Loving a Lawman (20 page)

“Did you sleep okay?” Seth asked.

She grabbed the milk jug and set it on the table as she addressed her husband. Dang, he looked good in the morning, all stubby and sweet, sleepy and sexy. “I did. You?”

He shrugged and folded over the morning paper and set it to the side of his place mat. “I was a little worried about you.”

She smiled and eased into the chair opposite him. “Thanks for taking care of me last night.” She reached a hand across the table and squeezed his fingers.

“Of course.”

“No, really, Seth. I don't know what I would have done
without you and . . .” She stopped as she remembered how stubborn she had been the night before. She hadn't wanted his help. Not just because she was a little uncomfortable with the situation, but also because she hadn't had to rely on anyone other than herself for so long that it was near impossible to do so. “Thank you.” She leaned in and gave him a lingering kiss on the mouth.

Unlike the ones of late that seemed controlled and almost orchestrated—though nice, very, very nice—this one was wildfire and gasoline. In an instant, she felt as if her entire body had been engulfed with flames. She wanted him now more than she ever had. She wanted him inside her, all around her. She wanted him to be a part of her, together until they became one. One mind, one body, one soul.

He wrapped his fingers around her arms and put her away from him. His green eyes blazed with desire. She might not know a great deal about men and desire, but that much was obvious. How long were they going to court before he made her his once again?

“Seth?” If only she could get the courage she needed to ask him outright. But she was afraid she might not like the answer. No, it was better by far to wonder than have her heart shredded.

“Not yet, Jess.” He placed a kiss on her forehead and set her from him. “What do you want to do today?” he asked.

She thought about it a minute and allowed him the subject change. “We could work on the nursery.”

“I was thinking more along the line of going into church.”

Jessie shook her head. “Maybe we should wait until people start to accept us as a couple before we do that.”

“How are they going to accept us as a couple if we don't?”

“I don't know, but please.” She couldn't handle another episode like the one with Sissy Callahan. Of course, they didn't have to go to the same church where Sissy's father preached, but one thing that Jessie had learned in life, there
was a Sissy Callahan for every occasion. Or in this case, denomination.

“Whatever you want,” he said in that wonderful Seth way of his, but somehow his bending to her every whim and desire was beginning to wear a bit thin. Or perhaps she was merely a little on the hormonal side. Or it could be the pent-up desire that flared to life whenever he was around. Once again, it could be chalked up to hormones. Her husband might have wanted her once. But he was holding back from her now. And she had no idea why.

“I want to get the nursery ready.”

“Are you sure you're up for that?”

“You just said whatever I want.”

He nodded. “So I did.” He pushed to his feet and took one last drink of his coffee. “The nursery it is. Just promise me you won't overdo it.”

Jessie sighed, though secretly she loved that protective streak of his. “Fine,” she said. “I promise.”

*   *   *

T
hey spent all day working in the nursery putting together the furniture and washing the baby sheets. Seth figured she'd have to turn around and wash them again before they brought the baby home, but he wasn't about to interrupt her nesting.

She stood by the nursery door and looked at where he had placed the crib and the changing table. “Do you think the bed should go along that wall instead?” She pointed to the far window.

“Only if you want him awake with the sunrise. That window faces east.”

She thought about it a second, then nodded. “I guess. It just seems . . . not right. Maybe it's not balanced.”

“You want me to get one of those books on feng shui?”

She shook her head. “I don't even know what that is.”

“It's a Chinese way of placing your furniture so that it brings wealth or happiness into your home.”

“And they have these for baby furniture?”

He shrugged. “I would imagine. They have them for everything else.”

“Like how to make her vice president?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of making him a cowboy.”

She gave him that look he loved, somewhere between the little girl he once knew and the seductress he had met once or twice. “That won't be a problem,” she said. “Not with you for a daddy.”

S
he wanted everything to be perfect. Jessie slid the garlic bread into the oven and gave the spaghetti sauce one last stir and a quick taste. Perfect. She set the spoon to one side and turned down the heat.

Seth would be home any minute, and she wanted to present him with a wonderful, tasty, perfect spaghetti supper.

Yesterday they had spent the entire day together working in the nursery, putting the final touches on their home. Then last night Seth had been so kind and caring when the nausea set in. He made it easy to pretend that they would last forever. Or maybe he made it seem as though they could. He made it easy to believe that this marriage was what they both wanted. But the more he acted that way, the more confused she became. He wanted to court her, to give them time, and she . . . well, she wasn't sure what she wanted anymore. She loved this time of getting to know each other better, but yesterday morning she had wanted . . . more.

The timer for the pasta beeped, and she grabbed a couple of pot holders to pull the pot off the stove. She had no more gotten the water and noodles poured into the colander than a pungent smell filled the air.

What was . . . “The bread!” She raced to the stove and opened it just in time for the buttered slices to burst into flames.

