The Maverick's Thanksgiving Baby

If Jesse had been offering her something more... If he’d given any indication that he’d been genuinely happy to see her, if he’d wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with even half of the passion and enthusiasm she knew he was capable of, she might have ignored all of her questions and doubts and followed him to the nearest wedding chapel. But the coolness of his initial response to her return to Rust Creek Falls proved that he didn’t want her—he only wanted to ensure the legitimacy of his child.

“We don’t have to get married for your name to go on the baby’s birth certificate,” she told him. “I would never deny my child’s paternity.”

“Our child,” he reminded her. “And it’s about more than just a name. It’s about giving our baby the family he or she deserves.”

“What about what we deserve?” she challenged. “Don’t you want to fall in love and exchange vows with someone you really want to be with instead of someone you inadvertently got pregnant?”

“What I want—what you want—isn’t as important as what our baby needs,” he insisted stubbornly.

She blew out a breath. “I don’t think our baby needs to be raised by two parents trapped in a loveless marriage.”

“You don’t have to make it sound so dire. If we want to, we can make this work.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

He ignored her question as if she hadn’t even spoken. “We should be able to make all of the necessary arrangements for a wedding within a couple of weeks.”

“Did you get kicked in the head by a horse? I am not marrying you.”

The lift of his brows was the only indication that he’d heard her this time, as he steamrollered over her protest. “We can have a quick courthouse ceremony here or a more traditional wedding in LA, if you prefer.”

“So I do have some say in this?”

“The details,” he agreed. “I don’t care about the where and when so long as it’s legal.”

There was something about his determination to make her his wife that thrilled her even as it infuriated her. And she suspected that, deep in her heart, she wanted what he was offering: to get married and raise their baby together.

But she didn’t want a marriage on the terms he was offering. She didn’t want a legal union for the sake of their baby but a commitment based on mutual respect and affection. Unfortunately, that offer wasn’t on the table. And even if it was, there were other obstacles to consider.

“What about the detail also known as my job?” she challenged.

“What about it?”

“How am I going to represent my clients in Los Angeles if I’m living in Rust Creek Falls? Or am I supposed to happily sacrifice all of my career ambitions for the pleasure of becoming Mrs. Jesse Crawford?”

His only response was a scowl that proved he hadn’t given much thought to the distance that separated them geographically.

“I’m sure you can find a job in Rust Creek Falls, if you want to keep working.”

“Or maybe you could find work in Los Angeles,” she countered.

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“And you’re being completely unreasonable.”

“It’s not unreasonable to want our child to be raised by two parents.”

“Look at us, Jesse. We can’t even have a simple conversation without fighting and you want us to get married?”

“Yes, I do,” he said again.

She shook her head. “Obviously we have a fundamental difference of opinion.”

“I don’t recall there being any differences of opinion when we were in bed together.”

And with those words, the air was suddenly charged with electricity.

The heat in his gaze spread warmth through her veins, from her belly to her breasts, throbbing between her thighs. He wasn’t even touching her—and she was fairly quivering with desire.

No one had ever affected her the way this man did. No one had ever made her feel the way she felt when she was with him. But even more unnerving than the wanting of her body was the yearning of her heart.

She pushed away from the breakfast bar and carried her empty mug to the sink. She had to leave, to give them both some time and space to think about how they should proceed.

“Maggie.”

She looked up, and he was there. Close enough that she couldn’t breathe without inhaling his clean, masculine scent. Close enough that he had to hear her heart pounding. And although his eyes never left hers, she felt the heat of his gaze everywhere.

He lifted a hand to touch her hair, his fingers skimming over the silky tresses to cradle the back of her head. Then his mouth was on hers, his lips warm and firm and sure, and she melted against him.

She’d forgotten how strong he was, how solid every inch of his body was. Hard and unyielding. And yet, for all of his strength, he was incredibly gentle. It was that unadulterated masculine strength combined with his inherently gentle nature that had appealed to her from the first.

