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“It was just false labor, like I thought,” she forced herself to say blithely. “Now, please, I really have to get home. I have guests coming in tonight.”
She remembered suddenly she didn’t even have the room made up. Just thinking of the evening ahead made her bone weary. She’d had a full house the night before—and had intended them to be her last guests for a while. She’d taken care not to allow bookings for the month preceding her due date and for six weeks afterward, the most time she could afford to close the struggling B&B. But she’d been feeling chipper this morning when a couple had called for last-minute reservations.
She regretted the impulse that had made her accept the booking. She wasn’t feeling nearly so chipper now.
Garrett backed the car out of the parking space, but he wasn’t through with his questions.
“How do you know it’s false labor?” he asked as he swung the car into the street, heading in the direction of the B&B.
“The contractions were erratic,” Lanie explained briefly. “And they went away. Also, the pain began in my lower abdomen, rather than my lower back—which is where real contractions usually start.” She looked out the window, as if intensely interested in the scenery passing by, discouraging further conversation. She had no intention of elaborating.
They passed through the town square, complete with a courthouse surrounded on four sides by active businesses that clearly appealed to Hill Country tourism—a hotel, several restaurants and antique and novelty shops. In a few minutes they arrived at the Victorian B&B. Lanie unhooked her seat belt and shoved open the passenger-side door.
“Thank you for taking me to the doctor.”
“No problem.” Garrett removed his keys from the ignition.
“I’m sorry you made this trip out here for nothing,” she said with almost painful civility. “I really don’t think there’s anything else for us to talk about.”
“Lanie—”
“I’m not going back to Austin with you,” she said, cutting Garrett off. “And I don’t even want to discuss those tests.”
“Lanie—”
“Walter can believe whatever he wants to believe. I merely felt it was my duty to inform him about Ben’s child. That’s all. I don’t want anything from him—not his help, and certainly not his money, if that’s what he’s afraid of. Tell him he can relax.”
Salty pinpricks stabbed at Lanie’s eyes. What a time to get hormonal! she cursed inwardly, determined to put the emotion down to her pregnancy rather than to the idea that she might give a hoot about what Ben’s father thought. Or Garrett, for that matter.
“Lanie—”
“Goodbye,” she managed, and got out of the car. She slammed the car door shut, wishing she could make a more graceful departure than that of a lumbering elephant, which was what she felt like at the moment.
She heard Garrett’s car door shut behind her and knew he’d gotten out, too. “Lanie, I’m not leaving. Not tonight, at least.”
Lanie’s shoulders drooped at Garrett’s words. She stopped in the middle of the street and swiveled to face him, wishing desperately that he would disappear. She was far too tired to deal with him.
“Look, I’m not going to press you about the tests. Not tonight.” Garret approached Lanie. She looked tired, and he knew the decision he’d just come to was the right one. Her golden waves shifted in the wind as she stood there, the long tresses swinging softly around her small shoulders. The afternoon sun caressed her bare cheeks, the warm light loving her smooth skin. Again Garrett experienced an oddly protective sensation.
He put it down to the fact that the baby Lanie carried might be Ben’s. This was about the baby, he reminded himself. Not Lanie.
“I heard what the nurse told you,” he went on. “You’re supposed to rest—and you have guests coming. I could stay and help.” He didn’t know what work this would entail, but he couldn’t see leaving her alone right now.
He wasn’t entirely convinced she was telling him everything about her visit with the doctor. Besides, nothing had been settled. He had to find out the truth, for Walter’s sake. For Ben’s sake.
And for his own, he realized abruptly. He had to know if Lanie was an innocent—or a liar. He didn’t even want to think about why that was suddenly so important to him. It simply was.
Lanie blinked. “You—help?”
She looked so shocked he didn’t know whether to laugh or be insulted. He was getting tired of her looking at him like he was Attila the Hun.
Not that he cared whether she liked him or not. Not at all. It was just that as long as she disliked him this intensely, he was going to have a hard time getting her to cooperate.
He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Of course I can help. Why not?”
Chapter Three
Lanie noticed Garrett looked kind of nice when he smiled. Less like a power broker, and more like a human. He even had a dimple, just on the left side, which she hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps because the man didn’t seem to smile all that much.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here tonight.” As tempting as his help sounded, she didn’t think having Garrett around, any more than necessary, would be a good idea at all. He hadn’t been in town five minutes before he’d started trying to take charge of her life—demanding tests on the baby, commanding her to go to Austin and live under the Blakemores’ thumbs until the baby’s birth, insisting he drive her to the doctor’s office.
Of course, driving her to the doctor’s had been a good idea, but none of the rest of it was. She didn’t want the Blakemores running her life—or worse, taking control of her baby.
“It’s a great idea,” Garrett persisted. “You need to rest, and I need a place to stay.”
“You could drive back to the city,” Lanie pointed out, pushing back the temptation he offered.
Help sounded awfully good, whether she wanted it to or not. She was just so tired.
