Having The Cowboy's Baby. Stella Bagwell

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?”