His hands slid down her back, inched up beneath the hem of her sweater. Then those wide, callused palms were on her skin, sliding up her torso to cup her breasts. Her blood pulsed in her veins, hot and demanding. His thumbs brushed over her nipples through the delicate lace, and she actually whimpered.

He nibbled on her lips. Teasing, tasting, tempting.

“I want you, Maggie.”

She wanted him, too. And though she knew it might be a mistake to let herself succumb to that desire while there was still so much unresolved between them, that knowledge didn’t dampen her need.

“Tell me you feel the same,” he urged.

“I do,” she admitted. “But—”

She forgot the rest of what she’d intended to say when he lifted her off her feet and into his arms.

He carried her up the stairs and down a short hallway to his bedroom with effortless ease. When he set her on her feet beside the bed, she knew that if she was going to protest, now was the time to do so. Then he kissed her again, and any thought of protest flew out of her mind.

Her mouth parted beneath the pressure of his, and his tongue swept inside, teasing the soft inside of her lips. His hands slid down her back, over the curve of her buttocks, pulling her close. The evidence of his arousal fueled her own. Blood pulsed in her veins, pooled low in her belly, making her want so much that she actually ached.

She lifted her hands to the buttons of his shirt and began to unfasten them. She wanted to touch him, to feel the warmth of his bare skin beneath her palms. But the cotton T-shirt under the flannel impeded her efforts. With a frustrated sigh, she tugged the T-shirt out of his jeans and shoved her hands beneath it.

Jesse chuckled softly. “I didn’t realize this was a race.”

“I want to feel your body against mine,” she confessed.

He released her long enough to get rid of his clothes. She sat on the edge of the bed, intending to do the same, but she was still struggling with her boots when his jeans hit the floor. As he kicked them away, she couldn’t help but admire the knit boxer briefs that molded to the firm muscles of his buttocks and thighs at the back and did absolutely nothing to hide the obvious evidence of his arousal at the front.

Her mouth went dry and her fingers froze on the knotted laces. He knelt beside her and efficiently untied the boots and pulled them from her feet. Then he unfastened her jeans and pushed them over her hips, down her legs, finally stripping them away along with her socks.

“Your feet are cold,” he realized, warming them between his palms. “You need thicker socks.”

Not in California, she thought, but didn’t say it aloud. She didn’t want to speak of the distance that separated their lives; she didn’t want anything to take away from the here and now.

“Or I could get under the covers,” she suggested.

“That’s a better plan,” he agreed.

But first, he lifted her sweater over her head and tossed it aside, leaving her clad in only a lace demi-cup bra and matching bikini panties. He sat back on his haunches, the heat in his gaze roaming over her as tangible as a caress, making her nipples tighten and her thighs quiver.

“You absolutely take my breath away,” he told her.

She tugged the covers down and rolled over the bed to snuggle beneath them. Jesse immediately slid in beside her, his hands skimming over her, tracing her curves. He lowered his head to nuzzle the tender skin at the base of her throat, making her shiver.

He glanced up. “Are you still cold?”

She shook her head; he smiled slightly before he lowered his head again, his lips skimming across her collarbone, then tracing the lacy edge of her bra. She could feel his breath, warm on her skin, as his mouth hovered above her breast. Her hand lifted to his head, silently urging him closer. He willingly acquiesced to her direction, laving her nipple with his tongue. The sensation of hot, wet heat through the silky fabric made her gasp, then his lips closed over the lace-covered peak, sending fiery spears of pleasure arrowing to her core.

He found the center clasp of her bra and released it, peeling the fabric aside so he could suckle her bare flesh, making her groan. He tugged the straps down her arms, dropped the garment to the floor. His hands stroked down her torso, his fingers hooking in her panties and dragging them down her legs and away, so that she was completely naked. All the while, his hands and his lips moved over her, teasing and tempting, until her body was fairly quivering with wanting.

