The Maverick's Thanksgiving Baby
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Brenda Harlen
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HarlequinChapter One
July
Jesse Crawford was an idiot. A completely smitten and tongue-tied idiot.
But far worse than that indisputable fact was that Maggie Roarke now knew it, too.
What had ever possessed him to approach her? What had made him think he could introduce himself and have an actual conversation with a woman like her?
While he’d never been as smooth with women as any of his three brothers, he’d never been so embarrassingly inept, either. But being in close proximity to Maggie seemed to rattle his brain as completely as if he’d been thrown from the back of a horse—and that hadn’t happened to him in more than fifteen years.
The first time he saw her, even before he knew her name, he’d been mesmerized. She was tall and willowy with subtle but distinctly feminine curves. Her blond hair spilled onto her shoulders like golden silk and her deep brown eyes could shine with humor or warm with compassion. And her smile—there was just something about her smile that seemed to reach right inside his chest and wrap around his heart. A ridiculously fanciful and foolish idea, of course, and one that he wouldn’t dare acknowledge to anyone else.
It was no mystery to Jesse why a man would be attracted to her, but he was still a little mystified by the intensity of his reaction to her—especially when he didn’t know the first thing about her. The discovery that she was a successful attorney in Los Angeles should have put an end to his ridiculous crush. Experience had proven to him that city girls didn’t adapt well to the country, and there was no way a lawyer—from Hollywood of all places—would be interested in a small-town rancher. But still his long-guarded heart refused to be dissuaded.
He’d come to the official opening of the Grace Traub Community Center today because he knew she would be there, because he couldn’t resist the opportunity to see her again, even from a distance. It had taken the better part of an hour for him to finally summon the courage to introduce himself. And when he did, without muttering or stumbling over words, he felt reassured that things weren’t going too badly.
She offered her hand and, in that brief moment of contact, he’d been certain that he felt a real connection with her. And then she smiled at him, and all his carefully rehearsed words slid back down his throat, leaving him awestruck and tongue-tied and destroying any hope he had of making a good first impression.
He’d almost been grateful that Arthur Swinton intruded on the moment, whisking her away for a private word. Jesse had stood there for another minute, watching her with the older man and wondering if she might come back to finish the conversation they hadn’t even started. But Arthur had no sooner turned away when another man stepped into her path: Jared Winfree—also known as the Romeo of Rust Creek Falls.
The cowboy tipped his head down to talk to her. Maggie smiled at him, though Jesse noticed that her smile didn’t seem to have the same debilitating effect on the other man, who leaned closer for a more intimate discussion. Jesse finally unglued his feet from the floor and walked out of the community center, berating himself for his awkwardness.
His cell phone started ringing before he’d hit the bottom step, and he pulled it out to answer the call. At this point, he didn’t even care who was on the other end of the line—he was grateful for any distraction.
After a brief conversation with Brett Gable, he was feeling marginally better. The local rancher was having trouble with an ornery stallion and wondered if Jesse could take a look at him and let the owner know if he was wasting his time trying to tame the animal or if he just needed to adjust his tactics. Jesse promised that he’d go out to the Gable ranch the next day.
As he tucked his phone away again, he resolved to keep his focus on four-legged creatures and forget about women. Because while horses might not look as good or smell as pretty, they were a lot easier to understand and a lot less likely to trample all over his heart.
Or throw themselves into his arms?
“Whoa.” Jesse caught her gently as she bounced off his chest.
Maggie’s wide, startled gaze locked with his. “I’m so sorry,” she said breathlessly.
“Everything okay?”
She shook her head, an introspective look now competing with the panic in her dark chocolate-colored eyes. “Are you married?”
“What?” He had no idea what thought process had precipitated the question, but he immediately shook his head. “No.”
“Engaged? Involved?”
“No and no,” he said, just a little warily.
“Then I’ll apologize now and explain later,” she told him.
“Apol—”
He’d intended to ask what she thought she needed to apologize for, but that was as far as he got before she lifted her hands to his shoulders and pressed her lips to his.
To say that he was stunned would have been an understatement. But the initial shock was quickly supplanted by other stronger emotions: pleasure, happiness, desire.
He wanted this. He wanted her. As if of their own volition, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him as he kissed her back.
Somewhere in a part of his brain that was still capable of registering anything beyond the heavenly feel of this woman in his arms, he heard the crunch of gravel beneath heavy, impatient footsteps and a frustrated voice muttering, “Where on earth could she have... Maggie?”
