The Colorado Kid

He didn’t care that he sounded desperate. He was desperate. “Please get the—”

“Yes,” Matty murmured, taking a condom from the drawer.

“Now, Matty,” he said hoarsely, battling for control as she put the condom on. Then the mattress shifted and she rested her hands on his shoulders. He opened his eyes and looked up into hers. Bracketing her waist with both hands, he held her gaze as he guided her down. Her eyes were luminous. He knew he’d never forget the way they looked at this moment.

Easy. Slow. There. He drew in a sharp breath. So good. He couldn’t imagine it getting any better than this. “Ride me, Matty,” he whispered urgently.

Lips parted, eyes bright, she did just that, giving him the trip of his life. There was no holding back. Stunned by the impact, he couldn’t hear anything beyond the pounding of his heart. Then a high-pitched noise penetrated the haze surrounding him. It sounded like a baby’s cry. His baby.

Dear Reader,

As much as I adore cowboys, I also love torturing the sexy rascals. In my new miniseries, THREE COWBOYS & A BABY, each of them thinks he’s the father of the same darling baby girl, which makes for some very tense moments. Cowboys. They’re so cute when they’re angry.

First up is Sebastian Daniels. Sebastian has a tough time adjusting to the idea that the bundle of joy left on his doorstep might be his bundle of joy. But once he latches on to the concept, he won’t be denied. Unfortunately for him, his good buddy Travis Evans stakes a claim to the baby in Two in the Saddle, available in May. In Boone’s Bounty, a June release, Sebastian’s loyal friend Boone Connor insists the little girl definitely belongs to him. Three men. One baby. Could it get any more complicated?

Yes. Because there’s a fourth cowboy—Nat Grady. For the thrilling conclusion of this miniseries, I’m stepping out of Temptation and into the realm of Single Titles. Don’t miss That’s My Baby! in September.

Warmly,

Vicki Lewis Thompson

The Colorado Kid

Vicki Lewis Thompson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Roz Denny Fox,

for her unselfish support and friendship.

Thanks, Roz.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

1

“COME ON, SEBASTIAN, HONEY.” Charlotte eased back from his kiss and reached for the zipper of his fly. “Show little ol’ Charlotte what’s inside those Wranglers.”

Sebastian grabbed her hand and moved it aside. Damned if he liked having a woman set the pace. Besides, it’d been a long time, and he couldn’t have her fumbling around when he wasn’t sure how good his control would be. “We’ll get to that,” he muttered.

“How sweet.” She nibbled at his bottom lip as she flicked open a snap on his western shirt. “You’re shy. I never would’ve guessed you’d be shy after being married to Barbara.” She popped another snap open. “Is that why you cooked me that special dinner, served us wine and built a fire in the fireplace, so you’d get over being nervous?”

His jaw clenched. “I’m not nervous. I just like to—”

“Me, too, honey.” She ripped the rest of the buttons open and plunged her tongue halfway down his throat.

Hell, he was getting worked up, and he’d just figured out he didn’t like Charlotte all that much. He believed you should at least like a woman you intended to take to bed. He’d liked her okay every time he’d seen her behind her desk at Colorado Savings and Loan. And spring was coming on, the season of the year he always felt the most like planting…something. In another month he’d be thirty-five years old and he could feel time passing. But maybe inviting Charlotte out to the ranch had been a bad idea.

She moaned and shoved her D-cups against his chest. “Undress me,” she whispered before delving into his mouth again. The woman had a tongue like a backhoe. But those D-cups did tempt him. They were two of the items that had caught his interest in the first place. And as his friends had been telling him, he had to start somewhere if he expected to get back in the hunt.

Still, if it’d been left up to him, he probably wouldn’t have moved the evening along quite this fast. It didn’t seem to be up to him, however, and if he didn’t do something manly soon she’d be insulted. He unfastened the delicate top button of her blouse, pleased that he hadn’t lost the technique.

With the way her chest was heaving, he needed all the technique he could remember to unbutton her blouse and unfasten the front latch on her bra. He’d had easier times taking the bucking strap off a bronc. But at last he had clear access, and he had to admit she filled a man’s hands to overflowing. Too bad her perfume nearly made him choke.

