Keeping Katie (A Mother's Heart Book 1) Read online

  They found Rita sitting where they’d left her, surrounded by a group of ladies, most of whom Maureen didn’t know. Katie lay on her stomach next to Rita, sound asleep. The older woman sat with one hand idly caressing the child’s back.

  Four sets of questioning eyes turned toward them as they approached the group. Maureen suppressed the urge to straighten her hair and check that all her clothes were in place. The unreality of the day was nothing compared with what had just happened. What she’d allowed to happen. There was no doubt that speculation about the two of them had already begun.

  “Katie’s had a big day,” she said, trying to keep her sudden attack of nerves out of her voice. “I need to take her home and put her to bed.” As she moved to gather her daughter, Alan intervened.

  “Here, let me.” He squatted next to the sleeping child and lifted her gently. Katie stirred slightly before settling comfortably in his arms.

  Maureen’s face heated with embarrassment at the gesture. Not that she didn’t appreciate his thoughtfulness. It was just that she could almost hear the gears clicking in the minds of Rita and her friends. Speculation be damned. She knew tongues would be wagging all over Wyattville tomorrow. She and Alan would be declared an “item.”

  “Thanks,” she finally said to him, because there was nothing else she could say. She started to gather the rest of her belongings, then stopped, realizing no one had said a word. They all just watched her.

  “I think I’ll stay for a while,” Rita said, breaking the silence. “I’ll bring the blanket.”

  “Will you be okay here by yourself?” Maureen asked, not knowing whether she should stay with Rita instead of running home. Would staying look less obvious?

  “Of course,” Rita said. “Go on. Get that baby to bed.”

  Relieved, Maureen nodded, and they left the little group sitting on the blanket under the tree.

  Neither spoke as they made their way through town and up the hill to Rita’s house. Maureen opened the door and Alan stepped inside, heading straight upstairs with Katie nestled in his arms. She followed, expecting him to hand her daughter back to her before reaching the bedroom. But he didn’t. He went on into their room and carefully put Katie on the bed.

  Katie half woke when he laid her down, a sweet cherub smile creeping across her face. A swell of emotion caught in Maureen’s throat as he leaned over and kissed her sleepy daughter.

  “ ‘Night, princess,” he said ever so softly. Katie’s arms slipped around his neck and squeezed before she rolled over and fell back to sleep.

  Shoving her warring emotions aside, Maureen moved up beside him to undress Katie. He stepped out of the way, but she could feel his presence close behind her, unnerving her. Her hands trembled and her vision blurred, but she finally managed to get her daughter out of her clothes and into pajamas. When she pulled the covers up around Katie’s chin and turned to leave, she nearly collided with him.

  “Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  Alan reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair away from her forehead. “Are you?”

  “Yes. I mean, no.” His closeness threatened her. Her chaotic thoughts dimmed with the remembered feel of him.

  “I’m not,” he whispered, lowering his head to brush his lips across hers.

  Maureen took a step backward and glanced quickly at Katie before looking at him again. “Not here, Alan.”

  He smiled and dropped his hand to her cheek. Then he slid an arm around her shoulders and led her out of the room. She went with him but shifted out from underneath his arm once they were outside the bedroom.

  “Go on down,” she said. “I want to clean up a little.”

  He hesitated, his gaze sweeping her face before asking again, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Fine.” But she wasn’t. She needed a few minutes to herself, a few minutes to come to grips with the evening’s events. Then it struck her that maybe he, too, needed time alone. “Maybe you should go,” she felt compelled to say, although she wasn’t at all sure what she wanted him to do. Leave? Or stay?

  Alan’s smile softened, and he dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be downstairs. Waiting.” Turning, he left her rooted to the spot, all her turbulent emotions ready to engulf her.

  What had she done?

  She closed her eyes and tried thinking rationally about the evening’s events. Instead, all she could do was remember the feel of him. His mouth on hers. His hands caressing her, holding her, lifting her so she could wrap her legs about his waist … The room swayed and she opened her eyes quickly. Steadying herself against the wall, she pushed the memories aside. It took a moment for her to regain her equilibrium and, with it, her ability to view the evening with more objectivity.

  It didn’t take her long to clean up, to remove the evidence of her lapse by the river. A part of her performed the task swiftly, mechanically, as if it were an everyday occurrence. Another part of her watched in amazement, wondering what David would think. David, who’d been her husband and the only lover she’d ever known. David, whom she’d held off until their wedding night. David, who always said she was too reserved in their lovemaking, too conservative. What would he say now?

  A twinge of guilt tightened around her heart. But she was honest with herself. Her regrets weren’t due to what had happened at the river but rather that it had happened with Alan Parks. Why had she never experienced such abandon with her husband? She couldn’t help but wonder if things would have turned out differently if she had. But they hadn’t. And now she was here, unable to ignore the way this stranger, this very dangerous stranger, aroused her.

  Once she had finished cleaning up, she started toward the stairs, but hesitated before going down. She should just stay upstairs, she told herself. She could end this here and now by going into her room. She would crawl into bed next to Katie and ignore Alan and all the emotions he stirred within her.

  But she couldn’t.

