Baby at his Door

“I don’t have one. I do a lot of work with charities.”

Great, no marketable skills. He sighed. She appealed to him, he should be getting farther away from her, but instead…

“I have some filing that needs to be done at the office. You can work for me until your car is ready. I’ll pay for your repairs and give you room and board. Sound good?”

“Don’t you have to get some sort of approval for that?”

Yes, but that was his worry not hers. “Don’t you ever stop arguing?”

She grinned at him, looking like an impish fairy for a brief moment. “No, I don’t.”

“Somehow I suspected that.”

“I really appreciate all you’re doing for me.”

“No problem. Let me get your luggage loaded in the back of the truck and we’ll head home.”

“Don’t you need to stay here?”

“Nah, my deputy needs the experience of writing up paperwork.”

Despite her evasive answers, he wanted her like hell on fire. Damn, he should have let her go to the motel, but he couldn’t let her stay in a lonely motel room. As ridiculous as it seemed, he wanted to watch over her while she slept.

Lydia woke in a dark room. The deep and steady sound of someone else’s breathing alarmed her. Where was she?

The window was open and the curtain billowed gently in the breeze. There were foreign sounds, cicadas, grasshoppers and the lowing of cows filling the air. Not like Manhattan.

The pillow beneath her head was firm, not the cloud-like softness of her own goose-down pillow. The sheets were cotton, and she seemed to be wearing some sort of sleep shirt with buttons.

She sat up, trying to identify the other person in the room. A familiar scent assailed her. Woodsy and masculine. An aftershave that was familiar to her but not her father’s.

“Lydia? Are you awake?”

The sheriff, Evan. The events of the night rushed back to her. She’d been in a wreck and instead of doing the smart thing and telling the truth, she’d concocted a story to cover herself. And not much of one at that.

For the first time since her father had made public his intention to buy her a husband six months ago she felt free.

She shrugged aside the feelings of melancholy and vulnerability and savored instead her newfound freedom.

The neon glow of the clock on the nightstand said six-fifteen. The second time she’d wakened, she thought. The first time he’d awakened her, and it had been vague and annoying because she was so tired.

This man wanted nothing from her. He didn’t care that she had a large sum of money tied to her. His concern for her safety came from the genuine goodness inside him. He was a tough-looking character, but he had a good heart. She’d noticed that not only in the way he’d dealt with her, but also in how he interacted with the other professionals at the accident scene.

“Yes, Sheriff, I am.”

He made a tsking sound and walked over to the bed. A click and then the bedside light was on. “I thought we agreed you’d call me Evan?”

He looked rumpled and sleepy, and she wanted to open her arms, pull back the covers and invite him to rest his weary body next to hers. Some deep primal instinct made her want to comfort him. “You’re right—Evan.”

“That’s better,” he said, caressing her cheek.

His touch sent shivers of awareness coursing through her veins. The electric pulses were the forerunners of desire, Lydia thought, with no small shock. She’d never felt desire before this evening. Never wanted a man to linger when he caressed or kissed her. She enjoyed the touch and resented its loss when Evan pulled back.

“I’m going to have to head out soon to start the morning chores before going into town. You can take today off and start that job at the office tomorrow. My father will wake you in two hours to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

He liked to give orders, Lydia realized.

“Yes, sir,” she said, with a tinge of disrespect.

“Does your mouth ever get you into trouble?” he asked.

“Not anything I can’t handle,” she said, feeling flirty from his touch. Would he caress her again if she sat up? Could she tempt him into kissing her?

She sat, letting the top sheet drop to her waist. His gaze skimmed down her body lingering over the curve of her breast before he looked away.

“I’m sure,” he said, walking to the door.

“Evan.”

He glanced back over his shoulder; cloaked as he was in the shadows spilling from the opening doorway, his expression was inscrutable.

“Sorry.”

He crossed back to her, taking her shoulders in his hands, he leaned her back against the pillow. He pulled the sheet up to her neck, and his hands lingered on her body. She wanted to wriggle around and bring his touch closer to the aching parts of her body.

“Don’t tease me, Lydia. I’ll take what you’re offering and give you back passion like you’ve never found before.”

“I wasn’t teasing.”

“What were you doing?”

“I don’t know. But your touch…”

“Yes?”

“Your touch is like the sweetest imported chocolate I’ve ever had. One that I savored for months, coming back time and again for a tiny lick. I wanted one more lick.”

“Not right now,” he said.

“No, not right now,” she agreed.

He walked to the door again. Just as he stepped into the hallway, she leaned up on her elbow. “Evan, I don’t think I’ll be satisfied with just one lick.”

“Neither will I,” he said and disappeared.

“There’s a woman in the house.”

Evan didn’t look up from putting his tack away. “Yes, Dad, there is.”