Special Deliveries: A Baby With Her Best Friend. Maureen Child

her out here and help, but she packed the cooler and set everything up.”

      Louisa Diaz, the housekeeper at Battlelands. She’d been running that ranch house for twenty years. Of course Nathan would go to her for help. “Wasn’t she curious about why you wanted this set up?”

      “If she was, she’d never admit it,” he said, opening the cooler to draw out a bottle of chilled white wine. He poured two glasses and handed her one. “We’ve got strawberries and whipped cream and some of Louisa’s famous pecan cookies, too.”

      She stared at the golden liquid in her glass. She was still off-kilter. He’d gone to so much trouble, setting all of this up, it made her wonder what was behind it all. Just memories? Or was there something more? “It seems you’ve thought of everything.”

      “I think so.”

      “The question remains,” she said. “Why?”

      He sighed heavily, impatiently. And suddenly he seemed more like the Nathan she’d been dealing with since returning to Royal rather than the younger man she’d given her heart to.

      “Does there have to be a reason? Can’t we just enjoy it?”

      Enjoy it. Reliving a memory that was so cherished it still haunted her dreams? Remember a time when she’d had the world at her fingertips—only to lose it a year later? Pain floated just beneath the surface and Amanda had to fight it back. If she knew what he wanted, expected, maybe this would be easier. But because she couldn’t read him, she was left to stumble around in the dark. She took a sip of wine, letting the dry, icy flavor ease the tightness in her throat.

      Silence blossomed between them and seemed to grow unchecked for what felt like an eternity before Nathan spoke, shattering the stillness.

      “There’s no great plan here, Amanda.” His voice was deep, and each word seemed to rumble along her spine. “I just wanted to bring you to a place where we could talk.”

      “And you chose here.”

      A flicker of a smile touched his mouth then faded almost instantly. “You’re not the only one who remembers, you know. This was a good spot for us, once.”

      “Yes,” she agreed, her own voice sounding strained and rough. “It was. But Nathan—”

      He shook his head. “But nothing. We’re here. We’ll talk. Have dessert. Relax, Amanda.”

      Relax?

      This from the most tightly wound man she’d ever known?

      She looked into his brown eyes and tried to see beyond what he was showing her. But he’d clearly gotten more adept over the years at hiding what he was thinking, feeling, and Amanda was left to take him at his word. Dangerous? Maybe.

      But she couldn’t ask him to take her home now. She’d look as though she were afraid to be here alone with him and she wouldn’t give him that much power. Besides, she could consider this a test of her own resolve. If she and Nathan were going to live here in Royal together, then she had to get past the desire that swept through her every time he was near. She could hardly live her life in a constant state of expectation.

      “Okay,” she said at last, taking another sip of her wine. “We’ll talk.”

      He gave her a quick, disarming grin that jolted her heartbeat into a thundering gallop and she knew that for her, at least, there wouldn’t be any relaxing happening tonight.

      “I came better prepared this time, too,” he said and reached behind the cooler for a small, battery-operated radio. He turned it on and a woman’s voice soared into the shadows, singing of love. “Remember the battery on my old truck died that night? Left the radio playing too long and we had to use the ranch walkie-talkie to get Henry to come out and give us a jump?”

      She remembered. She also remembered the knowing look Henry had given the two of them. But the ranch foreman hadn’t said a word. He’d only gotten Nathan’s truck running again and then left.

      “That was embarrassing,” she said with a sad smile.

      “It was,” he agreed, then gave her another quick grin. “But it was worth it.”

      Her hand tightened on the slender base of the crystal wineglass. Nathan was pushing past all of her defenses, one smile at a time.

      She turned away from him and looked out over the river. At its widest point, it was no more than six feet across, but it was a wild river, fed from the distant mountains and left unchecked. The water frothed on the surface, slapping against the banks and over rocks worn smooth over time. While she watched, a trout jumped from the water only to splash back down. Wind sighed through the trees, rattling the leaves.

      It was perfect.

      A summer night, with the stars overhead. Soft music playing accompaniment to the roar of the river and the man who had been the great love of her life at her side. How many times had she wished for just this over the years?

      She looked at Nathan as he reached into the cooler and pulled out two cookies. Handing one to her, he smiled and said, “You always did like Louisa’s pecan cookies.”

      Her heart fisted in her chest. He looked so damn…harmless. And he so wasn’t.

      “You’re evil,” she said, nipping the cookie from his fingers and taking a bite.

      He nodded. “You used to like that about me.”

      “There are a lot of things I used to like.”

      “But not anymore.” The words were clipped. Cool.

      “I didn’t say that.”

      “Didn’t have to,” he told her and then shrugged as he took a bite of his cookie. “I feel the same way.”

      “Good to know,” she muttered, as her foolishly hopeful heart sunk a little in her chest.

      “Things’ve changed,” he said.

      “If that’s what you brought me out here to tell me,” Amanda said, “you wasted your time. I already knew that.”

      “But the thing is,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken at all, “some things don’t change.”

      He reached out and stroked the tip of his fingers down the back of her hand and along her arm. Amanda shivered.

      “Not fair.” She pulled her hand free of him and dropped the cookie to the quilt before she stood up and moved to the edge of the river.

      Music continued to sail into the deepening night. The river rushed on and, above her, the stars were glittering against the dark sky.

      She heard him stand, then walk up behind her. When his hands dropped onto her shoulders, she was already braced for the heat that poured from his body into hers.

      “Why the hell should I play fair?” he demanded and turned her around to face him.

      “Why are you playing at all?” she countered and waited, watching his features in the indistinct light.

      “Because I can’t get you out of my head,” he admitted, his voice harsh and deep, as if it were crawling up from the center of him.

      If he could admit at least that much, then she could, too. “I feel the same way.”

      He slid his hands up and down her upper arms as if chasing away a chill she didn’t have. In fact, she was so hot at the moment, she couldn’t imagine ever being cold again.

      Amanda took a breath, tipped her head back to look up at him and said, “Wine. Cookies. Music.” She waved one hand at the frothy river beside them. “This place. What is it you want, Nathan? Truth.”

      “Truth.” He tasted the word as if trying to decide if he liked the idea of it or not. Finally, though, he nodded and said, “Truth is, Amanda, there’s a lot of history between us and until we get