The Best Bride. Сьюзен Мэллери
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or two seconds, seared his mouth and sent flames of need racing through his body. Instinctively, his hands tightened on her shoulders. Her arms reached up toward him. He felt them whisper by his sides then fall back. He wanted to haul her to her feet and pull her firmly against him. He wanted to feel her body pressing along his, thighs brushing, hips rotating, chest to breast in exquisite delight.
“Don’t you feel better, Mommy?” Mandy asked.
He raised his head. Elizabeth’s eyes were wide and unfocused as if she, too, had felt the conflagration. She swallowed and looked away. But not before he’d seen the answering desire in her gaze.
“Much,” she answered, her voice low and husky. She cleared her throat. “I do feel better. Thank you.”
Travis stared down at her. Who was this woman and what had brought her to Glenwood? Why was there no one, no man, for her to call in her time of trouble? He took a step back and fought a grin. Not that he minded the fact that she was single and in his house. If anything, their kiss had shown him the next three weeks could be very interesting. But why was she alone?
“Come on, Mandy,” he said, holding out his hand. “Let’s let your mom get some rest. I rented a movie for us to watch.”
“Okay.” Mandy jumped off the bed and gripped his fingers. “Night, Mommy.”
“Night, sweetie,” she said, and smiled at her little girl. Her gaze raised to the middle of his chest and stopped. “Good night, Travis. Thank you for…everything.”
Yeah, he couldn’t stop thinking about their kiss either, he thought. “Get some rest.” He led Mandy from the room and closed the door behind them.
A large sofa with a matching chair in soft ivory leather sat in front of an oversize television. Mandy released him and ran over to the VCR. Expertly she pulled the rented tape from its protective cover and inserted it in the machine. Her chatter made him smile, but he had trouble concentrating on her words. He couldn’t stop thinking about Elizabeth Abbott. He was sure there was a logical explanation for everything that was going on, but some sixth sense whispered there was a mystery.
As he sat on the sofa and Mandy climbed onto his lap, he mentally listed what he knew about Elizabeth and her daughter. It wasn’t much. He was too good a lawman to let anything that intriguing go unsolved. If Elizabeth wouldn’t cooperate and answer some questions, he was going to have to find out on his own.
* * *
Elizabeth got coffee going before her exhaustion and the pain in her side forced her to retreat to the kitchen table. She sank into one of the bleached oak chairs. She’d hoped the doctor had been kidding when he’d told her to stay off her feet for a week. Apparently not. He’d reminded her that despite all the improvements in medical technology, the fact was she’d had her tummy cut open, through all the muscles. There were multiple layers of tissues to heal. She hadn’t realized how much she used those muscles until she tried to move around and they reminded her they weren’t working well. She pressed her hand against her side and shifted on the chair. Maybe she would just sit here for a while.
She drew in a deep breath and inhaled the scent of the brewing coffee. At least she’d accomplished something. She smiled. Maybe later, when she’d gathered her strength, she would get wild and attempt toast.
“What are you smiling about, darlin’?”
That voice. It made her think of something warm and rich and decadent slowly slipping through her fingers. It made her think of liquid satin on bare skin. It made her think of last night and their brief kiss. She turned to look at him.
Travis stood in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. Her breath caught in her throat. She’d never seen him out of uniform before. Her gaze traveled from his scuffed black cowboy boots up the long, lean length of his legs. Worn jeans, faded with lines of white radiating out from the seams by his hips and crotch, clung with the familiarity of an old lover. A red polo shirt stretched across his chest and shoulders, emphasizing his muscles. He looked powerful, but more than that he made her think of a dependable man, a hard worker. His watch was black, some sports kind with a couple of buttons. He didn’t wear any rings or other jewelry. Except for the glint in his dark brown eyes and his teasing smile, there wasn’t anything flashy about him.
Solid, she thought. That’s the word she’d been looking for. Travis Haynes was a solid man.
He took a step into the kitchen. His gaze moved over her face, pausing on her mouth long enough for the tingling to start in her toes and work its way up. Last night she’d lain awake in the dark reliving the brief touch of his lips on hers. It had been nothing significant. A teasing kiss instigated by her daughter. So why did she wonder what it would be like to be held in those powerful arms and pulled hard against that solid chest? Why was her heart beating faster and her breasts tightening in anticipation? Nothing had happened and nothing was going to happen. It couldn’t. She knew better than to get involved.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, strolling over to check the coffee. The pot had stopped sputtering. He opened the cupboard above the machine and pulled out two mugs.
“I don’t remember what I was smiling about.” Her voice sounded completely normal, she thought with some relief.
“How do you take it?”
“With milk, please.”
He stirred her coffee and handed her the mug, then took the seat opposite her. “How did you sleep?”
“Great. I feel better.”
“You’re supposed to be staying off your feet.”
“I know. I just wanted some coffee, and I didn’t know what time you got up.”
She felt a little awkward talking about the intimate details of living together. She barely knew Travis. She tilted her head toward the table, then glanced up at him through her lashes. She liked the way his hair curled slightly around his ears, and the trimmed mustache outlining his upper lip. Last night she’d felt the faint tickle of his mustache against her skin. She wondered what that soft, groomed hair would feel like—
The back door opened, cutting off her dangerous train of thought.
“Yoo-hoo, Travis, are you up?” a loud female voice called.
He grinned. “If I wasn’t, Louise, I would be now.”
A woman entered the kitchen. She was in her mid to late forties with short blond hair and a figure that could only be described as an hourglass. Her pants were a bright lime green color, her short-sleeved blouse a blend of greens, yellows and oranges. A wide gold belt emphasized her small waist, while a trio of silver chains dipped toward her generous bosom. Dark eye shadow and lots of mascara highlighted her blue eyes. Her red lipstick clashed with everything, but somehow looked all right.
“You must be Elizabeth,” Louise said, moving forward and holding out her hand. “Your daughter is the sweetest little girl.” She smiled and her eyes got a faraway look. “Maybe I should have had children.” She paused. “No, I think Alfred is more than enough trouble, don’t you?”
“Alfred?” Elizabeth asked as they shook hands. “Your husband?”
Louise laughed. “No, my dog. Hi, I’m Louise.”
Elizabeth didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or laugh back. She settled on smiling weakly. Louise bent over and gave Travis a kiss on the cheek, then moved to the refrigerator and started pulling out food.
“Louise is my housekeeper,” Travis said.
“I figured that.”
“She works here three days a week—”
“But I’m willing to come in more while you’re getting better, Elizabeth,” Louise said, cutting Travis off. “When I heard what happened, well, I just had to rush over and do whatever I could to help.” She set a pitcher of orange juice on the counter. “Maybe you would like to work on some crafts