HOLDING MONTANA in her arms, Darcy sat out back on the porch swing with Tom at dusk on Monday, the next evening. The Arizona sun hung low and heavy over the horizon and bathed the sky in reds, yellows, and pinks. Lengthening shadows fell across the desert. The cactus seemed so close and the mountains so far. It was a beautiful sight, one that warmed Darcy, one she never tired of—one she’d hungered for when she’d lived in Baltimore.
After a year of this vista, she wondered, how would she ever be able to give it up again? This moment, with just the three of them—a gentle wind blowing and Tom rocking them slowly back and forth—had to be the dictionary definition of contentment.
Darcy smiled as she looked down at Montana. Covered lightly by a cotton swaddling blanket, the baby blinked and sighed and looked the world over as her tiny fists flailed in the air. A surge of pure love for the little girl who’d changed her life rushed through Darcy.
“She looks just like her mama, doesn’t she?”
Warmed by his sentiment, by his very nearness, but feeling very undesirable in an old pair of “fat” pants, a.k.a. loose shorts with an elastic waistband, and a V-necked pink T-shirt, Darcy darted a glance Tom’s way, saw that wide grin of his that she could drown in, and then focused on Montana. “Yes. Poor kid.”
“Poor kid? Hardly.” Tom suddenly shifted his weight on the seat, inadvertently causing the swing to sway crazily. “Oops. Hold on.”
Darcy did—and found herself hugged up tightly against Tom’s side. She felt unnerved and giddy in the same breath. But once he corrected the swing’s motion, Darcy immediately started talking, mainly to cover her own self-consciousness. “So. There’s just one thing I still don’t understand about yesterday afternoon.”
“Only one?” Tom stretched, pushing his booted foot against the ground…this time stopping the swing from moving altogether. “I can think of about ten things I still don’t get.” He relaxed. The swing took up its swaying motion again…and Tom winked at her. “I just hope you’re not one of them.”
Darcy stared at him. He did? He hoped he…got her? In what sense? She just didn’t know. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. But with him all but molded to her right side, an arm flung loosely around her shoulders and resting more against her flesh than the wooden swing’s back, Darcy could feel the heat of his body tempting her, drawing her in…Hatless now, his black hair gleamed in the day’s waning light. The wordless moments ticked by.
But just then, Montana yawned so wide she made a squeaky noise. This gave Tom and Darcy the perfect opportunity to make a fuss of the baby and to chuckle over her innocent antics. Then, with the tension broken, Darcy felt more comfortable broaching the subject uppermost on her mind. “So, Tom, tell me why you’re staying with us now. And don’t make me have to fight to get a straight answer from you. You and your ‘strong silent type’ ways. I think you’ve been watching too many Westerns.”
He grinned. “You think I’m the strong silent type?”
Darcy’s embarrassment mounted. “That is so not the question, Tom Elliott. Now quit trying to put me off.” With her cheeks heating up, Darcy looked out over the desert. It was easier than facing him…especially since his face was about three inches from her own right now. “All I know was last night, once I came to—” Now she looked up at him. “—by the way, I will never forgive Johnny Smith for scaring me like that.”
Tom shook his head. “I won’t, either. But we need to ease up on the poor guy. He has more women problems than anyone I’ve ever known.”
Darcy frowned her disbelief. “Johnny? Women problems? Those are two words I never expected to find in the same sentence with his name.”
“It’s true, though. His mother. Your mother. You. Women problems.”
“How am I a problem for him? I mean, my mother and his own I get.”
Tom chuckled. “Well, that makes one of us, then.”
And once again, he hadn’t answered her question. That was so like him. And then it occurred to Darcy that in only a few short days, she knew Tom well enough to draw a conclusion on what was typical behavior for him. Now, wasn’t that interesting? And disconcerting.…
“Well, anyway,” she said, deciding to get the conversation back on track and away from where her thoughts had wandered, “last night I went back to the bedroom to nurse Montana and when I came out, you were gone. Then a little over two hours later, you were back and all checked out of your hotel. And you’re still here. Now how did that happen? And please be specific.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tom laughed at her…in a good-natured way, one that surprisingly didn’t make her feel defensive. “But you’d think you’d have asked me that before now. After all, I’ve been here a whole day.” His voice, to Darcy, sounded lazy and content, like some big…well, Tom-cat completely satisfied with himself.
