Daddy Wore Spurs. Stella Bagwell
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him from taking custody of her baby—unless he was unfit to be a parent, and he hardly looked that. This hunky cowboy looked like a man who was in complete control of himself and everything around him.
Bracing herself with a deep breath, she turned back to him and was immediately struck again by his huge presence. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about Finn that set him apart from the other cowboys who’d worked on Stallion Canyon. He had enough confidence for two men and the looks to go with it. But that wasn’t exactly the reason her gaze kept returning to him. There was something about his blue eyes and the hard curve of his lips that invited her to draw near him. And that could prove to be dangerous.
With her mouth feeling as though she’d eaten a bowl of desert sand, she said, “I don’t need a bunch of your friends mouthing your superlative qualities to me. I need to see for myself what sort of man you are.”
His rusty brown brows pulled together in a frown while his keen gaze rambled lazily over her face, and Mariah suddenly wished she’d dressed that morning in a shirt that buttoned tightly at her throat and wrists. At least then she might not be feeling so downright naked.
After a long, pregnant pause, he said, “Most folks consider me a respectable, hardworking man. How do folks around here feel about you?”
For a moment she was taken aback. She hadn’t been expecting him to turn the tables on her. “I have a few friends,” she said. “And the school where I teach wants me back next year. Does that tell you anything about my reputation?”
A corner of his lips curved slightly upward and Mariah found she couldn’t tear her eyes from the provocative image. How many women, besides Aimee, had felt the pleasure of those hard lips on hers? she wondered. Was he the kind of man that frequently pursued women in general, or did one in particular have to catch his attention before he went after her?
His low chuckle caressed her senses, and longing suddenly pierced the empty spots inside her. How nice it would be to hear his laugh each and every day, to be able to laugh with him. To feel his hands touching her, protecting her, loving her.
“You said you wanted to get to know me. Could be that I’d like to know more about you, too. Do you have a boyfriend? Or fiancé?”
Rattled even more by his questions, she moved around him and returned to the side of Harry’s crib. He’d laid the baby on his back and tucked a lightweight blue blanket around him. The idea of the tall, tough cowboy caring so gently for the baby caused her eyes to mist over once again.
“No boyfriend. And definitely not a fiancé.”
“And why is that? You don’t want to be married?”
She made an indifferent shrug, even though a tangle of emotions was suddenly choking her. “I’m waiting for the right man to come along,” she mumbled.
She wasn’t about to add any more to her explanation. She hardly wanted him, or anyone else for that matter, to know that she’d never gotten over losing the only man she’d ever cared about to another woman. And considering the woman had been her sister, Mariah wasn’t sure she’d ever get over the betrayal.
Slowly, she sensed his presence moving alongside her, and then the faint scent of him drifted to her nostrils. He smelled like a man who’d been bathed in desert wind and kissed by hot sunshine, and for one brief moment she wondered what it would be like to press her nose against his throat, to breathe in that evocative scent. To let herself forget that he’d once been Aimee’s lover.
He said, “You must be waiting for Mr. Perfect.”
The huskiness of his voice was such a sensual sound it caused goose bumps to form on the backs of her arms.
“That’s none of your business,” she said.
“Probably not. But I’m a curious kind of guy. I’ve been trying to figure out how a woman who looks like you is living out here alone—without a man to care for her. Protect her.”
And make love to her. Mariah could hear the unspoken words in his voice as clearly as she could hear Harry’s soft breathing behind them.
The fragile grip she had on her senses was coming close to snapping. “Aimee was always the one who wanted a man in her life. Not me.”
“That could change—if you met a man you couldn’t live without.”
Everything inside Mariah had quickly gone hot and shaky. And she wondered wildly how he would react if she suddenly turned and placed her palms against his chest. If she were to tilt her face up to his, would he want to kiss her? Oh my. Oh my. Why were these crazy, wicked thoughts going through her head? Why was he making her forget that she was a practical woman?
“I’m just trying to survive, Finn. I’m not foolish enough to believe a knight will come riding through here on a big white horse and make all my troubles go away.”
A wry grin tugged at his lips. “He might come riding through here on a big brown mustang. Ever think that might happen?”
Her laugh was short and caustic. “If that ever happened I’d run him off with a loaded shotgun. Once these last ten are gone, I never want to see another mustang. If it hadn’t been for the wild horses I might have persuaded Aimee to get out of the business before we went broke. But she was obsessed with the damned things. And now—”
As her words trailed away, his hand wrapped gently around her upper arm, and the touch splintered her resolve to remain indifferent to him. Heat from his fingers was rushing to her cheeks, then plunging downward, showering her whole body with sparks.
“You’re blaming the wrong thing for your troubles, Mariah. At one point, those horses were running free, caring for themselves. They didn’t ask to be captured and confined.”
Mariah’s chin dropped against her chest. She sounded like a pouting child, blaming her problems on everything and everyone but herself. But grief, worry, anger and resentment had been playing with her emotions for so long now. And for just as long, she’d been trying to hide her emotions, to pretend that she was strong and unaffected. And now something about Finn was pulling her feelings right out in the open.
“Sorry. I’ll admit my thinking is twisted. But Aimee refused to consider any other job. With her it was the horses or nothing. And that’s where the ranch was headed—with nothing.”
The subtle tightening of his fingers on her arm had her lifting her face up to his, and as her gaze probed the depths of his blue eyes, her heart thumped so hard she could feel it banging against her ribs.
“Look, Mariah, horses can get into a person’s blood. Caring for them, working with them, loving them. It becomes sort of an addiction. One that’s impossible to shake. Even when you know they’re costing too much money or taking you down a wrong path.”
“So you’re saying your job has to involve horses or you wouldn’t be happy?”
“I’d be miserable without horses around me.”
Disappointment washed through her. Which was ridiculous. Finn’s dreams and desires had nothing to do with her. Except where Harry was concerned. She didn’t want the child to have a father like hers, who’d spent every weekend at horse shows and every waking minute of the day at the training barn.
“You and Aimee would have made a perfect pair,” she said stiffly.
His gaze rambled over her face. “It takes more than a shared love of something to make a perfect partnership. The fact that Aimee wasn’t interested in building a relationship with me proves that much.”
She grimaced. “As far as men go, Aimee didn’t know what she wanted.”
“Thanks,” he said with sarcasm.
Her gaze connected with his and Mariah’s heart gave a hard thump. “Tell me, Finn, if you’d known about Aimee’s pregnancy would you have married her?”
His expression didn’t flinch,