Having The Cowboy's Baby

Stifling a groan, she turned to Cordero and tried to smile. “Darcella has gone to a lot of trouble to make mint juleps for us tonight.”

“Sounds great.” He looked at the cook and gave her a conspiring wink. “Darcella, if you’re not a married woman, you need to come to the Sandbur sometime and meet our cook. Juan’s a little older than you but he’s single and he loves to dance. He makes a mean margarita, too.”

Darcella giggled in a way that Anne-Marie had never heard before.

“I might just do that some time, Mr. Sanchez. Especially if Anne-Marie would come with me.”

Cordero turned a suggestive look to Anne-Marie, who quickly cleared her throat and changed the subject completely.

“Come on,” she invited. “I’ll show you to your room. After you’ve had a chance to freshen up, we’ll go to the porch for those drinks.”

She started toward a long, curving staircase and Cordero picked up his bags and followed. As he climbed one step behind her, he allowed his gaze to swing around the massive room below. The large area was lit with only two small lamps, but even in the semidarkness he could see the rich antique furniture typical of the antebellum period. The walls were covered with heavy paper printed with trailing vines and some sort of maroon flower. The balustrade along the staircase and the upstairs landing was made of polished cypress and smelled faintly of lemon wax. The only sound to be heard was the faint ticking of a tall, grandfather clock.

This afternoon, when Anne-Marie had shown him into the parlor, he’d gotten the feeling that he’d stepped back in time. Now, as he followed her up through the dark quietness, that same sensation hit him again.

Once they reached the landing, she walked to the end and pushed open a door on her right. “I hope you’ll find the room agreeable. Verbena, our maid, made sure there were fresh towels and washcloths in the bath.” She pointed to a door in the far corner of the room. “But if you need anything else, just let me know.”

The bed was an enormous oak four-poster with a dark green duvet. On the outer wall, several feet away, were three tall windows covered with sheer beige curtains. Beyond the windowpanes, he could barely discern the shape of huge tree limbs, but nothing else.

“You can store your things here in the dresser, if you like.” She opened one of the top drawers. “You won’t disturb anything. This is just a guest room. And it’s been ages since anyone has visited.”

Cordero got the feeling that time here on the plantation moved at glacial speed so it would be hard to interpret what she meant by ages. He couldn’t help but wonder if her ex-lover had stayed here, perhaps even in this room. He hated to think so. For some unexplainable reason he didn’t want to be connected to the guy in any way.

“Thanks, Anne-Marie. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

He placed his duffel bag on the end of the bed and wondered why he felt so awkward and out of place in this opulent bedroom. He was not a poor man. In fact, the Sandbur was known all over South Texas. He was used to fairly lavish surroundings and servants at his beck and call. But his home in Texas was laid-back. It invited a man to kick off his boots and prop his feet on the furniture. This place was a little stiff for his liking. Or was it the kiss he’d planted on Anne-Marie’s lips that was really bothering him? He couldn’t forget it. Even now, he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until they both ended up on the four-poster behind him. He was a man who’d always liked women, but he’d never encountered one that had taken such a hold on him in a matter of hours.

Something of what Cordero was feeling must have shown on his face because she suddenly folded her hands together and began to inch backward toward the door.

“Good,” she said. “I’ll meet you at the bottom of the landing in five minutes.”

His gaze settled on her rose-pink lips. “Yeah. Five minutes. See you then.”

With a stilted nod, she hurried out of the room. Once she’d closed the door behind her, Cordero wiped a hand over his face and wondered what in hell he’d gotten himself into.

Chapter Three

When Anne-Marie came down from her bedroom a few minutes later, Cordero was waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase. The white-and-blue windowpane shirt he’d been wearing had been exchanged for a dark red cotton. The rich color only intensified the deep brown of his skin and made his white teeth appear that much whiter. He didn’t bother to hide the appreciation in his eyes as she descended the stairs, but Anne-Marie tried her best not to dwell on it as she joined him on the polished parquet.

“Since I don’t know which way to go, you’d better lead me,” he murmured.

