âThis baby changes everything, Lace.â
Lacey wanted to touch him. The slight brushing of their fingers a moment before had whetted her appetite for the feel of him. Oh, to simply reach out and run her fingers through that shining dark hair, to trace his brows, to learn again the shape of his mouth.
Tenderness welled in her. He had traveled such a long way, and he wasnât going to get what he came forâwhat he would say he wanted.
He said it then, as if he had plucked the words right out of her mind. âWe have to do the right thing now.â
She clasped her hands beneath the hard swell of her belly. âYour idea of the right thing and mine are not the same, Logan.â
came to her profession the long way around. Before settling down to write about the magic of romance, sheâd been an actress, a sales clerk, a janitor, a model, a phone sales representative, a teacher, a waitress, a playwright and an office manager. Now that sheâs finally found work that suits her perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a jobâshe was merely gaining âlife experienceâ for her future as a novelist. Those who know her best withhold comment when she makes such claims; they are grateful that sheâs at last found steady work. Christine is grateful, tooânot only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the dayâs work is through: a man she loves who loves her right back and the privilege of watching their children grow and change day to day. She lives with her family in Oklahoma.
On a sunny afternoon at the end of June, Lacey Bravo returned to the old homesteaderâs cabin behind the horse pasture at the Rising Sun Ranch to find Dr. Logan Severance waiting for her.
She had known he would come. Still, the sight of him, there in the shade of the rough-shingled overhang that served as the cabinâs front porch, sent her pulse racing. Her palms on the steering wheel went clammy with sweat. She felt pulled in two directions at once. Her foolish heart urged her to rush into his arms. And something else, some contrary creature inside her, wanted only to spin her new SUV around and speed away, leaving nothing but a high trail of Wyoming dust in her wake.
Neither action was really an option. Throwing herself into his arms would only embarrass them both. And as for running, well, Lacey had done plenty of that before she was even out of her teens. Eventually, sheâd given it up. It never solved anything.
With a weary sigh, Lacey pushed the door open and maneuvered herself out from behind the wheel and down to the ground. She shut the door. Then, with as much dignity as she could muster, given that lately she tended to waddle like a duck, she plodded to the rear of the vehicle to get the two bags of groceries she had picked up in town.
She barely got the back door up before Logan was at her side. âIâll take those for you.â
Her initial reaction was to object, to lift her chin high and announce haughtily, âI can carry my own groceries, thank you.â
But she stifled the impulse. There would be dissension enough between them. There always had been. And now, with the baby coming, the opportunities for argument would no doubt be endless. Better to keep her mouth shut whenever possible.
His dark gaze swept over her. She wore a tent-like denim jumper, a pink T-shirt and blue canvas ballerina flats.
Ballerina. Hah. An image from an old Disney movie, of a hippo in ballet shoes and a tutu, flitted through her mind.
No, she was not at her best. And he looked great. Terrific. Fit and tanned, in khaki pants and a cream-colored polo shirt. He looked like a model on the cover of a Brooks Brothers catalogâand she looked like someone whoâd eaten a beach ball for lunch. She knew she shouldnât let that bother her. But it did.
âHasnât your doctor told you that at this point in your pregnancy, you shouldnât be driving?â
She gritted her teeth and granted him the tiniest of shrugs.
âIs that a âyesâ?â
Lacey exerted superhuman effort and did not roll her eyes. âYes, Doctor. That is a âyesâ.â
He made a low, exasperated sound. âThen what are you doing behind the wheel of a car?â
âI treasure my independence.â
The words may have sounded flippant, but Lacey did mean them. Doc Pruitt, who ran the clinic in the small nearby town of Medicine Creek, had been nagging her to avoid driving. And Tess, her cousinâs wife, who lived in the main ranch house not a half a mile away, would have been glad to take Lacey wherever she needed to go. But to Lacey, a carâand the possession of the keys to itâmeant self-determination. Never would she willingly give that up.