddenly changed. No longer amused, he peered at her with dark intensity. “Tell me, Cassie. What did my father do this time?”

“Your
father?
”

“Yes, dammit. John T. Anderson is my father.”

“Oh.” She tried absorbing that fact. Mr. Anderson was Jake's father. Cassie found it hard to believe any of this. Waking up in a strange bed only to find Jake Griffin lying next to her was one thing, but to learn that this was his home, and that her employer was Jake's father, well, that little bit of information completely blew her mind. She felt as though she'd been time warped into another dimension. “He, uh, he hired me. I work for him now.”

Jake bounded out of bed, letting go a string of curses that would shock the toughest of longshoremen. She resisted covering her ears, but couldn't resist the view of Jake pacing the floor, nearly naked, wearing only his briefs.

Heavens, the man had a body on him. She hadn't forgotten how glorious he'd been to touch, the feel of his hot skin or the sultry passion they'd once shared.

Finally, Jake stopped pacing. With contained anger, he stared down at her. “So, you didn't come here to see me?”

Cassie shook her head slowly.

“And you didn't know I was John T. Anderson's son?”

She gave him another shake of the head.

“Wait a minute!” Jake peered at the bedroom, as if seeing it for the first time. His eyes darted from the nightstand to the dresser to the closet. He headed there first, sliding open the mirrored door. Empty. He opened dresser drawers, stuck his head into the bathroom and came out with fury in his eyes. “Sonofabitch! He's moved me out. He'd do anything to get me to live in the main house!
Anything.
”

Cassie jumped out of bed, tangling with the sheet and finally giving up. She was decently covered in her pajama tank and shorts. Jake had seen her in less, much less. “Jake, are you saying your father offered me your house to live in?”

With hands firmly on hips, he nodded. “That's exactly what I'm saying.”

“Oh, uh, I truly had no idea. I'm sorry. I'll leave. I haven't even unpacked yet. I'll find another place to stay.”

Jake put up his hands. “Don't leave, Cassie, and don't be sorry. This is all John T.'s doing. Hell, it's not like I'm attached to this place or anything. But he's gonna get a piece of my mind regardless. This really has nothing to do with you. It's between John T. and me.”

Jake began dressing, picking up his clothes that were scattered on the floor. With pants on and his shirt hanging from his shoulders Cassie watched him yank the front door open and storm out. Between Jake Griffin and John T. Anderson, she didn't know which man was the most stubborn. Living here with both of them, she figured she'd soon find out.

That's if she decided to stay.

Cassie now had major doubts. She'd come here to start a new life, to put the mistakes in her past behind her. How could she do that with Jake Griffin, the source of her recent heartache, living here on the ranch? Yet, Cassie didn't have any place else to go. She'd given up her job and her apartment back in Los Angeles. She'd signed a contract with Mr. Anderson. As much as she hated to admit it, Cassie's options were limited. And once she'd given her word, she'd never backed out of a deal.

Small wonder her stomach began its blinking act once more. Seeing Jake again had wiped that contented feeling right out from under her. She still had trouble believing he lived here, on the ranch where she was to be employed. What were the odds of that? Mentally she calculated, her mind clicking away, but she didn't have the data to produce such odds though she knew it had to be pretty far out there.

She grabbed a pair of jeans, a shirt and fresh underwear from her luggage and headed to the shower. “No time for
a queasy stomach, Cassie Munroe. You have too much to do today.”

Now, if her stomach, her head and her heart would only listen.

 

“Don't raise your voice to me, boy. Calm down and have a seat.”

Jake continued to pace in front of the desk in the study as John T. sat comfortably in his chair. The man had an uncanny way of manipulating situations. Jake figured it was the key to his success in business. John T. knew the odds and how to play them. “I don't want to sit, dammit. I want answers. Why in hell did you move Cassie into my house?”

His father's brows lifted. “Cassie?”

“Yeah, Cassie—the redhead sleeping in my bed.”

“Hmm.” John T. rubbed his jaw. “Exactly what time did you come home last night?”

“Two a.m.”

“Two, huh? Where did you sleep?”

Jake waved him off. He wasn't about to tell his father he'd slept next to Cassie all night long. He hadn't gotten but a few winks, too keyed up about her presence in his bed and the staggering, erotic possibilities. It was only by an ironclad will that Jake hadn't woken her in the night to continue what they'd started that night in her hotel room. “None of your business.”

“It's my business if you go scaring off the new hired help.”

“I might have startled her this morning, but Cassie doesn't scare off easily. She's fine.”

His father blinked and Jake realized he might have said too much. “Are you saying you know this girl?”

“Like I said, it's none of your business. So why'd you do it?”

“Hell, boy. How'd it look to have a pretty young woman living in this house alone with me? I had no choice but to give her the guest house. Lottie said it was the proper thing to do. Hell, if that woman hadn't up and retired on me, none of this would have been necessary, anyway.”

