Montana Dreaming: Their Unexpected Family / Cabin Fever / Million-Dollar Makeover. Judy Duarte

wanting him. Wanting this.

      An ache grew low in her belly, reminding her how long it had been since she’d had sex. And how recently she’d delivered her daughter.

      Making love was out of the question, at least for another week or so. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the taste of him and the overwhelming passion that blazed between them.

      As he intensified the kiss and the gentle assault on her senses, she realized something special had happened. Something powerful.

      If there were ever any question whether she’d fallen in love with Mark before, she knew the answer now. She loved his rebel grin, his wounded heart, his awkward but sweet efforts to look out for her and the baby.

      And she certainly loved the effect he had on her body.

      God help her, she was falling—heart first and eyes closed—for a man who would soon leave town, who would ride off into the sunset without her.

      She ought to push him away, to put a stop to the passion that continued to build, but she wanted Mark and whatever he had to offer. And she meant to make the most of a kiss that rivaled anything she’d ever known.

      No, she wouldn’t put an end to the heated embrace until he did. And she certainly didn’t sense any reluctance on his part.

      Mark didn’t know what had caught hold of him, but he didn’t want it to end. Not the kiss, not the fire that raged in his blood.

      Passion flared between them, promising a breathtaking sexual experience that would take them to places few people had reached. And that’s just where he wanted this heated exploration to progress—to bed, where he could make love with her all night long, where he could bury himself in her softness and hear her cry out in a fulfilling climax.

      The baby cried out from the bedroom, reminding Mark that they weren’t alone, that things were far more complex than he’d let himself believe.

      He couldn’t allow their desire to run its course, so he pulled back, wanting to do the right thing, yet filled with regret. “I…uh…guess we shouldn’t be kissing like that.”

      “I suppose not.” A flush on her neck validated his suspicion—that she’d been just as carried away as he’d been.

      He tried to clear the awkwardness from his throat. “Aren’t you still…healing and stuff?”

      “I feel back to normal, but Dr. Hart suggested I wait three weeks for…you know, sex. But I told her I’d be waiting a whole lot longer, since I haven’t been…hadn’t been…seeing anyone like that.”

      Until now.

      Mark ran a hand along his jaw, felt the bristles he should have shaved, had he known they were going to kiss. A bucket of cold reality splashed over his head, and he wasn’t sure what to say. He damned well couldn’t start making promises about the future.

      His game plan certainly hadn’t changed.

      And it wouldn’t.

      But that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a brief sexual relationship, assuming she was agreeable.

      If she hadn’t been told to wait another week for sex, would they have made love tonight? Would he have eventually realized he didn’t have any condoms on him?

      He might have one or two in his shaving kit, which was back at the inn, but a hike across the street would have diffused the moment.

      He blew out a ragged sigh. This was a hell of a time to risk an unplanned pregnancy.

      Talk about complex complications.

      He cleared his throat, hoping it would clear his head. “I guess we’ve got another week to think about it then, don’t we?”

      “It seems that way.” Her smile was a bit hard to read. Hopeful maybe?

      Or was it remorseful?

      Mark wasn’t sure. But maybe in the next week or so, he ought to think of a way to casually bring his shaving kit back to Juliet’s place.

      Just in case he was invited to stay over for breakfast.

      Several days later, Mark sat at the desk in his room at the inn, going over his notes. The scope of his story had changed in the past few weeks. And over the course of his stay in Thunder Canyon, he’d interviewed a slew of people, some more interesting than the rest.

      Caleb Douglas had been the first he’d spoken to. At the time, the wealthy rancher and businessman seemed more interested in the grand opening of his ski resort, but that had changed with the influx of fortune hunters. Now, after talking to Caleb several more times, Mark had learned that the man was frustrated about the snafu with the land records down at the town hall.

      And who could blame him?

      Harvey Watson, the clerk who’d been transcribing all the old records into the new computer system, was on vacation, and rumor had it he might not be coming back anytime soon.

      Mark slowly shook his head and clucked his tongue. In any other town, he would be able to access the records via the county computer system. But not in good old Thunder Canyon, which was still rooted in the early twentieth century when it came to modern technology and innovation.

      So, early on, Mark had focused his research elsewhere, starting with respected members of the community, like Mayor Phylo T. Brookhurst.

      He’d even interviewed some of the prospectors who’d come to town, looking to make their fortunes. One of the wackiest interviews had been with Miles “Mickey” Latimer, a crusty old miner who seemed to be losing it. But it wasn’t just the fact that Mickey was tottering on senility that had made Mark come to that conclusion. Latimer had probably been goofy all of his life. For years, the old man had continued to mine for gold, never finding much of anything, but still working with a pickax and a mule and looking for a mother lode that probably didn’t exist.

      What made guys like that practically turn their backs on society? Hell, no wonder Latimer seemed so out of touch.

      Mark flipped the pages of his notebook. He’d also interviewed knowledgeable men like Roy Canfield, the editor of the Nugget. And Ben Saunders, the high school teacher and museum docent who knew just about everything there was to know about the town’s history.

      But maybe he ought to focus his attention on some of the older folks in town and see if they could shed some light on the ownership of the Queen of Hearts.

      Ben had mentioned Tildy Matheson, a woman in her eighties who’d lived in Thunder Canyon all of her life. She might have a better handle on some of those rumors and legends.

      Mark picked up the phone, dialed 4-1-1 and asked for Miss Matheson’s number. He jotted it down, then gave her a call and introduced himself. “I’d like to interview some of the citizens who’ve lived in town for a good number of years. I think it would help me get a better understanding of the history of Thunder Canyon. Would it be all right if I came by and talked to you?”

      “I’d be delighted,” the elderly woman said. “I don’t get many visitors.”

      “When would it be convenient for me to stop by?”

      “If you’d like to come now, I’ll put on a pot of tea.”

      Mark wasn’t the tea and crumpets sort, but he hated to offend the elderly woman who didn’t get many visitors. “I might bring someone with me, if that’s all right with you. She’s just had a baby and doesn’t get out too much.”

      “That would be lovely,” Miss Matheson said. “The babies in my family have all grown up. They sure don’t stay little for long.”

      After setting an appointment for thirty minutes from now, Mark called Juliet and invited her to go along. He was glad when she agreed.

      Twenty minutes later, they were on their way. Several times, Mark glanced across the seat, admiring his attractive companion.

      Juliet