Preacher's In-Name-Only Wife Page 16

  “When I saw you taking pictures, I was reminded that photography is your life. That you’ll be going back to it.”

  “I’ve never hidden that from you. I was up-front about that from the beginning. So why would you think I’d suddenly changed into an insensitive clod?”

  “I said I was sorry. I should have known better. I do know better. I counsel a lot of troubled people. It spills over sometimes.”

  Her heart went out to him. Everyone had a breaking point. Dan was perilously close to his.

  He saw so much sadness and strife in his business. More than most. Death and sickness and tragedy touched him daily, where the rest of the world went blissfully about their lives, leaving people like Dan to pick up the pieces. Where most people read in the papers about other’s troubles, Dan was in the center of it, called out to do what he could to ease.

  Little wonder it would touch a nerve when it appeared she’d been capitalizing on another’s misfortune.

  “Thank you for what you did today.”

  She shrugged. “It was nothing.”

  “It was much more than nothing. You saved me a turn-around trip, provided for needs much faster.”

  She hadn’t done it for thanks and his made her uncomfortable. “You look tired. Why don’t you go shower, get some rest. I’ll answer the phones and wake you if it’s important.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then nodded and went upstairs. Amy sat where she was for a while longer, gazing down at the sleeping child in her arms.

  Finally she got up and took the baby upstairs, putting her in the portable crib, covering her with a fluffy blanket. They should buy a regular crib, she thought.

  Then again, what if Cheyenne found someone in Lyssa’s extended family who would come here to claim the child? The thought gave her a pang.

  Checking the baby monitor and taking the receiver with her, she left the door partially ajar, feeling a bit adrift, not sure what to do with her time.

  As she passed Dan’s door, she glanced in. He was sitting on the side of the bed, wearing only a pair of white briefs. His hair was damp from his shower. His elbows were on his knees, his head in his hands.

  She hesitated. Was he praying? He looked exhausted. Alone. Sad. As though the burdens he shouldered were finally getting to him.

  Making a decision, she went into the room, climbed on the bed behind him and massaged his shoulders. He stiffened, lifted his head.

  “Relax,” she said. “Let me take care of you for once.” He wasn’t dressed, but she’d seen him in less.

  The muscles beneath her hands were tight. In silence, she manipulated them, soothing. The house was absolutely quiet, broken only by the sound of a jet flying overhead, no doubt carrying excited travelers to places unknown, giddy with anticipation of new worlds to explore.

  He reached up and put his hand over hers, stopping her. Gently gripping her wrist, he pulled her around to his lap.

  She looked into his chocolate eyes, unable to read his expression.

  “I need you.”

  This, she understood. They’d been dancing around this attraction, the chemistry, since that fiery kiss at the altar. Their lovemaking last night had merely fanned the flame.

  She stood and slowly undressed as he watched. When he reached for her, she stayed his hands.

  “My turn,” she said softly. Urging him back on the bed, she removed his briefs then fitted her body over him.

  His palms stroked her back, cupped her behind, pressed her against his arousal.

  She could have stayed this way for hours. She rubbed against him, reveling in the fit of their bodies, the size of him. He was a big man, tall and strong and muscular. He made her feel tiny, when she wasn’t.

  Because he was always the one who gave, she was determined to call the shots. Tenderly, trying to convey just that, she kissed him, tasted his desire, the difficulty he was having giving up control.

  As he’d done for her the night before, she moved down his body, mapped it with her hands first, then her lips.

  “Amy…”

  “Shh. Let me.” She spent a long time just kissing him, from his head to his feet, skimming over the parts of him she knew ached for fulfillment.

  The need to give was total. She stroked him, took him in her mouth.

  “Oh, man…”

  Heady with her own power, she gave, deriving more pleasure than she could have imagined in the giving. She knew she was testing his limits, and that, too, thrilled her—that this strong man trusted her enough to give himself over to her.

  She knew she’d pushed as far as he’d allow when his hands fisted in her hair. “I need…”

  “I know what you need.” She slid up his chest, straddled him and lowered her body, taking him inside by exquisitely slow inches.

  His hands gripped her hips, held her still. “Give me a minute.”

  She wasn’t sure if she could. The feel of him pulsing inside her built, an urgency that wouldn’t be denied.

  She gazed down at him, saw him watching her. The look on his face was all-encompassing. She’d never been the absolute object of a man’s attention this way. It was a novel experience.

  She moved against him, taking her time, eyes locked as tightly as their bodies. His hands molded her breasts, and when he raised up and closed his mouth over her nipple, she bit her lip to hold back a scream.

  It was that momentary lapse that allowed him to take control. In one smooth move, he shifted their positions, pulled her beneath him, and made love to her with an urgency that was nearly frightening.

  Desire and terrifyingly swift emotions flooded her too fast to identify, making it impossible to hold on to a single one for more than seconds at a time before another surged.

  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

  Her body throbbed, her muscles contracting.

  The orgasm that whipped through her pushed him over the edge as well. She rode the crest, took his burdens, held him to her with arms that wanted to cling, a heart that wanted to stop the clock.

