One Tiny Miracle: Branded with his Baby / The Baby Bump / An Accidental Family

Papers? Quint couldn’t remember talking to his grandfather about papers, but then his days and nights were filled with so many tasks that after a while everything began to run together. Besides, he could hardly think. Just seeing Maura Donovan standing inside the walls of his house was enough to jar his senses. Dressed in a pair of clinging jeans and a close-fitting shirt, she was just as sexy and attractive as he remembered and for a few seconds he forgot about the pain slicing through his arm.

“Oh. Well, just lay them anywhere, would you? Right now I’m—” Grimacing he glanced ruefully down at his arm. “I’m in a bit of a mess. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll—”

Her eyes followed his gaze down to the bloody towel wrapped around his arm. Quickly stepping forward, she exclaimed, “You’ve hurt yourself! Let me help.”

Quint unconsciously took a step backward. “It’s not that bad. Just give me a minute and I’ll slap a bandage on it.”

Concern marking her brow, Maura placed the envelope on the nearest end table, then closed the distance between them. “Don’t be silly, Quint. I’m a nurse.” Not waiting for his permission, she wrapped her hand firmly around his upper arm. “It’s my job to deal with wounds.”

Since Quint could hardly argue that point, especially now that she had a grip on him, he said, “Okay. I have some things set out in the bathroom. Let’s go in there.”

Dropping her hold on his arm, she followed him down a short hallway and into the small room. A vanity surrounded a white lavatory and after he’d removed the towel and his shirt, she quickly positioned his injured limb over the clean basin.

“How did this happen?” she asked.

“A piece of barbed wire came loose from the stretcher and whacked me.”

She was taller than he’d first thought, he realized. If her head hadn’t been bent over his arm, the top of it would have measured to a spot just beneath chin.

“It looks to me as though this could use a stitch or two,” she told him. “Have you had a tetanus shot lately?”

The close proximity of her body was rattling him, while the sweet, flowery scent of her skin and hair seemed foreign to a man that mostly kept his distance from women.

“No,” he answered gruffly. “Just clean the thing out and I’ll take my chances.”

Turning her head, she gave him an impatient glance. “That’s not very smart of you.”

“I’ve never been accused of being smart. Besides, you medical people go overboard with precautionary measures. Gramps would consider this a scratch.”

A soft sigh escaped her. “Have you always tried to fashion yourself after your grandfather?”

“Not always.” Quint certainly wouldn’t have a nurse living with him, he thought ruefully. Especially if he didn’t need one.

Thankfully, she turned her attention back to his arm and Quint gritted his teeth as she used a nail brush to scrub the lesion with water and antibacterial soap.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Trying to rip open my arm even more?”

“Sorry. I know it hurts, but it’s important to make sure no debris is left behind. Was the wire rusty?”

“No. It was new—galvanized.” To his surprise the scrubbing hadn’t made the bleeding worse. In fact, it was on the verge of stopping completely.

“That’s good,” she said. “At least we don’t have that problem to worry about.”

We? It was his arm. As far as he could see, she didn’t have anything to worry about. But he kept the thought to himself. If she was kind enough to offer her services, he could at least show his gratitude.

Once she had the cut clean and dried, she applied antiseptic, then ointment. Quint couldn’t help but notice how her hands had gentled during the process and now her fingers felt warm and soothing against his flesh as she slowly wrapped gauze around his forearm.

“Is this all the gauze you have?” she asked.

“Afraid so. I might have some horse bandage down at the barn,” he suggested.

She glanced up at him and Quint felt something inside him jerk as he met her earthy-green gaze. There was something very womanly about Maura Donovan, something he couldn’t ignore, but was desperately trying to.

“No thanks,” she replied. “I’ll make do.”

Her focus returned to his arm and Quint found himself taking in her dark hair. It was smooth and shiny and threaded with lighter and darker shades that all blended to make an auburn shade so deep it verged on being black. The length of it nearly reached her waist and Quint wondered how it would look draped against her naked back.

“There. That should keep it protected for a while,” she announced as she rose to her full height. “But I wouldn’t advise getting the bandage wet and you’ll have to change it tomorrow or the next day.”

