Asking for Trouble Page 8

  After a long moment, he turned to face her. “I did, too, but this isn’t going to work. We both know it.”

  Tears smarted behind her eyes, and she glanced away. What is wrong with me? Dumped again. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t even close to falling for Gabe. The rejection stung.

  A finger touched her cheek in a gentle stroke. Blinking back the telltale sign of emotion, she met his gaze. “Those high standards you spoke of?”

  His eyes widened. “Huh?”

  She gave a tiny shrug. “It’s okay.”

  He grasped both her shoulders and stared down at her. “It’s not about me, Miranda. It’s you. I can tell you have feelings for someone else. It’s there in the way you pull back when I get too close.” Dropping his hands, he stepped away. “Cole?”

  Her lips tightened. “We don’t want the same things, but you’re right. My emotions are still engaged.” She touched his arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let Jenna call you, knowing...”

  His smile was quick. “I didn’t mind, but I’m starting to like you more than a little. If it isn’t going anywhere…”

  She drew in a breath. “You’re an awfully nice guy, and now that I’ve actually gotten you to talk…well, I wish it could be different.”

  “So do I. Once you’re over him for good, give me a call.”

  Picking up the box of paints, he crossed the deck and disappeared around the side of the house. A kind and handsome man gone from her life—and it was all Cole’s fault. Her hands clenched at her sides.

  “Miranda.”

  She whipped around, and her eyes narrowed. The bane of her existence stood near the deck steps, his gaze full of determination and a hint of anger. Bending, he lowered Jackson to the grass and tossed down the diaper bag.

  “I knocked, but you didn’t answer, so I walked around back. Much to my surprise, I nearly ran into Gabe Tyler going in the opposite direction. The look he gave me was not warm and friendly.” His voice dripped sarcasm.

  Her temper escalated. “Did you want something?” She shot a glance toward the baby, crawling in the direction of her flowers. “Someone to watch your nephew, maybe?”

  “I don’t need a damn sitter.” Scooping up Jackson before he could mangle her petunias, he plopped him on his butt beside Jezebel, who switched her tail and blinked.

  Miranda folded her arms across her chest. “Then why are you here?”

  “We need to talk.”

  She couldn’t imagine what was left to say. As the seconds ticked by, Jackson petted the cat with gentle strokes. Delight and wonder flashed in his eyes when Jezebel rolled onto her back and purred, exposing her soft, gray belly.

  “Fine, I’ll listen.”

  “Could we at least sit down?”

  She nodded and walked across the deck to take a seat on the lowest step. There was no reason to get comfortable. Cole wouldn’t be staying long.

  He dropped down beside her. When their knees touched, she edged away.

  Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temples. “I take it you don’t plan to make this easy for me.”

  “Nope. You wanted to talk, so talk.”

  “What are you doing with Gabe?” His voice came out deep and low.

  Plucking a blade of grass, she shredded it. “Food. Drink. Companionship. Conversation.” She lifted one shoulder. “He’s a nice man.”

  “I suppose, but conversation is a stretch. The guy isn’t exactly chatty.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but we talked about art.”

  His brows shot up beneath the brim of his hat. “You expect me to believe that?”

  When Jackson started to fuss, Cole dug through the diaper bag, came up with a sippy cup, and rose to hand it to his nephew. Holding it in both hands, the baby drank before dropping it in the grass.

  “I don’t care if you believe it or not.” She stabbed a finger in his direction as he sat back down. “How do you think I felt, discovering you dated my new employee?” Her voice rose. “I suppose we can always compare notes about your technique in bed.”

  His hands flew up, palms out. “I didn’t sleep with her. Honest to God. We went out three times last December. I’m not going to lie and tell you I didn’t think about it, though.”

  Tears threatened, and a burning lump of emotion lodged in her throat. “What stopped you? Did Stephanie turn you down?”

  “No.” He dropped his hat on the grass and rubbed his hand through his hair. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It’s the reason I didn’t call her back. It’s the reason I’ve been living like a freaking monk since last fall.”

