Christmas Baby. Judy Duarte

she said, her breath a bit raspy from the arousing assault on her senses. “But I’m on the rebound, and you might be, too. So for that reason—and a few others—I think it would be best if we took things a little slower.”

      “Maybe,” he said, although something in his eyes suggested he wasn’t convinced.

      Yet in spite of his apparent acceptance of her words, neither of them made a move to end their evening together.

      She closed her eyes, caught up in a heady cloud of swirling pheromones, musky cologne and the vibrant and steady beat of a heart on the mend. As tempted as she was to ask him to stay the night, she had to let him go. She’d thrown caution and morals to the wind once, but she couldn’t make a habit of it.

      Not until she knew him better.

      When she glanced up at him, he tossed her a crooked grin. Yet the hint of a shadow darkened his eyes, an emotion too fleeting for her to get a handle on.

      She rested a hand on his chest, where his heart beat strong and steady. Surely she was being too cautious. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to change the stance she’d taken.

      “Do you have a piece of paper and pen?” he asked.

      She reached into her purse and pulled out the small notepad she carried, along with the attached ink pen.

      When she handed it to him, he scratched out his phone number on the top sheet, than gave it back to her. Deciding to provide him with hers, as well, she tore out a page from the back of the booklet, jotted down her number for him.

      “Well…have a good evening,” she said, although she suspected that they’d both have a better one if they didn’t spend it alone.

      Shane brushed another kiss on her lips, this one light and fleeting. He hesitated momentarily, as if he was struggling with something. Then he kissed her a third and last time, a heart-thumping, hope-stirring kiss that would linger in her memory long after he left.

      As he walked to his truck, she stood at the door and watched him go.

      She ached to call him back, but if she got in too deep and too soon, she would complicate not only her life, but her baby’s. And she couldn’t afford to do that yet.

      There was, however, one thing that she did know. Meeting Shane and experiencing the thrill of a romance had completely dulled the pain of Thomas’s betrayal. And she was tempted beyond measure to hang on to what they’d found together. But she couldn’t enter a full-on affair with him. At least, not at this point.

      As Shane climbed into his pickup, a feeling of remorse settled over her. It took all she had not to call him back—or run after him. But it was best this way, especially since she wasn’t ready to tell him about the baby.

      Still, as she went into the house and locked the door behind her, she couldn’t help grieving what they might have shared tonight.

      Shane spent the night on his parents’ sofa, thanks to all the out-of-town family members who’d converged upon the house for Becky’s first communion. He’d been surrounded by his nieces and nephews, who had spread their sleeping bags all over the floor.

      The kids had gotten up at the crack of dawn, so he’d merely put his pillow over his head to block out the noise and the morning light.

      He had no idea what time it was now—or where they’d gone—but thankfully they were all up and at ’em.

      Years ago, he’d thought that the old sofa was pretty comfortable, but he’d awakened with a crick in his neck this morning, which left him ready to snap at anyone or anything that crossed his path.

      Okay, so it was more than a few aches and pains that had him out of sorts. He was flat-out disappointed that he hadn’t been invited to stay with Jillian last night, although he had no one to blame but himself.

      She’d struggled with the decision to send him on his way. He’d seen it in her eyes, heard it in her passion-laced voice.

      If there’d ever been a couple who’d been sexually compatible, it was the two of them. So it wouldn’t have taken much effort on his part to convince her to change her mind.

      But the truth of the matter was that she was coming off a recent divorce, which meant that she was vulnerable—maybe even more than most women might be. She hadn’t had to come out and say that, either. He’d seen that in her eyes, as well.

      Only a jerk would have taken advantage of her, which was what he’d told himself last night while his conscience had warred with his libido.

      “I’m on the rebound,” she’d said. “And you might be, too.”

      That hadn’t been entirely true. Shane had gotten over his divorce a long time ago.

      Still, he’d been tempted to suggest that they put another temporary balm on two grieving hearts, although he’d decided against it. Why jump into anything when the future was so questionable?

      Besides, if she ever came out to Brighton Valley, which was becoming home to him, she’d probably go into culture shock.

      Of course, he’d been more than a little surprised to find her living in a modest apartment, instead of something ritzy. Especially since her jewelry and designer clothes suggested that she belonged in a much nicer place—and in a better part of town.

      So what was with that?

      He supposed it made sense that she would move closer to the university she planned to attend, but wouldn’t she be happier in an upscale neighborhood?

      Or had she entered El Jardin that day primed and looking for a man who had money?

      Shane didn’t like that particular train of thought. Had he been wrong about her?

      Before he could give it any real consideration, Jack’s six-year-old son ran up to him. “Hey, Uncle Shane. Can I come out to your ranch someday and ride a horse? My dad said he’d take me out there, if it’s okay with you.”

      Shane didn’t mind having Jack and his family come to Brighton Valley. It might even be fun to show them around and make a day of it. “It’s not my ranch, Evan. But I can arrange a visit and a horseback ride.”

      “Cool! I’ll tell my dad you said it was all right. Woohoo!”

      With that, the boy dashed off, whooping it up.

      Shane liked kids; he really did. But sometimes it was tough being around his nieces and nephews, especially when he couldn’t help thinking that Joey would be four now and running around with them.

      Using his fingers, he kneaded the stiff and sore muscles in his neck.

      Once he’d attended that first communion and given his niece the charm bracelet he’d bought, he’d be history—and headed back to Brighton Valley.

      In the meantime, after folding up the blanket he’d used last night, he went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. There, he found his mom alone, standing over the stove and flipping hotcakes.

      “Why are you doing all the work?” he asked as he walked up behind her and placed a kiss on her cheek.

      She turned to him and smiled. “Because I enjoy having you kids home. And besides, it’s Sunday morning, remember?”

      “How could I forget?” His mom’s special buttermilk pancakes had become a church-day tradition at the Hollister house.

      “Pour yourself a cup of coffee,” she said, “then get some hotcakes while they’re fresh and warm.”

      She didn’t have to ask him twice. After filling a mug and piling the pancakes on a plate, Shane took a seat at the table, where he added a slab of butter and maple syrup on top of his stack.

      “Where is everyone?” he asked.

      “John and Karen took Becky to the church. She’s meeting up with a couple of her girlfriends there. Tom and your dad are outside, watching