Blame It On Babies

“How’s your head feeling?”

“I’ll live.”

“I hope so.” She smiled up at him. “I didn’t know if I should take you to the hospital. I’d be glad to drive you home now if you’ll tell me where you live.”

He frowned and felt the back of his neck, then looked around the curtainless living room. Boxes were stacked neatly against the walls and the wood floor was bare. “Are you coming or going?”

“I just moved in,” she said, and would have explained about her aunt and her job and probably blabbed the complete unabridged story of her life, but Jess began to sway again. She caught him before he toppled over, then hurried him to the bedroom off the living area, a room she hadn’t had a chance to paint, and the only bed in the tiny house. Thank goodness she’d had time to make it this morning before leaving for the park.

“Sorry,” he managed to say. “The wedding—the whiskey—” He stared at her as she pushed him backward against the pillows. “Funny hair,” he muttered, touching one of the loose tendrils that had fallen on her cheek when she bent over. “Who are you?”

“Lorna,” she replied. “And we may have to go to the hospital after all to get your head examined.”

He grinned at her, making him look devilishly handsome and causing Lorna’s heart to beat a tiny bit faster. “Honey, do I look crazy to you?”

He looked as if he belonged there, was her first thought. And then she caught herself. “You look like a man who has had too much to drink. Sleep it off and I’ll drive you home later.”

“Home,” he repeated, then yawned. “Good idea,” was the last thing he said before leaning back against the pillows and closing his eyes.

Lorna watched him for a moment and then decided he was asleep and would likely stay that way until she woke him to take him home. And she’d wake him, all right, as soon as she scrubbed off the barbecue sauce and washed her hair. She may have had a big crush on Jess Sheridan, star football player of the Marysville Marauders, when she was thirteen. She may have worshipped the rugged sheriff’s deputy who didn’t give her a speeding ticket the first day she got her driver’s license, and she may have even secretly hoped that Jess wouldn’t marry snippy Sue Miller, who didn’t deserve him, and instead would notice that the girl down the street had grown up.

But she didn’t expect him to remember her, even if tonight he was actually in her bed. Aunt Carol would roll over in her grave at the very idea, since the elderly woman hadn’t exactly thought a whole lot of men and had held very loud opinions on the kind of women who took men into their beds before their wedding days.

“Well, Aunt Carol,” Lorna explained aloud as she headed toward the bathroom, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t know what else to do with him.”

HIS OWN SNORING woke him up. That, and the pain throbbing at the back of his neck. Jess opened his eyes and expected to be in his motel room, but his motel room didn’t smell like vanilla and hadn’t been shared with a woman. And there was definitely a woman curled up in the bed beside him. He was afraid to move for fear of waking her up, but his eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness and he saw a faint light at the other end of the room that he hoped led to a bathroom.

He lifted the sheet and saw that he was fully dressed, which only added to his confusion. When he slid out of the bed, he knocked over his boots. The noise didn’t appear to bother the woman, though. She lay curled away from him, long curly hair covering most of her face, her body relaxed and quiet.

Jess managed to find the bathroom and, realizing he smelled like someone had spilled booze all over him, took advantage of the pink-tiled shower and some vanilla-scented soap. He found mouthwash on the counters, towels in a narrow closet behind the door, and aspirin in the medicine cabinet above the sink. And since he didn’t know where he was and didn’t particularly care about it in the middle of the night, Jess went back to the bedroom—and found the sleeping woman sprawled across his side of the bed.

Who was she? He remembered a wedding. Jake’s wedding. But he was a little fuzzy about the rest of the day and night leading up to being in bed with a beautiful blonde. He wasn’t sure whether or not to untie the pink bath towel from around his waist and climb into bed with her, or if he should put his clothes back on and get the hell out of town.

If he knew what town he was in. The throbbing in his head lessened, but Jess figured he was better off staying where he was, which—before he woke—was in bed with Blondie here, if he could get back into it without waking her up.

His body definitely awakened the moment he touched her. Oh, he didn’t mean to make getting into bed an erotic experience, but he couldn’t explain that to the part of his body that reacted the moment he kneeled on the bed and attempted to scoot Blondie over a couple of inches. She moved easily, curling on her side again. She wore something soft, something with little flowers on it, and her arms were bare.

And her skin was soft. So soft that Jess dropped his towel on the floor and decided that the woman—whoever she was—must have invited him here, into her bed, and he damn well was not putting his jeans back on. He’d be a gentleman—or die trying—but he wasn’t going to be uncomfortable. He’d never be able to get his pants over his erection now anyway.

Jess adjusted the pillows, slid under the soft, clean sheet and tried to get comfortable in the small bed. Trouble was, the woman’s bottom curved against his thigh. And he had no place for his right hand, unless he put it over his head.

It wasn’t easy to relax, and when the woman turned over and pressed her nose into his rib cage, relaxing became downright impossible.

“Honey,” he muttered, lowering his arm in an attempt to move her before she tickled him again. His fingers touched soft curls and ended up brushing them off her face. And what a face. Skin as soft as flower petals, delicate bone structure, lips soft against his body. Jess didn’t know what to do with her, but his body was sure trying to explain it to him.

Selfish bastard. His ex-wife’s words mocked him. Was it selfish to seduce a sleeping woman? He’d tried it—once—with Sue and had been thoroughly chewed out for it the next morning. No, he decided, removing his hand from Blondie’s silky hair. He’d keep his hands—and his erection—to himself unless this woman woke up and told him—

“Nice,” she said, and kissed him right above the rib he’d broken when, as a seven-year-old, he had fallen off a horse he wasn’t supposed to ride. His rib had never felt better than when her mouth touched it. In fact, Jess thought his headache disappeared, too. Along with his reluctance.

