The Widow's Little Secret. Judith Stacy

have anything to do with it.

      Jared pulled on his chin. No sense in lying to himself.

      Mattie had been on his mind—and in his dreams—almost continually since he’d laid eyes on her. Since their night together.

      Mattie was a widow, Jared reminded himself, her husband dead not quite three months yet. Of course, after what she’d told him about Ingram, Jared doubted she’d done too much grieving over him.

      But after her proper period of mourning, dare he hope to court her himself? A little smile pulled at Jared’s lips. Yep, that’s exactly what he could do.

      In the meantime, he’d have to settle for looking at her. Of course, he could talk to her, too. Have supper at her restaurant.

      Think about rolling around in bed with her.

      Heat rushed through Jared, pumping his blood faster. Damn, after all this time, thoughts of making love to Mattie still had the same affect on him.

      He walked a little faster, trying to push those images out of his mind before he gave the townsfolk an impression of their new sheriff he didn’t want them to have.

      But, as if he didn’t have a will of his own, Jared’s feet carried him across the street to the Cottonwood Café. He peered through the window. Only one table was occupied.

      Good, he thought. If the restaurant wasn’t busy, that meant Mattie would have time to talk to him. But he didn’t want their reunion to take place in front of an audience. Jared circled the building.

      As he walked he allowed himself to indulge in a little fantasy. On those long, lonely nights on the trail he’d often found himself thinking about how Mattie might react when she saw him again.

      His favorite conjured-up scene was the one where she took one look at him, shucked off her clothes and jumped into bed with him.

      Jared pulled on his chin. A hell of a nice vision—one he’d about worn out—but not likely to happen.

      Next was the one where she confessed that she’d pined endlessly for him, prayed for his return, then shucked off her clothes and jumped into bed with him.

      He’d even imagined that she said she loved him—then shucked off her clothes and jumped into bed with him.

      “Damn…”

      Jared shook his head, getting himself under control. Fact was, the best he could hope for when Mattie saw him was a smile on her face. That would be plenty. A smile would mean she was happy to see him. A smile meant…everything.

      Rounding the corner of the restaurant, Jared stopped. His heart thundered in his chest.

      Mattie stood on the back steps, holding on to the railing, gazing up at the sky. His insides seemed to melt.

      Lord, what a pretty woman she was. At times over the past months he’d wondered if his imagination had turned her into something she wasn’t. But seeing her now, he knew that wasn’t true. Mattie was as pretty as he remembered.

      She had on a gray dress with a black lace collar and cuffs. Proper mourning attire for a widow, but it did nothing to hide her swells and curves.

      Jared headed toward the back steps, anxious to see her up close, talk to her. What the hell? Maybe she would shuck off her clothes and jump into bed with him.

      “Mattie?” he called.

      She spun around. Only a second passed before recognition bloomed on her face. Her eyes widened.

      A little whimper slipped from Mattie’s lips. She splayed her fingers across her stomach.

      “Surprise,” he said.

      Mattie slapped her hand over her mouth and raced to the outhouse.

      Jared frowned as he pushed his hat back on his head and watched the outhouse door bang shut behind her.

      “Well, damn…” he muttered. Never ever had he imagined the sight of him would send her running to the privy.

      The restaurant door opened and a gray-haired woman stepped outside, wiping her hands on a linen towel.

      Jared looked at her hopefully. “Something she ate?”

      Mattie slumped against the door of the outhouse, the coarse wood digging into her forehead. She had to get out of this airless little shed. The smell, the heat…

      Her stomach rolled. Mattie swallowed quickly, fearful she’d be sick again.

      But she didn’t want to go outside. He was there.

      Her heart banged in her chest. What was he doing here? Why had he come back? And why did it have to be now?

      Did he know? Had he somehow found out?

      Mattie touched her palm to her stomach. Flat, still. No outward sign of the baby—his baby.

      No, he couldn’t know, she decided. He couldn’t possibly know.

      What should she do? Mattie thought frantically. Tell him?

      Weeks ago when she’d found out she was carrying his child, she’d decided not to contact him. His presence would only complicate things.

      Mattie twisted her fingers together. But now he was here. Did that change things?

      Drawing in a deep breath, Mattie fought off the nausea that had plagued her for weeks, her spirits lifting a little as she realized that, like before, Jared McQuaid would be in town for only a day or so to pick up prisoners, probably. Then he’d be gone. All she had to do was keep her condition a secret from him—which would be a snap, since she didn’t intend to speak to the man—and by tomorrow he’d be gone, none the wiser.

      And her baby’s future would be safe again.

      Mattie gulped a few times, fighting off another wave of nausea and an unsettling nudge from her conscience.

      “Mattie?” Mrs. Nance called from outside.

      Bless her, the dear woman had been such a comfort—her only comfort, really.

      Slowly, Mattie opened the door to Mrs. Nance’s smile. The woman was stout, with a lifetime of lines on her face.

      “Feeling better?” she asked.

      “Well, no…not really.”

      Mrs. Nance patted her hand. “All perfectly normal. Come along, dear.”

      Mattie didn’t move. “Is—is that man still out there?”

      “The new sheriff, you mean?” Mrs. Nance asked.

      “The—what?”

      “Jared McQuaid. The new sheriff,” she explained. Mattie’s stomach heaved. She fought it down, along with a rising wave of panic. “We have a new sheriff?”

      “You hadn’t heard?” Mrs. Nance nodded. “I guess not. You’ve had your mind on other things lately.”

      Yes, that was certainly true. Her queasy stomach—on top of all her other problems.

      “He’s the new sheriff? Stanford’s sheriff?” Mattie asked. “Here permanently?”

      “Just arrived this morning, and here to stay, he says.”

      Mattie clamped her lips together to hold in her groan.

      “You need to get off your feet for a while,” Mrs. Nance said, and led her from the outhouse.

      Mattie’s gaze fell on Jared McQuaid, standing across the yard. He was big, tall, sturdy. His sheriff’s badge glinted in the morning sun.

      Her heart thumped in her chest and her stomach squeezed into a knot again, making her footsteps drag. She watched as Jared’s gaze touched her face, then dropped to her belly and hung there.

      Mattie froze. He knew.

      The world suddenly