Warrior's Baby. Sheri WhiteFeather
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family’s ranch. He was good to me, Gloria. The kindest person I’d ever known.”
“He may not be so kind once he finds out what you’re up to.” When Gloria paced again, the wood planks squeaked below her feet. “I hate to say this, but there is the possibility he might not fall in love with you. Think about how serious this is, Mel.”
“I have.” Long and hard, every waking moment. “I’m not trying to trick Colt. And I know what the consequences are. If he doesn’t fall in love with me, then I’ll honor our original agreement.” Deep down, she kept telling herself that wouldn’t happen, but the realist in her knew it could.
Gloria’s jaw dropped. “You’d give him the baby?”
“Yes.” The next breath she took hurt. Deeply. “I vowed a long time ago that if I could ever repay Colt for his kindness, I would. I’ve always wanted to change his life the way he changed mine.” She set the rocker in motion again—a movement as gentle as the breeze, as tender as Colt’s heart. “He made me realize my worth, helped me to believe in myself. I’m successful and strong because he convinced me I could be
“So you see, Gloria. If I have to, I’ll give him our baby.” She would give Colt a part of her that would live forever. “But as I said before, I’ll do whatever I can to make him want me.”
The other woman’s expression softened. “Oh, Mel, you really do love him.”
“Yes. I always have.” Melanie recalled how sensitive and protective he had been. When the other teenagers who frequented the rental stables made leering cracks about what a “nerdy brain” she was, Colt had countered their attacks, professing “I think intelligent women are sexy.” Time and time again, Colt Raintree had been her champion, her knight in shining armor. He would touch her cheek and tell her she was perfect—sweet and pure—one of earth’s angels.
Although their lives had taken separate paths, Colt’s image had never been far from her heart. She wanted him to be her first love. Her only love.
As an image of her teenage self surfaced, Melanie’s stomach fluttered. What an image: a shy, skinny little girl with mousy brown hair and a mouthful of silver braces. “Colt didn’t recognize me.”
“How could he? Let’s face it, you’ve changed.” Gloria tilted her blond head. “You do plan on telling him who you are, right?”
“Yes, but not right away.” Colt wanted a professional relationship with his surrogate. A woman who adored him during their teenage years certainly didn’t fall into that category. Until his baby lay cradled in her womb, she would keep her identity a secret.
“Are you sure that’s wise? I mean—” Gloria paused as Joey scampered out the front door and down the rickety porch steps. The boy had a Popsicle, probably his fourth, the rainbow around his mouth a conspicuous giveaway.
His mother latched on to his shirttail. “How many of those have you had?”
He squirmed. “Two.”
“Joey?”
“Three.”
She released her hold. “No more, okay?”
He grinned. His teeth were blue. “Okay, Mom.”
The child leaped onto the wet grass and both women laughed. Mom. Just the word alone made Melanie’s womb ache. The only man she had ever dreamed of having a baby with was Colt. At this point, being inseminated with his seed sounded romantic.
Melanie Richards had built a successful career, acquired self-esteem and survived a near-fatal accident, yet she had never forgotten the wild, black-haired boy who had treated her kindly when others had not; the boy with whom she had fallen hopelessly in love.
Colt wondered if she’d be early. They had agreed on 10:00 a.m. He glanced at his watch. It was 9:33.
Melanie Richards was an enigma. A beautiful, single, successful lady willing to have a baby for someone else. Something didn’t add up. Maybe she needed the dough. He wasn’t quite buying her I-plan-to-give-the-money-to-charity story. Being a surrogate was a job—nine months out of a woman’s life. He didn’t begrudge paying for the service, yet the idea of buying his own baby, in a sense, left him cold. He wanted the perfect scenario, a woman who needed to give a child as much as he needed to receive one. Melanie was going to have to tell him straight out why she was offering him the ultimate sacrifice. The most precious of gifts. Her motivation was still vague.
Colt flipped his leg over the leather recliner and reached for the coffee mug. Dang, he was actually anxious about seeing her again. Unfortunately he found himself physically attracted to her: a youthful complexion, big cornflower blue eyes, shoulder-length hair the color of autumn leaves, each strand unique in its vibrance. And her body? Enticing curves a man could ride, slow and sensual, like a smooth hypnotic current
He jerked forward when the doorbell sounded, locking the recliner in place. It was 9:40. She was early.
He pulled open the door. Pushed away his lust. Business and pleasure didn’t mix where women were concerned.
“Hi.” She smiled. She looked younger than the day before. Her blue jeans were faded, fraying at the knees, her denim blouse tied at the waist. A green ribbon secured her ponytail, but wispy tendrils had worked loose, gently framing a heart-shaped face. She smelled like citrus-scented soap, clean and fresh.
Colt glanced down and let out a low whistle. Her Western boots were ostrich. The lady had class. Money.
He stepped away from the door. “Come in.”
She was still smiling. “Boots are my weakness.”
Women like you are mine, he wanted to say. “Yeah, I can see that.”
She gazed around the room. “Impressive place.”
He followed the line of her eyes and assessed his surroundings with renewed interest. Constructed of native timber and pegged-beam ceilings, the six-bedroom homestead used to serve as the main lodge He’d considered renting it out and moving into one of the log cabins out back, but couldn’t bring himself to abandon his daughter’s room. Her pink canopy bed and favorite stuffed animals remained there, waiting for a child who would never return.
“Big place for one guy, huh?” he asked.
“Soon there will be two of you.”
He smiled at the thought. His home had been empty far too long. “The patter of little feet.”
“Little boots,” she amended.
He winked at her, something he hadn’t done to a woman in a long time. Melanie reminded him of his youth for some reason, and although she didn’t look familiar, she felt familiar. Something he didn’t quite understand. “Do you want a cup of coffee or iced tea or something?”
“Tea sounds nice.”
She followed him into the kitchen then sat down at the oak table in the adjoining dining room. It seated twelve. He poured a tall glass of sun tea and joined her. “We used to have people around all the time. Tourists. Sometimes I hated it, having strangers in my house. Other times, I really enjoyed it. When my grandparents died, I couldn’t keep the bed and breakfast going. I raise quarter horses. That keeps me busy.”
“My work keeps me busy, too.”
He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “If we decide to go through with this, I want full custody of the child. I’d want this to be like an adoption on your part.”
She gazed into her tea. “I know.”
“I couldn’t take another custody battle, Melanie. You have to be sure you can do this. You have to convince me I can trust you, that you’re being completely honest.”
A shadow hooded her blue eyes. They went from daylight to dark in an instant. “A custody battle? I don’t understand.”
He