Bedded Then Wed (5 page)

“Because every time we go out,” he told her through clenched teeth, “we end up rolling around like…like…monkeys in heat.”

Monkeys? In heat? She wasn’t sure she appreciated that particular imagery.

“Most men would be thrilled to have all of their dates end with them getting lucky.”

“Is that so?” His eyes glittered, but she couldn’t tell if it was with amusement or warning. “I guess I’m not like most men, then.”

Well, that was certainly true. For better or worse, Mitch was unlike any man she’d ever known before.

With her heart pounding in her chest, she licked her lips nervously and asked, “Does that mean you don’t want to sleep with me anymore?”

A muscle in his jaw jumped as he contemplated his answer. “I didn’t say that,” he replied finally, sounding reluctant.

Emma hoped her face didn’t show her intense relief, but it washed over her all the same, causing her stomach to flutter.

“Do you not want to go out anymore at all?”

“I didn’t say that, either.”

“Then may I make a suggestion?”

She was loathe to press her luck, to push him into a corner or evoke a response from him that she might not care for quite as much as the ones she’d gotten so far. But she also didn’t want to continue having this conversation with him or know that every time they were together, he’d suffer a bout of postcoital guilt.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Let’s go back to your original plan. We go out, we enjoy ourselves. If we feel like having sex, we can, but without any pressure or guilt,” she stressed, “on either side. And we’ll see where it takes us, just like you suggested.”

His eyebrows drew together and lines formed around his frowning mouth. “Throwing my own words back at me, huh? Guess I should be more careful of what I say around you.”

She smiled, reassured by his comment that he wasn’t going to cut her loose and demand they go back to being just friends and neighbors.

“Guess you should.”

His lips curved up on one side and he pushed his empty plate aside, folding his arms in front of him on the tabletop. “So, what do you want to do on our next date?”

“Maybe a movie,” she offered. And then, with a straight face, she added, “Followed by hot, sweaty, monkey sex.”

This time, her mention of sex didn’t set his eyes or jaw to twitching. Instead, he met her gaze and said, “How does Saturday sound? I’ll pick you up at eight.”

They’d been following their dating plan for three weeks now, and this was the third time he’d had dinner at her place. It was becoming something of a weekly custom.

And though it had made him nervous at first to sit across the table from Wyatt, wondering if the man was going to jump up at any moment and threaten to castrate Mitch for taking advantage of his daughter, he had to admit he was starting to enjoy the evenings he spent in the Davis household.

Each meal Emma fixed tasted better than the last. He didn’t miss the fact, either, that she made a point of preparing his favorite dishes on the nights he came over, like meatloaf and pork chops. And she always had homemade biscuits, fresh out of the oven, ever since his first visit when he’d eaten six and told her how good they were.

“Would you like any more?” Emma asked before pushing back her chair and collecting the bowls of mashed potatoes and green beans.

“No, thank you. I couldn’t eat another bite.” He patted his belly and slumped in his chair with an appreciative smile on his face.

“My girl sure can cook, can’t she?” Wyatt asked, beaming proudly. “She takes after her mother.”

“Yes, sir,” Mitch agreed. “I can’t remember the last time I tasted such good food.”

His dinners these days pretty much consisted of single-serving microwave meals or leftovers his mother sent over when she got worried he wasn’t eating right.

“Don’t tell my mother I said that, though,” he added.

Wyatt chuckled. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

Then he turned to Emma, who was busy transferring the remainder of the meal into smaller containers and slipping them in the fridge.

“If you don’t need any help, honey, do you mind if Mitch and I step outside for a few minutes?”

Mitch was a little surprised by the request, but judging by the friendly expression on the older man’s face, he didn’t think Emma’s father planned to take him out to the barn and shoot him. At least he hoped not.

“No, I’m fine,” she told them, piling dishes into the sink and running hot water over them. “You two go ahead. But no smoking, all right?” She shot her father a warning look. “I mean it, Pop. Mitch, don’t let him light one of those filthy cigars.”

Wyatt winked at Mitch, his blue eyes twinkling as he pushed to his feet. “A man can’t have any fun around here,” he pretended to grumble.

Mitch didn’t know that he would agree with that statement. Considering the number of times in the past few weeks that he and Emma had sneaked out to the barn or up to her room when her father wasn’t around, he could reliably say a man could have a great deal of fun around this place.