He turned slowly onto his side, wishing she’d awaken. Hoping that when she opened her eyes she wouldn’t look shocked and start screaming. She snuggled against him, her hand going around his waist, her elbow grazing what was rapidly becoming painfully aroused.

“Honey,” he tried, wishing he could remember her name.

“Mmm,” was all she said, lifting her face to his. Nope, her eyes were still closed. Maybe she liked to have sex with her eyes closed, he speculated. If so, he was more than ready to oblige. So he bent down and kissed her. Those full lips of hers were warm and obliging, so he kept kissing her. He moved closer, his thighs against her cotton-covered body. She didn’t seem to mind, even seemed to be enjoying it, so Jess moved his free hand to the dip of her waist, and then to her nicely rounded thigh, to take the hem of her gown and lift it above her waist. Then he ran his hand along the curve of satiny skin and resisted the urge to take her right then. He didn’t want to rush.

He hadn’t had a woman in over a year. And he certainly didn’t anticipate beginning a hot sex life when he arrived in Huntsville Monday, so Jess wanted to slowly and thoroughly make love to this sweet thing as if she was the last woman he’d have in a long, long time.

And she didn’t seem to mind, either, come to think of it, when he lifted his lips from her mouth and down to her neck. He moved the nightgown higher, to expose one lovely shadowed breast to the dim light of the room. He couldn’t resist cupping it with his hand, tasting the budded tip with his tongue, gently urging the woman onto her back so he could give the other breast the same attention. He heard her moan, and her fingers smoothed his shoulders and tickled his neck. He lifted his head and saw her smile, her eyes still closed. But he knew she was awake, or awake enough to know that he was making love to her now.

“Jess?” she whispered, and he surprised himself with how relieved he was that she knew his name, knew who was in her bed.

“Yes, honey,” he replied, but her body tempted him once again, so he kissed a trail to her belly button, and lower. She was sweet and responsive when he touched her with his fingers, and when he eased her thighs apart and tasted her with his lips and tongue, he felt her shiver and heard her sigh. And wanted to be inside of her more than he wanted to breathe.

So Jess eased alongside of her and, as they lay facing each other, he fitted himself against her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, slid one leg over his, and welcomed him inside of her. He thought he’d died and gone to heaven—a heaven where a passionate woman wanted to make love with him.

Jess took his time, moving in and out slowly. Then deeper, testing to see if his length would hurt her. If anything, she seemed to want more of him, lifting her mouth to his to kiss him while they were joined together. He cupped her buttocks, holding her tightly against him as he took her again and again, until Jess wondered if he would ever want to do anything else but be inside of her. At the same time her breath caught, he felt the contractions of her climax and she made the tiniest of sounds against his mouth. That was all he needed to push him over the edge and when he came, it was for longer than he’d thought was humanly possible.

Much later, when dawn lightened the room and he slipped out of the bed to find his clothes, Jess made his escape. The woman was still asleep and Jess knew that, despite drinking too much last night, he’d managed to wind up in bed with Texas Tom’s waitress. How that happened, he didn’t remember, but he knew he wasn’t going to stick around to find out. He had a job to get to. And, besides, women were never as nice to him in the morning as they were at night.

3

“SHERIDAN’S BACK,” Lorna heard someone at the counter announce. “Carter said he walked into the sheriff’s office late last night and moved his stuff in.”

“Where’s he been?”

“Workin’ over in Huntsville, I heard. He was pretty broken up about that divorce,” another man added. “Had to leave town, y’know, ’cuz she ran off with—who’d she run off with?”

No one answered, which Lorna found a little disappointing. She would have liked to know exactly what happened to Jess’s marriage and why. She waited for someone to mention whether or not he had children, but no one offered the information.

“I heard he’s renting a place from Jackson.”

“Nah,” came another opinion. “He won’t live in town. He’ll go out to his place and start ranchin’ again.”

“I thought his wife got the ranch,” someone added. “You know, in the divorce.”

“She sold it,” another retired cowboy declared. “She always was a hard one to like, but she was a good looker, all right.”

Lorna picked up the coffee carafe and turned to refill cups along the counter. Ten stools, ten men, ten coffee cups. And one topic of conversation: the return of Jess Sheridan. Her hand shook a little as she made her way down the counter. She’d hoped Jess Sheridan would walk back into her life; she’d prayed he wouldn’t. It just depended on the day. And the weather. And how much her feet hurt.

“You okay, Lorna?” one of the older men asked. “Maybe you should rest a little.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, not much for sympathy. “You make your bed, you lie in it,” was another one of her mother’s maxims. Lorna figured she’d made herself quite a complicated bed, all right. And she would lie in it without complaining.

“Can we get some more cream in here?” the next guy asked, pushing the stainless steel creamer toward her.

“Sure.” She finished refilling the mugs, replenished the cream, rang up two transactions on the cash register and glanced out the window three times, but saw no one or nothing of any interest. January in Beauville wasn’t exactly the busy season, and the breakfast rush was over. She enjoyed her job at the Coffee Pot Café. The customers were, for the most part, a pleasant and undemanding group. Her boss believed in serving good food, kept the place spotless and didn’t mind when Lorna took a few minutes to rest whenever she grew tired.

She glanced at the clock above the door and saw that it was almost ten o’clock. There would be some time to sit down before the lunch rush began.