Maybe, Baby

Literally.

“I don’t suppose guest status could be extended indefinitely?” he asked.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Jenna leveled a warning look at the others around the table. “You’re not exactly family, although I certainly hope you’ll come to feel as comfortable with us all as if you were.”

He looked down at what he was holding and prayed that would never happen.

“Come here, sweetie.” Nora scooped up the baby and settled it against her. “Mama will take care of you.”

Its little face peeked over Nora’s shoulder, taunting him.

Burke picked up his fork and regarded it with a frown. He seemed to have lost his appetite.

Bloody hell.

AFTER DINNER Nora had faced a quiet consultation with Will, who was worried about the worsening driving conditions, followed by a brief argument with Jenna, who didn’t approve of the sleeping arrangements. Now she stood shivering in the amber band of light streaming from the back porch, having second thoughts about her stubborn defense of her impromptu invitation.

Ashley howled in protest as Burke lifted her carrier into the tight rear cab area of Nora’s pickup truck and wedged it into the car seat base. He cracked the back of his head on the low door frame as he backed out.

“Ouch,” she said.

“That’s my line, isn’t it?” He rubbed his head, frowning at the truck as Ashley continued to fuss. “Where did you get this?”

“I bought it from a cowpoke in Dillon who’d had a run of bad luck in a poker game.”

Burke lowered his hand and stared at her.

“Okay,” she said with a grin. “I made up the part about the poker.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He hunched his shoulders against a gust of snow-flecked wind. “It was the only part of the story that made any sense.”

“It’s a good little truck. Not much to look at, but dependable.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he muttered as he crunched across the snow toward his SUV.

Ashley’s cries grew in volume during the winding drive along the narrow ranch road and the creek bridge, and by the time the cabin’s lights winked into view through a stand of naked aspens, she’d worked herself into a tearful temper.

Burke pulled into a space beside the truck and waited while Nora unstrapped the carrier from the cab.

“Is she always like this?” Burke’s expression was set in a stoic cast as he pulled a suitcase and garment bag from the back of his car.

“She’s hungry.”

“She just ate.”

“Babies need to eat every few hours. Round the clock.”

With Ashley complaining loudly, Nora gave Burke a quick tour of the compact cabin and handed him linens to make up a bed in one of the available rooms. She rearranged the clutter in the bathroom they’d share, clearing a spot for his things, and then she excused herself to see to the baby’s needs.

She settled with a sigh into the big rocker she’d dragged into the cabin’s largest bedroom and tried to lose herself in the peace of the moment, to be thankful for her daughter and to appreciate her good fortune as she always did during their quiet times together. But tonight her thoughts returned to the men in orbit around her, each exerting a gravitational force of his own. Ken, the ex-husband who’d been so entranced by his celebrity fiancée but disappointed with his working-actress wife. Fitz, the superstar friend with the supersized heart who’d offered her shelter.

And Burke, the tall, dark and brooding man unpacking his bags in the small room next door.

The long evening had exhausted Ashley, and she drifted to sleep as she nursed. Nora gently lowered her into the crib and bent to kiss her good-night. Then she slipped out of her clothes and pulled on a practical flannel gown and a splashy silk robe, bracing herself to deal with whatever Burke might decide to discuss this evening.

She found him standing in the middle of the open front room, staring at the laptop in his hands with a frown.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Do you have a printer?”

“A printer?”

“For your computer.”

“I don’t have a computer.”

“And I suppose that means you don’t know whether or not you have an Internet connection.”

“No,” she said with a shrug. “Sorry.”

He closed his eyes and squeezed at the bridge of his nose, knocking his glasses askew. “I can probably rig something up with my cell phone.”

“I don’t think that’ll work here.”

“Why not?”

“My cell works fine at the main ranch house. But this cabin seems to be tucked into some little pocket that doesn’t get any reception. Don’t worry, I have a regular phone,” she added quickly.

“But no cell reception.”

“That’s not a problem, is it?”

“No. No problem,” he said, although the way his jaw clenched around the words told her he was lying through his gritted teeth.

“All settled in, then?” She opened the woodstove and lit the kindling. “Do you have everything else you need?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She glanced over her shoulder, waiting for him to say more—perhaps to thank her for a fourth time—but he stood very still, staring at the fire.