  When they’d both recovered their breath, he gazed down at her, kissed her with a tenderness that made her want to weep.

  “Thank you,” he murmured.

  That made her smile. “My pleasure, I’m sure. Though you cheated. It was my turn to be in the driver’s seat.”

  “Next time.”

  He tucked her beside him and it wasn’t long before she heard the even sound of his breathing.

  There shouldn’t be a next time. She shouldn’t allow it.

  But she knew she would.

  If he needed her, for as long as she was here, she would be his anchor.

  Shayna slept peacefully down the hall, a monitor on the nightstand turned on so they’d hear her if she woke.

  A family, she thought. She’d never dreamed her life would turn out this way.

  The problem was, this wasn’t her fairy tale. It wasn’t what she’d planned for, dreamed of. Oh, someday, sure. But not this soon.

  By continuing with the intimacy, was she setting them both up with a false sense of security?

  Even if she could stay, how would she know if it was for real? How would she know if the relationship was enduring only because it had been consummated? Or because he needed a two-parent family for Shayna’s sake?

  And when, she asked herself, had she become such a pessimist? Questioned her worth?

  When her father had failed to come home night after night, she realized.

  When her mother had become needy and dependent.

  When the country club crowd had turned so judgmental.

  When Gramps had expressed his disappointment.

  She’d pined for her father, taken care of her mother, snubbed the country club folks and ached over Gramps’s censure.

  Despite her behavior to the contrary, she’d agonized over what everyone else thought of her.

  And she was doing it again. With Dan.

  Chapter Twelve

  The first official day
of spring brought snow. It was beautiful, a waterfall of white confetti piling on the roof of the barn, the rounded top of the fence rail, mounding on the steps of the church.

  Dan watched it from the study window. Odd, how spring signified new buds, change, growth. The snow would stunt that growth for a while yet.

  The phone rang in the office and he reached for it.

  “Cheyenne here, Dan.”

  “Cheyenne. How’s the family?”

  “Emily and the babies are fine. Heck, you probably see my wife as often as I do. I saw the latest mockup for the church bulletin. If you’re not careful, she’ll turn it into a ten-page, full-color brochure.”

  Dan laughed. “Emily’s advertising expertise has increased our church budget tenfold. I’m not messing with her methods.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Cheyenne murmured. “Wait till you see what her next idea is.”

  Dan laughed again. “Since I don’t think you’re about to tell me, I’ll wait. I love her surprises.” Sobering, he asked, “And how are the rest of the family? Your uncle’s people?”

  “Great. Everyone’s settled back in—thanks again for your help.”

  Jake McCall, the developer in town, had temporarily suspended work on the hotel and taken his crew over, donating his services to rebuild the ruined homes. Dan had joined the rest of the guys in the area, along with the men on the reservation, and they’d completed the project within a week.

  “No problem.” One of the best things to come out of the near tragedy was the change in Joe Little Coyote. The medicine man was practicing again, had pulled out of his downward spiral that’d had him merely existing, waiting for the Great Spirit he believed in to take him home.

  Saving the life of a child had given him back his faith in his power to heal. His worth on this earth.

  “I called to report on Lyssa Farly,” Cheyenne said.

  Dan’s heart lurched. “Did you find family members?”

  “I traced back through the foster families. That poor girl went through a mess. The parents signed away their legal rights when she was five. I hate to speculate on why—it’s probably best that we don’t. Anyway, there’s no trace of them, and it wouldn’t matter if there was. By signing away their right to Lyssa, there are no legal ties to the child. And frankly, that’s probably a blessing. So, I guess your next step, now that we’ve determined that there’s no next of kin to take the child, is to contact social services.”

  “I’m not putting this baby in foster care. I promised Lyssa I’d care for her.”

  “That’s what you want?”

  “Yes.” More than he’d ever realized until this moment.

  “Then you’ll want to apply for legal guardianship or adoption, in which case you can go directly through the courts. I can send over papers to fill out beforehand, make some calls and set something up for you.”

  “Thanks, buddy. I’d appreciate it.”

  He hung up the phone and stared out at the white snow. Spring would bring change, after all.

  Official parenthood.

  He was anxious to get on with the adoption proceedings, but how would he explain his and Amy’s arrangement when the court investigator came out for the interview?

  Should he simply leave things as they were for now and wait three more weeks? She’d likely be gone by then.

  He knew the courts would let a single parent adopt. Heck, movie stars were doing it right and left.

  He imagined the investigative team would counsel him on the benefits of a two-parent household—as he would have done if he were counseling a potential adoptive parent.

  Because he believed a child was better off in a two-parent household. Right now, he was providing that for Shayna. But what about a month from now?

  He instinctively put his hand over his wallet resting in his back pocket where Lyssa’s letter was folded.

  Promise me.

  Although the chances were excellent that Shayna wouldn’t have any trouble being placed if he chose to give her up, there were no guarantees that the home she might go to would remain stable, no way to guarantee she would be loved as he could love her, raised as Lyssa wanted her raised.

  Stony Stratton had taken in his goddaughter—who was no blood relation to him. He’d been a single man at the time, hadn’t run into any problems with the courts, had been the best father, the perfect father for little Nikki.

