To Have And To Hold: Made for Marriage / To Wed a Rancher / The Mummy Proposal

Right then, Callie wanted to believe that more than anything.

But to feel again? Where did she get the strength? Ryan’s death had zapped all her resilience. Before that she’d been strong, unafraid, almost invincible.

She was glad when she heard Fiona’s car pull up outside and called for her to join her in the tack room. Only it wasn’t her friend who stood in the doorway a few moments later. It was Noah.

He was back. And he clearly had something on his mind. Callie got to her feet quickly. Her heart pumped. “Did you … did you forget something?”

He stood in the doorway, his eyes locked with hers. “Do you still love him?”

She was poleaxed. “What?”

Noah was in front of her in three steps. “Your fiancé. Do you still love him?”

“He’s dead,” she whispered.

“I know. But that wasn’t the question.” He reached for her, slid one arm around her waist and drew her against him. “The thing is,” he said, holding her firm. “If you still love him, I’ll do my best to stop … to stop wanting you.” His other hand cupped her cheek, gently, carefully. “But if you don’t love him, then I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Her insides contracted. “No,” she said on a breath.

“No?”

“I don’t love him.”

His green eyes darkened as he traced his thumb along her jaw. “Good,” he said softly.

And then he kissed her.

Callie let herself float into the warmth of his mouth against her own. It was a gentle possession, as if he knew her, as if he’d been kissing her forever. Only one other man had kissed her before this, and as she allowed Noah’s lips to part hers, any recollection of that faded and then disappeared. He didn’t do anything else—he just kissed her, like he couldn’t get enough of her mouth, her taste, her tongue.

Instinctively, Callie’s hands moved along his arms and to his shoulders. She touched his hair, felt the silky strands beneath her fingertips and slanted her mouth against his. Finally, when he lifted his head Callie felt so much a part of him she swayed toward his chest. Noah held her still, one hand on her shoulder while the other splayed on her hip and she lifted her chin higher to look into his eyes.

“Noah—I think.” Callie willed herself to move, but found such incredible comfort in his arms she simply couldn’t.

He didn’t let her go, either. “You think too much. How about you stop thinking and just feel?”

Oh, how she wanted to. But her doubts tormented her, taunting around the edges of her mind in a little dance, telling her that taking meant giving. And giving was … giving felt as far out of reach to her as the stars from some distant planet.

He leaned into her, like he knew her fears. “I’d never hurt you, Callie.”

In her heart she knew that. “But … but I might hurt you.”

“I’ll take that risk.” He kissed her again, long and slow and deliciously provocative.

Heat radiated through him, scorching her, and Callie wondered if she might melt. Kissing had never felt like this before. Nothing had ever come close to this. He was strong and safe—a haven for her shattered heart.

When the kiss was over she spoke. “But earlier today you were angry with me.”

“Yes. No. Not angry … just … wanting you and not sure how to reach you.” He touched her face. “Because I do want you Callie … very much.”

She wanted him, too. She wanted more of his touch, more of his mouth, his breath. He gave her what her eyes asked for, kissing her passionately, cradling her against his body.

“Hey, Callie! I’m here for—”

Fiona. Noah released her instantly and she stepped back on unsteady feet. Busted—and by the biggest blabbermouth she knew.

“Oh,” Fiona said so chirpily it had to be a cover for her surprise. “Hey, Noah. So … I’ll just go and make myself invisible.”

Fiona Walsh invisible? Not likely. But to her credit she left the room without another word. Callie looked at Noah. He didn’t look the least bit embarrassed that they’d been caught making out. “I should probably go inside,” she said quietly. “Fiona is here for …”

“Don’t run now.”

She twisted her hands together. Her skin, her lips, the blood in her veins felt more alive than she’d believed possible. “Noah … I’m not ready for someone like you.”

He stood rigid. “Like me?”

Callie exhaled heavily. “You’re like this whole package—like Mr. Perfect.” Suddenly the heat was back in the small room, charging the invisible atoms in the air with a heady pulse.

He laughed humorlessly. “I’m far from perfect.”

Callie crossed her arms. “I mean that I don’t think you’re the kind of man a woman kisses and then forgets. I don’t think you’re the kind of man a woman simply has sex with. I think you’re the kind of man a woman makes love with—and I’m not … I can’t …”

His eyes glittered. “So this isn’t a sex thing?”

Callie blushed wildly. “Well, of course it’s a sex thing. I mean, I’m not denying that I’m attracted to you. It’s obvious I am. It’s not just a sex thing.”

He didn’t move. He stared at her with such burning intensity she had to look away. To the floor. To the side. Anywhere but into his eyes.

Finally, he spoke. “Within minutes of meeting you, Callie, I knew something was happening. I couldn’t figure out what, but I knew it was big. I knew, on some level, that it would change my life. But I can’t afford to be casual about this. I have a responsibility to my kids to keep myself in a good place and to do the right thing by them.”

She took a deep breath as the sting of tears threatened. “That’s just it. I know that about you … I feel that. You have to think about your children, Noah,” she breathed. “And I … I’m not prepared to … I’m not prepared for that.”

His gaze narrowed. “For what, Callie? My kids? Is that what you’re saying?”

Her heart ached. I’m saying I’m not ready to let go yet … I’m not ready to forget my baby son and move on. I’m not ready to fall for you and love another woman’s children.

Her heart contracted. “Yes.” She whispered the word, knowing it would hurt him, knowing she was pushing him away because she was so afraid of all he offered her. “I don’t want a ready-made family.”

Silence screeched between them, like fingernails on a chalkboard.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Well, I guess that’s it, then. I’ll see you next weekend.”

Callie stepped forward. “Noah, I really—”

“There’s no need to explain, Callie,” he said, cutting her off. “I understand what you’re saying. You don’t want my kids. You don’t want me. That’s plain enough. I’ll see you ‘round.”

She waited until he’d left the small room before taking a breath. And as she heard his truck pull away, she burst into tears.

Callie remained in the office for a while, but once her tears were wiped up she returned to the house. Fiona was waiting for her on the porch. Her friend sat on the love seat and held two glasses of wine.