The woman in question eased her mouth from his.
There was desire in her eyes—he wasn’t mistaken in that. But there was something else, too—a silent plea?
A plea for what, he didn’t know and didn’t care. Right now, he would have promised her anything. Everything.
She finally turned to look at the other man, and Jesse did the same.
Jared Winfree’s brows were drawn together, his expression dark as he glanced from Maggie to Jesse. “Are you making a move on my woman?”
Since Jesse had no idea how to respond to that question, he was glad that Maggie spoke up.
“I’m not—and never have been—your woman,” she told the Romeo.
But Jared continued to scowl. “We were supposed to be going to grab a bite to eat.”
“No—you offered to take me for a bite to eat and I told you that I already had plans.”
“With this guy?” His tone was skeptical.
She took Jesse’s hand and lied without compunction. “We’ve been dating for the past several months.”
“Then how come I’ve never seen you with him before?” Jared challenged.
“We’ve been trying to keep a low profile and avoid being the topic of gossip,” she said easily.
It was obvious by the stormy look in the other guy’s eyes that he wanted to challenge the claim, but with Maggie’s hand linked with Jesse’s and her lipstick on his mouth, the evidence was pretty convincing.
“When you decide you want a real cowboy, give me a call,” Jared told her, and stormed off in the direction from which he’d come.
Maggie blew out a breath. “Thank goodness.” She released the hand that she’d been holding on to as if it was a lifeline and turned to him. “And thank you.”
“No need to thank me for something that was very much my pleasure,” he assured her.
And the big-city lawyer with the razor-sharp mind and persuasive tongue actually blushed when his gaze dropped to linger on the sweet curve of her lips.
“Do you want me to explain now?” she asked.
“Only if you want to.”
“I feel as if I owe you at least that much.”
Half an hour earlier, he’d barely been able to say two words to her, but locking lips seemed to have loosened his, and he couldn’t resist teasing her a little. “Or you could just kiss me again and we’ll call it even.”
Her mouth curved as she held his gaze, and he knew she was giving his offer serious consideration. “I think, for now, we’ll go with the explanation.”
“Your choice,” he said.
“I met him at the Ace in the Hole a few months back,” she began. “I was there to have lunch with my cousin, Lissa, but before we even had a chance to order, Lissa got called away. I decided to stay and at least finish my coffee, and he slid into the empty seat and introduced himself. He seemed friendly and we chatted for a while, but when he asked for my number, I told him I wasn’t interested in starting anything up with someone in Rust Creek Falls because my life was in Los Angeles.”
Which, Jesse reminded himself, was a fact he’d be wise to remember.
“He seemed to accept that easily enough and said maybe he’d see me around the next time I was in town. And I know Rust Creek Falls isn’t a big city, but every single time I’ve been back since then, I’ve run into him. And every single time, he asks me to go out with him.”
“So why didn’t you just tell him you had a boyfriend in Los Angeles? I got the impression he would have believed that more readily than he believed you were with me.”
“I don’t think he would’ve believed anything without proof—which you’re still wearing,” she said, and lifted a hand to rub her lipstick off the corner of his mouth with her thumb.
And he felt it again—the sizzle and crackle of awareness when she touched him. And when her gaze locked on his, he knew that he wasn’t the only one who had felt it.
“He hit on Lissa, too, when she first came to Rust Creek Falls,” Maggie told him. “Apparently he even started a bar fight with some other guy who asked her to dance.”
“I don’t pay much attention to the gossip around town,” Jesse said. “But I remember hearing about that—both the sheriff and his deputy got punched and two guys got arrested.”
Maggie smiled. “Lissa insisted it wasn’t her fault, but Gage said something about beautiful women being the cause of most trouble at the Ace in the Hole.”
“Then you better stay away from the bar or you might incite a riot.”
Her cheeks colored prettily, as if she hadn’t heard the same thing a thousand times before. And if she hadn’t, he figured there was something seriously wrong with the guys in LA, because Maggie Roarke was a definite knockout.
“So why aren’t you involved with anyone back home?” he asked now.
“How do you know I’m not?” she asked.
“You didn’t kiss me until you’d confirmed that I wasn’t seeing anyone, and I can’t imagine you’d be any less respectful of your own relationship.”
“You’re right,” she acknowledged. “As for not being involved—I guess I’ve just been too busy to do much dating.”
“Until me,” he teased.
She laughed. “Until you.”
