The Cowboy and His Baby (19 page)

A glance in the refrigerator suggested that juice might be a good place to start. He recalled buying an awful lot of apple juice at the store. He filled a bottle and handed it over. Sharon Lynn tossed her bear on the floor and accepted it eagerly.

Scrambled eggs struck him as a safe bet. Besides, he and Melissa could eat them, as well. Fixing one meal for all of them appealed to him. It struck him as cozy; a family tradition of sorts. Their very first.

He started the coffeemaker, popped four slices of bread into the toaster, put butter and jelly on the table, then broke half a dozen eggs into a bowl and whipped them with a fork until they were foamy. Suddenly he heard the faint sound of footsteps behind him. He pivoted around and discovered Melissa leaning against the doorjamb.

“My goodness, you've been busy,” she murmured, yawning and bending over to pick up the bear Sharon Lynn had tossed aside in favor of her juice. “How long have you been awake?”

Goose bumps chased down his spine at the sleepy sound of her voice and the sight of that cute little fanny draped in a very short, very revealing, silk robe.

“Our daughter's better than any rooster I ever heard. She woke me at the crack of dawn.”

“Obviously she's feeling better,” Melissa said, going over to touch her hand to the baby's forehead. “No more temperature.”

“Seemed that way to me, too.”

“Did you take it?”

He shook his head, drawing a grin.

“Turning into an old hand already,” she teased. “No more panicking.”

“I wouldn't say that,” he said, shuddering at the memory of that icy fear that had washed through him in the wee hours of the morning. “But I am going to borrow that book of yours and read it from cover to cover.”

He reached for Melissa's hand and pulled her toward him. He was vaguely surprised that she didn't put up a struggle. Maybe he hadn't imagined the closeness between them the night before.

When she was standing toe-to-toe with him, he had to resist the temptation to tug the belt of her robe free. Instead he brushed a strand of hair back from her face and gazed into her tired eyes.

“You were wonderful last night,” he said softly. “Not only were you good with Sharon Lynn, but you kept me from freaking out.”

Her lips curved slightly. “Having you here helped me, too,” she said, surprising him.

“Why?”

“Staying calm for your benefit kept me from freaking out myself,” she admitted.

He stared at her in astonishment. “You were scared?”

“Terrified,” she admitted. “But I knew I couldn't let you see it or you'd have insisted on borrowing
your father's plane and flying us all to some critical care hospital in Dallas in the middle of the night.”

“You've got that right.” He grinned. “We're quite a pair, aren't we?”

“Just typical parents, Cody.”

The simple words were no more than the truth, yet Cody felt as if he'd just heard something terribly profound spoken for the first time. He was a parent, a certified grown-up, with responsibilities he couldn't slough off. Responsibilities, in fact, that he actually yearned to accept.

He wanted more Sunday mornings just like this one, waking up to the sound of his daughter making some sort of commotion to get attention, fixing breakfast for all three of them, sitting at the kitchen table across from Melissa. He renewed his vow to himself to do everything within his power to convince Melissa they ought to be a family.

After they'd eaten and after he'd cleaned up most of the scrambled egg Sharon Lynn had managed to rub into her hair or fling halfway across the kitchen, he sat back with a sigh of pure contentment.

“Don't get too settled,” Melissa warned, a teasing note in her voice. “Your daughter needs a bath. I think I'll let you do the honors since that egg she's smeared everywhere was your doing.”

“You sound as if that's punishment,” he said. “What's the big deal?”

“You'll see,” Melissa retorted a little too cheerfully to suit him.

She ran the inch or so of bathwater into the tub, then left him to it. It didn't take long for Cody to figure out why she'd had that smug expression on her face when she'd exited the bathroom.

Sharon Lynn really loved water. She loved to splash it. She loved to scoop it up by the handful and dribble it all over him. She loved to throw her toys into it, sending yet more splashes into the air.

She wasn't quite so crazy about soap. She wriggled and squirmed, trying to get away from him. Slippery as an eel, she evaded capture until she'd managed to soak him from head to toe. In fact, he was fairly certain that he was wetter and soapier than she was.