But he could deal with that. Would deal with that. Because now his jeans were uncomfortably tight, and Charlotte seemed only too eager to help him with his problem. Besides, he’d invited her out to join him for dinner with this sort of activity in the back of his mind. He’d even made Fleafarm bed down in the barn so the dog wouldn’t be underfoot.

He’d served dinner by candlelight, and afterward, when she’d suggested they leave the lights off and sit by the fire for a while with their wine, he’d made no objection. She could rightly accuse him of being a tease if he didn’t follow through. Maybe he’d discover he liked her better as they went along. And he had to start somewhere.

JESSICA FELT as if she’d driven over half the state of Colorado trying to make sure nobody had followed her jam-packed Subaru out of Aspen. Or maybe she’d been putting off the moment that had to come.

It was close now. She’d picked up a cup of coffee at a convenience mart in Canon City. Then she’d pushed on to the little town of Huerfano. A few miles beyond Huerfano the pavement ended, signaling that she was nearly there.

Sebastian had asked her to visit the Rocking D a hundred times, but she’d never found the time. Then she’d become pregnant and a visit would have raised questions she’d rather not answer yet. Now the Rocking D and Sebastian were her best hope for protecting Elizabeth, her sweet innocent child sleeping in a padded car seat amidst a jumble of belongings.

Jessica thought briefly of her parents, secure in their walled and gated estate on the Hudson River. Elizabeth would be protected there, as Jessica had been protected for the first twenty-four years of her life, although she wouldn’t truly call it a life. She wouldn’t wish that kind of stifling existence on anyone, let alone her own daughter.

When she left home three years ago, she’d felt confident she could blend into the woodwork and become an ordinary citizen as long as she had minimal contact with her parents and kept a low profile. But apparently someone had found out she was the Franklin heir. She’d had enough kidnapping escape drills as a kid to recognize that somebody had tried to snatch her. Because they’d tried to snatch her after work when Elizabeth was home with a nanny, Jessica figured they must not know about the baby. And she wanted it to stay that way.

For the past few days she’d put blinders on her emotions, focusing on the next steps, trying to turn the nightmare into the sort of interesting science experiment that would have challenged her in college. She’d bought several wigs to cover her red hair then traded her royal blue car in for the nondescript gray Subaru. Mechanically she’d packed, leaving in the middle of the night hoping that no one would see her. And for three days, she’d been gradually switching Elizabeth to formula.

The moon picked out fragments of ice in the dirt road, making them glitter like broken glass. Patches of snow gleamed in open areas between stands of juniper. Thank God the weather was still cold enough that the road was frozen instead of muddy. Getting stuck out here would be disastrous.

And thank God Sebastian was home tonight. She’d called earlier from Canon City, pretending to be a carpet-cleaning service when he’d answered. His strong, gentle voice, sounding slightly impatient over the unwanted sales call but still kind, had brought tears to her eyes. He was such a good friend. How she longed to pour out the whole horrible story and run to him for comfort and advice. But she couldn’t risk it.

She drove slowly, searching the road on her right for the ranch entrance. When it rose up out of the darkness—two sturdy poles braced by a third across the top—a dagger of pain sliced past her defenses and left her gasping. She stopped the car and gripped the wheel until she was in control of herself again.

Behind her, Elizabeth whimpered softly in her sleep.

The soft, vulnerable sound nearly destroyed her, but it was the one sound she needed to hear. Swallowing a sob of anguish, she turned down the road leading to the ranch.

SEBASTIAN WANTED to move the whole program from the leather sofa, where Charlotte was lying half-naked, to the bedroom, where he’d have space to stretch his legs during the proceedings and the surface wouldn’t be so damned slippery. Besides, he’d stashed a couple of condoms in the drawer of his bedside table, figuring that was the logical place for them if and when they needed to be deployed. He hadn’t counted on Charlotte seducing him in the living room.

Now she seemed too involved to welcome a change of scenery, and he didn’t think he could carry her without risk of damage to both of them.