  Her jaw sagged. “You haven’t…”

  “No, not once since you walked away.”

  Her fingers shook as she pushed a curl behind her ear. “Neither have I.”

  He picked up her hand and held it in both of his, tightening his grip so she couldn’t pull out of his grasp. “About Gabe…”

  She stared at their clasped hands, unwilling to meet his gaze, afraid of what she’d do if she saw the desire that was sure to be reflected there. “He won’t be back.”

  He slumped against the steps. “No?”

  “No.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t push my luck by asking why.”

  “Wise decision.”

  His thumb stroked the inside of her wrist, sending shivers through her. She took a moment to get her emotions under control.

  At the feeder, two blue jays squawked as they jockeyed for position. Jezebel’s tail switched, but the cat didn’t move from her position curled next to Jackson on the grass. Thick, red lashes fanned rosy cheeks, his mouth slack in sleep.

  Cole nodded toward his slumbering nephew. “I took him for a ride on Chief earlier, and he missed his nap.”

  “The sun is on his face. We should take him inside.”

  Rising to his feet, Cole tugged her up beside him. His gaze drifted downward, then rose again to meet hers. The raw need she’d expected was missing. In its place was an emotion so deep, so full of pain and hope, her knees shook. Finally, he released her hand and turned away.

  Lifting Jackson in his arms, he carried him to the house and paused in the center of the living room. “Where should I put him?”

  “The spare room.”

  Leading the way into the cluttered space, she cleared a stack of quilting squares off the guest bed and dumped them on a table next to the sewing machine. Cole rested his cheek on the baby’s head and smiled before laying him on the bed.

  “Will he be okay there?”

  “He’ll be fine.”

  Miranda stared into his concerned eyes and pressed a hand to her chest. Maybe he’s changing. Maybe…

  She surrounded Jackson with decorator pillows so he wouldn’t roll off, and then slipped silently from the room behind Cole.

  Without a word, he walked over to stand in front of the sliding glass doors leading to the deck, his hands fisted on his hips. Unable to help herself, she stepped up behind him. The squeak of her bare foot against the hardwood floor must have betrayed her approach for he swung around to face her, but didn’t speak.

  A day’s growth of beard darkened his cheeks, and his hair stuck out at odd angles. Coupled with the determined gleam in his eyes, the man looked dangerous—and hot. Too sexy for her peace of mind. Her toes curled against the floor.

  “He’ll probably sleep for an hour or two.” She glanced toward the kitchen, searching for a distraction then headed in that direction. “Are you hungry? I can make you a sandwich.”

  “I’m hungry, but I don’t want a sandwich.”

  Turning back at his refusal, she jumped. He stood less than a foot away. The damn man moved like a panther. Her insides quaked as he touched a long curl dangling over one breast.

  “You know what I want. Why are we fighting this, Miranda?”

  Because it won’t last. Because when it ends, I don’t want my heart crushed again.

  The reasons clamored in her brain like alarm bells, but the words re
fused to move from her brain to her tongue. Hadn’t he looked at Jackson with eyes full of love? Wasn’t there maybe, just maybe, a chance… She licked dry lips.

  Heat flared in his eyes, and with a growl, he took a final step forward and tugged her against his chest. “Are you going to stop me? It’s now or never.”

  Her breath came in shallow gasps as desire crashed over her in a wave, drowning common sense. Would one more time really hurt? At this point, what did she have to lose? Wasn’t a final, spectacular memory worth any additional pain? Because she had no doubt it would be memorable. Sex had never been the issue. Just the other twenty-two or so hours in the day.

  Tilting her chin, she met his gaze. “I won’t stop you.”

  His smile melted away the last of her doubts. When he lifted her off her feet, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her face against his neck. Cole’s unique scent was more intoxicating than a couple of stiff shots of bourbon. Breathing deep, she held on tight while he carried her to the bedroom and lowered her onto the wedding ring quilt covering the bed.

  When she tried to sit up, he pushed her back against the pillows and knelt beside her. “Just lay there and let me look at you. I’ve been thinking about this for six months. Six long, lonely months.”