Melissa chose that precise moment to reappear. He heard her chuckling as he tried to towel his daughter dry.

“You find this amusing?” he inquired softly.

“Mmm-hmm,” she admitted. “I sure do.”

He dipped his hand in the scant remaining water that was actually in the tub and splattered it straight in Melissa's smug face. A startled, incredulous expression spread across her face.

“You brat,” she muttered, turning on the faucet in the sink and scooping up a handful of water to pour over his head.

Sharon Lynn squealed with glee as water splashed everywhere.

Cody nabbed a plastic cup from the counter behind him, dipped it into the bathwater and soaked Melissa's front. Only after the damp bathrobe clung to her body did he realize the mistake he'd made. His breath snagged in his throat at the sight of her nipples hardening beneath that suddenly transparent silk. He swallowed hard, aware of the tightening in his groin and the flood of color climbing into his cheeks—and equally aware of the impossibility of pursuing the desire rocketing through him.

Melissa's gaze locked with his for what seemed an eternity, then dropped to the unmistakable evidence of his arousal. A smile slowly tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Serves you right,” she taunted as she turned and padded off to her room.

Cody groaned and wished like crazy that he knew Melissa's neighbors so he could plead with them to baby-sit for the rest of the morning. He wanted to finish what she had started with that provocative taunt.

Instead he forced himself to concentrate on getting Sharon Lynn dried off and dressed. The task was somewhat complicated by the soaked condition of his own clothes. He was dripping everywhere.

As soon as he had his daughter settled in her playpen, he grabbed a towel, went into the laundry room, stripped, and tossed his clothes into the dryer. He wrapped the towel snugly around his waist and retreated to the kitchen to drink another cup of coffee while he waited for everything to dry.

When Melissa wandered in a few minutes later her mouth gaped. “Where are your clothes?” she demanded, her gaze riveted on his bare chest.

“In the dryer.”

“Get them out.”

“I can't wear damp clothes,” he observed.

“Whose fault is it they're wet?”

“Yours, as a matter of fact,” he said blithely. “You're the one who insisted I bathe Sharon Lynn. You obviously know what she's like in water.”

She fought a grin and lost. “Yeah, I do,” she admitted. “But, Cody, you cannot sit around in nothing but a towel.”

“You have any better ideas?” He didn't wait for any suggestions from her before adding, “We could go back to bed.”

“In your dreams.”

He deliberately caught her gaze. “Absolutely,” he said softly. “You have no idea how vivid my dreams have become lately.”

From the fiery blush in her cheeks, he had the feeling, though, that he'd been wrong about that. He got the distinct impression that Melissa's dreams had been just as erotic as his own lately. He vowed that one day soon they'd compare notes…and make them come true.

T
he rapport between them lasted all the way back to White Pines. In fact, Cody had high hopes that he was finally beginning to make progress with Melissa. He was convinced that his presence during the previous night's medical crisis had started the difficult process of convincing her that he wasn't going to bolt out of their lives at the first sign of trouble.

It had been such a small thing, being by her side during those tense moments, but he'd heard the gratitude in her voice this morning, seen the first faint flicker of renewed faith in her eyes. He couldn't allow anything to shake that trust again, not until he'd had time to strengthen it.

As they drove up the long, winding lane at White Pines he was startled to see his father emerge from the house. It appeared Harlan had been watching for them and, from the too cheerful expression on his face and the contradictory worry in his eyes, Cody could only guess that there was bad news.

He stepped out of the car and faced his father warily. “Hey, Daddy, everything okay?”

“Fine, just fine,” Harlan said too heartily. He darted a worried look at Melissa, then added, “You'll never guess who's here to see you, son.”

Cody shot a desperate glance toward Melissa and saw that she was hanging on his father's every word. He couldn't imagine who might have turned up at White Pines uninvited, but experience with his father's demeanor suggested he was right to be concerned. He regretted more than he could say having Melissa here at this precise moment. He should have walked home, even if it was twenty miles. He would have if he'd had any idea that trouble was going to be waiting on the doorstep.