He levered himself away from her. “Charlotte, I need—”

“You need me, honey!” She grabbed his belt buckle and pulled him back down.

“Yeah, but first I have to get—”

“Undressed.” She had his buckle open in record time. She must have worked on belt buckles a time or two before this.

“Birth control,” he said around her eager kisses. He was off-balance and couldn’t stop her from tugging down his zipper without falling flat onto her.

“I have that covered.” She reached inside his jeans. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

He closed his eyes and tried to tell himself that he trusted her to take care of that detail. But he didn’t. With a groan he pulled away from her again. “I’m getting the condoms.”

“I’ll have you know I have no communicable diseases!” She grabbed his arm as he struggled off the sofa.

“Maybe I do,” he said.

“Ha.” She redoubled her efforts to pull him back to her. “You’ve lived like a monk since Barbara left.”

“Says who?” He wrestled his way out of her arms.

“Everybody in Fremont County, that’s who.” Panting, she gazed up at him. “Come on, now. It’ll feel so good without one of those little raincoats on.”

It would. It most certainly would. But as much as he relished the idea, he wouldn’t let himself succumb. “I don’t believe in taking chances,” he said.

And he never had, not in that way. He’d risked his neck a million times, but when it came to making babies, he was old-fashioned enough to believe that the father of the baby should be married to the mother. With luck they’d also be madly in love.

Charlotte gazed at him, her eyes hot. “Better hurry then, sugar. My motor’s running.” She glanced at his erection. “And I do believe the gearshift works.”

He couldn’t help smiling. Maybe this would be fun, after all, although the frantic pace didn’t suit him. “Guess it does.” He eased his zipper back up so his pants wouldn’t fall down as he started into the bedroom. “I’ll be right—”

The doorbell chimed.

He turned, hardly believing he’d heard the sound. This time of year he was alone on the ranch. Folks didn’t just drop by unannounced at nine-thirty on a Friday night unless something was wrong.

Immediately he thought of his neighbor Matty. Oh, God. What if something had happened over at the Leaning L? Matty lived alone, too, a fact that often worried him. He couldn’t say that to Matty, though. A more fiercely independent woman he’d never known.

He turned to Charlotte, who looked extremely put out with the interruption. He shrugged in apology. “Listen, could you go into the bedroom while I see who this is? It could be an emergency or something.”

“Damn well better be an emergency,” Charlotte muttered as she gathered her blouse together and climbed from the sofa. “Oh, well. I’ll go make myself comfortable in your beddie-bye.”

Sebastian snapped his shirt buttons and tucked the tails into his jeans. Then he buckled his belt. He hoped Matty wasn’t at the door, what with Charlotte lying naked in his bed. If Matty found out, she probably wouldn’t mind. She’d probably laugh about it. But it would embarrass the hell out of him.

Checking to make sure Charlotte was safely out of sight in the bedroom, he walked through semi-darkness to the front door. He’d pulled the drapes across the windows facing the porch, both for privacy and to keep the heat in on this cold March night.

When he opened the front door, he was nearly blinded by high beams trained right on the porch. Clouds of exhaust from the vehicle billowed in the cold night air. He threw up an arm, trying to shade his eyes. “Who’s there?”

The idiot driver laid on the horn.

“Hey!” He started out the door. If this was somebody’s idea of a joke, he didn’t appreciate it. “What the hell are you—”

He stopped abruptly as he heard a wail. A baby’s wail.

Right by his feet.

He looked down and damned if there wasn’t one of those baby carriers by the door. And damned if the wailing wasn’t coming from a real live kid!

As he stood there, too stunned to react, the headlight beams shifted, arcing across the porch as the driver swung the vehicle around.

Sebastian charged down the porch steps. “Hold on! You can’t leave a baby here like some stray dog! Come back, damn your hide! How’m I supposed to know what to do with a damned baby?” He ran a fruitless few yards, memorizing the license plate before he gave up and headed back to the porch, where the baby was still crying.

He let loose a string of oaths, his breath frosting the air as he stomped up the steps. If this didn’t take the cake. Sure, he’d had the usual puppies and kittens dropped at his place. City folks seemed to think a ranch was like the local Humane Society, the perfect place to leave unwanted pets. But a baby! He couldn’t get his mind around the concept.

