Rancher's Baby Read online

  The apartment had begun to feel like a prison as her marriage unraveled. Finally, after a last huge blowup, when she’d faced the fact that her marriage was over, she’d gone home. Back to the Red Arrow, where she was needed, where she was loved.

  But just as she had begun to see that life didn’t end with divorce, Lyle had called. Granted, he said he’d phoned to tell her that the divorce papers should be ready for her signature within the week, but it was what he didn’t say that brought her back to Albuquerque. Lyle had sounded…what? Lonely? Perhaps. Depressed? That, too. There had been some indefinable poignancy in his voice, in the way he’d simply hung on the line as if he had just needed to hear her….

  And in that drawn-out, hesitant moment, all her rage, all the animosities that had built between them as a result of his frequent and protracted absences vanished as she remembered the way it had been when they first met. Was he sorry things had come to this? Was there still a chance that they could salvage their love and their life together?

  She didn’t know.

  And that was what took her back to the apartment that last time. She could never forgive herself if she walked out of her marriage without doing everything she could to preserve it. Marriage was a process of give and take. Maybe she hadn’t given enough. Maybe Lyle was having some of the very same thoughts.

  The apartment door was locked when she arrived in the early evening. Good thing her husband got home so late—she’d have time to clean the place and fix dinner. When the lock clicked and the door smoothly opened, she walked into the living room, tossing her purse on the hall table. Absently she noted that Lyle must be home, after all—his briefcase lay in the middle of the living room floor. It struck her as odd, considering what a freak about neatness and order he’d always been, but she was too intent on her mission to really notice. Maybe it was better this way—more spontaneous. If she had too much more time to think about what she wanted to say, she’d have it so mixed up she’d never get it out.

  Rounding the corner into the hallway, she headed past the kitchen and dining areas, eager to find Lyle. A cursory glance showed no one in the kitchen, and she started to move on, but then she looked farther, at the small pine table tucked into the nook.

  And she stopped, riveted in a shocked horror that froze her into immobility.

  Lyle stood in front of the table, between the legs of a woman who was reclining on her elbows, her long hair streaming down as her head drooped backward. She was naked from the waist down and the tailored blouse beneath her suit jacket was unbuttoned and shoved to her sides, baring her breasts. Lyle’s pants sagged around his ankles as the thighs of the woman on the table gripped his hips. His hands were on her breasts, kneading in rhythm with his thrusting hips. Amazingly, the pair were almost totally silent. Dulcie could nearly hear her own breathing.

  She could definitely hear the hitching sob she sucked in as the scene before her seared into her brain.

  The woman’s head jerked upright. Dulcie would never forget the look of shock and panic on her flushed face. Nor would she ever forget what had happened next.

  She had run from the apartment, disregarding Lyle’s shouts for her to wait. The tears had blinded her even before she’d grabbed her purse and opened the door.

  She probably would have jumped into her car and driven straight back to the ranch if Tye hadn’t come down the hallway just then. He’d been a neighbor and a friend during her life in Albuquerque, and seeing his tall figure striding toward her had been a sweet relief. She knew Tye would help her.

  Alone in the dark New Mexico night, she cried aloud. Oh, Tye had helped her, all right. And a few weeks later, the ink barely dry on her divorce decree, she’d realized she was pregnant with Tye’s child.

  Dulcie sighed and twisted to her other side again. Seeing him again had awakened all the illicit thoughts and memories she’d suppressed since she’d fled from his bed. Oh, she was wicked. Tye couldn’t be blamed for anything. Everything that had happened with Tye that night was nobody’s fault but her own. She’d practically begged him to take her, and she’d reveled in every minute of the rough, wild loving they’d shared. Just thinking about the way they had frantically shed each other’s clothing, hands and mouths racing, sliding, tasting, gliding. And the way he had taken control as he’d urged her atop him and mastered her with his big, hard body, telling her in hoarse whispers how beautiful she was and how much he’d wanted her, the way her body had accepted the heavy, surging demand of his….

