The Best Bride (6 page)

“You could get lost in there,” she said, staring at the masterpiece.

“I did, the first couple of days. Stay in that seat and don't even think about moving.”

He got out of the car and came around to her side. He opened the door, then helped her to her feet. Before she could take a step, he bent over and slid one arm behind her back and the other under her thighs.

“What are you doing?” she asked even as he lifted her against his chest. Elizabeth grabbed his shoulders to maintain her balance.

“And here I thought you were smarter than that.” He started toward the house.

Her face bumped against his shoulder, and she could smell his masculine scent. He'd shaved only a couple of hours before, so his neck was smooth. She fought the urge to nestle against him. “Travis, put me down. I can walk.”

He ignored her. There were four steps up to the porch. He climbed those easily and headed for the front door. She held on, ignoring the way her right breast flattened against his chest and the heated strength of his body. She was wearing shorts so the arm under her legs touched bare skin. Each of his fingers seemed to be leaving a warm imprint on her flesh. She thought about struggling, but her side hurt and she was tired of fighting. Instead, she gave herself up to the feeling of being safe and protected.

When he opened the front door and stepped inside, she stared at the beautiful interior and caught her breath. He had told the truth when he'd said he was restoring the house. Several of the walls had been stripped but not painted or papered. There wasn't a rug on the wooden floor, and she could see the pile of tools next to the front door.

But none of that mattered. He released his arm and she slid to the ground. Instead of moving away from him, she leaned against him and looked around. A crystal chandelier hung in the foyer. The cut glass caught the sunlight and diffused it into a hundred tiny rainbows. The long staircase swept up to the second story where it split and circled around both sides. Arched doorways led to high-beamed rooms. A giant fireplace filled one wall of the parlor to her left, while on the right, a study with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves held sheet-covered furniture.

“Wow.” She looked at him. “You live here?” He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“All by yourself?”

“I do now. I was married when I bought the place. Some
people have a baby to try and save their marriage. Julie and I bought this house.” The humor left his brown eyes.

“I'm sorry.”

He shrugged. “Don't be. There were no hard feelings. Sometimes it doesn't work out. Julie and I kept bumping into each other on the curves. Hell, it was no one's fault. Cops don't make good husbands and neither do Haynes men. I had no business trying.”

She was about to ask why when he collected her in his arms again and started down the hallway next to the stairs.

“I'm going to put you in here,” he said, using his shoulder to push open a door. “There's an attached bathroom. It's small, but I didn't think you'd want to hassle with the stairs.”

Even though she hadn't moved much since leaving the hospital, her side was already aching. “You're right.”

A double bed stood next to a window looking out on the side garden where roses had grown into a tangled disarray of blossoms. A single nightstand and a long dresser took up the rest of the space in the room. There was a half-open door and she could see through to a bathroom.

“This will be perfect,” she said.

“Mandy's been sleeping upstairs.” He set her on her feet. “She can stay there, or I can dig up a cot for her in here. It would be a little crowded, but—”

“Don't worry about it. I'm sure Mandy is happy where she is.”

“I'll go get your luggage.” He disappeared back the way they'd come.

Elizabeth settled on the bed and touched her healing incision. Just three days ago she'd arrived in Glenwood, hoping to make a fresh start. Many things hadn't worked out the way she'd planned, but they were getting better. She
could feel it. She had to get on with her life. It was the only way to put the past behind her.

* * *

Travis looked at the empty plate on the table, then at Elizabeth. “Are you done?”

She laughed and patted her stomach. “Yes, thanks. It was wonderful. Here you had me believe you didn't know how to cook.”

“I'm okay with omelets,” he said, and carried the plates over to the counter. “And I know my way around a barbecue, but other than that, it's just me and the microwave.”

“I can make French toast,” Mandy announced proudly from her place opposite her mother.

“I know, darlin'. You made it for me this morning.”

“How long did it take you to clean up the mess?” Elizabeth asked.

Travis rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. “About an hour.”