Genetics had blessed her with a naturally slim build and the loss of those few pounds had pushed her from slender toward skinny, but she knew that was only a temporary state. Because although her hip bones and ribs were visible now, there was also a subtle roundness to her belly—evidence of the baby she carried.

He splayed his hand over the curve, his wide palm covering her almost from hip bone to hip bone, as if cradling their child, and the sweetness of the gesture made tears fill her eyes.

“Everyone says that a baby is a miracle,” he said. “But the idea of you growing our baby inside of you is every bit as miraculous.”

“You call it miraculous now. In a few more months, you’ll be calling it fat.”

She’d been teasing, attempting to lighten the mood, but as soon as she spoke the words, she wished she could take them back. Talking about the future as if they would be together was a mistake, even if it was—deep in her heart—what she wanted.

But he shook his head. “You’ll always be beautiful to me—the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

Which might have sounded like a well-rehearsed line from another man, but the sincerity in his tone made her heart swell inside her chest.

“I want to be with you through every step of your pregnancy,” he continued. “I want to see the changes in your body as our baby grows. I want to be the one who runs to the grocery store in the middle of the night when you have a sudden craving for ice cream.”

“I didn’t think the store in Rust Creek Falls was open in the middle of the night.”

“Lucky for you, I have a key.”

“That is lucky,” she agreed. “But I don’t want to worry about the future right now.”

“What do you want?”

She lifted her arms to link them behind his neck. “You. I only want you.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” he said. “Because I want you, too.”

Then he captured her mouth in a long, slow kiss that went on and on until her head was actually spinning. The hand that was on her belly inched lower. His fingers sifted through the soft curls at the apex of her thighs and her hips automatically lifted off the bed, wordlessly encouraging his exploration. He parted the slick folds and dipped inside. She didn’t know if it was the pregnancy hormones or Jesse, but all it took was that one stroke, deep inside, and she flew apart.

He continued to stroke her while the convulsions rippled through her body. Her hands fisted in the sheet, as she tried to anchor herself against the onslaught of sensations. “Jesse, please.”

He leaned forward to reach into the drawer beside his bed and pulled out a small square packet.

Though she was reassured by this evidence of what was obviously a long-ingrained habit, she had to smile. “Isn’t that a little like closing the barn door after the horse is out?”

“I guess it is,” he agreed. “Although there are more reasons than pregnancy for using protection.”

“Oh.” She blushed. “Of course.”

“But there’s been no one since you,” he said sincerely. “And no one for more than six months before that.”

She took the square packet out of his hand. “Then we don’t need this,” she said, and set it on the bedside table.

He parted her legs and settled between them, burying himself deep in one thrust as she arched up to meet him.

He groaned in appreciation as she wrapped her legs around his hips. “You feel...so...good.”

“You make me feel good,” she told him.

He smiled at that and lowered his head to kiss her, long and slow and deep, as he moved inside her.

Maggie had never thought of herself as a particularly sensual woman. She certainly wasn’t the type to get carried away by passion. She’d always thought sex was enjoyable, if unremarkable, but that was before she’d had sex with Jesse.

Over the past few months, she’d decided that her memories of the one night they’d spent together had been exaggerated by her imagination. It wasn’t really possible that just standing close to him had made her knees weak, that breathing in his unique scent could make her insides quiver, that the touch of his mouth against her was enough to make her bones melt. Of course it wasn’t. For some reason, she’d romanticized the memory, turned their one-night affair into something it never was and was never meant to be.

And then she’d seen him again, and her knees had gone weak. He’d stepped closer to her, and her insides had quivered. It didn’t matter that his gaze had been guarded and his tone had been cool. All that mattered was he was there, and every nerve ending in her body was suddenly and acutely aware of him, aching for him.

