Montana Dreaming: Their Unexpected Family / Cabin Fever / Million-Dollar Makeover

But things weren’t different.

She was expecting a child. And nesting in Thunder Canyon, while Mark couldn’t pack his bags and leave town fast enough. Getting involved with Juliet, romantically speaking, was senseless.

So what kind of fool would be tempted to put the moves on her, even if it was one little kiss?

A jerk of a fool who wasn’t much better than that married attorney who’d jumped her bones when she was just as vulnerable as she was now.

He raked a hand through his hair. “Listen, I’ve got to go back to the Wander-On Inn.”

“Why? I thought you were spending the night here.”

Was she disappointed that he might leave?

Or pleased?

And why, pray tell, should he care either way?

Hell, he really ought to sleep at the inn. Things were way too awkward here. Kissing Juliet had triggered a flight-or-fight response.

She nodded toward the bathroom. “It’s just that you left your shaving kit in there.”

Yeah. He had. Packed, zipped and ready for a fast getaway. He caught her gaze, saw the question in her eyes. The vulnerability.

Oh, God. What if she went into labor? There wouldn’t be anyone with her. And Mark couldn’t take that risk.

“I’ll be right back,” he told her. “I just need to get my laptop so I can do some research on the Internet this evening.”

What a crock that was, but her nod told him she’d bought his explanation.

“Take your time,” she said. “I’ll just leave the door open.”

“I don’t plan to be gone that long.” He just needed a breath of fresh air, a little break. Something he could focus on, other than a casual kiss that didn’t mean anything.

“All right. If I’m not on the sofa, I’ll be reading in my room.”

“I’ll just let myself in.” He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets, then forced a smile before heading downstairs.

But the “meaningless” kiss followed him, taunting him long after he shut the door and sucked in a deep breath of crisp night air.

Several minutes after Mark left, Juliet continued to stare at the closed door, her fingers pressed softly to her lips.

What had just happened?

She wasn’t sure, but it was more than the kiss that had her heart and mind singing. It was her response to it. That and the overwhelming urge to kiss Mark again. To make sure she hadn’t imagined how sweet, how special, how arousing his mouth had been.

Mark’s kiss had been so different from those Erik had given her.

Erik’s mouth and tongue had been urgent, insistent. The kind of kisses that took her a while to warm up to. On the other hand, Mark, who seemed to know exactly what he was doing, had taken things slow and easy.

She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Mark that she’d probably walk across the room for sex. It had been nice with Erik. Pleasant, once she caught up to his speed. But more than the act itself, she’d enjoyed the intimacy. The embrace, the touch of someone she’d cared about. But now Erik’s lovemaking skills paled.

If the promise in Mark’s kiss was an indication of what had been lacking in Erik’s, Juliet suspected making love with Mark might prove to be very special indeed. A stimulating opportunity she’d not only walk across the room for, but, in anticipation, would turn off a perfectly good television show along the way.

But how likely was that?

Her hand slowly dropped to her swollen womb, reminding her to focus on motherhood and the new baby she’d soon hold in her arms.

But if Juliet weren’t pregnant, she might be tempted to find out what Mark knew about pleasuring a lady that Erik hadn’t known.

The next morning, Juliet woke to the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee.

Mark was proving to be an intriguing man, in spite of his cynical nature. The kind of man who made a woman smile when he wasn’t around. The kind of man who provoked dreams of romance.

But Juliet knew better than to let silly romantic notions do anything but drift by the wayside. She and Mark had nothing in common.

So why had she spent so much time thinking about him last night? Dreaming about long, lingering kisses that stirred the blood and made her want to slip on a pair of track shoes so she could sprint across the room for another taste of his lips?

She blew out a sigh and climbed from bed. What was wrong with her? She didn’t have any business thinking about Mark, his kiss or romance.

For goodness’ sake, she was going to be a mother. And if she ever became involved with any one else, it would be with a man who’d make a good husband and father. A man who would take pride in his wife and child while barbecuing in the backyard on Sundays. Someone who held the same family values that she did.

And Mark Anderson, a pessimist who disliked Thunder Canyon and wasn’t concerned over the falling out he’d had with his parents, wouldn’t fit the bill.

Sure, he’d been good to her, a true friend. He’d also been a great listener, although he hadn’t told her very much about himself.

Maybe she ought to quiz him a bit. Find out about the rift he’d had with his parents. Then maybe she could help facilitate a reconciliation.

Families were special.

More than anyone, Juliet knew that. And, if she could get Mark to see the value of a nurturing, loving support system, it would be one way to pay him back for being so good to her.

She slipped on her blue robe and strode into the living area, where he sat at the dinette table, his laptop open, a coffee cup at his side.

“Hey,” he said, offering her a smile. “Sleep okay?”

Not really. She’d stewed for way too long about the kiss they’d shared—so long that she couldn’t get into that book on pregnancy and childbirth she’d picked up at the library last Saturday. But there was no way she’d make a confession like that. “I slept all right. How about you?”

He glanced at the sofa, where the folded blanket rested on his pillow. “Not bad.”

She noticed that he’d taken a shower and shaved. His hair, a bit long and unruly, was still damp. He’d put on a fresh white T-shirt and a pair of worn jeans, but his feet were bare.

He’d made himself at home, which was interesting. Comforting, she supposed.

In the six months she’d dated Erik, he’d never spent the night. Never made a pot of coffee. Never left a shaving kit in her bathroom. She hadn’t thought anything about it at the time. Nor had she realized he’d been holding back on their relationship.

So, in a way, it pleased her to know that Mark had settled in, that he’d slept on the sofa. That he’d felt comfortable enough to take a shower in her bathroom. That he’d carefully put away his things, zipping the small leather bag closed. How neat and thoughtful was that?

With the morning sun at his back, blessing him in a glowing aura, he looked as though he belonged here—in her living room with his work spread out in front of him.