  Oh, yes, indeed, she was wicked. And she was driving herself crazy thinking about him. She should be sleeping while the baby was, for heaven’s sake, not lying here getting herself all hot and bothered about a man who had only tracked her down because he thought he’d needed to apologize.

  What a shock Ryan must have been to him! She could almost smile when she recalled the stunned look on his face earlier, seeing her nursing her son. Another more recent memory slipped into her mind, and she let it surface, examining her new knowledge from every angle, trying to make it fit with the man she knew.

  Tye had said he knew about growing up a bastard. At the time, she’d taken him literally. Was that indeed what he had meant? And how might being an illegitimate child affect Ryan? Until now, she’d managed to avoid thinking about it, but she’d always been one to face unpleasantness head-on and get it over with. Would he be teased by other children? Called hateful names? Would he mind not having a father? She knew her brother Day would be more than happy to be a father to her son, but what about Ryan’s feelings? Would his uncle Day be enough, or would there always be a part of him that longed for a daddy of his own?

  With angry determination, she flipped back to the other side again, pulling the light quilt firmly around her shoulders. Weighing the pros and cons of providing Ryan with a stand-in for a father was futile now that Tye knew he had a son. She just knew he wasn’t going to give up and go away quietly.

  Three

  Tye sat up and reached for the bottle of pain medication beside the lamp, downing two pills with the glass of water he’d set there before he went to bed. He’d rather be thrown from a bull than be in an auto accident, he decided. At least coming off a bull, he had the chance to prepare for the fall. As it was, he had aches and bruises in parts of him he’d never known he had before.

  Something had wakened him, he thought. Some sound that hovered just outside his consciousness now, interfering with his need to get back to sleep. He held his breath and listened intently.

  After a moment, the night sounds sorted themselves out: the upright clock at the end of the hallway steadily passing the seconds, the hoot of an owl somewhere out near the barn, the rhythmic creak of a floorboard—

  That was it. The sound that didn’t fit. He let out the breath he’d been holding and sucked in another one, held it again. There! The funny little squeak was what had wakened him. This time, a woman’s low voice responded, soothing the small squeaker.

  Dulcie. And the baby—Ryan. His gaze shifted to the clock. Wow. He hadn’t really thought about it, but this was probably a nightly routine for Dulcie now. He knew from hearing his cousins talk that infants often took night feedings for several months. No wonder Dulcie looked exhausted.

  No, he corrected himself, she didn’t just look exhausted. She looked bone-deep weary and worn. And it was his fault.

  As he looked back, it seemed impossible that nearly a year had passed since she’d come running into his arms in that hallway. She’d been in his thoughts so much while he’d been in Montana that it seemed a much shorter time.

  But it hadn’t been. And Ryan was living proof. Why in hell hadn’t she told him she was expecting?

  Why in hell didn’t you try harder to track her down right away? Missing her pregnancy and Ryan’s birth was his own stupid fault. He’d known just how upset Dulcie had been when they’d parted. He’d had a feeling when he couldn’t get in touch with her again that she’d gone home to her family’s ranch near Deming. And if he were hon
est with himself, hadn’t he been hoping that she would miss him enough to call?

  It still stung his ego when he remembered that she’d deliberately discarded the phone number he’d left her. That night had been something special to him. He could see why it might hold some less pleasant memories for her, but he guessed he needed to believe that she’d been as deeply affected by him as he had by her…deeply enough, maybe, to forget about that damned weasel of a husband she’d had.

  Dulcie’s husband. Tye’s right fist flexed in response to the memory of the man, and he smiled grimly. When Lyle Meadows had knocked on his door after Dulcie had caught him cheating on her, Tye hadn’t bothered to restrain himself. The jerk hadn’t even stopped to pull his clothes together and he was still stuffing his shirt into his pants while he demanded to see his wife. But Tye considered that he’d been pretty low-key until the guy tried to shove him aside and enter Tye’s apartment, where he’d taken Dulcie….