But he didn’t think it would be very smart to point that out to Wyatt. Not when he was doing his damnedest not to let the man know he was sleeping with his daughter.

Emma, up to her elbows now in sudsy water, shook her head but chose not to respond to her father’s complaint.

The legs of Mitch’s chair scraped the floor as he got up and followed Wyatt onto the front porch. The older man took a seat on the solid wooden swing to one side of the kitchen door and pulled a plump brown stogie from his front shirt pocket. He ran the cigar under his nose, inhaling deeply, then tucked it away again with a sigh of regret.

“A couple of puffs after dinner, that’s my limit. But she worries about me, so most of the time all I get to do is sniff the damn thing.”

Moving to a spot in front of Wyatt, Mitch leaned back against the porch railing, feet crossed at the ankle, hands resting on either side of his hips.

After several more minutes passed in silence, he said, “You wanted to talk to me, sir?”

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

Wyatt slapped his hands down on his knees and rose to his feet, coming to stand beside Mitch, facing the other direction.

“Emma is my pride and joy, you know that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I worry about her, just as much as she worries about me.”

“Yes, sir,” Mitch murmured again, not sure where this conversation was headed.

“I worry especially about what will happen with her after I’m gone.”

It took a moment for that to sink in, and when it did, Mitch’s gut clenched. “Is something wrong, Mr. Davis? Are you sick?” He couldn’t quite bring himself to ask if the man was dying, but that was the message flashing across the front of his brain.

“Hell, no,” Wyatt denied firmly. “Healthy as an ox, according to the doctor. But I’m not getting any younger, and accidents happen. There’s no telling how long any of us will get to be on this earth. And when my time comes, I’d like to know my girl is taken care of.”

Mitch’s breathing had returned to normal, but his heart was still beating just a little faster than it should. “I can understand that.”

“That’s where you come in.”

One eyebrow lifted in curiosity. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve got a proposition for you, my boy.” Wyatt twisted to face him more fully and slapped him on the arm. “Emma’s an only child, and as sexist as it might sound, I don’t have any sons to deed this land to when I die. My girl loves this place and is great at helping me out with the business end of things, but she won’t want to run the ranch after I’m gone.”

Mitch made a noncommittal noise, still not sure what Wyatt was getting at.

“Our families have always been close, you and Emma grew up together, and your land borders ours. So I’ll come right out and say what I’m thinking, Mitch. I’d like you to marry my daughter.”

He blinked, stunned into speechlessness. Where his heart had been running a bit too fast only minutes before, it now seemed to slow almost to a stop.

“I know, I know,” Emma’s father continued. “It’s an odd request. Not to mention extremely meddling of me. But I’ve watched the two of you together these past weeks. Emma’s happy, and it does my heart good to see the two of you getting so serious.

“I don’t mind telling you that your parents and I have always sort of hoped our two families would end up connecting this way. We never wanted to pressure you kids in any way, but there were many nights that we discussed the possibilities over a couple hands of cards.”

That was news to Mitch. As close as their families had been and as much time as he and Chase had spent with Emma growing up, it had honestly never occurred to him that either he or his brother might wind up interested in Emma romantically.

Not that there was anything wrong with her. On the contrary, she had always been a nice, good-looking girl. But she’d practically been their sister.

He wondered if Chase had ever thought of her in any other way and made a mental note to ask the next time he saw his brother.

“I know it’s a strange thing to ask, and you’ll want to think it over. But I’d feel more comfortable leaving the Double D to you, as my son-in-law, knowing you’ll keep it in good shape. Emma would do her best, but she’d have to hire on a lot more help, and I’m just not sure her heart would be in it.

“You’re a responsible man. Decent and trustworthy. If you married my Emma and took over the running of this ranch, I’d know Emma was being taken care of.”

Mitch rubbed his jaw, briefly entertaining the notion that he was hallucinating. It just didn’t make sense that in this day and age, a father was standing beside him, trying to work out the details of an arranged marriage for his daughter.

And yet, he understood Wyatt’s motivation, the love and concern behind the offer. The Double D had been in Wyatt’s family for generations. Wyatt had lived here all his life, loving and working the ranch. He’d grown up, married, and raised a family all in the same house, on the same land.

Mitch understood the man’s desire to make sure the ranch was taken care of after he was gone. To see that his daughter was well taken care of, as well.

It might sound callous or overly chauvinistic to some, but Wyatt only wanted the best for Emma and his homestead.