Then, finally, he’d touched her. Just a brush of his hand over her hair, but that was enough to have her heart hammering inside of her chest. And then he kissed her, and not just her bones but everything inside of her had melted into a puddle of need. There was no thought or reason, there was only want. Hot and sharp and desperate.

As he moved inside of her now, she felt the connection between them. Not just the physical mating of their bodies but the joining of their souls. Maybe it was fantastical, but it was how she felt. She couldn’t think of anything but Jesse, didn’t want anyone but him.

The delicious friction between their bodies was every bit as incredible as she’d remembered—maybe even more. Every stroke, every thrust, sent little shock waves zinging through her blood. She could feel the anticipation building inside of her. Her body arched and strained, meeting him willingly, eagerly, aching for the ecstasy and fulfillment she’d only ever found in his arms.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, her fingers digging into his muscles, her nails scoring his skin. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps as he drove her higher and higher to the pinnacle of their mutual pleasure.

Yes.

Please.

More.

And he gave her more. With his hands and his lips and his body, he gave and he gave until it was more than she could take. Pleasure poured through her, over her, a tidal wave of sensation that was so intense it stole her breath, her thoughts, her vision. There was nothing but bliss...and Jesse.

He was everything.

With a last thrust and a shudder, he collapsed on top of her, his face buried in the pillow beside her head.

She lifted a hand to his shoulder, let it trail down his back. His deliciously sculpted and tightly muscled body was truly a woman’s fantasy—and he’d proven more than capable of satisfying every one of her fantasies, even the ones she hadn’t realized that she had.

He lifted his weight off her, shifted so that he was beside her. But he kept his arm around her, holding her close. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Her lips curved. “I’m very okay.”

He pulled her closer, so that her back was snug against his front and her head was tucked beneath his chin. “I almost forgot how good it was between us.”

“I tried to convince myself it couldn’t have been as good as I remembered.” It was somehow easier to make the admission without looking at him. “But I was wrong.”

“I missed you, Maggie.”

“I missed you, too. But this...chemistry,” she decided, for lack of a better term, “between us doesn’t really change anything.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Wanting you—and wanting to be with you—doesn’t alter the fact that our lives are twelve hundred miles apart.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he told her.

He made it sound so easy, but Maggie knew there wasn’t a simple answer. His suggestion that they should get married and raise their baby together wasn’t a viable one. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—give up her career and her life in LA simply because he wanted to be a hands-on parent to their child. She admired his willingness to step up and respected his commitment to his ideals of fatherhood, but she was determined to focus on reality. And the reality was that her life, her family and her career were in California.

It wasn’t likely that they were going to figure anything out—certainly not easily. She suspected it was more likely that there would be a lot of disagreement before any decisions were made, but it wasn’t a battle she wanted to wage right now. Not while she was cradled in the warm strength of his arms, her body still sated from their lovemaking.

Within a few minutes, his breathing had evened out, and she knew he’d fallen asleep. As her own eyes started to drift shut, she found herself thinking about his impromptu offer of marriage. Not that she intended to accept—there were too many reasons to refuse, too many barriers to a relationship between them. But she couldn’t deny that the prospect of sharing a bed with him for more than a few hours was undeniably tempting.

Chapter Four

When Jesse woke up, he was alone.

He could still smell Maggie’s scent on his sheets, and there was an indent on the pillow where she’d slept, so he knew she couldn’t have been gone long. He rose from his bed and moved to the window.

He didn’t realize that his chest felt tight until he saw that her rental car was behind his truck in the driveway and the tension lessened. He’d been left with nothing more than a note on his kitchen table once before, and he didn’t want to go through that again. He hadn’t chased after Shaelyn—he’d had no interest in forcing her to stay in Rust Creek Falls when it was obvious she didn’t want to be there.

But the situation with Maggie was different—she was carrying his baby, and that meant they had to figure out a way to work things out. If she had gone, he would have chased after her. He was glad he didn’t have to.