  “You hit him!” There was an unholy delight in Dulcie’s tone. “You actually hit him.”

  Tye nodded, smiling, unable to resist her glee. “Something crunched. I might have broken his nose.”

  Her eyes narrowed to slits that burned with dark fires of renewed rage. “Good! He deserved it. To think that I was actually feeling like I’d made a mistake. I drove up here today to tell him that I wanted to give our marriage another try. I was going to cook dinner, but then I thought he was already home and—”

  She stopped abruptly and took a deep, gulping breath as her eyes filled with tears. All the steam drained out of her, and he could almost see her deflate as sorrow and humiliation began to crash over her head.

  “Hey, woman,” he said, taking her by the arms and leading her over to his couch. “Don’t fall apart on me now.”

  “I’m sorry, Tye,” she said, swiping at the tears that ran freely down her face. “It was just such a shock…” Her voice trailed away as she started to sob quietly, stuffing a fist against her mouth as if she could prevent the hoarse sounds from escaping.

  He couldn’t stand it. “Come here,” he said, reaching for her. He hauled her into his lap and she burrowed against him, shoving her tear-streaked face into his neck. He could feel her slim frame shaking, and the force of her grief tore at him. Helplessly, he rubbed her back over and over again, rocking her slightly in an instinctive comforting gesture.

  How long did he hold her? He didn’t know, but he knew he’d remember what had happened afterward until the day he died.

  Finally, she cried herself dry and began to stir in his arms. He let her go reluctantly, aware that their casual, neighborly friendship hadn’t prepared either of them for the emotional intimacy of this situation. Up till today, the most personal thing they’d discussed was what topping they liked on their pizza.

  Well, that wasn’t altogether true. Once, when they’d gone to a movie together, he’d asked her if she got lonely while her husband was away. Her reply had been a single, wistful “Yes.” He hadn’t been able to figure out what to say to that, so he hadn’t said anything, but after that, he’d made a point of spending some time with her whenever he was in town. From time to time after that day, she had discussed her marriage with him, but until now, it had always been in the abstract.

  Now, it was painfully real.

  Now, he was suddenly acutely aware of her weight in his lap, the soft slide of her bottom across him as she moved away and turned to face him.

  “I apologize for making a scene,” she said, “and for dragging you into my problems.”

  “Nothing to apologize for,” he replied.

  “Yes, there is.” She picked up his right hand and brushed her thumb across his knuckles, which were slightly red and swollen. Then, before he could react, she lifted his hand to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss there.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, looking up at him with her open mouth still against the back of his hand.

  The blatantly sexual gesture wasn’t lost on him, and he squirmed uncomfortably, trying to disguise the leaping response of his flesh before she noticed how turned on he was getting. “It’s all right,” he said gruffly. “After the way he treated you, I kind of enjoyed it.”

  She smiled at him, and he swore there was an invitation in the rich depths of her eyes. “I haven’t told you how much our times together have meant to me.”

  That was innocent enough. Surely she only meant that he’d been a good friend. But when she placed her slender hand on his thigh and squeezed lightly, he knew he wasn’t imagining things.

  Hell.

  He’d been lusting after her perfect little body for months without really expecting anything would ever come of it, just because he was a man and she was a beautiful, beautifully made woman. He’d have to be crazy to turn her down.

  But it wasn’t right. He knew sex wasn’t what she needed right now, even if she didn’t. He could feel himself starting to sweat as he cupped her face in his hands and forced her to look at him.

  “Dulcie…I don’t want you to have any regrets about anything that goes on between us—”

  “I won’t.” She caught his wrist with her free hand and drew it onto her breast. Onto her breast! He was still in shock at that sensation when he realized her other hand had crept up his thigh to the crease between his leg and his torso, where her thumb was gently tracing a path deeper and deeper into some very dangerous territory.

  He almost choked on his own tongue trying to get out the words to stop her.