The magical sound of her soft laughter filled his heart, and the sparkle in her eyes took his breath away. He didn’t know what else to say—or if he should say anything else at all. Maybe he should just walk away while she was smiling and hopefully not thinking that he was an idiot.
“I really do appreciate your cooperation,” she told him. “If there’s anything I can do to possibly repay the favor, I hope you’ll ask.”
“Well, I was planning to grab a burger at the Ace in the Hole,” he admitted. “And despite the sheriff’s warning to your cousin, I’d be willing to take the risk if you wanted to join me.”
“Are you inviting me to have dinner with you?”
“It would substantiate your claim that we’re dating.”
“The Ace in the Hole?” she said dubiously.
He shrugged. “Since this isn’t your first visit to Rust Creek Falls, you know that our options here are limited.”
Still she hesitated, and Jesse began to suspect that her gratitude didn’t actually extend to the point where she wanted to be seen in public with him. And that was okay. He understood what she’d been saying about small-town gossip, and he really didn’t want to be put under the microscope any more than she did. But damn, he really did want to spend more time with her.
“I could do better than a burger,” she finally said. “I could make dinner.”
“You’d cook for me?”
“Which part surprises you the most—that I can cook or that I’m offering to cook for you?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted.
She laughed again. “At least you’re honest.”
“I guess I just thought, with you being a busy lawyer and all...”
“Lawyers have to eat on occasion, too,” she said, when his explanation ran out.
“Yeah, but I would figure you’ve got a lot of dining options in LA.”
“We do,” she agreed. “But as it turns out, I like to cook. It helps me unwind at the end of the day. So what do you say—are you going to let me make you dinner?”
He was beginning to suspect that he would let Maggie Roarke do absolutely anything she wanted, but he figured dinner was a good start.
“An offer I can’t refuse,” he told her.
* * *
Maggie prided herself on the fact that she was an intelligent, educated woman. She’d graduated summa cum laude from Stanford Law School and was establishing a reputation for herself at Alliston & Blake—a prominent Los Angeles law firm. She’d gone toe-to-toe with formidable opponents in the courtroom, she’d held her ground in front of arrogant judges and she’d refused to be impressed or intimidated by powerful clients. One of her greatest assets was her ability to remain calm and cool whatever the circumstances. She simply didn’t get flustered.
But as Jesse followed her into Gage and Lissa’s kitchen, she was definitely feeling flustered. There was just something about this shy, sexy cowboy that had her heart jumping around in her chest. She opened the refrigerator, peered inside.
“What do you like?” she asked.
He looked at her blankly.
“For dinner,” she clarified.
He flashed a quick smile. “Sorry, I guess my mind wandered. As for food—I’m not fussy. I’ll eat whatever you want to make.”
“Chicken and pasta okay?” she asked him.
“Sure.”
She took a package of chicken breasts out of the fridge, then rummaged for some other ingredients. She found green peppers in the crisper, onions in the pantry and a bowl of ripe tomatoes on the counter. But what she really needed was fresh basil, and Lissa didn’t have any.
“Do you know if they carry fresh herbs at the General Store?”
“I doubt it,” Jesse said. “You’d probably have to go into Kalispell for something like that.”
“I can use dried,” she admitted. “But fresh basil leaves would add a lot more visual appeal to the dish.”
“I’m going to have dinner with a beautiful woman,” he said. “That’s enough visual appeal that I wouldn’t mind if you made macaroni and cheese from a box.”
She felt her cheeks heat. She’d received more effusive compliments, but none had ever sounded as sincere. No one had looked at her the way he looked at her.
“Even without fresh basil, I do think this will be a step up from boxed mac and cheese.”
She filled a pot with water and set it on the back burner, then drizzled some oil into a deep frying pan. While the oil heated, she sliced the chicken into strips and tossed them into the pan. As the chicken was cooking, she chopped up peppers and onions, then added those, too.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“You could open the wine,” she suggested. “There’s a bottle of Riesling in the fridge and glasses in the cupboard above.”
He uncorked the bottle and poured the wine into two crystal goblets.
She dumped the pasta into the boiling water and set the timer, then took the glass he offered.
“To new friendships,” he said, lifting his glass in a toast.
“To new friendships,” she agreed. “And first dates.”
“Is this a date?”
“Of course. Otherwise, I would have lied to Jared.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” he teased.
She added the tomatoes to the frying pan, sprinkled in some of this and that, gave it a stir. Her movements were smooth and effortless, confirming her claim that she enjoyed cooking. Which was convenient, because he enjoyed eating.