She looked at him and smiled. “Amazing, isn't it?”

“I found eggshells everywhere.”

“He ate four pieces,” Mandy said.

“Good,” Elizabeth said, but he could see she was more tired than enthused. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her smile wasn't as bright as it had been that morning when he'd brought her to the house.

He wiped his hands and turned toward the table. The kitchen had been the first room he'd remodeled. That had been before Julie had left. She'd picked out the cream tiles edged in blue flowers, and she'd been the one to insist on bleached oak cabinets. He'd wanted a more traditional kitchen but he had to admit her taste had been better than his. The rectangular room was bright and airy, despite an overabundance of storage and the large subzero refrigerator and six-burner range.

“Mandy, let's put your mama to bed. Then you can help me clean up.”

“But it's early yet,” Elizabeth said.

“You're dead on your feet.”

“I can't be. After you left, I had a nap. I've only been up for—” she glanced at her watch “—three hours.” She punctuated her observation with a yawn.

Mandy laughed. “You're tired, Mommy.”

“I guess I am.” Elizabeth braced her arms on the table and slowly pushed herself to her feet. Travis moved closer, but she waved him off. “I made it to the kitchen under my own power, I think I can make it back.”

“Have it your way.”

She took small steps. Mandy dogged her heels, and he brought up the rear, ready to jump to the rescue in case she slipped. Her nap wasn't the only thing she'd done while he was gone all afternoon. She'd also showered and changed clothes.

The shorts and tank top had been replaced by a loose-fitting summer dress. It dipped low in front and back and, as he had served his famous vegetable omelet, he got a flash of cleavage. He hadn't seen where the tan ended and her pale skin began, but the peek had more than stirred his interest. He'd spent most of dinner giving himself a stern talking-to.

Elizabeth was his guest. Despite his claim to want to be paid for the room, he would no more take her money than he would hurt Mandy. He was simply temporary shelter and the only friend she had in town. He couldn't take advantage of her, or the situation. It wasn't right. If he wanted a woman, there were plenty in town to oblige him. He'd never once had a problem finding company.

As she turned down the hallway, the last rays of sun caught the thick braid hanging down to her shoulder blades.
Her hair gleamed with rich color, brown and gold with a hint of red, so different from Mandy's pale blond hair. Had Elizabeth's hair once been that color, turning darker with age, or had Mandy inherited her hair color from her father?

They reached the bedroom. Elizabeth sank onto the bed and smiled at her daughter. “I'm going to rest here for a few minutes before I get ready to sleep. Why don't you kiss me good-night now and then go help Travis in the kitchen.”

Mandy reached up and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you, too, honey.”

“I'm glad you're not in that old hospital anymore. Tomorrow can you come upstairs and look at my room?”

“We'll see.” Elizabeth stroked her daughter's head, then glanced at Travis. “Thanks for everything. I really appreciate it.”

“Just being neighborly,” he said from his place in the doorway.

“Hardly, but I do appreciate everything.” She motioned to the room, and then smiled at her daughter. “I don't know what I would have done—”

He cut her off. “All you should worry about now is getting better. Leave the rest of it alone. Come on, Mandy. Your mother needs to sleep.” He held out his hand.

Mandy looked from him to her mother. “But, Travis, aren't you going to kiss Mommy good-night, too?”

E
lizabeth looked up at him, obviously startled. Her big eyes got bigger and her lips parted slightly with surprise. But she hadn't flinched.

He pushed off the door frame and slowly approached the bed. Her gaze never left his. “I do my best work under pressure,” he drawled.

“I'll bet,” Elizabeth muttered, then looked away. “Look, you don't have to—”

“Mommy, you need to be kissed good-night,” Mandy said, and bounced on the bed. “It'll make you feel better. Travis made me feel better when he gave me a kiss. I didn't have even one bad dream last night.”

“Simply medicinal,” he said.

“What's mecidinal?” Mandy asked, struggling with the strange word.

