Marrying the Marshal Page 14

  Just thinking of Allie lying there all naked and soapy and slick….

  He adjusted his fly.

  On one hand, she was the mother of his child, and as such, should be treated with a certain amount of respect.

  On the other hand, she was hot. He’d never even seen her pregnant. She could’ve been with another guy. How did he even know Cal was his?

  He scowled.

  He knew, because he knew.

  Because his heart told him so every time he looked in the kid’s eyes, the same shade as his.

  Pacing the not nearly long enough hall, Caleb rubbed his forehead. What to do? What to do?

  Manly choice—bust down the door and take everything he wanted.

  Gentlemanly choice, ethical choice—go downstairs and crash in front of ESPN.

  The bedroom door creaked open.

  “Well?” Allie asked, looking all pink and fresh-scrubbed and so beautiful she took his breath away. “You planning on standing out here all night?”

  “You didn’t stay long in the tub,” he said, his voice more husky than usual.

  “I got the water too hot. Started feeling more like I was boiling than bathing.”

  He chuckled.

  She giggled.

  The implication of what could’ve happened between them if only she’d stayed in the water hung in the air.

  “Is Cal almost finished in the garage?” she asked.

  “Yeah. If it’s all right with you, I thought we might head back to the petting zoo this weekend to pick out a rooster and hens. Maybe chicks.”

  “Sure,” she said. “Hens. Chicks. Either way, sounds good.”

  “The kid also needs a horse.”

  “A horse?” She raised her eyebrows. “And which kid would that be for?”

  “I’m hurt,” he said, clutching his chest. “Are you intimating I’m trying to fast-track my son’s appreciation for all things having to do with the Old West by buying him a horse?”

  “Maybe that’s what I’m saying.”

  “Okay, but now that you know what I’m up to,” he said, “does this mean it’s a go for the horse? Because if so, the same guy who’s selling us the rooster has a great little paint that—”

  “I’m sorry, Caleb, but no. First off, we don’t have enough land, and second, who’s going to take care of it when you’re gone?”

  “Cal,” he said. “Besides which, what if I’m not gone?”

  “You mean what if we get married? Isn’t that an awfully big ‘what if’ considering the fact you apparently don’t even want to—” Make love to me.

  “Case closed on the horse,” he said, sharply looking away. “Anyway, I was just messing around.”

  “Sure,” she said. “I kind of figured as much.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “Um-hmm.”

  Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Caleb sighed. “What are we doing?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, knowing full well they were doing a pretty impressive tap dance. And it had nothing to do with a horse! Like the night she’d flat-out begged him to make love to her, but he’d turned her down. And the night Gillian bought them a romantic night at the Inn that was supposed to have rekindled their romance, but didn’t work out that way. The love-making that used to come so naturally between them wasn’t happening.

  Why? Was it just one more sign they weren’t meant to be married?

  “Geez, Al, I’d planned to barge right into that bathroom and plunder you, but until this case is officially over….”

  “I know,” she said, bowing her head. “I feel the same. I want whatever we used to have to come back, but….”

  “You’re scared it’s been so long that the magic we shared is gone?”

  “Pretty much,” she said. “I guess that’s it.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.”

  He reached for her hand, did that nifty trick where he swirled his finger round and round her palm.

  She swallowed hard, desperately searching for air past distracting rising heat.

  He raised her fevered palm to his lips. Strong firm lips that made her mouth jealous of her hand. His moist breath tickled, but this was no laughing matter. Instant arousal licked her belly. Her nipples puckered and hardened.

  That magic? In her case anyway, it was there.

  Times ten!

  Eyes closed, she focused on her next hitched breath.

  “Want to go downstairs?” he asked. “See if Adam left any ice cream?”

  She shook her head, then nodded.

  “Yeah,” Caleb said. “Me, too.”

  “YOU TWO ARE UP awfully early,” Allie said the next morning. Her eyes were barely open, yet here were her two men, hard at work in the kitchen.