As quickly as she could, she pulled them from the oven and tossed them into the sink.

Right on top of the pasta.

The pan sizzled, and plastic melted, adding yet another smell to the growing stench in the kitchen. Burned bread, hot plastic, and . . .

Scorched spaghetti sauce.

Jessie spun around toward the stove. The perfect sauce was bubbling out of control. She must have turned the temperature up instead of down. She switched off the eye, for real this time, and scooted the pan off to the side. That was one thing that she hadn't gotten used to since moving out to the old ranch house. She'd had a gas range at her meemaw's house. Not that the type of stove she was cooking on had anything to do with the disaster that had been the perfect dinner for her husband only a few minutes ago.

From outside she heard a truck door slam. Seth was home. She waved a pot holder in front of her face to clear some of the smoke away. The front door opened; then the smoke detector let out a shrill ring.

*   *   *

S
eth took one step into the house, only to be greeted by the smoke alarm. “Jessie?” He took off running toward the kitchen. “Jessie!”

But the sight that met his eyes when he entered the room was not what he'd expected.

Jessie in cutoff jean shorts and a pink-and-white baseball shirt was something to behold, but after that, the
kitchen left a lot to be desired. She looked okay, intact and whole, but the stove was covered with splatters of tomato sauce, something that looked like chunks of coal smoldered in the sink, and the smell of burned plastic invaded his senses. “What the hell happened in here?”

She whirled on him, jaw clenched, and then she collapsed onto the floor like a rag doll. At least she was sitting up. Her head was down, and her legs were crossed Indian-style.

“Jessie?”

She lifted her chin, and his heart skipped a beat as tears trickled down her freckled cheeks. “I just wanted tonight to be perfect.”

Her expression was so pained he almost laughed. But he managed to pull himself together. He hooked his hands under her arms and hoisted her to her feet. “It's okay,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her. “I'm sure dinner can be saved.”

“It can't,” she sobbed. “And I ruined it. It's all my fault.”

“It's just dinner,” he said as he rocked her from side to side. This must be what the book was talking about when it said pregnant women had mood swings and emotional outbursts. The authors' advice to husbands was to be kind and considerate and let the mom-to-be know how much she meant to him.

“It's more than dinner,” she blubbered. “I wanted to do this for you.”

“Shhh . . .” He pulled away from her and cupped his fingers on either side of her sweet face. “It's food, Jessie. Just food.”

“But . . . but . . .” She pulled away and surveyed the mess. “What are we going to eat tonight?”

Seth smiled. “We'll find something.”

*   *   *

M
aybe this was why people fell in love before getting married. It made it easier to overlook all the little mistakes and blunders, Seth thought as he patted his stomach. “Thanks for dinner, Jessie.”

She shot him a look, but it was more playful than angry. After her meltdown, they had scrounged though the cabinets and found the makings for a Frito chili pie. Not exactly a gourmet meal, but it was quick and easy and having an alternative helped to dry Jessie's tears.

“Let's go out on the porch and sit in the swing.”

She set their dirty plates on the counter and gave him a look, half-confused, half-suspicious. “Let me clean up this mess, and I'll be right there.”

“That'll take too long.” The quicker he got her outside and sitting by his side, the quicker he could put Operation Seduce My Wife into motion. It was time. They had been married for six weeks, and he was pretty sure Jessie was ready to move to the next step. Lord knew, he was. Yesterday morning just proved it, but he wanted everything to be perfect, and laying her down on the kitchen table was far from a fantasy. Well, his maybe, but she deserved better. The best.

“It'll take half that time if you help me.”

She had a point there. “Hand me an apron.”

Side by side they scrubbed pans and pitched out burned hunks of bread and rubbery noodles. The plastic colander would have to be replaced, and he wasn't sure if his saucepan would ever be the same, but it didn't matter. That was just stuff. She was so much more important to him than kitchen accessories. And she needed to know that. Her meltdown this evening was a prime reason to take their relationship to the next level. It was time to let her know how much she meant to him. That she didn't have to worry about convincing him to like her. Even if he only told her with touches and kisses.

Half an hour later, they finished cleaning the mess. He pushed open the screen door and held it for Jessie.

She sat in the swing and steadied it as he joined her.

The night was perfect. This was all part of his plan, watching the sunset with Jess while the cicadas sang and the bullfrogs called to their mates.

“The baby's room looks nice,” he said as he rocked them back and forth with his heels.

“I think so.”

When had things gotten awkward?

Or maybe it was just him.

He felt fourteen again, trying to figure out a way to kiss a girl and hoping the whole while that she wouldn't slap him across the face.

But this was Jessie. All he had to do was scoot a little closer, wrap his arm around her, and—

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She gave one vigorous shake of her head, then doubled over.

“Jessie?”

