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Safe In The Rancher's Arms: Stranded with the Rancher / Sheltered by the Millionaire / Pregnant by the Texan. Catherine MannЧитать онлайн книгу.

Safe In The Rancher's Arms: Stranded with the Rancher / Sheltered by the Millionaire / Pregnant by the Texan - Catherine Mann


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her gaze went to his mouth, a tingle of something hot and heady settled in his gut.

      She bit her lip. “Perhaps not flukes, but probably mistakes. Adrenaline...the will to live. That’s all.”

      “Don’t kid yourself, Beth. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them.” He slid one hand beneath her hair, prepared to draw back if she made a protest. Instead, she looked up at him with curiosity and something more. It was that second emotion that stole his breath and made his hands shake.

      Lowering his head, he found her lips with his. She tasted like peanut butter and cherry Kool-Aid. At first, her arms hung at her sides. He explored her mouth gently, his tongue brushing hers. The only other place their bodies connected was where his left hand cupped her chin.

      In the storm cellar, emotions had run high. Now, in the broad light of day, he felt the same jolt of arousal. “Touch me,” he said.

      Slowly, her arms came up and twined around his neck. She stretched on her tiptoes, straining to get closer.

      Lifting her off her feet, he strode to the teacher’s desk and sat her there, moving into the V of her thighs. Now they were perfectly matched. He cupped her breast through her shirt. The door was unlocked. They were in a public building. Though he rubbed his thumb over her nipple, he knew he dared not go any further.

      “I don’t know what to do with you,” he muttered.

      She rested her forehead on his collarbone. “I have a few ideas.”

      Her droll humor startled a laugh from him. “I hope we’re on the same page.”

      Her answer was to kiss him so sweetly that an entirely inopportune erection was the result. Breathing heavily, he stepped away, trying to elude temptation. “I think one of us is supposed to say this is going too fast.”

      She shrugged, leaning back on her hands. “I’ve had a terrible crush on you for over a year, even when you were being an obnoxious, overbearing plutocrat.”

      “Ouch.” His wince was not feigned. Hearing her description of his less-than-stellar qualities made him squirm. “I thought we called a truce.”

      “Under duress and the threat of apocalypse.”

      “Then I’ll say it again,” he muttered quietly. “For the moment, I’m not going to fight with you or try to make you see reason.”

      She crooked a finger. He went to her like a kite on a string, hoping she didn’t recognize the hold she had on him.

      Beth kissed him again, but in a naughtier fashion this time. She pulled back and smiled, her lips swollen. “We’re consenting adults. I’m staying at your house temporarily. Seems like the universe is giving us a sign.”

      He curled a hand behind her neck and pulled her mouth to his, no longer as in control as he would have liked. “If you believe in that kind of stuff.”

      “Are you turning me down?”

      He jerked. “Hell, no. Besides, this was my idea.”

      “To-may-to, to-mah-to. But if we’re going to share the credit, then we’ll both share the blame when we crash and burn.”

      “Why would you say a thing like that?” He stole half a second to nip her earlobe with sharp teeth. Her groaned sigh was his reward.

      “You’re you, and I’m me,” she whispered with inescapable logic.

      “So?”

      “Don’t ruin the moment, Farrell. We’re the definition of short-term.”

      He sighed. “I don’t want to argue about what ifs. Surely the tornado taught us that. Live in the moment. Carpe diem. Any cliché you want to choose. I’ve never come that close to disaster. I feel foolish saying it, but it changed me.”

      Beth stared at him, her green eyes bright. He wondered what she was thinking.

      Finally she responded. “I think it’s too soon to make a statement like that. Give it a week. A month. You’ll be your old self.”

      “That’s pretty cynical.”

      “People don’t change, Drew.”

      “Are we talking about your brother again?”

      “Let me get one thing straight. If you and I are contemplating a hook-up, there have to be ground rules. Number one is forget about my brother.”

      “That’s pretty cold.”

      “Take it or leave it. I don’t tell you how to run your ranch. Please respect my wishes.”

      “And if it turns out to be more than a hook-up?”

      “It won’t. I won’t let it. I like you, Drew. A lot. When you’re not trying to push me around, you’re funny and sexy and way too handsome for your own good. But long-term relationships are built on shared backgrounds and values.”

      “You think we don’t have the same values?”

      She stood up and straightened her clothing. “I think we’re done here.” She walked past him to the door and turned. “Are you coming with me?”

      He grimaced. “I’ll be a few minutes behind you.”

      She looked confused until she noticed the front of his pants. Her face flushed. “Ah. Well then. Okay.”

      Despite his physical discomfort, he had to chuckle when she left the room. Beth Andrews tried so hard to pretend she was a badass, but he knew the truth now. Her tough exterior concealed a woman who had perhaps been hurt one too many times. What she didn’t know, however, was that Drew Farrell was a patient man. Sooner or later he would prove to her that the two of them were much more alike than she thought.

      And when they ended up in bed during the process, he was pretty sure there were going to be fireworks and bells and enough heat to rival the Texas sun.

       Eight

      Beth navigated the gym, stopping to talk to a few people she recognized. Despite the circumstances, the large room felt comfortable and safe. Because so many families were in the same boat, a sense of camaraderie permeated the air.

      Nobody was perfect. Tempers flared occasionally, and children fussed when they were tired and hungry. Without asking, Beth joined the line of volunteers helping serve a simple spaghetti dinner. Folding tables—hastily set up—accommodated the large crowd in shifts. She watched the hallway that led to the school proper and knew the moment Drew reappeared.

      His eyes scanned the room. She couldn’t tell if he saw her or not. Instead of crossing the gym in her direction, he spoke with the site coordinator and was soon climbing a very tall ladder to replace lightbulbs on the ceiling.

      Beth loved the way he walked and moved. He was confident, masculine and strong. Drew was the kind of man who should have at least a couple of kids, maybe more. He would be an incredible father. Beth had no memory of her father, so she didn’t have much personal basis for comparison. But she knew that things like compassion and generosity and gentleness were important.

      While she had read Charlotte’s Web to the group of children, one small boy had climbed without fanfare into Drew’s lap. Far from seeming uncomfortable, Drew had murmured something to the kid and curled an arm around his waist.

      Witnessing that moment had twisted something in Beth’s heart. But she ignored the wistful stab of longing. Perhaps because she was unable to decide if the pang was because of all she had missed as a child or because she was pretty sure she didn’t have what it took to be a parent.

      A request for a refill pulled her back to the present. It was clear that people in this room were dealing with a host of emotions. Obviously, they were grateful for the meal and the shelter. But many


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