“I beg to differ. Your belongings have been here. But you haven’t.” She left it at that, a pregnant silence, hoping to get him to volunteer more information than she’d been able to drag out of him so far.
“Well, that’s true enough. I had that business in Phoenix to see to.”
Bingo. “Taking care of that land deal and the trust-fund thing, right?”
“Yep. Had to do some legal wrangling. But it’s all taken care of now. You happy about that?”
“Yes, I am.” She was happy, wasn’t she?
Tom searched her expression. “You sure?”
Darcy pulled back some. “Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be sure—or happy? I am happy. It’s what I wanted.”
He nodded…slowly, thoughtfully. “Was it?”
Darcy firmed her lips. “I just said it was.”
Tom raised a placating hand. “All right. Good. It’s done.”
“Then, fine. It must have been quite the paperwork battle because you were gone most of the day.” The words were out before she could stop them. He’d know that she’d missed him. And her voice…could it have sounded more pouty? Clearing her throat, she tried for a more normal tone of voice. “Anyway, Tom, how come you decided to stay here?”
“Two words. Your mother.”
Darcy chuckled. “Who didn’t know that.”
“I hear you. But your mama said—” He took a deep breath. “—if she couldn’t even be gone to the store for an hour and leave you and the baby here by yourselves without a couple of good-for-nothing men—and those were her words, believe me—making you pass out and leaving the baby in a wet diaper and screaming for her supper, then by golly, I could just plant my butt out here and help watch over things before the place was run over with tomcats on the prowl.” He exhaled loudly. “There. Whew.”
Darcy stared at him. “My mother said that—about…dear God…tomcats on the prowl?” He nodded. Darcy wanted to die. “I am personally going to kill her.”
“Well, don’t do it on my watch. I don’t want her mad at me.”
Darcy pulled back and just looked at him—a great big muscled cowboy of about six feet and two hundred pounds. “Are you afraid of my tiny slip of a mother?”
Tom frowned. “I certainly am. Aren’t you?”
Darcy made a scoffing sound. “Well, of course I am. Everyone is. Even Johnny Smith is—and he’s armed.”
“Ah. Johnny.” For some reason, Tom grinned…and Darcy melted. This was so not good, his effect on her. “Bachelor Number Three.”
Darcy pulled back. “Bachelor Number Three? Johnny?” Her frown deepened as she adjusted the baby more comfortably in her arms. “Oh, no. You think so?”
“Yep. I do. Women problems, like I said earlier.”
Darcy again searched Tom’s grinning face and narrowed her eyes. “The idea of a parade of Buckeye’s finest bachelors really amuses you, doesn’t it?”
His blue eyes danced. “I have to say it does. Personally, I think Johnny’s a better prospect than that other one. What’s his name?”
“Vernon,” Darcy supplied.
“Oh, yeah. Vernon.” Another chuckle, but no further comment.
Darcy desperately wanted to ask Tom if he considered himself a prospect. But she didn’t because, for one thing, it would sound…well, desperate. And for another, she didn’t want a man in her life, right? Right. So why did she have to meet Tom now? Why did he have to be the one to stop and deliver Montana? It just wasn’t fair. He was so handsome. And warm and caring. And funny. And sexy.
“So, Tom—” She denied that his nearness un-hinged her. “So, Tom,” she said again, barely able to make eye contact with him. “You never did answer my question yesterday.”
He pulled back a bit. “You’ll have to be more specific. I’ve slept since then.”
And, boy, was she aware of that…that he’d slept in the guest bedroom next to hers. What was she going to do if he stayed much longer? She’d be completely ga-ga over him by then. And that was another thing. Where were all those new mother hormones when she needed them? The ones where a woman didn’t feel sexual attraction for a man? The ones that made her focus exclusively on her child? Not that she’d ignored Montana for even a second. She hadn’t. No, she just hadn’t expected to be interested in men—any men. But once again, Tom proved her wrong. Great.
She shook her head, trying to remember what she was going to ask him, when the sliding glass door behind them opened. That could only be one person. Sure enough, Margie Alcott sang out, “Yoo-hoo! I came to get the baby and change her diaper.”