Not that Mitch was honestly considering saying yes. When his marriage to Suzanne had ended, he’d sworn never to get lured into that trap again. He and Emma might have been heating up the sheets these past few weeks, but being good together in bed didn’t mean they had to get leg-shackled.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Davis,” he said, returning his hands to the porch railing, “but I don’t think—”

“Now, now,” Wyatt interrupted. “Don’t answer just yet. Take some time, give it some serious thought. I understand the significance of my proposition and don’t want you agreeing to anything you aren’t absolutely sure about. Emma deserves better than that, and so do you.”

The older man slapped him on the back and took a few steps away, heading toward the kitchen door. “But just so you know, I’d consider it a personal favor if you and Emma got hitched. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have running this place and looking after my girl after I’m gone.”

Shaking his head in puzzlement, Mitch pushed off of the railing and followed Wyatt back into the house.

The arresting aroma of fresh-brewed coffee hit him the minute he stepped into the kitchen. Emma had set a platter of homemade cookies in the center of the table and was pouring coffee for the three of them.

As they returned to their chairs, she slid a mug toward him and his heart lurched to realize how much care she’d taken with everything. The meal, the hominess of the room they were sitting in, the cookies on the table, and each cup of coffee doctored just as the drinker liked it.

As wives went, he could do a lot worse than Emma, that was for sure. She was kind and considerate, a terrific cook and sexy as all get out.

He didn’t imagine everyone would think so. She didn’t possess the fantasy hourglass figure, and what she did have, she tended to hide beneath blue jeans and button-down blouses.

But she wore those jeans like no one he’d ever see before. She didn’t pour herself into them the way Suzanne had, but they weren’t loose and baggy, either. They fit just right—snug where a man could appreciate it most and roomy enough in other places to plague his imagination.

And since he’d seen her naked, felt her naked beneath him on many recent occasions, he happened to know that her less than fashionably ideal form was actually quite perfect.

Her breasts were pert and pretty and just large enough to fit his hands. Her waist was slim, tapering down to narrow hips that made his mouth water. And her legs were as long and muscular as a colt’s.

He’d come up with that particular analogy the last time she’d sat astride him and ridden him into a foaming lather.

The memory sent blood shooting to all the wrong places—at least while he was sitting across the table from her father—and he immediately tried to redirect his wayward thoughts. Wyatt’s invitation to marry her and take over his land pretty much did the trick.

The only problem was, this time, the idea didn’t seem quite so repugnant.

As he sipped his coffee and listened with half an ear to what Emma and Wyatt were saying, he pictured himself standing in front of a preacher again, speaking those holy vows that had backfired on him once. A skitter of icy fear snaked down his spine.

But then he imagined being married to Emma. She wouldn’t be like Suzanne, that was for sure. She was the homey type and would take great pride in taking care of him and their household. He would have piping-hot meals to look forward to on a daily basis, and even hotter nights spent in her arms. She would laugh and maybe even make him smile in return.

That was certainly something he could get used to. And he knew that he could be married to Emma, be a good husband, without getting too emotionally attached to her.

Men were blessed that way. He’d married once for love and been kicked in the crotch for his trouble. No way was he interested in a repeat performance. But he could live with her, sleep with her and make her happy without risking his heart.

His only concern was that Emma might not. Women were different, and she was perhaps more sensitive than most. What if she developed feelings for him that he couldn’t reciprocate? What if she read too much into their arrangement and ended up getting hurt?

But she seemed to understand that he was once bitten, twice shy. In all the time they’d been dating and sleeping together, she’d never once asked more of him than he was willing to give. She didn’t bring up Suzanne or ask him to pour out his soul so she could analyze his feelings and try to fix them. She simply accepted their relationship—and him—for what it was.

If she could handle a marriage to him in the same way, then they might just have a shot at building some sort of life together and fulfilling her father’s wishes, as well.

And it was no small consideration that if he took Wyatt up on his offer, his own parents would stop pressuring him to get over his ex’s betrayal, get on with his life, and find a better woman to settle down with.

Emma’s and Wyatt’s voices buzzed in his ears, his thoughts seeming to race faster than his brain could process them. What he was contemplating made his temperature rise at the same time a cold sweat began to trickle between his shoulder blades.

Suddenly, he realized his companions had stopped talking. The room was eerily silent, and, when he raised his head, he found two nearly identical sets of eyes gazing back at him.