At least he had noted the license plate of the car. Not that anyone who would do such a thing deserved to have the kid back. He’d like to see them prosecuted, though, and that was reason enough to see they were tracked down. For the time being, he’d better get this little bundle into the house where it was warm.

He started to reach for the infant seat, and in the soft glow of the porch light noticed a note was pinned to the baby’s blanket.

“Sebastian?” Charlotte, barefoot and wearing only his bathrobe, approached the open front door. “Do I hear a baby out there?”

Sebastian picked up the red-faced, crying infant in its carrier and walked into the house. “Somebody dropped it off,” he said, disbelief lacing his words. “Just drove up here, unloaded the kid and took off.”

Charlotte backed up, a wary look on her face. “Why would they do a thing like that?”

“How should I know?” He shoved the door closed with one booted foot and switched on the overhead light by the front door with his elbow. “There’s a note.”

“I hate crying babies,” Charlotte said.

“You’d cry, too, if somebody just left you on the porch.” Sebastian leaned closer to read the slip of paper and his breath caught. This was no random drop-off. The note was specifically addressed to him. His gaze cut to the signature. Jessica. He hadn’t seen her in months, not since his birthday last year. Eleven months ago. His heart rate skyrocketed and cold sweat trickled down his spine. He peered at the little red face, but he was no judge of how old a baby was.

“What does the note say?” Charlotte asked.

Sebastian was afraid to read it. God, he’d been drunk that night. They’d all been drunker than skunks—him, Travis and Boone. But not Jessica. She’d good-naturedly driven them back to their rented cabin near the ski lodge, given them all vitamins to ward off a hangover and pushed them toward their individual beds. They’d flirted with her outrageously. He remembered pulling her down to the bed as she tucked him in, teasing her for a kiss….

“Sebastian, you’re driving me nuts! What does the blasted note say?”

With the baby still crying, he forced himself to read it.

Dear Sebastian,

I’m counting on you to be a godfather to my little Elizabeth until I can return for her. Your generosity and kindness are exactly what she needs right now. Believe me, dear friend, I wouldn’t do this if I weren’t in desperate circumstances. Please don’t contact the authorities. It’s best if no one knows where Elizabeth is.

In deepest gratitude,

Jessica

A godfather. She didn’t say he was the father, only that she wanted him to be a godfather to this little baby. Maybe this kid was older than she looked. But the fact remained that Jessica was in trouble, and she’d delivered her baby to his doorstep. That was pretty damned incriminating.

“Well?” Charlotte’s impatience was obvious.

He glanced at her. “Know anything about babies?”

She held up a hand and backed up a couple more steps. “Not a thing, sugar, except how you make one.” She tilted her head toward the wailing child. “Did you make this one?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s what they all say. Funny how amnesia strikes when a guy faces a moment like this.”

That did it. He really didn’t like Charlotte. “Well, whether I am or not, I have to make her stop crying.” He carried the infant seat over to the sofa and set it down.

“Her?”

“Her name’s Elizabeth.” He worked at the straps holding the baby in and finally got them undone. Then he paused, realizing that didn’t solve anything because he didn’t know what to do next. He should probably pick her up, but he was afraid to. She was so small, and so red in the face. He leaned toward her. “Don’t cry, Elizabeth, honey. Don’t cry, okay?”

Elizabeth didn’t seem to understand. She opened her mouth wide and cried louder. Nothing wrong with her lungs, at least.

“I’m getting dressed and skedaddling out of here.” Charlotte headed toward the bedroom. “I can’t take this.”

“Wait!” Panic rose in him. “You can’t leave me alone with her!”

Charlotte turned back to him. “Look, I’m no good with babies. Never wanted any and never learned what to do with them. I suggest you call somebody who knows what they’re doing. Or drive her in to see Doc Harrison in Huerfano.”

“I can’t—” He started to say he couldn’t tell anybody about the baby yet, until he’d figured out if he was the father. But that was ridiculous. He had to find someone to help him take care of her, and fast. “Look, you’re a woman. You must be better at this than me. At least show me how to pick her up. I’ve never held a kid this young.”