  She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing out loud at his poor me expression. “Is this your way of telling me it’s going to be short but sweet?”

  His eyes widened with indignation. “Hell, no. Darlin’, I’m gonna love you for every minute we have. And I’m praying the kid takes a very, very long nap.”

  A giggle escaped, but died on her lips when he yanked his T-shirt over his head. The hard muscles of his chest taunted and teased. She ran a finger across smooth skin along his ribcage, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind. He shivered and unsnapped his jeans, eyes glazing as he reached down to tug off his boots. They hit the floor with a couple of thuds.

  Fingers shaking, he unfastened each button of her sleeveless blouse to spread it wide. Color stained his cheekbones as he stroked the tops of her breasts above the lacy cups of her bra. Then, with a deft flick, he unfastened the clasp and pulled the straps from her arms.

  “God, Miranda, you’re even more beautiful than I remember—and there isn’t a thing wrong with my memory.”

  “I may have lost a couple of pounds. My friends eat when they’re depressed. I lose my appetite.”

  He picked up her hand and pressed it to his chest. The warm skin seared her palm, and the beat of his heart throbbed along her nerve endings.

  “It hurts me, knowing you were unhappy because of me. I only want what’s best for you.”

  “Right now, you’re what’s best. I don’t want to think about anything but what you’ll do to me, what you’ll make me feel.”

  Lids drooped over smoldering eyes as he unfastened the zipper on her shorts and tugged them down along with her panties. Lying naked before him, her heart beat so hard, it was nearly painful. Reminding herself to breathe, she waited while he shucked his jeans and briefs. When he straddled her thighs, her body clenched in anticipation.

  How did I survive without this?

  Hot skin pressed against hers. Hands stroked, sending shivers through her. Hard and taunt, he prodded her thigh while firm lips suckled her breasts, first one then the other. Eyes closed, she drifted on a sea of sensual delight until the tension built to a point where she was certain she would die from wanting. When he finally entered her, she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders.

  A completeness she felt only with Cole settled in as they rode the waves of pleasure to the ultimate crest to float in languid contentment. Her breathing slowed, and perspiration dried in the breeze blowing through the open window. He cuddled her to his side and kissed her brow.

  This was what she’d missed the most—the closeness, a blending of spirits. Knowing there was no one in the world she would rather be with, that the man beside her held a piece of her soul.

  A piece he would take with him when he left.

  Her eyes flickered open, and she glanced up at Cole. Dark lashes fanned his cheeks as he breathed in a steady rhythm. Staying here in his arms was all she wanted, all she needed…

  A faint cry drifted from the room down the hall. Scooting out from under his elbow, she reached for the robe hanging on the bedpost and slipped it on.

  “Don’t go.” His words were a sleepy mumble.

  “Jackson’s awake.”

  “Well, hell.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes then blinked up at her. “I guess I should go get him.”

  Her gaze strayed from his face, across his chest, then downward, and her cheeks heated. “Um, I’ll check on him. Maybe you should get dressed.”

  A smile teased his lips. “I was thinking about going for a second round.”

  “I can tell. Not happening, bud, so put your pants on.”

  “And you wonder why I don’t want kids.”

  She froze with a hand on the belt of her robe before tightening it with a hard jerk. “I haven’t forgotten. And in case you were wondering, I’m still on the pill.”

  “Miranda—”

  She swept out of the room and paused in the hall to listen while he scrambled into his clothes. Pressing her hands to her thighs, she bent slightly and waited until her quaking limbs stilled.

  She had no right to be angry about his comment. She had known the score and slept with him anyway. It was her own fault if she’d hoped…

  A second cry from the spare room spurred her forward. Jackson lay on his stomach, rump in the air as he slid over the side of the bed. Catching him before he hit the floor, she wrinkled her nose.

  “You don’t smell very good. I guess my situation with your uncle isn’t the only thing that stinks right now.”

  “Want me to change him?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Cole leaning in the doorway. When he stepped forward and reached for the baby, she turned away. “I’ll do it. Did you bring the diaper bag inside?”