He retrieved his jeans from the floor and tugged them on, then shoved his arms into the sleeves of his shirt and headed down the stairs. He found her standing at the stove, a spatula in her hand. The pressure in his chest eased a little more.

A glance at the numeric display on the stove revealed that it was after eight o’clock. “I guess we skipped dinner.”

She looked up and offered a shy smile. “I hope you don’t mind—I woke up hungry, and I thought you might be, too.”

“I don’t and I am,” he told her. “French toast?”

“Is that okay?”

“Perfect.”

She flipped the last piece of bread out of the frying pan and onto the plate, then carried the plate to the table, already set for two.

As she sat down across from him, he put a couple of slices on his plate, then liberally doused them with maple syrup. She took one slice, slowly ate it, cutting neat little squares that she dipped in a tiny puddle of syrup on her plate.

“I thought you said you were hungry.”

“I was.” She popped the last piece of toast into her mouth, then folded her napkin and set it on top of her plate. “And now I’ve eaten.”

“You had one piece of French toast.”

“I had two.” One corner of her mouth tilted up in a half smile. “I ate the first one as soon as I flipped it out of the frying pan.”

“Two whole slices?” He transferred another two to his own plate. “You must be stuffed.”

“Don’t make fun of me—I’m just happy to be able to keep down what I’m eating these days.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, sincerely contrite. “That must have been awful.”

“It wasn’t fun,” she agreed.

“You should have called me.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”

He wanted to stay angry with her, but what was the point? Nothing could change what had happened since she left Rust Creek Falls in July, nothing could give them back the first four months of her pregnancy. But he couldn’t help but think that, if she’d told him sooner, they might be in a different place right now.

Instead, he’d spent weeks dealing with the tangled emotions inside of him. He’d been hurt and angry and frustrated that he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d tried to get over her—he’d even let his younger brother, Justin, set him up with a friend of the girl he was going out with. The date had been a complete bust, primarily because he couldn’t stop thinking about Maggie. But recently he’d managed to convince himself that he was starting to forget about her—right up until the minute he saw her standing outside the paddock at Traub Stables.

“So,” he began, thinking that a change of topic was in order, “things have been busy for you at work over the past couple of months?”

She nodded. “Busier than usual. Maybe too busy.”

“Can you cut back on your hours?”

“Not if I want to keep my job.”

“Do you?”

“Of course,” she answered immediately, automatically.

Then her brow furrowed as she picked up her glass of water and sipped.

“Tell me about your new job,” she finally suggested. “When I was here in the summer, you were working here, at your family’s ranch, and now you’re training horses.”

“I still help out here, but it’s the horses that have always been my focus.”

“I heard they call you the horse whisperer in town—what exactly does that mean?”

“It’s not as mystical as it sounds,” he told her. “It just means that I don’t use restraints or force when I’m training.”

“How did you end up working at Traub Stables? I thought there was some long-standing feud between the Crawfords and the Traubs.”

“There is,” he acknowledged. “Although no one really seems sure about its origins, whether it was a business deal gone bad or a romantic rivalry. Whatever the cause, I think my sister’s marriage to Dallas Traub in February has helped build some bridges between the two families.”

“So your family doesn’t mind that you’re working for Sutter Traub?”

His lips curved in a wry smile. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he acknowledged. “My father saw it as a betrayal. My mother warned that I was being set up—for what, she had no idea, but she was certain it was some kind of disaster in the making.”

“Did you take the job despite their objections—or because of them?”

“Despite,” he said. “I’ve wanted some space from my family for a long time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love and respect them.”

“And you don’t mind that your boss is a Traub?”

“Sutter’s a good guy who values the animals in his care and appreciates what I bring to his stables.”

“I read a series of books when I was a kid, about a girl who lived on a ranch and raised an orphaned foal,” she told him. “She fed it and trained it and entered riding competitions with it. After reading those books, I was desperate to experience the feeling of racing across open fields on horseback. I begged my parents to put me in a riding camp for the summer.