  Even as the idea surfaced, her feet moved, seemingly of their own volition, down the stairs. She knew she couldn’t forget him. Not tonight. Alan drew her like a moth to a flame. And just as surely, she would end up burned. He would find out who she was and what she’d done, and then it would be over. She would have lost. He would turn her in, and she’d lose them both: Katie and Alan.

  She had just reached the hall when Rita stepped into the house. “Is Katie asleep?” she asked, slipping out of her sweater.

  “Yes,” Maureen answered, surprised that her voice sounded so normal. Alan joined them, momentarily drawing her attention away from Rita. To her surprise, he looked more handsome than ever, his copper eyes riveted on her with an intensity that left her breathless. With an effort, she dragged her thoughts back to Rita. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

  Rita smiled and patted Maureen’s cheek. “These old bones aren’t what they used to be.” Then, turning and smiling broadly at Alan, she added, “I’ve had enough for one day. But you two go on. I’ll listen for Katie. Go back down to the festival. The fireworks will start soon, and the dancing will go on till midnight.”

  “Oh no, I …”

  “We owe you, Rita.” Alan leaned over and kissed his aunt’s forehead while grabbing Maureen’s hand.

  “Really, Alan, I can’t.”

  “Sure you can,” Rita insisted, nearly shoving them out the door. “Now, go on.”

  Rita closed the front door behind them, and they stood silently for a moment on the porch. Maureen sighed, feeling the walls of inevitability close around her. Looking at Alan, she saw him watching her with the same intensity she’d seen in the house. Then, without speaking, he led her down the steps. They walked to the end of the street, where he stopped, pulling her into the shadows of nearby trees.

  “Come home with me, Maureen.”

  She searched his face. It had all happened so fast. At the river. Now. Yet she’d seen it coming, known maybe from the first moment he’d turned his soul-searching eyes on her that this would h
appen. That they would be lovers. That they would end up in bed. Or by the river.

  “It shouldn’t have happened the first time like that,” he said, and Maureen wondered at how easily he read her thoughts. “I never meant—”

  “It’s okay.” She touched his lips with her fingers. She couldn’t let him take this all on himself. “It happened. And it wasn’t one-sided.”

  He smiled, and she knew he was remembering the wanton way she’d thrown herself at him. She felt the warmth rise in her cheeks, but she didn’t turn away. It was too late for regrets.

  “Come with me, then,” he said. “Let me make love to you the way it should have been.”

  She hesitated only a moment before putting her hand back in his. They would have this night, she told herself. Because they would never have anything else. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll come home with you.”

  The walk to Alan’s house was short. But then everything and everyone in Wyattville was too close together, Maureen reminded herself. There were no secrets here, no privacy. A short while ago, she’d been worried about the town’s speculations. No doubt someone would see them together now, and there would be few questions left in anyone’s mind. Despite that, she wished it had taken longer to get there.

  As they approached a large house on the street above Rita’s, she came to an abrupt halt. “It’s not what I expected,” she said.

  She stood for a moment, taking in the details of the house. Large and rambling, it had obviously been designed for a family, not a bachelor. The huge yard was meant for children, scrambling across the grass in summer, building snowmen in winter. The wide veranda, complete with white wicker furniture, spoke of long summer evenings where a family might sit together and watch the sunset.

  Maureen wished that he lived in a small, crowded apartment complex. Somehow, it would make being with him easier, less tempting.

  “My grandfather built it,” Alan said. “I’ve thought of moving into a smaller place …” He shrugged, letting his voice trail off. Releasing her hand, he slid his arm around her shoulders and led her up the walk. “Come on.”

  He opened the front door and they stepped inside. Alan flipped on a small table lamp, and a large, graceful foyer sprang into sight. High ceilings, hardwood floors and a long, curving staircase highlighted the entryway. But it was the little things that caught Maureen’s eye: the well-worn braided rug, the vase of fresh flowers on a table, the smell of wood polish.

  “Very nice.”

  “I only use the downstairs.” Alan shoved his hands into his pockets, and for the first time since meeting him, Maureen thought he looked a bit uncomfortable. Maybe he knew how incongruous it seemed that he should live in a house like this.

  “The living room is this way,” he said, and motioned toward twin oak doors on one side of the foyer. Maureen followed him into the other room.

  Like the outside of the house, the living room was large and comfortable. A massive fireplace dominated one wall, while a cozy seating arrangement invited one to curl up before a blazing fire. There was no fire tonight, but Maureen could imagine the warmth of the room on a cold winter night, and how sweet it would be to make love slowly in rhythm with the dancing flames.

  “How about a glass of wine?” Alan asked.

  A flush of heat rose to her cheeks as she shifted her gaze to him. “Sure,” she said, turning away quickly so he wouldn’t see the wayward direction of her thoughts. This house, his house, tugged at her, making her want things she couldn’t have. Things that could never be.

  While Alan got the wine, she drifted around the room. A bay window faced the street, and she thought it would be a good place to sit on rainy days. She shoved the thought aside and moved to one of the bookcases flanking the fireplace. It contained an odd assortment of books, hardcover and paperbacks, from classics to current bestsellers.

