Karen Smith - The Baby Trail

As she opened the door to Garrett, common sense flew out the proverbial window. He was a hottie, plain and simple. She was attracted to him, plain and simple. She would watch every step she made, plain and simple. Tonight he wore gray dress slacks with a western-cut white shirt and a bolo tie. Her surprise must have shown.

“I clean up now and then,” he said with a dark sardonic smile that fired up the quick thrill of excitement running through her at seeing him. “I had a meeting in Cody.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” she admitted, her cheeks hot. “Come on in,” she said quickly to cover her embarrassment.

When she’d gotten home from work, she’d made a chocolate bundt cake. It was sitting in a cake holder on her table with powdered sugar sprinkled across the top. She hadn’t baked for herself.

“Would you like some coffee? I have chocolate cake, too, if you’re interested.”

Stopping short of her kitchen, he seemed to weigh whether he wanted to accept her offer or not. “I grabbed supper at a fast-food restaurant before I left Cody. But chocolate cake is hard to turn down.”

“Is that a yes? The coffee’s fresh, I made it with supper. It’s Kona,” she added, nonchalantly, knowing that would be an additional enticement for a coffee lover.

“Where did you get Kona here?”

“I have my sources.” As she gathered dishes from the cupboard and silverware from the drawer, she motioned to her mug tree. “Go ahead and pour yourself a cup. I’ll cut the cake.”

When she removed the glass cover, he looked at the cake and then glanced at her. “Did you bake that for tonight?”

She could say she always had baked goods around to nibble on, but that would be a lie. “Yes. Most men like chocolate.”

At her elbow, he capped her shoulder. “Gwen—”

“Look, it was no trouble. If you won’t let me pay you, I have to reimburse you somehow. A snack just seemed hospitable.”

Before, when she’d been close to Garrett, she’d caught the scent of man and the outdoors. Now she noticed his cologne. It was lime and musky and compelling…just as he was. His gray eyes seemed heated with an inner fire as he studied her. She wondered if they were both thinking about lips touching, tongues entwining, sex in the dark of night. His beard line was shadowed now at the end of the day. To her dismay she realized how much she’d like to touch it…how much she’d like to feel it on her skin.

Although the fire in his eyes wasn’t banked, his tone was neutral as he shifted slightly away from her and asked, “Do you have Amy’s clothes?”

The mention of the infant made her take a resigned breath and remember exactly why he was here. This wasn’t a tea party…or a coffee party.

Motioning to the cake, she suggested, “Go ahead and cut yourself a slice while I get them.”

When she would have stepped away, she heard him mutter, “Oh, hell.”

The next moment, his hand was on her shoulder, he was bending his head, and his lips came down hard on hers.

Garrett’s lips were as hot as the sizzle of attraction between them. Gwen’s hand rested against his chest, and she ran her fingers up the placket of his shirt to the taut skin of his neck. His hair was shaggy over his collar, thick and coarse. When his tongue slid into her mouth, the erotic sensation of it almost made her gasp. The hunger and desire in his kiss fired a like hunger and desire in her. Her last coherent thought was a simple one—this is pure chemistry.

When his tongue danced with hers, time was suspended and she practically melted at his feet. The passion blooming inside of her was overwhelming, and she wondered why it had lain dormant all her life until this moment.

However, as quickly as Garrett had decided to kiss her, he decided to stop kissing her.

Thank goodness his hands were on her shoulders to steady her or she might have collapsed. With a monumental effort, she took a step away from him, testing the steadiness of her knees.

“Wow!” She didn’t know exactly what else to say and that seemed to say it all.

On his part, Garrett didn’t seem to be as affected as she was. In fact…

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

He looked so composed she wanted to beat on his chest and ask him, Wasn’t that just the best kiss you ever had? She’d never experienced anything like it with Mark…or anyone else. However, just because Garrett had turned her kitchen upside down for her didn’t mean she’d done the same to him.

“Why not?” she blurted out. “Are you involved with someone?” That wouldn’t be a first. Men were notorious for wanting to sample greener grass…or nostalgic grass. Not a month after she and Mark had broken up, she’d learned he was dating his former girlfriend. Had they been in touch while he and Gwen were engaged? When they had talked after his defection, Mark had denied that anyone else had been involved. But he had gotten married six months later, so Gwen suspected otherwise.

“No, I’m not involved,” Garrett snapped. “And I don’t intend to be involved. That’s the point.”

His blunt assessment put her in her place. “I see,” she murmured. “That’s good. Because I don’t want to be involved, either. Your cologne must have fogged my brain.” Then before he could comment on that bit of nonsense, she turned away and headed for the living room. “I’ll get the clothes.”

Her hands trembled slightly as she went to the rolltop desk and lifted the lid. Garrett followed her, obviously forgetting about cake and coffee. To her dismay, her shoulder grazed his as she turned around. He was too big, too close, and too intense. Obviously too emotionally unavailable.

When she couldn’t find anything else to add to the mental list of reasons why she shouldn’t get involved with him, she thrust the grocery bag toward him. “Here.”

Eyeing her as if he wanted to ask her about something, yet didn’t want to deal with her answers after the asking, he took the white grocery bag. Spilling the contents, he first examined the blanket including the tag sewn into the hem. After he laid that across the top of the desk chair, he looked over the terry playsuit. Setting that aside, he studied the tiny knitted sweater and cap.

As he fingered them, he asked, “Do you know anything about yarn?”

She blinked. “Yarn?”

“This doesn’t look and feel like the usual acrylic.”

Taking the sweater fabric between her fingers herself, she noticed that it indeed didn’t. The yarn was fine, coated by a soft cloudy fuzziness.

“I want to take these along,” he said, stuffing everything back in the bag, plucking the sweater from her hands.

Their fingertips brushed.

When she looked up into Garrett’s eyes, they were turbulent and for the most part, unreadable.

Her doorbell rang and she jumped. That was so not like her. Composure was her middle name. This man shook her up and flustered her and she didn’t like that at all.

“Are you expecting anyone?” he asked.

“No. But it could be Kylie or Shaye. We drop in on each other.” Then glad to put some space between them, she went to her door and opened it.

Her father stood there.

“Hi, Dad. This is a surprise.” She stepped back so he could come inside.

When he did, she studied him for the telltale signs he’d fallen off the wagon. It was a habit with her.

To her relief he was dressed neatly in jeans and a denim jacket. His eyes were clear. With his burnished red hair streaked with gray and his blue eyes, he’d once been a charmer and a very handsome man. That was before alcohol, regret and guilt had added lines to his face that had aged him at least ten years. He was fifty-eight now and selling insurance. Although he’d once been an accountant, after Gwen had left and he sobered up, he decided he liked being out and around people.