The Baby Race (4 page)

"Something funny?" He followed her gaze.

A large, pot-bellied pig nudged the screen
door open and waddled across the porch toward them, her snout
quivering in excitement.

Race closed his eyes and groaned. What next?
At this rate, Claire would turn tail and run long before he could
collect Grandmere's Marriage Bonus. "Don't worry. Petula's not
normally allowed in the house. She keeps sneaking in."

"Don't worry about it. I spent a lot of time
in the tropics with the local natives. Pigs, cows, sheep and
various other wildlife often shared our dwelling. You get used to
it."

"She's housebroken and friendly. She doesn't
realize she's a pig. Most times she thinks she's a lapdog."

What sort of damage had the pig done inside?
Race tried to remember how bad he'd left the house? Housekeeping
wasn't his strong suit. His work with the horses and his saddle
making business took up most of his time. What would Claire think?
And why should it matter?

He glanced at Claire to judge her reaction to
Petula's appearance, but she was already out of the car greeting
the ecstatic pig.

"You are a sweetheart, aren't you?" Petula
butted Claire's arm. "Sorry. I don't have any treats." She
scratched the pig's head and ears.

Race swore he could almost hear the animal
purring in contentment. Who could blame her? The sight of Claire's
pale fingers stroking the pig's dark hide made him want to get down
on his knees, push Petula aside and claim his share of
attention.

The sound of her singsong crooning to the pig
drew one of the farm cats from under the porch. He brushed against
Claire's side, demanding his due.

"Well, aren't you a pretty kitty." She ran
her hand across the cat's sleek black and white coat. Petula
objected to Claire's switch in attention with a grunt. "You look
just like you're wearing a tux." She looked up at Race. "What's his
name?"

"Tennessee."

Her smile widened. "As in Tennessee
Tuxedo?"

"Yes. Aren't you a little young to remember
that cartoon?"

"Bobbie Sue's a cable TV addict." She
stood.

In protest, Petula butted the back of
Claire's legs. She stumbled and tripped over Tennessee who was
intent on weaving between her legs. Off balance, Claire lurched
forward.

To keep her from falling on her face, Race
closed his arms around her slim waist. Lips parted in a startled
gasp, her face lifted to his. From shoulder to knee her body
pressed against him. He could feel the rapid thud of her heart, the
moist touch of her breath on his face.

Giving a satisfied snort, Petula waddled
off.

As sweet and unexpected as the sun through
the clouds, desire blossomed between them. Race could see the
confusion in Claire's eyes.

Should he kiss her? Would she let him? How
would this complicate their already complex arrangement? Then her
lids drifted shut and the questions faded from his mind. He wanted,
he needed to taste the lips she offered so innocently. His head
dipped toward hers.

"Race?"

The screen door banged. Cheeks flaming,
Claire jumped out of Race's arms. He stepped back, thankful for the
interruption. He had to remember to keep his distance from Claire.
This was a temporary relationship. One based on practical need, not
passion. He couldn't let hormones upset the balance and create a
whole new set of problems for both of them.

Wiping her hands on a damp apron, Cindy Reed,
Race's stepmother, hurried across the porch toward them. "Welcome
back. How was Las Vegas? Your flight? I know you were in a hurry,
but I do wish you'd allowed your father and me to hold the wedding
at our home. Never mind." She waved her hand. "We've planned a
small reception for you this coming Saturday."

Race cringed. Cindy's idea of small would
include the whole town. Though he and his father weren't close,
Race was fond of his stepmother. Slim and blonde, at forty she
didn't look much older than when he'd first met her fifteen years
ago. An angry teenager, he'd given her a tough time when she was
just a pregnant newlywed, but she'd never held his bad behavior
against him. In fact, she treated him with as much love as she did
her children. So as much as he disliked her interference, he didn't
have the heart to hurt her by saying no.

Cindy hugged Race, then Claire. "Come on in.
I'm sure Claire would like to get settled. The girls," she referred
to her three daughters, "and I took the liberty of unpacking for
you. Bobbie Sue helped. I hope you don't mind?" She kept talking as
they followed her into the house.

