Having The Cowboy's Baby

Cordero suddenly grinned and she felt her stomach flutter as though she’d just swallowed a hummingbird.

“Actually, I thought your father’s idea was a good one. I’d like for the two of us to make a trip to New Orleans. I’d planned on going anyway before I left for Texas and it would be far more enjoyable to have your company.”

He was as smooth as water on a windless night, Anne-Marie thought, and just as enticing. If she ever really let her guard down around him, she’d be totally lost.

Trying not to dwell on that danger, she said, “We’ll see. Right now we’d better go home. Darcella is waiting to serve supper.”

He silently complied by taking her arm and leading her out of the double doors. By now darkness had fallen and Anne-Marie felt the confines of the car even more with only the dim lights from the dashboard illuminating the small space between them.

She tried to close her eyes and pretend his long lean body wasn’t there beside her, but his presence was too strong to ignore. The scent of him drifted to her, reminding her of wide-open ranges, sagebrush and wild mustangs. It was a scent that called to her senses and all she could think about was the feel of his lips upon hers, the warm touch of his fingers on her arm.

The practical part of her wished that he’d never kissed her, but the woman in her was still swooning, still wondering what it would be like if he were to take her into his arms and really kiss her with desire. It was indecent of her to think such things. She didn’t even know the man. Only a few hours had passed since she’d first laid eyes on him. Yet something about him had stirred up ashes in her that she’d believed were stone-cold. She had to find her will to resist.

“I’m not a doctor, but I thought your father looked pretty good.”

Cordero’s comment jerked Anne-Marie out of her erotic thoughts. “Yes, I thought so, too. His doctor says he doesn’t think this little flare-up is anything to be concerned about. I think he’s just taking extra precautions with my father’s health.”

What would she think, he wondered, if she knew Jules had purposely put himself in the hospital so it would force her to play hostess to Cordero? She’d really think the man had gone senile. But Cordero had no intention of giving away his friend’s secret. It would be no gain to any of them and only cause worse feelings all around. “I’m glad,” he said. “Your father is a great guy. He’s always laughing and full of jokes.”

His remark surprised her. Most young men didn’t have time or patience when it came to dealing with the older generation. Some of them only feigned respect for their elders. Like Ian, she thought bitterly. He couldn’t have cared less about her father. And she’d been stupid for believing that he’d loved Jules anymore than he’d loved her. The guy had only cared about two things. Himself and money.

“Father has always been full of life. Even after Mama died he managed to hold himself together and find joy in other things. I realize he wants me to be more fun-loving, like him. But I’m just not made that way.”

Cordero had known for a long time that Jules was a widower. He’d not thought much about that until he’d met Anne-Marie. She was young. Her mother couldn’t have been very old when she’d passed away. And the fact that the two of them had prematurely lost their mothers connected him to her in a way he’d never expected.

“How long has your mother been gone?” he asked.

“Sixteen years. I was ten at the time. She died quite suddenly from an aneurysm. For a long time after that Father couldn’t bear to look at the horses. You see, they belonged to Mama. She rode all the time.”

Cordero heard something more than sadness in her voice; a tinge of bitterness edged her words. It made him wonder exactly what sort of relationship she’d had with her mother. Or maybe she was angry with God for taking away her parent? Maybe losing her mother had more to do with her not entering a convent than her broken affair? He could only guess.

“And now it’s just you and your father?” he asked quietly. “You don’t have any siblings?”

Anne-Marie shook her head. “No. I was an only child and Father was never interested in remarrying.”

“Neither is mine.”

He could feel her blue eyes on his face and he darted another glance at her.

“Your mother is dead, too?” she asked with surprise.

Cordero nodded. “Seven years ago. Complications from diabetes. She was only fifty-six.”

“Oh. Then you know how it feels to have a parent gone.”

His throat grew so tight that for a moment all he could do was manage a nod. He’d been very close to his mother, far closer than his older brother, Matt, or his sister, Lucita. Which seemed strange whenever he thought about it. He was a replica of his father, who had a magic hand with a horse and had taught Cordero everything he knew about raising the animals. Cordero was also like Mingo in the fact that he loved a pretty woman’s company and considered life something to be enjoyed rather than endured. He loved and respected his father, who was thankfully alive and well today. But his mother still lived like the warm glow of a candle in his heart. And after seven years without her, he missed her. Really missed her.

“Yeah. It’s tough,” he murmured. “Damn tough.”

He could feel her regarding him with a thoughtful eye, but she didn’t say more about his mother. Cordero was glad. He didn’t want to dwell on that part of his past.

Reaching across the seat, he folded his hand around hers. “Let’s not think about such sad things. I want to enjoy these next few days and I hope you’ll enjoy them with me.”

