Someone's Baby. Dani Sinclair
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still, I want to see if your head is warm. We don’t want you getting a fever.”
“And just how are you going to prevent that?”
He didn’t bother to respond. His hand was large and rough. The hand of a workingman. Yet his touch was somehow reassuring against her skin. She didn’t want to be drawn to this surly cowboy, but she was. At the moment, he represented safety and security.
“Well?” she asked as he pulled back.
“Can’t tell.”
“That’s helpful.”
He tried to mask his irritation by turning away. “Rest while I get the supplies organized and make us something to eat.”
She didn’t bother arguing with him. The way her stomach felt at the moment, food was the last thing it wanted to deal with. She had a bad feeling those cheese curls were looking for a quick way out.
She tried to focus on Cade, but she found watching him unnerving. Especially after he took off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. He moved like a feral cat, she decided. Muscles rippled beneath the denim work shirt. There were no wasted motions other than the toothpick he chewed on. She wanted to ask him if he’d just given up smoking or something, but any more conversation seemed like an awful lot of effort.
She was cold despite the blankets. Much too cold considering the air temperature. She probably was running a slight fever, but she was too tired to tell him so. Why did her shoulder have to hurt so badly? She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, content to listen to him moving about the room.
Unbelievably, she fell into a light doze, waking partially when she heard the baby crying. She should get up and change the little thing, but she couldn’t quite force her eyes open. Her shoulder was on fire and her head throbbed like anything. She wanted nothing more than to cry right along with the baby.
The cries grew louder, more demanding.
Cade’s voice began to speak. The baby quieted at the sound. Jayne didn’t blame her. Cade had a fabulous voice. Deep. Soothing.
She tried to force her eyes open. She should get up. The baby wasn’t Cade’s responsibility. But it had stopped crying. Maybe she’d just lie there a couple more minutes. Then she’d get up and do her part to help.
“JAYNE. Jayne!”
The voice was insistent. Demanding. Sexy.
She didn’t want to leave this incredible dream. Hard, callused hands had been running through her hair, stroking her tenderly. Those lips had been inches away. He had such a sensual mouth.
“Jayne, wake up. Come on. Open your eyes.”
The man in the dream faded to black. Cade’s voice was no longer sexy.
Opening her eyes took a lot of effort, but she wanted to see his features. She peered at him through slits. Dark-gray eyes loomed over her in concern. She had to blink several times to bring Cade’s blurry face into focus.
“That’s it. Wake up, little one.”
“I’m petite not little,” she corrected. Her mouth was so dry it seemed filled with cotton.
The lines around his eyes crinkled. “Wake up petite one doesn’t have the same ring to it,” he said.
Inexplicably, she wanted to smile, but her lips wouldn’t make the effort. “Tired.”
“I know you’re tired, but you have to eat something.”
“No.” She promptly shut her eyes again. Her shoulder burned with pain and she ached in places she normally never thought about. She sensed him moving away and tried to call back the velvet warmth of sleep, and that wonderfully erotic dream that had slipped away. What would Cade’s lips feel like pressed against her own?
The scent of food tickled her nose. It mingled with the smell of wood smoke. Her stomach growled. Maybe she was hungry after all. But getting up was far too much work. It would hurt.
Wasn’t getting shot bad enough? Topping it with at least a ten-mile hike carrying the baby and gear had nearly done her in. The unbearable truck ride had depleted her completely.
She had no reserves left. Zip, zero, none. Her back and hips felt black and blue. She’d bet she had bruises all the way down her spine.
“Try this.”
Cade cupped the back of her head and lifted her slightly. This should have been like her dream, only the movement made her arm hurt like crazy. She wanted to tell him so, but he pressed something against her lips. Liquid, but warm. She didn’t care. She was so thirsty. Taking a cautious sip, she allowed the broth to slide down her throat. It received an enthusiastic reception. She placed her good hand over his to steady the cup and drank greedily.
“Easy. Don’t choke, there’s bits of meat and vegetables in there.”
She opened her eyes all the way. His face was inches from her own. All the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes were visible. How old was he? There was a small scar over one eyebrow and another one near his left cheek. Jayne resisted an urge to touch them.
There was something sensual in the way his hand threaded through her hair, cupping her head like this.
Why did she keep thinking thoughts like that?
“Want some more?”
“Please.”
Approval shone in his dark-gray eyes. He lowered her with tender care and she followed his path to the stove. His jeans were old, fitting snugly enough to outline muscles that had come from hours of hard work. Cade had a nice butt. Heck, he had a nice everything. He must have women falling all over themselves to get close to him.
What was wrong with her? Must be the fever. She’d never noticed a man’s body before in her life. She had entirely too many males hitting on her as it was, and she’d learned early on that men only wanted one thing from petite blondes.
“Think you can sit up?” Cade asked as he returned.
“Not without a lot of pain.”
He made an amused sound low in his throat. “Let’s give it a try anyhow. I’m going to support you until you can lean back against the wall here. Okay?”
“Couldn’t I just lie here and die in peace?”
“No.”
He placed his arms around her carefully and lifted. She was intensely aware that her breasts were covered in nothing but her thin bra, and one side of that no longer gave any support. Her breasts pressed against the material of his shirt. If he noticed, he gave no sign.
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