Anne-Marie didn’t resist his warm hand as it wrapped around hers, but as she led him through the house, she promised herself that once their houseguest had gone back to Texas, her father was going to get a piece of her mind. Jules had made it quite clear for some time now that he wanted her to get out of the house and date young men, to put some excitement in her life, but she’d never dreamed he would take matters into his own hands and practically thrust her into Cordero Sanchez’s arms. Jules needed to learn once and for all that she was going to lead her own life and it wasn’t going to have a man in it.

The back porch ran the total width of the house and was enclosed with screen to keep the ever-present mosquitoes at bay. Comfortable lawn furniture was scattered from one end of the space to the other, along with many potted plants, some of which were covered with vivid blooms.

A wicker settee and armchairs padded with bright yellow cushions sat at the far end of the porch and it was here that Darcella had left the tray of drinks.

Anne-Marie extricated her hand from Cordero’s and took a seat on the settee. To her dismay, he dropped his long frame down next to her.

“This is nice,” he said. “Quiet. But nice.”

Leaning forward, she picked up two squatty tumblers and handed one to him. His fingers brushed against hers as he took the cool, sweaty glass and for one brief moment she wished he would reach over and take her hand again. Touching him thrilled her and reminded her that she was still a flesh-and-blood woman. Something she’d been desperately trying to forget since her downfall at Ian’s hands.

“Your home on the ranch isn’t quiet?” she asked.

He laughed and the deep gravelly sound sent shivers of pleasure rushing over her skin while inside her the need to slide away from his side fought wildly with the urge to wiggle closer.

“Uh, not too often. My brother, Matt, and his family live in the same house. They have a teenage daughter and a baby on the way. And Dad lives with us, too. Things can get rowdy when all of us are home. But the house is big and we wouldn’t know any other way, except being together.”

Being together. Those two words reminded her of happier times. When her mother had still been alive and the three of them had been a family. Now she clung to her father, afraid that soon she would lose him, too. It wasn’t the way a young woman like her was supposed to be living. Except for Jules, and two cousins in Thibodaux, she was alone. And somehow being here with Cordero and listening to him speak of his family only reminded her of that fact even more.

“Your family is important to you. I can tell,” she said.

Grooves of amusement bracketed his lips. “You sound like that surprises you.”

A faint blush of heat filtered into her cheeks. “Fun-loving guys like you don’t usually put importance on much of anything. Except the next party. The next girl.”

“Ouch. Why didn’t you just pinch me?” he asked drily, then shook his head. “I hate to tell you this, Anne-Marie, but you don’t know me. You’re trying to draw a picture without really understanding the subject.”

Maybe she wasn’t being fair in her assessment, she thought. But it didn’t matter. She couldn’t let herself really get to know him. He lived in a different world and soon he would be going back to it. Something told her that a momentary fling with this man would be even more devastating to her heart than Ian’s drawn-out deception.

“You’re right. I don’t know you well enough to make those sorts of comments.” She cautiously sipped her julep, then glanced at him over the rim of her glass. “How do you like your drink?”

He chuckled. “It’s good, but I can already feel a wallop. What did Darcella put in these things anyway?”

She smiled. “I think she made them out of vodka and she uses a heavy hand. I should have warned you.”

“For a man who’s only used to one or two beers at a time, I think one of these things is all I can handle.”

Her glance turned a bit teasing. “What about those mean margaritas that your cook at the Sandbur makes?”

Another chuckle rolled out of him. “Oh. We only have those on special occasions. Like birthdays, weddings, anniversaries.” His eyes softened as they roamed over her face. “But if you decide to come to the ranch, I’m sure we’d all view it as a special occasion.”

The touch of his gaze was almost as heady as the trail of his fingers over hers. His eyes were a tricky color to label. They held too many brown flecks to call them green and too much green to call them brown. Altogether they were like green leaves dappled with golden sunshine and the thick veil of black lashes surrounding them only intensified their vivid color.