“She’s dry, Mother,” Darcy called over her shoulder.
Her mother came out on the porch and put her hands on her hips. Then she dramatically nodded her head in Tom’s direction. As if he weren’t sitting right there and couldn’t see the broad hint Margie was giving her daughter. Darcy couldn’t resist. “What does that mean, Mom? That head-shake thing?”
Margie patted at her gray hair and did her best to look nonchalant. “It doesn’t mean a thing, Darcy Jean Alcott.” Then she reached in and scooped the startled baby up from Darcy’s arms. “Did you nurse her?”
Tom made a strangled noise and Darcy’s face flamed. “Yes, Mom. Right out here in front of Tom. Of course I did.”
Cuddling her tiny granddaughter, Margie gave Darcy the look that said “Mind your manners, young lady.” “I meant before you came out here. So don’t you be peevish like that. Now, you two can sit out here and bake all night if you want to. But I’m going to take this child in before she gets sunburned.”
“Sunburned?” Stung—did her mother really think she’d let her daughter get sunburned?—Darcy pivoted on the seat to see Margie’s retreating figure. “I only brought her out ten minutes ago. The sun was already going down, and I had the blanket over her—”
“Darcy?” Tom put his hand on her bare arm.
She turned. “I wouldn’t let her get sunburned, Tom.”
“I know that. And so does she. She’s just being a grandmother.”
“A grandmother? I’ll never know how my having a baby made my mother grand.” Darcy slumped in the swing. Behind her, the patio doors slid closed. Darcy shook her head, and felt close to tears. “I swear, Tom, I can’t seem to do anything right with that child.”
“I think you can, Darcy. I think—”
“—even Mom’s friends came out today and were telling me their horror stories. Freda even asked me if I’d remembered to feed Montana.” Darcy’s expression intensified. “To feed her, Tom—”
“And you had, right? You’d fed her?”
She nodded, and continued with her rantings, not really internalizing Tom’s supportive words. “They were saying awful things—like I wasn’t to poke my finger into the soft spot on top of Montana’s head or her brain would leak out.” Horrified, Darcy covered her face with her hands and spoke through her fingers. “Dear God, now I’m worried that I might just accidentally do it.” She lowered her hands and let Tom see her bereft expression. “Look at me. I’m afraid I’ll drop her or forget to feed her or change her. I might even forget where I put her—”
“No, you won’t, Darcy.”
“But I could—”
“But you won’t, Darcy.” He pivoted and captured her arms, forcing her to look at him. “Have you heard one thing I’ve said? You won’t forget to do anything you need to do for Montana. You won’t. Because you’re a good mother, and you love your baby. And that’s all there is to it. The rest of it will follow with experience.”
Darcy wanted to believe him. She really did. “You promise?”
He nodded. “Yes. Sam told me she had the same fears with her first baby. And I expect your mother and all those other ladies felt the same way about themselves with their kids when they came along.”
Darcy thought about that. “Well, that’s true. Mom did say something like that the other day. And Jeanette—one of Mom’s friends, you met her the other day—never had children. So what does she know?”
“Well, maybe a lot. You pick things up along the way—”
Darcy’s expression fell.
Tom changed course in midsentence. “—but you’re right. What does she know? If you can’t rope a calf, you shouldn’t go around telling those folks who’re trying to learn how they should be doing it, right?”
On board with this idea, Darcy blurted, “Right.” Then she frowned. “What?”
“I don’t know,” Tom assured her. “But it sure sounded good—and that’s what I want you to realize, Darcy. You’ll be a good mother. You’ll make mistakes, I’m sure. But your heart is in the right place. I believe in you, Darcy.”
And that was when Darcy finally heard him. Instantly, her heart filled with emotion. She stared at him, memorizing his features. He believed in her. He really did. He thought she could do this. Before she could put her emotional guard up, she said what she was thinking. “Has anyone ever told you what a great guy you are, Tom Elliott?”
Tom looked embarrassed and released her arms. “Not lately.”
Still feeling the impression of his touch on her bare skin, Darcy turned in the swing. “Well, you are. You’ve made me feel much better.” She looked over at him now and smiled her thanks.
Tom nonchalantly put his arm around her shoulders again, this time, gently rubbing her upper arm in an intimate gesture that had Darcy’s skin tingling. “Well, good,” he said. “Then my work here is done.”
