His Perfect Bride: Hired by the Cowboy / Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek / Coming Home to the Cattleman. Judy Christenberry
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a few steps so that they were scant inches apart.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered, keeping her voice low.
He stepped even closer, so close she had to tilt her neck to look into his face, feeling the heat of his body radiating through the thin cotton she wore.
“Today is the big day,” he whispered huskily.
Her head dropped so he couldn’t see how flustered she became at the thought. “Everything is ready.”
His hand found hers, and he squeezed her fingers. “Except for one thing.”
Her eyes darted to his in confusion. This was feeling distinctly like romance, and after having him haunt her dreams she had little defence against him. As she gazed into his face his eyes darkened with something she didn’t understand. But when he held her hand that way, and looked deeply into her eyes, her brain simply turned off and she started to babble.
“I can’t see how anything is missing. We’ve seen to the cake, the flowers, the minister—”
“Alex.”
She stopped talking and only stared, letting intimacy surround them in the silence. A jolt flashed through her entire body every time he said her name in that way, and in admitting it called herself ten times the fool. This wasn’t part of the plan at all. She was far more comfortable dealing with Connor when he was being practical and realistic. The memory of saying their promises to each other last night echoed through her brain. It had been a turning point, she realized. For both of them. They’d spoken from their hearts—and she couldn’t speak for Connor, but voicing her intentions had made one thing crystal clear to Alex. She loved him. But this was a marriage of convenience only, and her girlish fancies were only serving as a terrible distraction. She had to remember why they were doing this. She had to remember that they needed to stay only friends if she were to come out of this with her heart intact.
“I’m a bit nervous, that’s all.” Her eyes fell on the closet, where even now her wedding dress hung, white perfection. She felt unworthy of it. Unworthy of him. It was meant to be a symbol of purity, but there was nothing pure about Alexis Grayson. Impoverished, uneducated, pregnant Alex.
In a few short hours she’d be wearing it, carrying a bouquet of roses and gardenia. It seemed like a wild, crazy dream.
“Me too.”
His admission, instead of relaxing her, made her fingers curl with tension. Good God, one of them being jittery was bad enough. She’d been counting on him to keep a level head through all of this. She reminded herself yet again why she was doing it. Security was something she’d always craved, and now she knew she was going to be responsible for another life. She owed it to her child. This was all he’d asked of her. It wasn’t much; it was too much.
Her hand drifted to her stomach and rested against the small mound there. His eyes softened as he placed his own hand, strong and warm, on top of hers.
“He’s growing.”
She swallowed and somehow managed to get out, “Every day.”
She closed her eyes at the warmth of his hand seeping through her pajamas and into her core. In the time she’d been here he’d never touched her in such a way, or expressed an intimate interest in the life growing within her. The bubble of her belly was firm and taut, and when she opened her eyes his were shining down at her. He understood, she realized. In that moment, with his hand warm on the life she carried, for the first time she wished in her heart that this baby was his. He would be a wonderful father.
He cleared his throat as he removed his hand. “Are you wondering why I’m here?”
Without his touch her skin cooled, leaving her empty. She couldn’t get used to that feeling, then. She’d miss it far too much when it was gone.
“Is there something we forgot?”
The hand that had touched her stomach slid up and cupped her neck gently, drawing her forward as her heart thundered. What was he doing? In all their days here together the closest they’d been was that night in his office, and that had been comfort. This didn’t feel like comfort. It felt like…passion. Her body trembled beneath his hand. She wasn’t prepared for passion. She wasn’t prepared for what that might mean. This had to be about maintaining a friendly relationship so no one got hurt at the end. Why was he pulling her close, his gaze fixed on her lips?
“In a few short hours,” he murmured, “we’ll share our first kiss as husband and wife.” His other hand lifted to slide under the hair at her neck. “I don’t want our very first kiss to be in front of our guests. Private is much better, don’t you think?”
“You…I…Oh, dear.”
“I’d like to get it out of the way now,” he said, and bent his head.
Her breath slid out, shaky and scared. “Connor,” she started to protest weakly, “I don’t…” If he kissed her now, she’d be lost completely.
He erased whatever should have come out next by placing his lips gently on hers.
His lips were warm and soft, and she let go of all her fears and misgivings and kissed him back. Greedily she tasted him, her heart leaping as his lips opened and invited her in. Still he was soft, patient, and devastating, as his mouth slid from hers and dropped fleeting kisses on her cheeks, her eyes, the tip of her ear. Oh, goodness, this was no “you may kiss the bride” kiss. This was a “give me five minutes and I’ll have you in bed” kiss, and her knees turned to jelly at the thought of the still-warm bed only a few feet behind them. He caught her weight in his arms. Only when she heard herself moan did his mouth return to hers, consuming, leaving her full, then emptying her completely. Heaven. Heaven had to be being kissed by Connor Madsen.
Her arms lifted and wound around his neck, and she pressed herself closer to him, feeling the buffer of the baby between them. She’d never been the kind of woman to dwell on what could never be, not until the baby and Connor. Being with him, close to the life she’d always wanted and never had…something had changed inside her, stopped her from running from feelings and memories and made her sentimental and wistful. At this moment, with his lips warm and loving on hers, she felt the shadow of the girl she’d been in the woman she’d become, and knew the bittersweet pain of wanting what could never be. They had said they would be friends, and it had worked well until today. But from this day forward they would be married, in name only. And with shattering tenderness she tried to wordlessly show him that she would give him everything, if he’d only take it.
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