Feeling a flutter in her stomach that had nothing to do with the strong julep, she placed her glass back on the tray and rose to her feet.

“I’m getting very hungry. If you’re finished with that, let’s go in and eat,” she suggested.

Cordero could have argued. For him it was a slice of heaven to be out here alone with her. Especially with the strong, sweet drink warming his already-heated blood and the frogs and locusts singing a nighttime symphony. But she seemed eager to leave the porch and he didn’t want to irk her again. Not after he’d witnessed a glimpse of her temper at the hospital. The idea of spending the next few days around a stirred-up hornet, even a beautiful one, wasn’t exactly his idea of fun.

Inside the house, Anne-Marie directed him to the dining room, a large square space with tall ceilings and two chandeliers hanging over a long, oak table. But the tiny slabs of crystal weren’t shedding any light from overhead. Instead, six candles spaced at intervals in the middle of the table shed a soft yellow glow over the settings of delicate china.

Beside him, he heard Anne-Marie gasp. “What in the world is Darcella thinking? We never eat by candlelight! I’ll turn on the lights.”

She turned to walk over to the light switch on the wall, but Cordero caught her by the wrist. “Don’t do that,” he urged. “She’s gone to a lot of trouble. And I think it’s nice.”

Hell, what was he thinking? He wasn’t a man who made a habit of having romantic candlelit dinners with a woman. He did well to take her to an eating place where the forks were real stainless steel instead of plastic. But something about Cane’s Landing and the woman standing at his side made him want to experience things he’d never dreamed of before. The whole notion was damned unsettling.

He watched her lips compress with disapproval and then she shrugged as though it was nothing to make an issue over. “All right. But just so you know, I didn’t ask for this.”

“I didn’t think for one minute that you had,” he said wryly.

She threw him a look that was mostly confused and he felt compelled to add, “You don’t seem the type.”

Pulling her wrist from his grasp, she asked a bit warily, “What type is that?”

“The type to purposely set out to seduce a man.”

“Oh.”

If she was insulted by his comment she deftly covered her feelings as she walked over to the table and waited for him to help her into one of the high-backed chairs.

By the time Cordero had taken his seat at the end of the table, Darcella arrived with their first dish. As she placed the small bowls of spicy shrimp gumbo in front of them, he complimented the woman on the beautiful table and the mint juleps.

Darcella gave Cordero a wide, toothy grin. “Thank you, Cordero.” She turned a pointed look on Anne-Marie. “I’m glad someone around here appreciates me.”

After the cook left the room, Anne-Marie tilted her face toward the ceiling and wearily shook her head. “Cordero, you must be thinking Father and Darcella are manipulators of the worst kind.” She turned a helpless look on him, then gestured toward the lighted candles. “Just, please, overlook all this.”

Overlook it? He couldn’t. Being with her like this was nigh irresistible and he didn’t care who was doing the manipulating as long as he was sitting across from her watching the candlelight flicker across her lovely face.

With a placating smile, he said, “You’re worrying too much about nothing, Anne-Marie. Let’s just enjoy our supper.”

They’d hardly finished the first course when Darcella returned with a platter of fried catfish, hush puppies and pan-fried potatoes.

“Be sure and save room for dessert,” she warned as she left the dining room.

“Dessert? Is she kidding?” Cordero asked.

Anne-Marie shook her head. “No. She’s made one of her famous chocolate cakes. And if you like sweets, you don’t want to miss it.” She glanced at him as she placed a small helping of fish on her plate. “It’s no wonder Father has heart trouble. He’s enjoyed Darcella’s cooking for many years and her menus aren’t exactly low in cholesterol.”

Cordero grunted with amusement. “That’s why it tastes so good.”

“Well, to be fair, Darcella does try to cook healthy things for Father. But most of those things end up being thrown in the trash. He says food is one of man’s pleasures in life and he doesn’t intend to miss out.”

Cordero thrust his glass of iced tea toward her in a cheeky salute. “I’ll say amen to that.”

