The Danforths: Toby, Lea and Adam: Cowboy Crescendo / Steamy Savannah Nights / The Enemy's Daughter. Sheri WhiteFeather
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room to offer a frightened child the solace of his presence. “It’s all right. Daddy’s here. You just had another bad dream, that’s all.”
As this was Dylan’s first nightmare since Heather moved in, Toby was greatly disturbed. Despite his best efforts to be all things to the boy, Dylan obviously still missed his mother. Dylan opened his eyes, reluctantly let go of Heather’s neck and allowed his daddy to coax him back under his covers. Toby’s hand grazed Heather’s as he smoothed back a lock of hair plastered by fear to his son’s forehead.
Together they comforted the child with gentle words and touches. The lullaby that Heather continued to hum soothed the child. Toby’s nerves were pulled taut by parental worry—and a growing awareness of Heather’s effect on his son. He couldn’t help but feel jealous of the position that his son took nestled in her lap.
Under such tender ministrations, Dylan fell easily back to sleep. Heather tugged the sheet under his chin as Toby tiptoed over to the door. He held it open for her and, when she took her leave, closed it with soft finality before bending to scoop her up into his arms.
Heather put up no protest as Toby turned in the direction of his bedroom. Nothing had ever felt more right in her whole life.
Lacing her fingers around his neck, Heather held on tight. His flesh was warm to the touch. She buried her head into the crook of his shoulder.
The scent of Toby’s shower gel mingled with the clean smell of linen from the bed he’d just left and the faint but heady aroma of his own body’s musk. Intrigued, she kissed the strong column of his neck and licked the trace of salt left upon her lips. A feral growl rumbled from somewhere deep in his throat. The sound caused Heather to tremble as they crossed the threshold of his bedroom where he proceeded to lay her upon the very bed that she made for him every day. The covers were in a state of disarray from being thrown back in haste, but they were still warm from the heat of his body.
Heather spread her hair upon the same pillow that she secretly pressed against her heart before smoothing it out each morning. It smelled just as she remembered—like essence of man untamed.
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