Cathy Gillen - His Baby Bargain

Sara sighed and folded her arms beneath her breasts, her action plumping them up all the more. “Because we need more veterans actively involved in helping other returning military personnel,” she stated softly, her breasts rising and falling with each agitated breath.

He rocked back on the heels of his worn leather work boots. “Isn’t that the mission of the West Texas Warriors Association?” Of which, he knew, there were hundreds of members.

Her expression turned even more serious. “We need everyone, Matt.”

He rejected her attempt to make him feel guilty for not wanting to dive back into the world of his nightmares. “I don’t think so.”

She glowered at him. “Why not?”

“I like my solitude.”

She made a face and then, to his mounting frustration, tried again. “Listen to me, Matt,” she beseeched, hands outstretched. Her gentle eyes filled with compassion. “I know how hard it was for Anthony to really reconnect after he came back to civilian life...”

So, the rumors about her late husband’s unhappiness...and maybe hers, too...were true.

He scowled, not sure why the comparison bothered him so much. “I’m not your late husband, Sara.”

She acknowledged that with a nod, then pushed on despite his gruff, unwelcoming tone. “Working with dogs can help alleviate PTSD-related depression and anxiety.”

Now what is she trying to infer? “Do tell,” he prodded.

She tilted her head to one side and offered a tantalizing smile. “Who knows?” Another shrug. “It might help right your temperamental attitude, too.”

Not sure whether he wanted to haul her close and kiss her, or demand she leave now , he sent her a censuring look. “Thanks, but I’ve got my bad moods covered, Sara.”

She huffed, her eyes narrowing all the more. “Spending all your time alone?”

“Making the Silver Creek Ranch a cash-generating enterprise,” he corrected.

Sara seemed unimpressed. “By tearing down tons of trees and ripping down sections of old fence?”

He went back to snipping barbed wire. “First of all, the fence is so old it’s a hazard. Second, Texas barbecue restaurants need either oak or mesquite. And I’ve got plenty of both.”

Sara tapped one boot-clad foot impatiently. “And then what? When you clear-cut all this land?”

She sounded like his folks. Constantly complaining that whatever he was doing wasn’t enough.

He yanked out a rusting metal post and added it to the pile on the ground. “I’m going to plow the weeds and sow some grass. Put up new pasture fence and lease out the land to my brother Cullen so he can run some of his cattle here.”

Giving him room to work, she took a moment to consider that. Probably finally realizing he did indeed have a business plan.

“Not planning to buy any of your own?” she asked eventually.

He shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for another living thing—person or animal. “Did enough cattle herding growing up.”

That, she did seem to understand. It didn’t mean she let up. Her gorgeous honey-blond hair blowing in the spring breeze, she followed him down the fence line. “You know, you could do all this a lot faster if you hired some help. Or even enlisted some of your family members and friends.”

Her unsolicited advice irked him. He turned and studied the guileless look in her eyes. “Don’t want me to be alone, huh, darlin’?”

She pursed her lips in a worried frown. “I don’t think it’s healthy and neither does your family, Matt.”

So now they were finally getting down to it, he thought wearily.

She stepped closer, once again invading his space.

Her soft, feminine voice took on a persuasive lilt. “Your mom came to see me. She thought maybe I could talk you into rejoining the community again.”

Matt shook his head at Sara’s naïveté. His mom hoped for a lot more than occasionally getting him off the Silver Creek spread. “She only did that because...”

Sara beamed, turning on the full wattage of her neighborly charm. “What?”

He edged closer. “She knows I’m attracted to you.”

She laughed in disbelief, the ambivalent sound filling the air between them. Her lower lip took on a kissable pout. “You’re just saying that to get me to leave.”

He surveyed her indignant expression. Leaned in closer. “Is it working?”

The look in her eyes grew turbulent. “No.”

He dropped his head. “Then how about this?” he taunted softly, taking her in his arms.

Rather than step away, she put her hand on the center of his chest, and gave him a small, purposeful shove.

That sent him exactly nowhere.

“No.” She glared at him heatedly. “But nice try, cowboy.”

He reluctantly let her go and stepped back, his own temper flaring. “Then maybe you should rethink this plan you and my mom cooked up. Because I’m not the guy who’s going to treat you with kid gloves, darlin’.” And he was pretty sure, at the end of the day, that was what Sara wanted.

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t want you to treat me with kid gloves.”

He came back to her, took her in his arms again and lowered his lips, just above hers.

Damn, if she didn’t make him feel ornery.

He smiled as she caught her breath. “Sure about that?” He rubbed the pad of his thumb across her lower lip.

Her brows furrowed as she began to see where this standoff between them was likely headed. “Yes,” she said, stubborn as ever, trembling even as she held her ground.

Loving the delicate feel of her body so close to his, he asked, “Really sure?”

“Completely sure,” she taunted right back. “In fact, cowboy,” she went on to dare in spunky delight, “you could kiss me and—”

The gauntlet had been thrown down between them.

Matt never gave her a chance to blurt out the rest.

His mouth touched hers, laying claim to every sweet soft inch. Only, the indignant slap he expected—the one that would have heralded his immediate gentlemanly release of her, and her quick, fiery exit—never came.

* * *

Sara told herself to resist the sensual feel of his lips moving over hers. But her body refused to listen to the wary dictates of her heart. She had been numb inside for so long. Responsive only to the needs of her adorable infant son.

Now, suddenly, she was alive in a way she had never expected to be again. The yearning to be touched, held, appreciated for the woman she was came roaring back. Made her tingle all over. Opening her lips to his, she pressed closer to the unyielding hardness of his chest, and, lower still, felt his undeniable heat and building desire. With a low moan of surrender, she went up on tiptoe, wreathed her arms about his neck and tilted her head to give him deeper access. He uttered a low moan of approval. His tongue twined with hers. He brought her nearer still, delivering a kiss that scored her soul. Left her limp with longing and trembling with acquiescence. Her middle fluttering, she melted against him. And then all was lost, as she experienced the masculine force that was Matt. For the first time in her life, she was with a man who didn’t hesitate to give her the complete physicality she craved and had always longed to explore. Excitement roaring through her, she reveled in the thrill of his commanding embrace. The hard, insistent pressure of his kiss, and the tantalizing sweep of his tongue; for the very first time in her life, she experienced the temptation to surrender herself completely. Forget her worries about the future. Live only in the moment she was in.

Had her life not already been so complicated—full of the grief and guilt she still felt for not doing as much as she could have, or should have, when she’d still had the chance—and had she not intuited that Matt’s own private world was much the same as hers and her husband’s had once been, who knew what might have happened had their make-out session continued on this brisk and sunny spring day?