She rolled her eyes, but the faint upward curve to her lips said that she understood all about a man’s weakness for physical pleasures. The idea teased his thoughts with all sorts of erotic images and for the remainder of the meal he found he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Candlelight bathed her face and throat and turned her skin to golden satin. The glow of the tiny flames sparked her red hair with flickering highlights and more than once he had to fight the urge to reach across the corner of the table and mesh his fingers in the long burnished strands lying against her breast.

Two days ago he’d been attending his cousin Nicci’s wedding at the Sandbur. Hundreds of people had swarmed the ranch for the reception that had been held outside in the shaded backyard of the Saddler house. Eating and drinking, dancing and foot-stomping laughter had taken place until the wee hours of the morning. There had been plenty of young, beautiful women among the guests and most of them hadn’t been shy about wanting Cordero’s attention. But now, as he looked at Anne-Marie, he realized that none of them had affected him as much as she was affecting him now. And what shook him the most was that she wasn’t even trying to tempt him.

What would happen to him, he wondered wildly, if he was able to seduce her? Would he be able to go back to Texas and forget her? Or would making love to her burn him like one of Matt’s hot branding irons burned cowhide?

At some point in his tangled thoughts, Cordero realized Anne-Marie’s lips were moving, but he hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

“Uh, sorry, Anne-Marie. You were saying something?”

With slow, graceful movements, she pulled a linen napkin from her lap and placed it next to her plate. “I was saying that if you’ve finished eating, you might like to take a walk in the backyard garden. It’s still too early for bed and it’s pleasant out there at this time of night.”

Hoping the grin on his face wasn’t as wolfish as it felt, Cordero hurriedly left his chair and helped her to her feet.

As they left the dining room, he took the opportunity to slip his arm around her back. The moment he touched her, he could feel her body tense, but after they took a few steps she seemed to relax and accept the weight of his hand resting in the curve of her waist.

In a matter of moments they were on the porch where they’d left the juleps. There, a screen door led down several wooden steps and onto a neat trail covered with washed river gravel.

Anne-Marie inclined her head toward an archway tangled with moon blossom vines. “Through there,” she said. “The footlights are enough light.”

By now the sun had been down for a couple of hours and the temperature was cooling to a bearable level. The faint breeze stirring the oak leaves above their heads helped ward off the occasional mosquito.

Cordero felt a strange sense of peace as he looked around at the carefully groomed rosebushes and smelled the pungent scent of jasmine. “I noticed this part of the backyard when we hauled the horses down to the stables,” he said to Anne-Marie. “I thought it looked like something in an Old Spanish courtyard or a private garden behind a sanctuary.”

“I suppose it does. My mother built this garden shortly after she married Father. She was a deeply religious person and I think she liked to use this as a quiet place to pray.”

“Did she work as a missionary, too?” Cordero asked as they strolled along the winding trail.

“No. She was a high school music teacher. But she did lots of church work.”

“Is she the reason you thought about entering a convent?” Even as he asked the question, Cordero couldn’t imagine this warm, vibrant woman next to him making a vow of chastity. One look at her was enough to tell him she was meant to love a man and have his children.

Her chin dropped and she kept her eyes on the ground as they continued deeper into the garden. “Maybe. I think I always viewed her as an angel. She seemed so perfect. And I wanted to be like her.”

Cordero smiled faintly. “That’s because she was your mother. You were viewing her through very young eyes.”

Her gaze slipped up to his shadowed face. “She had friends from all over Assumption and St. James parishes and she had a special way of taking care of others—people who were sick or emotionally needy. As I grew older I thought becoming a sister would be the best way to give of myself—like she did. But that wasn’t meant to be. I learned I—well, I’m not worthy.”

Cordero couldn’t believe she’d said such a thing about herself. He wanted to press her about the comment, but she suddenly changed the subject completely. “Do you know anything about sugarcane?”

He laughed. “The only thing I know is that I like desserts and I like molasses poured over a hot biscuit.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “Maybe I could show you some of the fields tomorrow and give you a little lesson,” she suggested. “If you’d like, that is.”