  He’d tried. Honest to God, he really had. But she’d been like a miniature octopus, with too many arms for him to capture all at once. Twice more he’d protested, and her husky laughter had been one more nail in the coffin that confined his better judgment, her hands and her mouth speeding over him, eluding him, firing a rising tide of sexual arousal that ia the end, he’d been unable to stem.

  He’d taken her beneath him there, on his couch, and made her his in the most basic way there was. And when he’d dozed off and woken to find her astride him, he’d taken her again. And yet again, until they’d both been too exhausted to do anything but snuggle into the limited space and sleep.

  When he’d awakened in the morning, she was gone.

  His body throbbed now, remembering the hot, electric loving they’d shared. He hadn’t had a woman since, partly because he’d been called home to Montana and he’d been working like a dog for the past year, and partly because his body simply couldn’t be bothered to respond to any other female.

  Thank God he’d found her. He forced himself to relax, muscle by muscle, until he was reasonably calm, but when sleep finally claimed him again, he dreamed of her.

  The alarm clock wakened him. He couldn’t remember what he had planned for the day, but he knew the horses needed attention. His arm shot out from beneath the covers to silence the alarm, but his groping hand couldn’t find it. He sat up, disoriented and shivering in the predawn gloom, just as the alarm clock was shut off somewhere in another room.

  For a moment, he drew a panicky blank as he looked around the unfamiliar room. Then a sound pierced the dawn and memory flooded back.

  As it did, he was on his feet, moving out into the hallway. His head swam for a moment, but he stopped and waited and after a moment, he felt better. Not even a headache. Halfway down the hallway, he realized he was wearing nothing but the boxer shorts he slept in, but he didn’t stop. He had a son to see.

  Ryan was getting louder now, the first small squeaks of awakening beginning to escalate into infant outrage at being unattended. The door next to the room where Ryan slept was ajar, and he glanced in as he passed it. Then he stopped and looked again.

  Dulcie lay on her stomach in the double bed, her face buried in pillows. All he could see was a wild cloud of glossy hair. She didn’t even stir, and he thought again of how tired she’d looked. The baby’s cries were increasing in volume now, and he wanted to reach Ryan before he woke up his exhausted mom.

  Tearing himself from her doorway, he ente
red the nursery and stepped to the side of the crib. Ryan lay on his back, tiny feet and fists punching the air in impotent ire.

  “Hey there, cowboy,” Tye said softly. “What’s the trouble?”

  Ryan stopped hollering and looked at his father, apparently startled by the voice. After a moment, though, his little face screwed up to cry again.

  Tye hesitated. He hated to have Dulcie wake so early if all the little guy wanted was some attention. Reaching into the crib, he slid one hand under Ryan’s head and the other under his torso and lifted him.

  Supporting the baby in front of him, Tye inspected his son. Ryan stared right back, his huge eyes already so dark that Tye could see they were going to be brown like his mother’s. “Hey, cowboy,” he said. “Are you gonna be an early riser?”

  Ryan squirmed, his little legs pedaling as if he were riding a bicycle.

  Tye grinned. “Oh, so you like the sound of your daddy’s voice, do you?”

  Ryan squirmed some more and Tye laughed aloud. “You’re really something, you know that? I’m damned glad I showed up when I did, ’cause I might have missed all this.”

  Ryan had stopped crying while she was fumbling into her robe. Dulcie almost ran the few feet from her room to the doorway of the nursery, imagining all sorts of horrible reasons for the sudden silence.

  But as she reached her son’s room, she stopped in the doorway, surprised by the sight of Tye holding Ryan in front of him. Tye was naked except for his underwear—she couldn’t take her gaze off the broad bronzed expanse of his shoulders and back, the muscular calves and long, solid thighs that disappeared beneath the small swatch of fabric. He was all man. She’d been imagining his body for ten long months; to have it thrown in her face first thing in the morning was simply too much. Her breath grew short and her breasts, already sensitive, tingled.