  She’d never thought of Alan as a reader, but some of the more recent books must be his. It reminded her of how little she knew about him. She ran her fingers along the shelf, wondering what she was doing here.

  “Checking for dust?”

  Maureen pulled her hand from the shelf and turned at the sound of his voice. “I was just looking at your books.” She crossed the room to take one of the glasses he held in his hands.

  “Do you approve?” He smiled down at her and took a sip of his wine.

  “Sure.” Shrugging, she moved away from him, away from the heat of his smile. “I’m just a little surprised.”

  Alan laughed. “Surprised that I can read, or that I do read?”

  Maureen grinned and shook her head. “At what you read. Or more to the point, at the variety of things you read.”

  He moved up beside her. “I’m full of surprises.”

  “Yes.” She met his gaze for a moment, thinking how easy it would be to lose herself in him. “You are.”

  “You’re uncomfortable. Why?”

  Again his perception startled her. “Well,” she began, deciding to be as open and straightforward as he, “this evening has been somewhat unusual for me.”

  “Me, too.”

  Maureen turned and stepped away from him again. “I wasn’t looking for a relationship. And what happened earlier …” She shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze, afraid that if she did, he would see too much. “Anyway, it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “But you came here with me.” He’d followed her across the room and stood behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his body against her back. She closed her eyes, letting his warmth penetrate her senses.

  “Yes. I did.” She turned back to face him. “And maybe that’s the scariest thing of all.”

  Taking the glass from her hand, he set it on a nearby table. Maureen followed his movements with her eyes, unable to meet his gaze when he turned back to her. She felt so strange being here. It made no sense after what had happened at the river, but an odd shyness crept over her.

  Alan framed her head with his hands and tilted her face to his. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered.

  But she was. So much more afraid than she’d been of the arrogant cowboy who had taken her by the river. He bent to kiss her, and she trembled when his lips touched hers. The floor shifted with his touch, rendering coherent thought impossible. Their frantic lovemaking by the river hadn’t changed that. Why now? Why did this man affect her like this?

  “I’d never hurt you,” he said against her lips. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “No.” She shook her head slightly. He started to protest, but she prevented it by deepening the kiss. When she could speak again, she added, “Please, Alan, no promises.”

  He pulled back a little, searching her face. Maureen’s heart went out to him. She could see the confusion in his eyes. How could he know that he would hurt her—badly? That it was inevitable. He started to say something else, another reassurance, she supposed, but she stopped him again.

  “No more words,” she pleaded. Rising on her toes, she slipped her arms around his neck and hid her face against his chest. “Just make love to me. Like you promised.”

  Alan held her, fearful that at any moment she would change her mind. Their frantic lovemaking by the river had only whetted his appetite. He wanted her now more than ever, with a force threatening to overpower him. But he didn’t want to hurt her, and she seemed so sure that he would.

  “Alan,” she whispered against his chest, a question in her voice. Her fingers moved restlessly to the hair touching his collar and she shifted against him, reminding him of the sweetness of the body he held.

  Bending, he lifted her in his arms. “No more words,” he agreed, pressing his lips to the top of her head. He carried her into the bedroom and laid her gently on his bed. He would just have to prove to her that she was wrong about him.

  Sitting beside her, he took a moment to admire the sight of her there, her small form nearly overpowered by his massive bed, her pale skin translucent in the dim light. He planned to go slowly. He wanted to savor every t
ouch, relish every whisper, cherish every moment.

  She started to say something, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “No more words. Remember?”

  She closed her eyes as his hand slowly drifted, tracing the line of her jaw and then her neck, until he came to the top of her blouse. She held her breath as he paused there, teasing her with the gentlest of touches.

  “Do you always go braless?” he asked.

  Maureen opened her eyes and smiled. “Sometimes.”

  “I like it.”

  “Come here.” Lifting her arms to his shoulders, she pulled him down until his lips touched hers. After a moment, he shifted to lie next to her. They lay there length to length, both fully clothed, as he explored the taste of her.

  Maureen treasured the feel of him, his lips on hers, his hands on her body. So strong. So sure. They moved over her with a possessiveness that made her yearn to belong to him. He slipped her blouse over her head, and his hands found her breasts. Strong, callused hands against the soft fabric of her skin. She wanted to feel those hands elsewhere.

  She moved to unfasten the buttons of his shirt, but he grabbed her wrist. Shifting his weight, he slid a strong leg between hers, while pinning her groping hand against the mattress.

  “Patience,” he whispered as he rubbed a muscled thigh against the ache between her legs. He kissed her, brief, nipping touches of his teeth and lips that made her squirm to capture his mouth. A low chuckle emanated from deep in his throat, and he gave her what she wanted—a hard, searing kiss that only managed to intensify the ache where his thigh lay.

  “Better?” he asked when he abandoned her mouth.

  “No.”

  “Slowly.” He lowered his head to her breast. “We’re going to go slowly.”

  She lost the last shreds of composure as his mouth teased her breast. The room, the world, swirled around her in a dizzy array of sensation and yearning. Her back arched and her legs clamped around the hard thigh that held them apart, while she strained to free the hand he held prisoner. She wanted to touch him, to have him touch her.