Pregnant By The Colton Cowboy. Lara LacombeЧитать онлайн книгу.
but Maggie doubted she’d be able to eat in Thorne’s presence. The idea of sharing a meal with him in his apartment both thrilled and terrified her. What if she said or did something embarrassing? She’d never be able to live it down.
Thorne mistook her silence for reluctance. “Come on,” he coaxed. “I don’t bite.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a grin, and Maggie’s heart thudded hard in her chest. Did the man have any idea what he was doing to her?
Probably not, she thought with a mental sigh. He wasn’t the kind of man to deliberately taunt a woman, and given his down-to-earth attitude and old-fashioned manners, he likely didn’t even realize how attractive he was. His apparent ignorance of the effect he had on the opposite sex was just another one of his appealing qualities, and Maggie felt her worries recede as her desire to spend time with him grew.
“Are you sure you don’t mind the company?” She didn’t want to intrude on his personal time, even though her sense of curiosity demanded to learn more about Thorne and his life. What did his apartment look like? Was he a good cook, or would he order pizza? Most important, did he have a girlfriend?
“On the contrary, it’ll be nice to have someone to talk to while I eat. I usually only have the TV for company.”
That answered her question about the girlfriend, and Maggie couldn’t help but smile. “I know what you mean,” she said.
He turned his head and frowned out the window. “I don’t think it’s going to let up anytime soon. Want me to go grab an umbrella so you don’t get too wet?”
It was a sweet offer, but Maggie shook her head. “Thanks, but I won’t melt. Besides, that’s not really fair for you to make two trips in the rain just to spare me a few drops.”
Thorne lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “I don’t mind.” He glanced over, eyeing her up and down appraisingly. Even though there was nothing suggestive about his gaze, Maggie still felt a chill as goose bumps popped out on her arms. “I don’t think you could get any wetter, though,” he said, a smile tugging at that delectable mouth of his.
She glanced down at her still-damp shirt and pushed a scraggy tendril of hair out of her face. “I think you’re right about that.” She shook her head, trying to see the humor in the situation. Of all the times for Thorne to notice her, and invite her in for a meal, no less! Why couldn’t this have happened when she looked more like a woman and less like a drowned cat? Doesn’t matter, she told herself sternly. There’s no help for it now.
“Ready to head inside then?” His voice was warm and inviting and Maggie nodded, happy to have an excuse to leave the claustrophobic confines of the car. It would be so much nicer to wait for the tow truck inside. But now that she was looking forward to dinner with Thorne, a not-so-small part of her hoped the tow truck driver would take his time in driving out to the ranch. After all, it wasn’t every day she got to share a meal with the object of her affections.
The man in question put his hat back on and turned to face her. “Race you to the door?” Even in the dim light, Maggie could see the flash of mischief in his brown eyes. She felt an answering tug low in her belly and nodded, already groping for the door handle.
“You’re on.”
* * *
Thorne slid to a halt a few steps behind Maggie, grateful her back was to him so she didn’t see him slip on the smooth floor of the supply building. He righted himself just as she turned around to give him a triumphant grin, and his heart thudded hard in a rhythm that had nothing to do with his near wipeout and everything to do with the woman standing in front of him.
She is so beautiful.
It wasn’t the first time he’d had the thought, and he knew from experience it wouldn’t be the last. But Maggie looked especially lovely tonight, despite her rumpled clothes and dripping hair. Any other woman would have looked soggy and bedraggled, but Maggie looked even more appealing. His eyes traced a tendril of blond hair that clung to the curve of her neck, and he wished he could follow the path with his fingertip.
Or his tongue.
Shaking himself free of the thought, he focused on her face and her big blue eyes, which sparkled with amusement. “I figured you’d be faster, seeing as how you chase down cows for a living.” She tilted her head to the side with a teasing smile.
Thorne removed his hat and brushed the raindrops away with the side of his hand. “In my defense,” he grumbled, “I’m usually on a horse.” And he usually wasn’t distracted by the sight of her curvy backside in front of him, her clothes clinging to her frame like a second skin...
This was a bad idea. But as soon as he had the thought he dismissed it. He couldn’t very well let Maggie sit alone in her stalled car while a storm raged—his father had raised him better than to ignore a woman in need. And while he might like to get to know Maggie on a more personal level, he had to keep things platonic. She was his father’s bookkeeper, and Mac wouldn’t appreciate him hitting on someone who worked at the ranch, even though she wasn’t really an employee. His father would still view it as mixing business with pleasure, and given Thorne’s parentage, it made sense the man had strong feelings on the subject.
It was no secret his mother, Livia Colton, had seduced Mac and then broken his heart. Thorne didn’t know all the details, but his mother was a devious woman who stopped at nothing to get what she wanted. Mac had been a handsome man—he still was—and Thorne figured he’d caught Livia’s eye. Livia wasn’t one for delayed gratification, nor was she willing to let a little thing like her marriage vows stop her from having fun. He didn’t know what spell she'd cast to get Mac to do what she wanted, but he was the product of that encounter.
In his more cynical moments, Thorne wondered why Livia had continued the pregnancy. He’d never bothered to ask, but he figured she must have thought Wes Kingston, her husband at the time, was the father. Of course, that little assumption blew up in smoke as soon as he was born and people got a look at the color of his skin. His skin color wasn’t as dark as Mac’s, but anyone could see he didn't share the pale shade of his brother River. It didn’t take long for the rumors to start about his parentage. Knowing he was the topic of gossip had stung, and Thorne had found it was easier to spend time with Mac and the horses while he was growing up. The ranch had been his safe space, free from whispers and rude stares.
As he'd gotten older, Thorne had been curious about Livia and Mac, but he knew better than to press for details. Mac never talked about it, and no amount of pestering was going to get him to open up about the experience. Thorne figured his father had his reasons for keeping things to himself. Some things were better left unsaid.
He pushed aside the image of his father’s frowning face and gestured for Maggie to precede him up the stairs that led to his apartment over the supply building. He was careful to keep his eyes on the floor and off her, a task that proved rather difficult. She stopped when she reached his door, and he tugged his keys free from his pocket to let them both inside.
Thorne walked in first and flipped on a light, his eyes doing a quick scan of the apartment in search of any grievous messes that required immediate attention. He hadn’t exactly considered the state of his home when he’d issued the dinner invitation, but he was relieved to see the place didn’t look too bad. An empty glass sat on the worn wooden coffee table and his denim work jacket hung on the back of a chair, but other than that his apartment was fairly clean. It was a testament to how much he worked as opposed to any great housekeeping skills on his part, but no matter—the effect was the same.
Maggie hung back by the still-open door, appearing suddenly shy.
“Everything okay?” Was she having second thoughts? He couldn’t blame her if that was the case. They exchanged pleasant greetings every time their paths crossed, but they were basically strangers. It made sense she might worry about being alone with him in his apartment. “Would you rather I ordered a pizza and we sat in the office?” They’d still be alone together, but sitting there would keep things from feeling so...personal.
“I’m fine,”