Darcy’s breath caught. She didn’t like the final tone of his last words. Stretching her bare legs out, she pretended to contemplate her sandals. “So. Your work here is done, huh? Does that mean it’s ‘Heigh-ho, Silver, and away’?”
“Heigh-ho, Silver, and—? Oh, I get it. The Lone Ranger.” He chuckled. “No. Not all my good deeds here are done. Still got a few to attend to.”
Darcy exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Oh. Well…good. Like what?”
“Oh, like all the things out here that your mama wants me to see to. As long as I’m here anyway, she says.”
Darcy stared at him. “Great. My mother’s made you her ranch hand. I told you she was a piece of work.”
“That you did. And yet I didn’t run, did I?”
His expression was so intense, so full of unspoken emotion that Darcy had to look away. She swallowed. What was he leading up to here? “No,” she said quietly. “You didn’t. But you don’t strike me as a man who would run.”
He nodded. “That’s good to know.”
Darcy shot him a shy glance. “You should have run, though. A smart man would have.”
“Well, I never have been accused of being too smart.”
“I’ll bet you have.”
He shrugged. “Maybe once or twice. Not enough for me to believe it.”
After that, the moments stretched out silently. The sun continued to sink beyond the horizon. The evening sky darkened and cast its shadows. The gentle breeze stilled. All around her, Darcy felt warmth and contentment. She wondered—and worried—about what degree these good feelings welling up inside her were a result of the nearness of the man who sat so quietly to her right. She looked over at him.
He was staring at her. Or contemplating her profile was more like it. When Darcy caught his attention, he didn’t look away. She saw the yearning in his eyes and had to look down. Drawing circles on the porch, with her sandaled toe, Darcy said, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
She met his gaze. “Like you…” Words failed her. She took a breath and started over. “Like you…I don’t know…like you care.” Hearing herself, she sat up straighter. “That sounded like I was in junior-high school again, didn’t it? Almost as bad as passing a note in class that says—”
“Check here if you like me?”
Darcy grinned. “I see you’ve gotten one of those.”
“Gotten and sent.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have figured you for a sender.”
“No? Hmm. I need to work on that.”
“On what? Showing your feelings?”
“My feelings? Is that what you meant?”
“Yeah. What’d you mean?”
“I meant my note-passing skill.”
“You did not.”
“Did, too.”
Darcy fought a smile. He was so charming. And funny. Quiet. Intense. Confident. Steady. Strong. Intelligent. Handsome. A girl could really fall hard for him. Whoa! “So, Tom,” she blurted, desperate for anything to say. “What do you think my mother’s up to now?”
Surprising the life out of Darcy, Tom leaned over until he could whisper in her ear. “I think she came to get the baby purely as an excuse to let us be alone out here.” Having said that…and having caused goose bumps to break out on Darcy’s flesh…he started to pull back.
But Darcy surprised him—and herself—by stopping him. She put a hand to his clean-shaven cheek, encountering warm, taut skin and a strong jaw. Then locking his gaze with hers as they both acknowledged the moment, she captured his lips and put everything she had into kissing him.
IT WAS THE middle of the night. Tom lay awake, his hands clasped behind his head, listening to the muted sounds coming through the wall. Darcy was up again with Montana. The baby’s mewling little cries and Darcy’s crooning brought a tender smile to Tom’s face. He shifted until he could see the digital clock beside the bed. Three forty-five a.m. They’d last been awake at midnight. “Whew. Poor kid,” he muttered, thinking of Darcy. She’d be exhausted tomorrow. Well, later on today, was more like it.
Unable to stop himself, Tom threw the covers back and got out of bed. He reached for his jeans and pulled them on, working the button fly until it was closed. Then he shrugged into a white T-shirt and, barefoot, quietly crossed the room and opened the door. Only then, when he stood on the room’s threshold did he hesitate and question himself. He had to admit that he had no idea what he thought he was doing or even why.
All he knew was…he wanted to see Darcy. In the middle of the night. With her child. As if they were his family. He felt so outside their world, so isolated from them. And after Darcy’s kiss this evening, he couldn’t stand that. She’d burned him with her touch. He’d known she would, as sure as if she’d branded him. She made him, for the first time in his adult life, want to belong. To be a part of a family. One of his own.