  Dan had to do the same for Shayna.

  He’d made a promise. He couldn’t, wouldn’t break that promise.

  Maybe it was wrong to deliberately wait, to shy away from questions that had no easy answers, steer clear of explanations that would certainly raise red flags with a court-appointed investigator.

  But everything, their whole lives, were up in the air right now. Intimacy wouldn’t hold Amy. God knows, he wished it would.

  In the meantime, he didn’t want to rock the boat, take a chance on losing both of them. It would be hard enough letting Amy go. If he lost Shayna too…

  He still had three weeks. Miracles could happen.

  And he was a man who believed in them.

  Turning away from the window, he followed the smell of pot roast…and baking. Something sweet and mouthwatering.

  He paused outside the kitchen doorway. With Shayna riding on her chest facing forward in the backpack sling, kicking her legs and gurgling, Amy was keeping up a constant stream of conversation with the baby.

  “Don’t you put your toes in my chocolate cake. Here, now, doodle-bug, we’ll have to have a bath before supper.” She snatched a dishrag and wiped the baby’s feet. “I let you go barefooted because it’s nice and toasty in the kitchen. That’s no call for you to run amok like a calf in clover. Don’t tell, now. I’ll just give a swipe with the spreader, here, and nobody’ll be the wiser.”

  “Teaching her to fib, are we?”

  Amy jumped and chocolate whipped right off the spatula and down the front of Shayna’s sling. A splatter landed on the baby’s chin and her little tongue worked its way out, drool dribbling like clear molasses onto the front of the bib.

  Dan laughed, retrieved the dishrag she’d discarded only moments ago, and dabbed at Shayna’s face and the front of the sling, prompting a giggle as the movements tickled her tummy.

  Amy smiled. The sound of a child’s laughter was so heartwarming.

  Figuring it worked once, he tried it again and was rewarded with another belly laugh. Amy had to sit down. She was getting hysterical just watching Dan’s crazy faces, the way he was entertaining the baby.

  “Now you’ve got her wound up and she’s not going to want to settle down and let me take her out of this sling.”

  “Were you planning to take her out?”

  “Yes. I have to get the roast out of the oven. Those little feet of hers are busier than a sack full of tomcats. Smearing her toes in the cake’s one thing. Hot gravy’s out of the question.”

  “I’ll take her. She’s nearly sitting up on her own, now. We should get her a high chair.”

  “That’s a good idea. Have you checked the attic to see if there’s one up there?”

  He frowned. “No.”

  “Didn’t you grow up here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you or any of your brothers born here?”

  “I was. I’m the youngest.”

  “Then there’s a good chance treasures are hiding in the attic.”

  “I’ll check. I haven’t been up there in years.”

  She grinned at him. “Scared of the spiders?”

  “Maybe. Want to go up with me and protect me?”

  “As a matter of fact, I love to explore. You go give the baby a bath since you got her dirty and I’ll finish up dinner.”

  “I didn’t get her dirty,” he objected. “You’re the one who slung chocolate from here to kingdom come.”

  “Oh, that’s a bit of an overstatement, wouldn’t you say? And I wouldn’t have slung it if you hadn’t scared me half to death.”

  “It was yo
ur guilty conscience. Encouraging our daughter to fib.”

  The minute the words were out, they both fell silent.

  Our daughter.

  He cleared his throat. “Cheyenne called.”

  “And?”

  “Lyssa’s birth parents signed away their rights to her when she was a little girl.”

  “A little girl? Not a baby?”

  “Evidently they kept her for a while. Cheyenne didn’t want to go into the particulars, and I’m just as glad he didn’t. The point is, they’re nowhere to be found, and it wouldn’t matter if they were. They have no rights.”

  “That’s horrible. And the poor thing never got adopted into a stable family.”

  “No.”

  The life Lyssa went through didn’t bear thinking about. “So, what’s next?”

  “Cheyenne’s going to get me papers for legal guardianship and adoption, set up an appointment so I can talk to an attorney or a judge, I’m not sure which.”

  Amy gazed at the baby, who was happily trying to get hold of Dan’s nose, poking her fingers in his mouth, craning her neck to get his attention.

  He looked down at her, held her wandering fingers away from his mouth and kissed her cheek, which got her legs pumping and her free arm waving.

  She was getting so cute, developing such a personality. At five months, she was ready to crawl, had two bottom teeth barely showing, and she’d begun to light up when Amy came into the room.

  Before, she’d responded better to Dan.

  Now, she had a tendency to cling to Amy.

  Oh, my gosh. This was exactly what she hadn’t planned on. To let her heart get involved.

  With the child or with the man.

  But she had. And it was wrong, wrong, wrong.

  Because she had to go. The plans were set. She’d promised herself. Promised her father.

  She figured Dan had simply slipped when he’d said our daughter. Raising Shayna was his vow to Lyssa.

  And hadn’t he just said Cheyenne was making a court date for him? Not us.

  She shouldn’t worry. Shayna would be fine with Dan. He was a good father. He would raise her well. It wasn’t her responsibility to worry.

  Her role in all this was simply to help out while she was here.