He hid his smile and whispered to Claire,
"Typical Cindy. Better to beg forgiveness than ask for permission.
Probably comes in handy dealing with a classroom full of
kindergartners and their parents."

Claire choked back a laugh and said, "It
wasn't necessary, but I appreciate your efforts. Thank you."

You're very welcome."

The house smelled of pine cleaner, furniture
polish and stew simmering on the stove. Race looked around the now
tidy front room. Gone were the stacks of old newspapers and horse
journals. Boots, shoes and clothing no longer littered the
furniture. Wood gleamed and glass sparkled. Freshly washed throw
rugs hid the worst of the wear on the threadbare carpeting. Several
strange pieces of furniture were placed around the room. "You've
been busy." Relief warred with irritation. Relief won.

Guilty color flooded Cindy's cheeks. "Of
course, you'll want to rearrange things to suit you. But I thought
this would be nicer than coming home to stacks of boxes and a
jumble of furniture."

"Everything looks and smells wonderful.
What's cooking?" Claire asked.

"Beef stew. Sit down and I'll get it on the
table for you, then I'll get out of your hair." Cindy bustled
around the kitchen, which was also immaculate.

"Won't you join us?" Claire asked.

"Oh, no! I've got to get home and feed
Jackson and the girls. Besides, I know you and Race need some time
together alone." Cindy served up the stew along with a fresh green
salad and a crispy loaf of French bread, then took off her apron
and turned to leave.

"We won't be alone. Bobbie Sue's here,"
Claire said.

"Oh, didn't I mention that Bobbie Sue asked
to stay another night with us? She and Rebecca, my seven year old,
have bonded. I think you'd have to use dynamite to pry them apart.
Bobbie Sue decided she wanted to be here when you got home. I hope
it's all right that I said yes. They're in the middle of making you
a wedding gift. I didn't have the heart to say no.

"The only reason Rebecca's not here now, is
because she went to the store with Jackson to pick up something for
their project."

The savory stew turned to ashes in Race's
mouth. Alone with Claire? He hadn't realized how much he was
counting on the presence of the child to diffuse his growing
attraction to Claire. Thank goodness the house had three
bedrooms.

"No, of course Bobbie Sue can stay with you."
Claire's voice wavered. Her gaze skittered over him and the color
leeched from her face.

Her agitation eased some of his trepidation.
They were adults. They could handle this situation. Cindy's next
words shook his confidence.

"During the storm, a tree branch broke the
window in the third bedroom. What a mess! Glass everywhere. A big
piece ripped a hole in the mattress. Then it rained in all night.
Ruined the mattress. I had Warren haul it away and board up the
window. We cleaned up the rest, but the carpeting is still
damp."

Suddenly, Bobbie Sue's absence was a
blessing. Claire could use the child's bed for this one night.
Tomorrow, first thing, he'd buy a new mattress and fix the
window.

"Well, if there's nothing else, I'll collect
Bobbie Sue and head home."

Claire stood up and gave Cindy a hug. "Thank
you so much for everything."

Envy stirred in Race as he watched the two
women embrace. Physical expressions of affection didn't come easy
to him. When he first came to live with the Reed clan, their
constant hugging and kissing had disgusted him. In his world,
affection had usually followed abuse. It had taken him a long time
to realize what he'd felt wasn't disgust, but fear. Fear of letting
another person close enough to hurt him. But by then he was a grown
man, on his own, not a child needing a hug, so he learned to live
without.

"You're very welcome." Over Claire's
shoulder, Cindy's curious gaze locked on Race. "I put your luggage
in the master bedroom. Welcome to the family."

The screen door clicked shut behind her and
they were alone. From outside, the smell of fresh cut grass and
rain damp air drifted into the kitchen along with the distant drone
of a mower and the rhythmic hum of cicadas.

Claire sank back into the kitchen chair. Her
hair swung forward hiding her face from his eyes. She toyed with
the now cool stew.

"You're not nervous, are you?"

Her head snapped up. "Do I have something to
be nervous about?"

Her gaze was clear and guileless, but he
could read her apprehension in the way she clutched her fork and
the whiteness of her tight smile.