His fingers were warm, the skin hardened with calluses. She tried not to think how they would feel sliding across her naked skin or cupping her breasts, but the images wouldn’t budge from her mind. Her whole body flushed with heat as she swallowed and turned her head toward the passenger window.

“I’m not a fun sort of woman, Cordero. I’m afraid you’re going to end up being very bored during your stay at Cane’s Landing.”

His fingers tightened on hers. “Maybe I can teach you how to have a little fun.”

Anne-Marie wasn’t about to ask him what sort of fun he had in mind. The man was already putting sinful thoughts in her head. She didn’t need any more added to them. And as for having fun, she wasn’t at all sure she’d ever known how to enjoy herself as other young women seemed to do. From the time of her mother’s death, she’d viewed life as a serious journey. Even her relationship with Ian had been slowly and carefully entered into, one step at a time.

She still hadn’t replied to his suggestive words when the footlights illuminating the turnoff to Cane’s Landing came into view. Glad for any reason to ease her hand from beneath his, she motioned toward the entrance leading off the left side of the blacktop road. “There’s our turnoff.”

The drive up the tree-lined lane to the house took less than two minutes. Once they were out of the car, Cordero offered her his arm for the walk through the dark shadows between the garage and the house. Anne-Marie realized that touching him, for any reason, was not something she should do. But he was being a gentleman and it wasn’t his fault that her senses went haywire around him, so she curled her arm through his and rested her hand on his strong forearm.

As they passed Cordero’s truck, Anne-Marie suggested that it might be a good time to get his bags. After he pulled out two leather duffel bags, he offered her his arm again and they made their way into the house.

Darcella met them in the front room. The cook was a tall, big-boned woman with graying brown hair that was cut in a pixie style that framed her round face. Her wide smile seemed to deepen as she spotted Anne-Marie’s arm looped through Cordero’s. Anne-Marie knew that Darcella had been initially shocked when she’d first met the Texas rancher. Both women had expected Jules’s friend to be much closer to his age. That assumption couldn’t have been more off base.

“How was Mr. Jules?” the cook asked. “Feeling better?”

Anne-Marie sighed as she slipped her arm from Cordero’s and moved away from his side. “He seemed full of life,” she told the woman. “In fact, I think he looked better than he has in months.”

“Oh. That’s good. Real good. Maybe he’ll get to come home soon.”

“We’re all hoping that, Darcella.” Anne-Marie walked across the room and placed her handbag on a small table.

Behind her, Darcella said, “Well, I’ve left a tray of drinks out on the back porch. I thought you two would like to unwind before I serve supper.”

Walking back to the center of the room, Anne-Marie glanced from Darcella to Cordero then back again. She wanted to tell the cook that there was no need to make a big deal out of this supper. She didn’t want Cordero to get the impression that she was going out of her way to entertain him. But if she urged Darcella to leave, it would only look as if she wanted to be alone with the man.

Stifling a groan, she turned to Cordero and tried to smile. “Darcella has gone to a lot of trouble to make mint juleps for us tonight.”

“Sounds great.” He looked at the cook and gave her a conspiring wink. “Darcella, if you’re not a married woman, you need to come to the Sandbur sometime and meet our cook. Juan’s a little older than you but he’s single and he loves to dance. He makes a mean margarita, too.”

Darcella giggled in a way that Anne-Marie had never heard before.

“I might just do that some time, Mr. Sanchez. Especially if Anne-Marie would come with me.”

Cordero turned a suggestive look to Anne-Marie, who quickly cleared her throat and changed the subject completely.

“Come on,” she invited. “I’ll show you to your room. After you’ve had a chance to freshen up, we’ll go to the porch for those drinks.”

She started toward a long, curving staircase and Cordero picked up his bags and followed. As he climbed one step behind her, he allowed his gaze to swing around the massive room below. The large area was lit with only two small lamps, but even in the semidarkness he could see the rich antique furniture typical of the antebellum period. The walls were covered with heavy paper printed with trailing vines and some sort of maroon flower. The balustrade along the staircase and the upstairs landing was made of polished cypress and smelled faintly of lemon wax. The only sound to be heard was the faint ticking of a tall, grandfather clock.

This afternoon, when Anne-Marie had shown him into the parlor, he’d gotten the feeling that he’d stepped back in time. Now, as he followed her up through the dark quietness, that same sensation hit him again.

Once they reached the landing, she walked to the end and pushed open a door on her right. “I hope you’ll find the room agreeable. Verbena, our maid, made sure there were fresh towels and washcloths in the bath.” She pointed to a door in the far corner of the room. “But if you need anything else, just let me know.”