To Quint’s dismay, he realized he’d only caught a portion of her words because his mind had been too busy conjuring erotic images of her. What was the matter with him? Since Holly had dumped him for another man, he’d found it damned easy to ignore the sexual pull of a woman. The humiliation she’d put him through had killed his libido deader than a dose of potassium nitrate.

But now, with this sultry nurse standing far too close for his comfort, he was feeling things again. Things that could only lead to trouble.

“I’ll be sure to take good care of it.”

She slowly released her hold on him, then turned to fetch his shirt from the end of the vanity. When she pivoted back, she was holding the shirt out for him to stick his arms through.

“Let me have it,” he said. “I don’t need help getting dressed.”

“Don’t try to act like such a he-man,” she said softly. “I won’t tell anybody I helped you.”

Knowing it wasn’t wise to linger in such close quarters with her, he decided not to argue and was glad that he hadn’t as he struggled to push the bundled arm through the shirtsleeve.

“Don’t be surprised if your arm is already starting to feel stiff,” she said. “You’re going to have one hell of a sore muscle for a while.”

“I’m finding that out,” Quint muttered.

Once his arms were in the sleeves, she smoothed the fabric over his shoulders, then stepped back to allow him to button the garment himself. Quint found it safer to look at the buttons rather than her.

“A couple of over-the-counter pain relievers will help.”

“I have some in the kitchen,” he told her, then motioned for her to precede him out the door. “Would you like something cool to drink? It’s the least I can do for bandaging me. I was having a heck of a time trying to manage with one hand.”

He began to move down a short hallway and Maura followed him into a large kitchen. A row of paned windows ran along the west wall of the room and without any curtains or shades to cover them, the afternoon sun streamed golden shafts across the old printed linoleum covering the floor.

The house was very livable, yet it was far from fancy. In fact, Maura was totally surprised to see how modest Quint’s living quarters actually were. Anyone who’d lived for any length of time in Lincoln County and beyond was aware that the Cantrell family was rich. Abe owned thousands and thousands of acres and his cattle ranch, Apache Wells, had long been one of the most profitable in the state. On another section of land, just north of Alto, Quint’s father, Lewis, had also built a cattle empire called the Chaparral. Maura had never visited that particular ranch, but her parents and older brother Conall had attended a party there. From what they’d said, the Chaparral house was a showy hacienda with luxury and space to spare. So why was the younger Cantrell living like this? she wondered. Because he wanted to emulate his grandfather?

While he headed to the refrigerator, he gestured toward a small, round dining table. “Have a seat,” he invited. “I have beer, soda or fruit juice. Take your pick.”

“Soda is fine,” she told him as she eased onto one of the wooden chairs.

He carried two chilled cans of cola over to the table and pushed one her way, but didn’t immediately take a seat. Instead, he walked over to a row of cabinets, fished out a bottle of acetaminophen and shook two out in the palm of his hand.

“I’m glad to see you’re going to take my advice,” she said as she popped the lid on her drink.

He tossed the pills into his mouth and washed them down with a long drink of the soda before he walked over to the table and took a seat across from her.

“I still have a stretch of fence to finish before it gets dark,” he explained. “I don’t want my arm to get too stiff to work.”

There was no way he needed to be straining his arm using post-hole diggers or wire stretchers, but she wasn’t going to bother pointing that out to him. He was a grown man and his well-being was not her responsibility. Besides, being a nurse had taught her that there wasn’t a man alive who wanted a woman to hamper him with limitations.

“So this is where you’ve been doing all this work that Abe talks about,” she commented. “As I drove up I noticed the new barn. It looks nice.”

“Thanks. The barn is taking a lot more work and twice as much money as I’d first anticipated. But I think it’s turning out okay.”

He must have removed his hat when he’d come into the house to attend his cut, she thought. It was only the second time she’d seen him without the battered felt atop his head. The other being when he’d sat down at Abe’s dinner table. But that occasion hadn’t lasted long enough for him to get the chair warm. Now, as quiet moments ticked by, she couldn’t help but notice the thick, rusty wave dipped across one corner of his forehead, the unruly strands curling around his ears.