“Yeah, well, if you weren't so dang stubborn, maybe Lottie wouldn't have taken an early retirement.”

Anger flashed in John T.'s eyes, mixed with keen curiosity. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Forget I said anything.” Jake wasn't here to reprimand his father on his relationship with Lottie. Though, if he ever had another opportunity, he'd be happy to tell the old man what a doggone fool he'd been in that regard.

John T. let out a long, exasperated sigh. “You weren't supposed to be home at all this weekend. I was planning on calling you today to give you the details. Hell, boy, if you'd only taken an interest in the ranch business, you'd have known I'd hired on some new help. And seeing as we've got twelve rooms in this house, I figured you could just as well bunk here. It's not as if you're home much, anyway.”

That much was true. Jake hadn't ever felt as though Anderson Ranch was his home. He'd never felt he belonged here. Since John T. had brought him to Nevada, Jake had finished out his high school days here then spent the next five years away at college. When he returned, he'd taken up residence in the guest house, but he'd spent most of his time on the road with the rodeo.

“I guess I have no choice now. We both know it's a thirty-minute drive from town. There ain't a whole lot of rentals and none as nice as the guest house. I'm not about to send Cassie off packing somewhere. She came here with good intentions. Besides, knowing you, you probably included the living arrangements as part of the deal.”

His father scratched his head. “You do know her, don't you?”

Jake relented. What difference did it make, anyway? He'd learned from his father's past secrets that you couldn't hide much in this world. Sooner or later the truth would come out. “Yes, I knew her in California.”

“That was a long time ago.” His father questioned him further with a long lingering look.

“And I met up with her at the rodeo last month in Laughlin. She was going to her brother's wedding and it was sort of a coincidence that we met.”

“Sounds more like fate to me,” John T. stated, his mind working overtime. Jake knew that particular expression and he didn't much like it. When his father twisted his mouth upward, eyes twinkling, Jake knew he probably shouldn't have given up so much information. “Well, I'll be damned.”

Jake decided to ignore that look and the tone of his father's voice. “What room did you have my things moved into?”

“Your old room.”

Jake nodded.

“It's not the end of the world, Jake. This is your house, too.”

Jake walked out of the study, gritting his teeth. He didn't have any choice. Cassie would have the guest house. She'd be more comfortable there and she'd have a bit of privacy.

But hell, he didn't want to move into the main house. He'd avoided doing so for years. Now because of Cassie Munroe, the woman who'd entered his life twice before, he'd have to leave the guest house. Somehow she'd managed to turn his life upside down for a third time. He didn't want Cassie here. She was a distraction, a complication that he didn't need.

She was a woman hard to ignore, but once all this was straightened out, Jake was determined to steer clear of Cassie Munroe.

 

Cassie met up with Jake as soon as she climbed down the steps of the guest house. “I was coming over to see what I should do.”

Jake stated calmly, “Start unpacking. You're staying here.”

“But how can I when this is your home? I don't want to uproot you.”

Jake's expression changed then, a twinkle gleaming in his dark, captivating eyes. He shot her a slow smile. “We could bunk together, Cassie,” he said softly. “If that would make you feel better.”

Heat climbed up her neck, not from embarrassment but from the memory of the “bunking” she'd done with Jake. She didn't want to give him any encouragement. Heavens, this was where she was going to work. She wanted to make a good impression and to do an excellent job. The last thing she needed right now was to complicate her life again with Jake. She'd examined the issue in her mind, weighing her options and coming up with only one viable choice: to stay. But she could and would distance herself from Jake. “Not a chance, cowboy.”

His lighthearted demeanor didn't change. “Okay, then let's get you unpacked. Where's your gear?”

Cassie opened the garage door with the remote and her car appeared, crammed to its limit with her “stuff.”

“I bet you've got a dozen clowns in there, too.”

“They're hiding under the seat. I put all my furniture in storage. This was what's left.”

Twenty minutes later, after Jake unloaded all the boxes in her car, Cassie handed him a tall glass of water as they stood in the kitchen. “Thanks for the help. I think I can manage from here.”

Jake opened the refrigerator and shook his head. “Looks like you need some provisions.”

“I was planning on driving into town this afternoon to pick up some groceries.”

“I'm heading that way later. I can give you a lift.”

It was a tempting offer, but Cassie couldn't accept. She was on her own now. She had to fend for herself and, quite honestly, she didn't want to get accustomed to having Jake around. Her heart still ached every time he showed up. Better to keep her mind focused on anything and everything but him. “No thanks. I'll be okay.”

But suddenly Cassie wasn't okay. A wave of fatigue hit her and her legs nearly buckled. Light-headed, she closed her eyes and found herself swaying.

“Whoa, there.” Jake grabbed her before she fell. He pressed her head into his chest and murmured quietly, “What's wrong?”

Still floating, she relished the solid feel of his chest and the support of his strong arms. “Dizzy.”