  “We’re cookin’ breakfast,” Cal said.

  “I see that.” She had a seat at one of the counter bar stools. “What’s the occasion?”

  “Nothing special,” Caleb said, flipping an egg, then stirring oatmeal. “Just thought you deserved a break.” He shot a sexy grin over his shoulder.

  “Thanks,” she said, more than a little flustered.

  “You’re welcome,” Cal said, thankfully having missed the undercurrent flowing between his mom and dad. The one that ran full of hope that maybe, just maybe, if the stars aligned and they played their cards right and all that other sappy stuff fools say when they’re wishing for their wildest dreams to come true, she just might get her perfect family after all.

  “CALEB,” Allie complained when he presented her with the lunch he’d brought her. “You’ve got to stop being so nice.”

  “This beats all.” Laughing, he pulled out a chair at her office table, spun it around, then straddled it, resting his arms on the chair’s back. “I can’t believe you’re complaining about me doing something nice. Oh, and before I forget, I brought this, too. Found it at a yard sale down the street from the house.” From his coat pocket he took a barely eight-inch-tall porcelain figurine of a hula dancer doing her thing under a swaying palm. Handing it to Allie, he said, “I know she’s probably tacky, but I liked the expression on her face. Thought it might relax you. You know, looking at her and the tree and thinking of someplace warm and sunny. Plus, the green goes with your office.”

  Allie, beaming, gingerly took the dancer. “You don’t have to do a sell job. She’s adorable.” Already up from the table, she set the dancer on her desk. “Perfect,” she said, heading back his way to land a kiss to his cheek.

  “That’s all I get for bringing lunch and a present?”

  She tried again, this time aiming for his lips.

  Caleb slipped his hand along her soft cheek, going farther to bury his fingers in even softer hair. He wasn’t sure who’d come up with the bright idea of including a little tongue but he liked it. A lot. Maybe too much judging by the tent being pitched in his pants.

  “Whew,” she said, eventually pulling back. “Maybe you should bring lunch and a present every day.” She winked. “That way I get to thank you every day.”

  He winked back. “Sounds like a plan to me.” After eating for a few minutes in companionable silence, he asked, “So you really like the knickknack? ’Cause if you don’t, I can—”

  “Don’t you dare do anything with her,” Allie said, stealing one of his barbecue chips.

  “I saw that.”

  She made a face.

  “Cal says you have a thing about clutter, so I don’t want you feeling like with all the stuff I drag in, I’m ruining your space.”

  “I don’t for a minute think that,” she said, covering his hand. “I love everything you’ve brought. The Mr. Chia Head and canisters and the palm and all the movie magazines and Jolly Ranchers you keep bringing—and especially the totem pole thingee. Every bit of it is quirky and cute and wonderful…. Kind of like the man who brought them.”

  Damn if her speech didn’t have him feeling a little misty behind his eyes. “Thanks,” he managed.

  “For what
? I’m thanking you.”

  “Yeah, well…” He shrugged. “Just thanks. This has been the nicest assignment I’ve had in a while. Doesn’t really even feel like work—being around you, I mean.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Allie said. “I think.”

  SINCE CALEB had to catch up on paperwork, Bear and Adam took Allie home that afternoon from the courthouse.

  Cal and his security detail were at his friend Reider’s, leaving Allie on her own. She popped a roasting hen in the oven, added a few scrubbed, foil-wrapped potatoes, then tossed a salad.

  Seeing how that had taken all of fifteen minutes, and for once she was caught up on all of her court document reading, she was left in the unfamiliar territory of having nothing to do.

  She went upstairs to check the hampers, thinking she might as well get a head start on the weekend wash. While passing by Caleb’s room, she noticed a pile of dirty clothes in the corner by the closet. Figuring he probably needed clean clothes worse than Cal or her, she scooped them up, then headed to the basement laundry room.

  On top of the pile was that denim shirt Caleb was always wearing that had the missing button.