Of course he was a part of Sam’s family. She was his sister, after all. But she and Luke and their kids lived across the state from him. He didn’t see them that much. Until now, the few times a year he saw Sam and her brood—his only remaining family—had been enough. But no longer. Now he wanted more.
Like hell, Elliott. You don’t just want more. You want Darcy.
“Yes, I do,” Tom whispered into the darkness. “I want Darcy.” He didn’t let it get any farther than that in his mind. Because if he did, he knew reason would set in. And right now, in the middle of the night, with his body still burning from her kiss, from her touch, and craving just the sight of her, the last thing Tom intended to listen to was reason. He knew what it would tell him—the reason she’d as much as jumped up and fled after kissing him was because she’d regretted it. It had been a whim, or she’d been taken by the moment. And that was all.
Like hell, it was. He rounded the corner into the hallway and took the few steps he needed to put him in the opened doorway of the room Darcy shared with her daughter. And there they were. Tom’s breath caught, his knees felt weak. He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. He felt as if someone had punched him in the gut, so powerful was the emotional impact of the scene before him. Darcy hadn’t seen him yet, but she would at any moment. All she had to do was look up…look up from nursing her daughter.
Tom had never seen such an intensely satisfying sight before. But this moment, one he knew he had no right to witness, was incredibly beautiful. There Darcy sat, in a padded rocking chair, bathed in the muted golden light of a bedside lamp. She gently rocked the chair as she held her daughter to her breast and sang softly to her. Darcy’s black hair tumbled around her pale face and fell against her long white nightgown. Tom knew right then he’d never forget this sight as long as he lived. Never.
Darcy looked up. The song died on her lips. Her expression sobered. Tom jerked upright, away from the wall. “I’m sorry—”
Darcy shushed him, a finger to her lips. She then pointed to Montana and mouthed She’s asleep. Feeling foolish already, Tom started backing up, his hands held out as if to again say he was sorry. But to his surprise, Darcy motioned him into the room. Tom stopped…and then mouthed back You sure? She smiled and nodded, again waving him in. Tom approached with reverence…and trepidation. He didn’t know what to do. He knew what he wanted to do, but didn’t know if he should. He wanted to hunker down on the floor next to Darcy’s chair, and he wanted to watch her feed her child, a baby he felt in his heart was truly his own.
But in the end what he did was stand awkwardly next to Darcy and just stare down at the two of them. He smiled and put a hand out, only to withdraw it. Then he scratched his head.
“It’s okay,” Darcy whispered, taking his hand and tugging him down beside her. “Come see her.”
Even as thrilled as he was by her invitation, Tom felt really awkward. He knew that in the daylight, Darcy wouldn’t have allowed this familiarity. After all, her breast was exposed…except for the part that Montana still had a hold of. But here in the darkness, it was, as Darcy’d said, okay. Tom hunkered down, resting an arm along the rocker’s arm. Every breath he took enveloped him in the scent of warm woman. Tom wasn’t sure he could catch a breath, let alone a good deep one.
“She’s beautiful,” he finally whispered to Darcy, trapping her tender gaze with his own. His fingers ached to touch the baby, but he didn’t want to wake her. More than that, he wanted to touch Darcy’s cheek and tell her she was beautiful.
But Darcy had made herself plain about her current hurt feelings towards men. He didn’t blame her. The last thing he needed to do, then, was to declare himself to her. Like a skittish foal, she’d shy away even further from him. Tom thought he was mature enough to understand that he shouldn’t read too much into her kiss earlier or make too much of the tenderness of this moment right here. She had her moments of weakness—she was allowed them. Tom just wished he could be here for every one of them.
But the truth was, he wouldn’t be. She’d rejected his trust fund. She’d almost rejected his offer of a name. She felt threatened by all the well-meaning advice on child rearing she’d received by her mother and her mother’s friends. And she’d certainly already had a craw-full of Johnny Smith and Vernon Whatever-his-name-is trailing after her.
Tom didn’t want to add his name to the notches on her belt. She didn’t want him or anyone else. That much was obvious. So all he could do was soak up what he could of her and Montana…and then be on his way. As early as Wednesday. Less than two days from now.