  “It’s still in the yard. Miranda—”

  “Don’t.” She rested her cheek on Jackson’s head and forced an even tone. “We made love, and I don’t regret it, but nothing’s changed.”

  His regard was long and hard and steady. “No, nothing has, certainly not how I feel about you. I love you. I never stopped.”

  “Maybe that’s why it hurts so much.”

  “Miranda—”

  She shook her head. “Go get the bag. Then I want you and Jackson to go home.”

  The lie nearly choked her, but it was the only choice she had.

  Chapter Nine

  The chainsaw’s blade cut into the cedar with a whine and a growl, carving tiny slashes—fur on the bear’s stomach. Ducking to avoid the sharp points of the claws on a raised paw, Cole cast a quick glance toward Jackson. The boy was stretched out to the end of his tether on the far side of the cottonwood tree, digging with a plastic shovel more suited to the beach. Though Cole couldn’t imagine why, playing in the dirt held endless fascination for his nephew. A safe distance from both of them, Tucker watched the proceedings with a wary tilt of his head.

  Cole went back to work, moving around to the bear’s solid rump, carving the tail with a hint of sassiness. The female of the trio was taking on a disturbing resemblance to Miranda. He whooshed out a breath. The frustrating woman wouldn’t return his calls. She’d kissed him yesterday and sent him on his way with an expression in her eyes that broke his heart.

  Before he could mire down in another bout of depression, a shrill scream jerked him to attention. Tucker flashed by, running faster than he’d seen him move in years. Cutting the engine as he spun around, Cole dropped the chainsaw to the ground, tore off the safety goggles and sprinted toward Jackson. The boy rolled on the ground squealing and crying, while a swarm of yellow jackets buzzed around him. Scooping him up, he unhitched the tether, swatting away the bees as he raced toward the house. Sharp stings pierced his arms and back through the thin material
of his T-shirt. Flinching at each jab, Cole took the porch steps in a leap, threw open the screen door, and slammed it behind him.

  Little white dents surrounded by red welts pocked Jackson’s face and arms. Tears rolled down puffy cheeks as he screamed and thrashed. With his heart pounding out of control, Cole laid him on the couch, stripped off his clothes, and smashed a couple more bees. He forced down panic and tried to think. Antihistamine. That’s what he’d taken for his mild allergic reaction the last time he’d been stung.

  “Hold on, boy. I’ll be right back.” Lowering Jackson to the carpet, he ran into the kitchen and jerked open the junk drawer. Scrabbling through it, he pulled out a pink and blue box, poured some tap water into a glass, and hurried back to the living room. After popping out a little pink pill, he snapped it in half and pushed one part into Jackson’s mouth then held the glass to his lips, praying he was doing the right thing. Water spilled down the baby’s chin and chest, but he swallowed the pill.

  The stings on his arms burned like fire. Popping out two more pills, Cole downed them with the rest of the water. What now? The memory of his mother smearing white paste over a bee sting flashed through his frantic thoughts. Running back to the kitchen, he opened the pantry and pulled out the box of baking soda. He dumped it in a bowl, added some water, stirred it into a thick paste, then returned to kneel beside Jackson.

  “Poor baby, I know it hurts.”

  Jackson cried hiccupping sobs as Cole spread the soda paste over the stings, a dozen or so by his count. Did his nephew’s face and neck look even more swollen?

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Cradling the baby in his arms, he grabbed the diaper bag and packet of insurance papers off the table, then let the screen door slam shut behind him. “I can’t risk it. Let’s get you to the ER. Again. Christ, they’ll probably report me for child abuse.”

  The drive seemed endless. Last time, he’d had Miranda’s reassuring presence beside him. This time he was on his own. Jackson had cried himself to sleep. The rise and fall of the baby’s chest, covered in bites and soda, took the edge off Cole’s surging panic. He was still breathing. Lord all mighty, if anything happened to the kid, he’d die. He flat out wouldn’t want to live, and not just because his brother would kill him. He loved Jackson more than anyone else in his life—except Miranda.