He’d made a big mistake, Cordero thought, as he gazed down at her beautiful face. He should never have agreed to stay here alone with her, even for a few days. One evening with this woman was turning him into a complete fool. He felt like a teenager, raging hormones were directing his brain. What would he be like after spending a few days with her?

Don’t worry about it, Cordero, once you’re back in Texas nothing about Anne-Marie Duveuil will matter. You’ve been temporarily enchanted with a woman before. This one is no different.

The little voice in his head was enough to momentarily push the nagging question out of Cordero’s mind and his fingers tightened on the side of her waist.

“I’d like it a lot,” he murmured, then remarked, “Your home here is really something. Has it always been in your family?”

She nodded. “The Duveuils have always been here. Our family tree goes back to some of the first Acadians who settled this area. My ancestors were part of the French Acadians that had to flee Canada in 1755. They came down here to Louisiana when it was still just a Spanish colony. I’m sure at that time most of my distant relatives were trappers. But down through the years the Duveuils began to farm and we’ve raised sugarcane here in the river bottoms for nearly two hundred years.”

Anne-Marie was relieved to see the wrought iron bench come into view. Maybe if they sat down, he’d be forced to take his hand away and she could put some distance between them. Otherwise, with his fingers dipping into her flesh, she could scarcely think about anything except the excitement that was rushing through her, making her heart beat way too fast.

“Let’s sit,” she suggested and, pulling away from his hold on her, she walked to the bench and took a seat at one end.

In front of her, slightly to the left, was an old concrete fountain built in the image of an angel. Most of the fountain was covered with moss and algae, making a major portion of the figure a muted green color. Water trickled from a large jug cradled in the cherub’s hands and splashed like musical notes into the pool surrounding her feet. Normally the sound of the cascading water soothed Anne-Marie, but tonight, with Cordero easing down on the seat next to her, she could hardly hear it for her pulse pounding in her ears.

“I feel like a bull in a china shop,” he said wryly, as he took in the delicate white roses encircling the fountain. “Maybe we should go back to the porch.”

Anne-Marie’s gaze settled on his brown cowboy boots. The toes were slightly rounded, the heels slanted and high. She could easily picture him in spurs and chaps, cracking a whip at a charging bull. “Why? Don’t you like it out here?”

“It’s beautiful. The roses look like something out of a gardening magazine. But it’s—” He glanced around as though he expected to find someone standing in the shadows. “I get the feeling someone is here—watching us. I feel like I’m intruding.”

Anne-Marie wondered what it meant that he felt the presence, too. No one else had. Not even Jules.

“I think it’s Mama’s spirit. I guess that’s why I love this garden so much.” She let out a wistful sigh, then glanced at him. “Tell me about your ranch. What does it look like?”

He leaned back in the seat and crossed his boots at the ankles. Anne-Marie was glad to see the mention of a spirit hadn’t spooked him or made him laugh at her as Ian used to.

“The Sandbur is a big property. It covers several thousands of acres. In the main ranch yard, there are lots of corrals and fences and barns. We employ cowboys to take care of the cattle and the horses.”

“Does all your family live on the ranch? In one house?”

With a fond smile curving his lips, he picked up her hand and gently rubbed his thumb against the soft skin of her palm. Anne-Marie swallowed as her heart kicked into an even higher gear. She didn’t know why the memory of that kiss he’d planted on her in the elevator was still rattling around in her head like a dangerous bullet. She should have forgotten the whole thing. Instead, those moments seemed to be growing more and more vivid in her mind.

“Most of my family lives on the ranch,” he said. “But not in the same house. There are two main houses on the Sandbur. The Sanchez house and the Saddler house, which belongs to my Aunt Geraldine. My cousin Lex lives with her. He’s in charge of sales and marketing.”

“Is he married?”

Her question brought a loud guffaw from him. “Not on your life! Lex is like me. He enjoys his freedom too much to let a woman tie him down. He’s about to turn thirty-five and he hasn’t been married yet. I doubt he’ll ever walk down the aisle.”

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