"No. Of course not." As fast as it sparked,
anger drained out of him. She was no more responsible for the
unwanted attraction between them than was he. He pushed back his
untouched plate and stood. "Come on, I'll move your things into
Bobbie Sue's room for tonight."

~~~~~

CHAPTER FOUR

As Claire followed Race up the stairs, she
couldn't keep her eyes off the way the muscles of his tight butt
moved beneath his snug, well-worn jeans. Over the years she'd lived
in places where men and women wore little more than strips of cloth
to hide their gender, but never before had she felt compelled to
watch the movement of skin over muscle the way she did with
Race.

What was it about this man that drew her? It
certainly wasn't his sweet disposition or charm. The man was as
prickly as a spiny wart hog. The comparison made her chuckle.

"Something funny?" He stopped short.

She bumped into him. Her breasts tingled from
contact with the small of his back. She stumbled backward. He
turned and caught her shoulder to keep her from tumbling down the
stairs. Heat from his touch seeped through her.

"No-o-o, of course not." Refusing to meet his
questioning look, she tried to slide out from under his grip, but
he held her tight. She couldn't let her attraction to Race cloud
her thoughts. A physical relationship between them was impossible.
If she gave him her body, how could she keep her heart safe?

His eyes darkened. He jerked his hand back
and turned away. "Come on then."

Irrational hurt made her stiffen her spine.
Did he expect her to reveal all when he refused to give a hint of
his own feelings?

When Race pushed open the bedroom door, the
ammonia smell of urine hit them.

"What the hell?" he swore, and then groaned.
"Petula. That damned pig."

Claire covered her nose and mouth with her
hand and peeked around Race into what would be Bobbie Sue's room.
She gasped in horror. "I thought you said Petula was
housebroken."

"I thought she was. Guess I was wrong."

The destruction was complete. In a fit of pig
retribution Petula had torn the room's contents apart. Feathers
floated in the breeze caused by the opening of the door to settle
on the mattress which lay half on and half off the bed frame.
Stuffing and springs poked through the ripped and soiled sheets.
The braided rug that covered the hard wood floor was shredded and
pushed into a corner.

"Thank goodness Bobbie Sue's things weren't
in here yet."

"Small favors," he muttered. "I can't imagine
what caused her to do something like this. Her previous owners
raised her in the house."

"Maybe she's mad about being consigned to a
barn?"

"Well, this sure isn't the way to go about
getting back into the house."

She fought back a laugh.

"This isn't funny," he growled, but his lips
started to twitch.

"Isn't it?" Laughter bubbled out of Claire.
"Maybe she's just jealous?"

"Maybe." The smoldering look in his eyes
stilled her laughter.

Drawn by a force she couldn't name, she moved
closer. The air around them thickened and shimmered with unspoken
needs. Hers. His. He lifted his hand. Eyelids drifting shut, she
swayed toward him. Caution forgotten, whatever he asked, she was
ready to give.

He inhaled sharply. "Go downstairs."

His harsh tone broke the spell. Her eyelids
snapped open and she jumped back. Heat flooded her cheeks. What
must he think? She'd practically thrown herself into his arms.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he whirled
around and stepped into the room. "I'll take care of this
mess."

"I'll get the cleaning stuff." She ignored
his, "Don't bother." Embarrassment hurried her down the stairs
toward the kitchen.

Her next thought froze her feet and
heart.

Where was she going to sleep?

Race held his breath and moved into the room
to open the windows. Where was she going to sleep? The thought
slammed into him.

Fresh, moist air quickly dispelled the
lingering pig odor, but didn't do anything to repair the damage
Petula had done. The mattress was ruined. Of the three beds in the
house, only one remained - if nothing else happened - his.

Even if Claire agreed to share it with him,
the king-sized bed wouldn't be large enough for the two of them.
How could he be expected to lie next to her through the night and
not touch her?

He leaned his forehead against the cool glass
of the window and groaned. When his fingers had closed around her
slender shoulder, a bolt of heat had shot straight to his groin.
He'd had to turn away to hide the evidence. Then when their eyes
met and she swayed toward him, the urge to gather her in his arms
and make love to her had nearly overwhelmed him. Only the acrid
scent of pig had saved him from doing the unthinkable.