“That makes two of us, bud. You’d better call somebody. I’m getting dressed.” With that she whirled and went into the bedroom.

About the only bright spot Sebastian could see in the situation was that he hadn’t made love to Charlotte, a woman he really, really didn’t like. Otherwise, he couldn’t remember being this confused, clumsy and uncertain in his life, except maybe the time he faced the row of girls lined up on the far side of the gym at the eighth-grade social. He didn’t think he should even touch this baby without washing his hands first. He might be carrying some deadly germ.

So he patted her where the blanket covered her up, but his pats seemed to have no effect. She was getting very red in the face. He couldn’t see her eyes because they were squeezed shut. Her head was covered with some knit thing that reminded him of the cover on a golf club, and her hands, the tiniest hands he’d ever seen in his life, were clenched and waving in the air.

Charlotte reappeared, tugging on her wool coat. As she buttoned it, she gazed at him and shook her head. Finally she sighed and stomped into the kitchen.

Hope surged through him. She was going to get something, do something, work some feminine magic to make this crying stop. Her instincts had finally kicked in, providing her with the mothering abilities that all woman carried in their genes. Maybe he’d been wrong to judge her so harshly.

She reappeared and thrust the cordless phone at him. “Here. Call somebody.” Then she grabbed her purse and went out the front door, closing it firmly behind her.

Sebastian stared at the phone and finally punched in the one number he knew by heart.

FIVE YEARS AGO Matty Lang had thought of herself as a young widow. Twenty-seven wasn’t old. Friends and family had assured her she’d find a good man, have kids, continue along life’s path in a normal progression. Matty loved normal progressions, which was why she felt so much satisfaction sitting at her floor loom watching the design grow. Usually.

But not on a Friday night, when she knew damn well that Charlotte Crabtree from the bank was up at the Rocking D having dinner alone with Sebastian, while Matty, now thirty-two and no longer feeling so frigging young anymore, sat throwing a shuttle back and forth and swearing under her breath.

Sebastian would never think to invite her to dinner. Oh, no. Not good old Matty, who could ride as well as he could, and rope nearly as well. Matty sometimes wondered if he even remembered she was a woman. She, on the other hand, had never managed to forget he was a man. She’d been trying ever since the day she’d met Sebastian Daniels, the day she and Butch had moved to the Leaning L and had been welcomed by their closest neighbors Barbara and Sebastian, owners of the Rocking D.

She remembered thinking that a young bride had no business looking at another man the way she found herself looking at Sebastian. And for years she’d forced herself to ignore his considerable sex appeal—mostly. Then Butch had died, and once she’d worked through her grief, ignoring Sebastian became even tougher, especially when she could tell he and Barbara weren’t getting along. After Barbara left, Matty had allowed herself to begin daydreaming, just a little.

Fat lot of good that had done her. Two years after his divorce, Sebastian still treated her exactly the way he always had, like one of the boys. Matty threw the shuttle impatiently as a picture of Charlotte Crabtree wiggled through her mind. Charlotte would never be mistaken for one of the boys.

Oh, how Charlotte had loved bragging to anyone within hearing distance about her big date with Sebastian. Matty had been so sick of listening to Charlotte this afternoon that she’d almost left without making her deposit.

Matty knew Sebastian would serve his own personal specialty—coq au vin. He used to make it for the four of them when Barbara and Butch were still around. He’d probably built a fire in the fireplace and lit some candles. Matty ground her teeth. And wine. Sebastian liked a good wine with dinner. They’d be finished by now, though, and then—what might happen after dinner didn’t bear thinking about. So she wouldn’t.

But she did think about it. Maybe she’d have to switch banks. It would be worth it to drive all the way into Canon City just so she didn’t have to lay eyes on Charlotte Crabtree and her smug smile. Yes, that was what she’d do. She’d move her account to Canon City on Monday and find a bank that was offering free stuff for opening an account. Maybe she could get herself a new toaster oven or a set of dishes out of the deal. Or one of those bitty color television sets. She’d always wanted—