His face and arms were tanned as dark as a coffee bean, but the glimpses she’d had of his bare chest told her he wasn’t into lounging around in the sun without his shirt. She doubted he was into lounging around anywhere. From the looks of his lean, hard muscles, the man worked tirelessly.

Her carnal thoughts brought her up short. The two of them were entirely alone and with the letter delivered and his arm bandaged, she no longer had any good reason to remain in Quint Cantrell’s house.

Quickly rising to her feet, she said nervously, “Well, I’m glad that I didn’t interrupt your work—though I guess the injury to your arm had already done that. But I won’t keep you any longer. I promised Abe I’d be back to Apache Wells before it got too late.”

Quint rose to his feet also. “You haven’t finished your soda.”

“I’ve had enough. Thank you.”

She started out of the kitchen and as she did, she could feel Quint’s presence following close behind her. The idea made her heart thump at a rapid pace and she drew in a deep breath in an attempt to calm it.

“I’m not in that big of a hurry to get back to work, Maura. Why don’t you let me show you around before you leave?”

His suggestion caught her by surprise and she dared to glance over her shoulder at him. “Do you really want to?”

He suddenly chuckled and Maura was amazed at how different he looked with humor softening his features.

“I don’t make offers unless I want to.”

Something about the husky tone of his voice, the warmth in his eyes, sent prickles of excitement racing through her. She could feel her cheeks growing warm and pink and she suddenly felt like a foolish teenager instead of a thirty-six-year-old woman who’d been married and divorced.

But just for this once, she wasn’t going to think about the dangers this man represented to her peace of mind. Tomorrow she would remind herself that she was behaving like an idiot. Today she was going to let herself enjoy the pleasure of being in the presence of a very sexy man.

“In that case,” she said, “I’d love to have a look around.”

Moving forward, he touched a hand to her back and Maura felt her senses splintering in all directions.

“Good,” he murmured. “Just let me get my hat and we’ll be on our way,” he told her.

Chapter Three

Once they stepped onto the porch, Quint dropped his hand from her back and Maura was finally able to draw in a normal breath. But as they moved into the yard, he immediately wrapped a hold around her upper arm.

“Let’s go to the barn first,” he suggested. “I need to let Jake, my ranch hand, know I’m okay.”

Nodding, she looked away from him and tried not to dwell on his warm, rough fingers pressing into her flesh.

The afternoon was all bright sunshine, while a soft west wind carried the scent of sagebrush and juniper. A lone aspen shaded one corner of the house, but that was the only bona fide tree that she could see for miles around. The rest of the vegetation growing beyond the ranch yard amounted to a few spindly pinyon pines, some twisted snags of juniper and a sea of jumping choya cactus and sagebrush. It was a stark, yet beautiful sight and Maura instinctively knew it would be even more so in the late evening when the sun fell from the sky and twilight purpled the nearby mountains.

“How many men do you have working for you?” she asked.

Now that they were walking abreast, he dropped his hold on her arm and Maura didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. Either way, just being this near him left her shaky and nothing like the practical, no-nonsense nurse that had dealt calmly with all sorts of men. She kept remembering the way he’d looked without his shirt and how the warmth and scent of his body had filled up the little bathroom and stifled her breath.

“The contractor working on the barn and storage sheds has several men working with him. But as far as the ranch goes, I only have two hands. Once I start putting livestock on the place, I’ll hire more. Though my grandfather deeded over the land a few years ago, I only started full-time here about two years ago.”

She kept her gaze on the rocky ground in front of her. “Do you have plenty of land here to support cattle?”

“Ten thousand acres. Not that much, but enough to do what I want to do.”

Glancing over at him, she asked curiously, “And what is that?”

He shrugged and not for the first time, Maura couldn’t help thinking how serious and driven he was for a man his age. Abe had commented one day that his grandson wasn’t yet thirty so that meant he was either twenty-eight or twenty-nine. He certainly didn’t look any older than that, Maura thought. Yet he seemed older, as though the years he’d been on this earth had pushed his soul to manhood long before his body had caught up.