  Aside from that shirt, she loaded the rest of his clothes, then trekked back upstairs to fetch her sewing basket from the hall closet.

  Since she still wasn’t allowed to open curtains or blinds, she headed for the den where the windows were too high to need blinds, but in the late afternoon, sunlight still streamed through.

  Curled up in an armchair, Caleb’s masculine scent wreathed every tug of the needle while she sewed a new button on his shirt.

  It was such a simple thing—sewing on a button—yet Caleb was always doing such nice things for her she wanted to do more for him. She wanted to do everything for him. Cook delicious meals that made his stomach happy. Iron his always wrinkled white shirts. Massage his shoulders and feet. Kiss him and hug him and buy him that horse he wanted.

  She wanted to do all that, but should she?

  For whatever reason, he wasn’t ready to take their relationship much past the status of kissing friends.

  Funny, how he’d asked her to marry him, but not to sleep with him. Funny and refreshing. Kind of upside down in times of commonplace one-night stands.

  Was Caleb’s lack of physical affection merely like he said—an issue of work ethics and respect? Or could it be something more? Like him not even being attracted to her?

  Nine years was a long time.

  People changed. As did their tastes.

  What if she was no longer his type? And he was just kissing her to be polite?

  What if he didn’t like the few pounds she’d added or the occasional gray hairs that had started popping up?

  Just thinking about him coming home soon filled her with giddy excitement. Did he feel the same about coming home to her? Cal, yes. But her? The woman who might become his wife?

  Putting down the shirt, she headed to a decorative mirror on the den’s far wall, searching, searching for some particularly unattractive portion of herself she might’ve missed.

  There was a new mole on her left cheek. At her last physical, her doctor said it wasn’t any big deal, but maybe she should just go ahead and have it removed? Her eyebrows were totally out of control. How long had it been since she’d had time for a professional wax? And then there was—

  “Like what you see?” Caleb asked, humor in his tone.

  She jumped, put her hand to her chest before spinning around. “Couldn’t you have at least knocked?”

  “Sorry,” he said, giving the nearest wall a few thumps. “May I come in?”

  “No,” she said. “I’m mad at you.”

  “How come?” He crossed the room, fitting his arms around her hips, lacing his fingers proprietarily low.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “Just because.”

  “Oh,” he said, nodding his head wisely. “Sounds like a typical female reason to me.”

  He was just going in for a kiss when she blurted, “Caleb? Do you still find me attractive?”

  “Huh?”

  “You know, in your eyes, am I still pretty?”

  “Woman,” he said in a throaty growl, “you’re beyond attractive and deep into the realm of goddess territory.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You trying to butter me up to sell me a nice tract of swamp land?”

  “Nah,” he said. “Just trying to squelch whatever crazy fear I saw in your eyes before you even knew I was here, while at the same time butter you up.”

  “Butter me up for what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said with a big grin. “How about we just mosey on into the kitchen and you can see for yourself.”

  “CALEB! IT’S BEAUTIFUL…” Allie scratched her head, scrunched her nose. “But, um, what is it?” Standing at least six feet tall in front of the closed kitchen window blinds was an exotic-stemmed orange flower.

  “You’re not seeing it at the right angle,” he said. “Here…” He turned it around, so she could view it from the front.

  “It’s a bookshelf,” she said with an excited clap. On the other side of the first flower, there was an identical one. The two formed supports for the shelves lining the center. “I love it! Where did you find it?”

  “You know how I like yard sales?”

  “No-oo-o,” she said with an exaggerated sigh and grin. “I never would’ve guessed that about you.”

  “Anyway…” He shot her a look. “On the way to the courthouse this afternoon, I stopped off at a yard sale. The guy was a weekend artist. Makes these things to sell at craft fairs. I thought it might be pretty in your bedroom. It’s still a little plain in there. Plus—” he looked away and grinned “—guess you could use something to store all the stuff I’ve dragged in.”

  “Okay, but wait,” she said. “You think my gorgeous, minimalist bedroom is plain?”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  “And so you’ve appointed yourself my official redecorator?”