She pulled herself together. “It’s not that far to Austin,” she dismissed. She turned her back on him and his help, trudging up the walk.
He came up behind her. “Are you always this stubborn?” he asked.
“Stubborn! Me?” Lanie stopped long enough to cast Garrett an arch look as he reached her side. “You’re the one who can’t take no for an answer.”
She arrived at the front door and scoured her handbag for her housekeys. She found them, then immediately proceeded to drop them on the ground.
Garrett started to retrieve the keys for her, but Lanie knelt, awkwardly, and snatched them before he could.
“Please leave me alone.” Tears stung at the back of her eyes again. Bending wasn’t her best event these days, but she shook off Garrett’s arm as he tried to help her straighten.
She felt as if she were teetering on the edge. Her exhaustion combined with the stress of the afternoon had been too much, and the last thing she wanted to do was break into one of those sudden bouts of hormonal tears that had plagued her throughout her pregnancy—right in front of Garrett.
She fumbled with the key, wiggling it into the hole, struggling with the old lock. Blinking back traitorous tears, she gratefully pushed the door open. A few more seconds and she could shut it in his face.
“Are you crying?”
She tried to ignore him as she moved through the doorway. He stuck his foot in the door and prevented her from closing it.
She didn’t want to look at him, but he reached out and turned her face toward him, the touch strong and gentle at the same time. Lifting her eyes, she met his reluctantly. She dashed a hand at the moisture on her cheeks and lifted her chin a notch.
“You are crying.” He sounded confused. He dropped his hand from her face, but not his stare. “Look, I don’t know if this is pride or stubbornness or just that you don’t like me much.” An odd, almost painful light flickered in his eyes for a second, then disappeared. “But I think you need some help tonight.” His voice was soft. “Will you let me stay?”
Lanie thought about going to the backyard and dragging the sheets off the line, hauling them upstairs and making up the bed, then greeting the guests with the customary refreshments. Her feet, her knees, her hips—every place where the baby’s weight put unaccustomed pressure—ached like she carried a two-ton truck instead of a tiny human being.
She wanted nothing more than to drop into bed and let someone help her. But it wasn’t safe for Garrett Blakemore to be that someone. She knew that.
But she said, “All right,” anyway.
Garrett knocked lightly on the closed door to Lanie’s bedroom. “Lanie?”
“Come in,” she called.
He poked his head around the doorjamb in time to see her sitting up in bed, a fat pillow propped behind her back. She was still dressed, her long legs stretched out on a colorful quilt decorated in a pattern of interlocking rings. A white lace curtain blew softly at the open window, bringing the warm afternoon inside.
Despite the obvious reluctance with which she’d agreed to let him help her out for the evening, she’d acquiesced with surprising ease when he’d insisted she go straight upstairs to rest. He knew this was more likely an indication of the true state of her exhaustion than any sign of surrender on her part.
She’d given him brief instructions about making up two rooms with sheets from the line outside, and had explained where to find the refreshments she had prepared She’d asked him to call her when the guests arrived so she could come down to greet them. But before he tended to any of the other preparations, he’d decided to fix her something to eat.
“I brought you a sandwich and a glass of milk,” Garret said. He came around the side of the antique spool bed and placed a tray on the end table near her. Her wary gaze never left him. “And some cookies.” He held out the glass of milk.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” Surprise widened her eyes as she took in the tray.
“Of course I should have,” Garrett said. Her aversion to his assistance was really starting to annoy him.
He kept holding out the glass, and she finally took it, her slender fingers lightly brushing his in the exchange. A small electrical charge zinged up Garrett’s arm, filtering through his irritation.
He backed up slightly in reaction, putting a little distance between himself and Lanie. It was just the oddness of being in her bedroom, he told himself. The situation was overly intimate, considering they’d only known each other a few hours.
“I don’t want you waiting on me,” Lanie protested. She set the glass down on the tray.
Garrett shrugged. “It’s just a little something to eat. It’s not a big deal. You need to keep up your strength.”
She looked wan, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like how it made him feel. He didn’t like how he was worrying about this woman he’d only just met and had no reason to trust or even like.
Of course, he reminded himself, he did have one good reason for caring. The sooner she rested up, the sooner he could tackle the business at hand—getting her to agree to come back to Austin with him. He worked to focus on the reason he was in Deer Creek, and to forget how pale and defenseless Lame looked, propped in bed, surrounded by all this soft lace and patchwork simplicity.
The scene was a false picture, making her seem more maternal than small-town schemer. The whole setup was what was throwing him off balance, he decided. The sooner he got out of her bedroom, the better.
He strode to the door, determined to get the sheets and make up the guest rooms. And put as much distance as he possibly could between himself and Lanie’s sweet, vulnerable eyes.
“Garrett?”
He stopped in the doorway and turned to look at her. She chewed her lip, hesitating, the glow from the sunset lighting her fine features. Her hands moved over the rounding of her belly in a seemingly unconscious gesture.