“My plans aren’t anything grand. Just raise a few purebred cattle and a few horses.”

“What about the old gold mine—the Golden Spur—that your ranch is named after?”

She’d not meant to ask that question. It had just slipped out on its own. The same way her heart seemed to jump into a crazy jig each time she looked at his face.

Frowning, he glanced her way. “What about it?” he asked curtly.

Knowing she’d touched on a tender spot, she shrugged in an effort to appear casual. “Nothing really. Except that I couldn’t help noticing the letter Abe asked me to deliver to you. The return address was Red Bluff Mining Company. And your grandfather doesn’t make any secret about wanting to reopen the old thing.”

His footsteps paused on the barren ground and Maura came to a stop with him. As he looked at her, she could see frustration edging his features.

“Gramps thinks the mine could be profitable again. But I don’t want anything to do with it. Having a bunch of trucks and men and equipment going across the ranch is the last thing I need.”

“If it turned out to be profitable, the extra money might come in handy,” she suggested. “Especially when you start buying stock for this place.”

“I don’t need the money,” he said flatly. “Nor do I want it. I’m a rancher, not a miner.”

He picked up his stride again, only this time it was much longer and purposeful as he covered the last few yards to the barn. Maura quickened her steps to stay up with him.

“So if money isn’t the issue, why does your grandfather want to reopen the mine?” she said, darting a quick glance at his sober face.

“For the adventure, Maura. He’s always wanted to turn over a rock just to see what was beneath it. That’s how he got rich in the first place—on the plains of Texas, drilling for oil. He hit it big and brought his fortune out here to New Mexico to buy land and cattle. To him, the mine takes him back to those days when he was drilling for black gold. Guess it makes him feel young all over again. He didn’t care about the mine for years when he owned it, but now that I have the land, it’s all he seems to care about.”

“Sometimes feeling young or having a dream is very important. Sometimes it even keeps a person from dying.”

The muscles around his hard mouth tightened with impatience. “Don’t try to make me believe that Gramps is dying. That he needs you or the mine to keep him healthy.”

“I wouldn’t attempt such a thing,” she said defensively. “Abe isn’t ill. He has a perfectly good mind. And the way I see it, he has the right to dream his own dreams. Just like you.”

By now they had reached the massive barn. Instead of opening the huge double doors at the south end of the building, Quint led her to a smaller entrance at the side.

With his hand pausing on the door latch, he turned a searching look on her. “And what about you, Maura? What are your dreams?”

A few years ago his questions would have been easy to answer. Her dreams were waiting for the day her roving husband would settle down to a life exclusively with her. She’d been dreaming of the time they could start having children and Gilbert would be home so that they could parent them together. She’d waited because he kept promising he’d be ready the next year, and she wanted to raise her children with her husband home every night. But none of those dreams had come true. Instead, she’d discovered he’d changed women as often as he’d changed the cities his job had taken him to. And she’d had to accept the fact of his infidelity and that he’d never intended to change his job and settle down to family life. That had only been one of his false promises.

Maura had spent the past year trying to restore her broken self-confidence and move on from her shattered marriage. For months after her divorce, she’d struggled to simply put one foot in front of the other, and looking back, she realized her responsibilities as a nurse had been the only thing keeping her going. She was good at her job and no man could take that fact away from her. As for her dreams, she wasn’t sure what they were now.

“I don’t know, Quint,” she said honestly. “Sometimes dreams get lost along the way.”

Nobody had to tell him that, he thought grimly. His romantic dreams had been busted years ago. Now his goals were concrete and didn’t depend on another person—particularly a woman.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “And when that happens, it’s damned hard to find new ones.”

While the two of them had been talking, her face had taken on a sad hue and Quint realized he didn’t like seeing her in such a mood. Maybe because it reminded him of his own lonely existence. Or maybe because he simply didn’t like to think of this woman suffering over anyone or anything.

The unwanted notions disturbed him so much that he quickly turned away from her and shoved open the door.

“Let’s go in,” he urged. “I think Jake is probably at the back of the building where the men are working.”