He drew in a deep breath and braced himself. “Who?” he asked just as the front door creaked open and a slight figure with cropped black hair and a pixie face emerged. Shock rendered him speechless.

“Janey? What the hell?” He looked to his father, but Harlan merely shrugged. Cody turned back to the teenager who'd apparently tracked him down and come after him all the way from Wyoming. “What are you doing here?”

Even as he sought answers for Janey's unexpected presence, he heard Melissa's sharp intake of breath behind him. Before he could turn around, the car door slammed with enough force to rock the sturdy vehicle on its tires. He knew what that meant. He forgot all about Janey as he tried to get to Melissa before she got the wrong impression and took off in a snit. Correction, she already had the wrong impression. He just had to stop her.

“Melissa,” he protested just as the engine roared to life. “Dammit, we need to talk. Don't you dare drive away from here!”

He might as well have been talking to the wind. The order was wasted. She'd already thrown the car into gear, then backed up, spewing gravel in every direction. He slammed his fist on the fender as she turned the car, shifted again and headed away from the house at a pace that would have done an Indy 500 driver proud.

“Terrific,” he muttered. “That's terrific. Not five seconds ago, I actually believed she was starting to trust me and now this!”

“Cody,” his father warned, nodding toward the girl who had stopped halfway down the sidewalk.

Sure enough, Janey looked as if he'd slapped her. Cody raked his hand through his hair and tried to get a grip on his temper. It wasn't the teenager's fault that his personal life was a mess. He crossed to Janey Treethorn in three strides and looked into a face streaked with tears and eyes that were as wide as a doe's caught in the cross hairs of a hunter's gun. His anger dissipated in a heartbeat.

“Janey, don't cry,” he said softly, pulling her into a hug. “Shh, baby, it's okay.”

“I'm s-sorry,” she stammered. “I didn't mean to mess up everything.”

“I know,” he soothed, awkwardly patting her back as he cast a helpless look at his father. Harlan shrugged, clearly as bemused by this turn of events as Cody was.

“It's not your fault,” he told her, even though he very much wanted to blame her for ruining his fragile truce with Melissa. “Come on, let's go inside and you
can tell me why you came all this way. Does your dad know you're here?”

“Ye-es-s,” she said, sniffling. “Your father called him last night.”

Cody's heart sank. Obviously, Janey had run away from home, if last night was the first Lance had heard of her whereabouts. His former boss was probably fit to be tied. Janey was the least rebellious of his daughters. If she had pulled a stunt as crazy as this, the other two were likely to drive him completely over the edge. Lance needed a mother for those girls and he needed her in a hurry.

Inside, Cody suggested that Harlan go and see if Maritza could rustle them up some hot chocolate. He knew it was Janey's favorite. There had been many cold winter nights when she'd fixed it for him and her father, then lingered in the shadows listening to them talk.

Before he sat down, he went into the closest bathroom and gathered up a handful of tissues and brought them back to her. He was careful to sit in a chair opposite her, since he had the terrible feeling that her crush on him was what had brought her all the way to Texas. He'd never done a thing to encourage it, except to be kind to her, but apparently that had been enough to cause this impulsive trip to Texas.

“Feeling better?” he asked after a while, when she appeared to have cried herself out and had finished the mug of hot chocolate Maritza had served with barely concealed curiosity.

Janey nodded, but wouldn't meet his gaze. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. She tucked her jeans-clad legs up under her and huddled on the
sofa like a small child expecting to be scolded. She looked so woebegone that Cody was having a difficult time maintaining what was left of his dying anger.

“Janey, tell me what this is all about.”

“I c-can't,” she whispered.

“There must be a reason you left Wyoming and came all the way to Texas. How did you know where to find me?”

“I found the address in Dad's papers.”

“Did something happen at home?”

She shook her head, looking more and more miserable. Finally she lifted her chin and met his gaze for barely a second, then ducked it again. “You left,” she said accusingly. “One day you just weren't there anymore and you never said goodbye.”