  “Um-hmm.” With his sleeve, he dusted the flower’s upper shelf.

  Crossing her arms, she couldn’t help but smile. “Well, if the rest of your work is as great as this, I just might keep you on for a good long while.”

  She’d meant the statement as a joke, but just as she’d caught the unintentional double entendre, the slight catch in Caleb’s breath said he hadn’t missed it, either.

  A good long while, as in marriage.

  They’d had so much fun the past few days. Would a whole life together be just as great?

  “Guess I, ah, better get this upstairs,” he said. “I was thinking it’d look good on that empty wall by the big picture window. That sound okay to you?”

  “Perfect,” she said. “Just perfect.”

  “CAL, HONEY,” Allie said, adding socks and SpongeBob boxers to his suitcase crammed with Legos and Lincoln Logs and Matchbox cars. “Do you think you might need a few more clothes?”

  “What for?” he said, tossing in two airplanes that’d been recent gifts from his father. “I’ve already got some on.”

  “Yes, but…” She took a deep breath. Counted to five—who had time for counting all the way to ten? “We’re going to be at your Aunt Gillian and Uncle Joe’s for a long time. Four and a half days. Plus, you’ll need pajamas.”

  “I’ll just sleep commando. That’s what Dad does.”

  Keeping a straight face suddenly became a monumental task. “Excuse me?”

  “Billy says all marshals sleep nekked ’cause that’s what real men do. Pajamas are for wusses.”

  “First off,” Allie said, taking Cal’s red flannel airplane pj’s from his top dresser drawer, “just because you wear pajamas, does not mean you’re a wuss. Second, it’s none of your or Billy’s business what your father sleeps in. Third, I don’t think I want you associating with Billy.”

  “What’s ass-so-ciating?”

  “A fancy word for playing with,” she said, tweaking his nose.

  “Ouch,” he said. “D
on’t do that. I’m too old.”

  “Ex-cuu-u-use me,” she said. “From now on, I’ll only touch you by invitation.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “That you have to ask me to hug you.”

  “Oh. Yeah,” he said. “That’d be good. ’Cept for nighttime hugs and kisses. You can just do that—as long as no one’s watching.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I feel honored. Want these?” she asked, holding up his art set.

  He shrugged.

  “What?” she asked. “You don’t like to draw anymore, either?”

  “Billy says it’s not very manly.”

  Allie growled. “I’ve about had it with that kid.”

  “Which kid?” Caleb asked, strolling into the room.

  “Dad!” Cal bounced up and slung his arms around his father. “Do you know where we’re going for Thanksgiving?”

  “I sure do. You packed?”

  “Yeah,” Cal said. “But Mom’s being mean and making me take dumb stuff like underwear and clothes.”

  “Since when are clothes dumb?” Caleb asked, grinning in Allie’s direction. “I love seeing what kinds of stuff your mom’s wearing.”

  “Eeuuw,” Cal said. “That’s gross.”

  Caleb shrugged. “Maybe so, but if your mom says you need to pack clothes, then you’d better get with it. Come on,” he said, approaching the bed holding the loaded case. “How about taking half of these toys out, then you’ll have more room.”

  “Okay.”

  Allie crossed her arms before heading out into the hall.

  “What?” Caleb asked trailing after her. “Don’t be mad at me. I packed all my undies and pj’s.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You sleep in boxers.” Just boxers. And miles of bare chest. She gulped. “For the record, this isn’t about what anyone sleeps in,” she said. “But the way ever since you showed up, Cal’s changing. He never used to second-guess me. And he sure never hung out with kids like Billy.”

  “You ever stop to think that now that he has a dad, he also has the self-confidence to try new things? Meet new kids?”

  Allie didn’t have anything to say in response. In fact, to be fair to Caleb, she hadn’t even considered the fact that what she saw as sass and a general lack of cooperation was really more a case of Cal flexing his wings. Probably a good thing. But was now the best time for him to learn to fly?