Ten minutes later, he was sitting down to a steaming plate of penne pasta with chicken and peppers.
“This is really good,” he told her.
“Better than mac and cheese from a box?”
“Much better.”
They chatted while they ate, about anything and everything. She learned that he worked at his family’s ranch, The Shooting Star, but had his own house on the property, and that he was close to his siblings but was frequently baffled and frustrated by them. She confided that she sometimes felt smothered by her brothers, who tended to be a little overprotective, and admitted that she could have gone to work at Roarke & Associates—her parents’ law firm—but wanted to establish her own reputation in the field.
She had a second glass of wine while he had a second serving of pasta, and they lingered at the table. He was easy to talk to, and he actually listened to what she was saying. As a result, she found herself telling him things she’d never told anyone else, such as her concern that she’d been so focused on her career that she hadn’t given much thought to anything else, and she was starting to wonder if she’d ever find the time to get married and have a family.
Not that she was in any hurry to do so, she hastened to explain. After all, she was only twenty-eight years old. But she was admittedly worried that if she continued on the same course, she might be so focused on her billable hours that she wouldn’t even hear her biological clock when it started ticking.
Jesse told her that he’d gone to Montana State University to study Animal Science, graduating with a four-year degree. As for dating, he confided that he hadn’t done much of that, either, claiming that most of the women in town had gone out with one or more of his brothers and he had no intention of trying to live up to their reputations.
After the meal was finished, he insisted on helping with the cleanup. While she put the dishes into the dishwasher, he washed the pans.
She’d enjoyed spending time with Jesse, and she wasn’t eager for the night to end. He was smart and interesting and definitely easy to look at, and despite the underlying hum of attraction, she felt comfortable with him—or at least she did until he turned to reach for a towel at the same moment that she straightened up to close the door of the dishwasher and the back of his hand inadvertently brushed the side of her breast.
She sucked in a breath; he snatched his hand back.
“I’m so sorry.”
“No, it was my fault.”
But fault was irrelevant. What mattered was that the air was fairly crackling and sizzling with awareness now. And the way he looked at her—his gaze heated and focused—she was certain he felt it, too.
She barely knew him. But she knew she’d never felt the same immediacy and intensity of connection that she felt the minute he’d taken her hand inside the community center only a few hours earlier. But she was a Los Angeles attorney and he was a Rust Creek cowboy, and she knew that chemistry—as compelling as it might be—could not bridge the gap between them.
And Jesse had obviously come to the same conclusion, because he took a deliberate step back, breaking the threads of the seductive web that had spun around them. “I should probably be on my way.”
“Oh.” She forced a smile and tried to ignore the sense of disappointment that spread through her. “Okay.”
She followed him to the door.
He paused against the open portal. “Thanks again for dinner.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “And if you ever need a fictional girlfriend to get you out of a tight spot, feel free to give me a call.”
He lifted a hand and touched her cheek, the stroke of his fingertips over her skin making her shiver. “I don’t want a fictional girlfriend, but I do want to kiss you for real.”
She wasn’t sure if he was stating a fact or asking permission, but before she could respond, he’d lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.
She might have caught him off guard when she’d pressed her lips to his outside of the community center, but it hadn’t taken him long to respond, to take control of the kiss. This time, he was in control right from the beginning—she didn’t have a chance to think about what he was doing or brace herself against the wave of emotions that washed over her.
For a man who claimed he didn’t do a lot of dating, he sure knew how to kiss. His mouth was warm and firm as it moved over hers, masterfully persuasive and seductive. Never before had she been kissed with such patient thoroughness. His hands were big and strong, but infinitely gentle as they slid up her back, burning her skin through the silky fabric of her blouse as he urged her closer. Her breasts were crushed against the solid wall of his chest, and her nipples immediately responded to the contact, tightening into rigid peaks.
She wanted him to touch her—she wanted those callused hands on her bare skin, and the fierceness of the want was shocking. Equally strong was the desire to touch him—to let her hands roam over his rock-hard body, exploring and savoring every inch of him. He was so completely and undeniably male, and he made everything that was female inside of her quiver with excitement.
Eventually, reluctantly, he eased his mouth from hers. But he kept his arms around her, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. “I should probably be on my way before the sheriff gets home.”
“He won’t be home tonight,” she admitted. “He and Lissa went to Bozeman for the weekend.”
He frowned at that. “You’re going to be alone here tonight?”
She held his gaze steadily. “I hope not.”
He closed the door and turned the lock.