Garrett’s gaze followed the movement of her hands, lured by the slow caressing motion that spoke of tender care for her unborn child. He wondered if the baby was moving, what it would feel like to place his hand there and feel the tiny life inside her kick....
He jerked his attention back to her face. “What?” he prompted curtly. He really needed to get out of her bedroom.
“I—uh...” She glanced at the tray, then back at him. She bit her lip again. “Thank you,” she said finally, as if the words came with great difficulty. “I hope I didn’t sound rude. I didn’t mean to.”
She sounded so sincere. Her hand moved over her stomach again. The light from the window settled around her like a halo.
Garrett swallowed tightly. “No problem,” he answered, and made good his escape.
Lanie watched Garrett through her open window as he crossed the backyard, heading for the clothesline. The curtains fluttered about as the light breeze infused a warm, comfortable breath of fresh air into the room. She took a big gulp of it. She needed it. She needed something, anyway—something to stop her from making a complete and total fool of herself.
She felt touched by Garrett’s thoughtfulness in bringing her supper. He’d even brought her cookies. It was such a simple yet considerate gesture. The sort of gesture she wouldn’t have expected from the hard, cold businessman who’d all but accused her of trying to defraud his uncle.
Lanie tensed at the thought. The whole thing was so insulting. Why was Garrett really so intent on helping her this evening? Out of the goodness of his heart?
Fat chance of that! She blew out a frustrated breath. His help—and his suppers—were part of his plan to manipulate her into going back to Austin with him.
She should have thrown the supper tray right back in his face.
She eyed the meal in front of her. She was hungry, and she didn’t see anything to be gained by not eating. After all, she’d need her strength if she was going to resist his power plays.
And there was no point wasting perfectly good cookies, was there?
Picking up the sandwich first, she took a bite and narrowed her gaze on her adversary. He’d rolled his sleeves up and begun tearing sheets down.
The muscles of his arms flexed in the sun as he reached upward. Lanie stared for long seconds before swallowing the bite of sandwich, then forcibly ripped her gaze from the sight in her yard. She took a swig of cold milk. Really, what was wrong with her? She was practically ogling the man.
She couldn’t believe now she’d ever mistaken him for Ben. He was nothing like Ben. It was more than the subtle physical differences. There was something so serious, so earnest about Garrett.
Ben had been funny and exciting—in the beginning. They’d had a whirlwind courtship. He’d dared her out of her quiet life. Her quiet rut, as her grandmother who’d raised her used to say. She’d known Ben was marrying her over his wealthy father’s objections, but he was determined and had insisted his father would come around. He said he wanted to get married and help her rebuild the bed-and-breakfast business she’d recently inherited after her grandmother’s death.
Even though her grandmother was gone, Lanie could still hear her nagging. Life is short, live while you’re young, let your heart lead you.
And in a moment of uncharacteristic spontaneity, Lanie had let her heart lead her. She’d married Ben.
The disillusionment had come quickly. Walter Blakemore couldn’t accept his son’s abrupt marriage, or his decision to leave the family business. He’d underscored his unbending resolve by cutting Ben off financially. But that hadn’t been the worst of it. It was only after they’d married that Lanie finally understood what Ben’s power struggle with his father was all about. He wanted his father’s love—and no matter how much love she gave him, it could never be enough, never make up for what his father had withheld from him his entire life.
Ben had grown distant and morose, alternating between long silences and angry outbursts. And Lanie knew she’d made a mistake—that they had both made a mistake. But she wasn’t a quitter and she’d tried to make their marriage work despite the coldness with which he’d pushed her away.
By the time he died, she wasn’t sure if Ben had ever loved her or if she had merely been a means to break away from his father. But whatever the fate of their marriage might have been if he’d lived, she still mourned him—that his life had been cut too short, that her baby would never know its father.
She had little family of her own left—only a brother on military duty overseas. But Ben had family, and so did her baby.
Her gaze moved out the window again. The yard was empty now, the clothesline bare. Garrett was gone, which was just as well. She didn’t need to be tempted by his strong arms, to fantasize what it would feel like to have those arms around her, to feel that exciting ripple of warmth inside her when he looked at her. Not when she felt so very lonely.
Thoughts of Garrett were dangerous. Garrett was dangerous. He was the sort of man who would have everything he wanted, wouldn’t settle for less.
And he wanted something from her.
This time, Lanie couldn’t hide from the little ripple that shuddered inside her. This time it was fear.
“Your home is lovely.”
Garrett opened his mouth to explain to the Berringers, Lanie’s guests for the night, that the Sweet Dreams Bed and Breakfast wasn’t his home, but a soft voice from behind stopped him.
“Thank you.”
He turned. Lanie, dressed now in a flowing yellow undress that lit up her eyes and hair, seemed to float into the parlor. She smiled at the Berringers, looking rested and relaxed.
Weren’t pregnant women supposed to be awkward? Garret thought. There was nothing ungainly about Lanie.
She moved like a feather. A delicate, beautiful feather. Garrett found her gracefulness annoying.