“Sick,” she gasped.

“Do you need help getting inside?”

“Is this going to happen every night?”

“I can't say for certain, but I'm thinking yes. This is three nights in a row.” He couldn't be too upset about his plans being shot, not with Jessie wheezing and gasping and doing everything in her power to keep her dinner inside.

He rubbed her neck, wondering what he could do to make her feel better. He had wanted them to have a special time. He wanted to show her with his body that he loved her. He had been a patient man, but now that patience was wearing thin. But she was sick, and all because of his baby.

“Can you make it to your room?” His plans would have to be put on hold for a while. Maybe months if she was going to get sick as soon as the sun went down.

“I think so.” She stood and swayed like tall grass in a strong wind. “Can you help me?”

He rose and wrapped one arm around her. As slowly as he dared yet as quickly as he could, he walked her to her room.

He helped her into bed, pulled up her covers, then got her a wet washrag just as he had the night before.

“Just rest,” he murmured, bending low to plant a chaste kiss on her cheek. Not exactly how he had imagined their evening would end.

He started toward the door.

“Seth,” Jessie whispered.

“Yeah?” He stopped, waiting for her to continue.

“I'm sorry.”

“Aw, Jess. You don't have to apologize. Just feel better, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you,” he said with one last look at his wife before letting himself out of her room.

*   *   *

J
essie woke the next morning feeling as right as rain, as Grandma Esther said. She had slept nine straight hours and felt refreshed after her bout of “morning sickness” the night before. Of course Seth's words didn't hurt either. He loved her. For a man who had trouble expressing himself, he sure knew the right thing to say.

The thought was satisfying and scary all at the same time.

It's going to be a good day.
She pushed herself from the bed, a little stiff from her long sleep. As she stretched, her muscles cramped. What did she expect after three nights of dry heaves?

She could hear Seth moving around getting ready for work. Taking care of her bathroom business as quickly as possible, she washed her hands and face and met him in the kitchen.

His eyebrows rose in surprise at the sight of her. He had one hip propped against the counter as he sipped his coffee.

“Good morning,” he said.

Normally she would have headed straight for the
coffeepot for her shot of morning caffeine. But this morning she had something else on her mind.

“Good morning.” She stood in front of him, contemplating her next move. “Last night,” she started, inching a bit closer. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she told herself to wait. “Last night you said that you love me.”

“Yeah.” His jaw tightened and his eyes grew a bit guarded.

“Did you mean that?” she asked.

A moment hung suspended between them; then his mask cracked and fell away. “Yeah.”

She rose on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. He loved her!

His lips were stiff beneath hers. Then they softened as she continued to kiss him.

He loved her and yet he pulled away.

“Jessie,” he said, his voice choked and strained. “I need to go to work.”

“You mean now?” she asked, deciding that if he wasn't going to let her kiss his lips, she would move her efforts to his jaw and that crazy pulse beating in his neck.

“Soon,” he croaked.

“How soon?” she asked, sliding her hands down his chest. He had been so diligent in his courting efforts, but enough was enough. There was something between them. She couldn't say exactly what it was. But he loved her and she was beginning to think that she loved him in return.

Scratch that. She did love him. She had loved him her entire life like a brother, but ever since that afternoon in his truck . . .

He had been thoughtful and angry. Her rock, her nemesis, her savior, and now her husband. What was not to love?

“Fifteen minutes.”

She continued to kiss her way down his neck. How could one man smell so good?

“Half an hour,” he corrected, swooping in to capture her lips with his own. The kiss was searing and curled her toes. She loved every bone-melting minute of it. “Forty-five minutes. I got forty-five minutes before someone comes looking for me.”

She laughed as he captured her lips once again. They could do a lot in forty-five minutes. Her arms snaked up and circled his neck, holding him closer and closer. His kiss was delicious, electric, and she couldn't get enough. She never wanted it to end.

He walked her backward until her behind bumped the kitchen counter, then lifted her up and nestled between her legs.

“Much better,” he murmured as he continued his possession.

She was on fire, consumed by this need she had for him. “Is it always like this?” she asked as she tipped his hat from his head and tossed it onto the kitchen table.

“Yes,” he said, his teeth capturing her bottom lip and tugging. “I mean, no.”

She pulled away so she could look into those incredible green eyes and see the truth. “Which is it?”

“It's not always like this,” he admitted. “But it is when I'm with you.”

That was good enough for her. She tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him in for her kiss.

The explosion was back. That out-of-control desire that had been there from the start. She might be inexperienced, but she could tell that Seth was holding himself in check, touching her as if she would break at any moment. He was gentle and caring, but she wanted more of that wild ride they'd shared on the seat of his truck.

“Touch me,” she whispered.

“I am touching you.” His fingers brushed across her breast, pebbling the nipple and sending tingles throughout.