Since livestock hadn’t yet been moved onto the ranch, the barn was missing the smells of animals and hay and leather. Instead, the scents of sawdust and fresh paint filled the air. On the opposite side of the building, a table saw buzzed and hammers rang out as men erected a frame of lumber that Quint explained would eventually become a large feed room.

“The contractor hasn’t yet finished the horse stalls or the tack room. They’ll get to that next,” Quint continued as they slowly made their way through the building.

She was looking around her with real interest, a fact that surprised Quint. Even though she came from a ranching background, she didn’t seem the sort that would be personally interested in such things. After all, she’d chosen a profession outside the Diamond D, her family’s famous thoroughbred ranch. Add to that, she had a soft, feminine air about her that was totally opposite of an outdoor girl.

“This is going to be very nice,” she said. “And I like the way you’ve laid out everything. When you open the big doors, the horses will be able to look outside. They like that, you know. When they can see what’s going on, they’re more content.”

Bemused by her observation, Quint paused to look at her. Now that they were indoors, her features were muted by shadows, yet the dimness couldn’t diminish the pearly sheen of her skin and for a brief moment he wondered what it would feel like to press his cheek against hers, to experience such softness next to him.

“You know about horses, do you?” he asked.

A smile tilted her lips and at that moment he decided he’d never seen anything so fetching or genuine.

“Why wouldn’t I? My family raises thoroughbreds.”

He folded his arms against his chest. “But you don’t work with them. The horses, I mean.”

Her smile turned whimsical. “No. Not since I went into nursing. But I spent a lot of time at the barns when I was young.”

“I know that Bridget is a doctor, but if I remember correctly, you have another sister. What does she do?”

She glanced away from him. “Dallas operates Angel Wing Stables, a therapy riding clinic for handicapped children. It’s completely nonprofit and something she feels deeply about.”

So all three of the Donovan sisters were dedicated to helping needy people. That should have reassured Quint and allowed him to quit worrying aboutAbe hiring Maura as his nurse. But it didn’t. The more he got to know this woman, the more concerned he was. And not because he believed she was out to snag any sort of money from the old man. No, he’d written that idea off fairly quickly. The more he’d thought about it, the more he’d concluded she wasn’t the gold-digger sort. Furthermore, the Donovans had just as much money or more than the Cantrells. She didn’t need it.

No, Quint was far more concerned about his grandfather’s emotional state than his bank account. It was obvious the old man had already grown extremely fond of Maura. And just because Abe was in his eighties, didn’t mean he was immune to a female’s charms. His grandfather might even fall in love with her. Stranger things had happened. And Maura had just now talked about the importance of a man’s dreams. When she left Apache Wells, and she would, what would happen to his grandfather’s dreams? They’d be broken.

Forcing his thoughts back to the moment, he touched a hand to her shoulder and urged her forward. “I see Jake. Let’s go catch up with him.”

At the end of the building, a young man wearing a black cowboy hat and ranch gear was applying neat’s-foot oil to a fancy tooled saddle. The moment he saw their approach, he laid the oily rag to one side and stepped up to meet them.

“I was about to come to the house to make sure you weren’t bleeding to death,” he said to Quint, while his gaze strayed curiously over to Maura.

“I’m fine,” Quint replied. “It just so happens that Maura is a nurse. She was kind enough to bandage me up.”

A wry grin crossed the man’s face. “Now isn’t that something? A beautiful woman comes to your house and she’s a nurse—just when you need one. You always were a lucky dog, Quint.”

Quint couldn’t see where slicing his arm open was lucky, but apparently Jake considered having Maura as a nurse more than fortunate. The idea grated on Quint to no end. Which was a ridiculous reaction. She wasn’t anything to him. If Jake, or any man, wanted to make a play for her, then that was their business, not his.

“Maura, this is my good friend and ranch hand, Jake Rollins. Jake, this is Maura Donovan. She’s my grandfather’s personal nurse.”

Ignoring the last tidbit, the dark-haired man reached to take Maura’s hand. “Are you by any chance related to Liam Donovan?” he asked.