He didn't take his gaze off Elizabeth's face. Color steadily climbed her cheeks. She glanced at him, at Mandy, at her
fingers twisting together in her lap. He approached the bed and bent over.

“It means doing something for medical purposes,” he said. “Like taking medicine.”

He rested his hands on her shoulders. Their eyes met. Mandy asked another question, but he couldn't hear all the words. Elizabeth's irises were a pure brown, almost chestnut colored. Her sweet breath fanned his face. His stomach tightened in anticipation, which, he told himself, was stupid. She'd just had major surgery, her six-year-old daughter sat inches away. He was simply going to give her a quick peck on the cheek. So what was the big deal?

But he didn't kiss her cheek. He moved his head to the left side of her face, but at the last minute veered back and brushed his mouth against hers.

He'd expected some kind of attraction. He was a healthy single male, and she was damned good-looking. But he hadn't expected to get third-degree burns from the heat.

The contact, lasting no more than one or two seconds, seared his mouth and sent flames of need racing through his body. Instinctively, his hands tightened on her shoulders. Her arms reached up toward him. He felt them whisper by his sides then fall back. He wanted to haul her to her feet and pull her firmly against him. He wanted to feel her body pressing along his, thighs brushing, hips rotating, chest to breast in exquisite delight.

“Don't you feel better, Mommy?” Mandy asked.

He raised his head. Elizabeth's eyes were wide and unfocused as if she, too, had felt the conflagration. She swallowed and looked away. But not before he'd seen the answering desire in her gaze.

“Much,” she answered, her voice low and husky. She cleared her throat. “I do feel better. Thank you.”

Travis stared down at her. Who was this woman and what
had brought her to Glenwood? Why was there no one, no man, for her to call in her time of trouble? He took a step back and fought a grin. Not that he minded the fact that she was single and in his house. If anything, their kiss had shown him the next three weeks could be very interesting. But why was she alone?

“Come on, Mandy,” he said, holding out his hand. “Let's let your mom get some rest. I rented a movie for us to watch.”

“Okay.” Mandy jumped off the bed and gripped his fingers. “Night, Mommy.”

“Night, sweetie,” she said, and smiled at her little girl. Her gaze raised to the middle of his chest and stopped. “Good night, Travis. Thank you for…everything.”

Yeah, he couldn't stop thinking about their kiss either, he thought. “Get some rest.” He led Mandy from the room and closed the door behind them.

A large sofa with a matching chair in soft ivory leather sat in front of an oversize television. Mandy released him and ran over to the VCR. Expertly she pulled the rented tape from its protective cover and inserted it in the machine. Her chatter made him smile, but he had trouble concentrating on her words. He couldn't stop thinking about Elizabeth Abbott. He was sure there was a logical explanation for everything that was going on, but some sixth sense whispered there was a mystery.

As he sat on the sofa and Mandy climbed onto his lap, he mentally listed what he knew about Elizabeth and her daughter. It wasn't much. He was too good a lawman to let anything that intriguing go unsolved. If Elizabeth wouldn't cooperate and answer some questions, he was going to have to find out on his own.

* * *

Elizabeth got coffee going before her exhaustion and the pain in her side forced her to retreat to the kitchen table. She
sank into one of the bleached oak chairs. She'd hoped the doctor had been kidding when he'd told her to stay off her feet for a week. Apparently not. He'd reminded her that despite all the improvements in medical technology, the fact was she'd had her tummy cut open, through all the muscles. There were multiple layers of tissues to heal. She hadn't realized how much she used those muscles until she tried to move around and they reminded her they weren't working well. She pressed her hand against her side and shifted on the chair. Maybe she would just sit here for a while.

She drew in a deep breath and inhaled the scent of the brewing coffee. At least she'd accomplished something. She smiled. Maybe later, when she'd gathered her strength, she would get wild and attempt toast.

“What are you smiling about, darlin'?”

That voice. It made her think of something warm and rich and decadent slowly slipping through her fingers. It made her think of liquid satin on bare skin. It made her think of last night and their brief kiss. She turned to look at him.