Warrior's Baby. Sheri WhiteFeather

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      Ten minutes later they shared breakfast in the dining room, at the table his grandmother used to dust religiously with lemon oil. Colt noticed Melanie ate sparingly and avoided the bacon all together. He thought about teasing her about being a “cheap date,” but decided it would probably be in bad taste. There was nothing cheap about their impending relationship.

      Colt gobbled up the bacon she had rejected. “So, when are you going back to California?”

      “I have to head back by the end of next week for a couple of business meetings. If and when I come back to Montana depends on—” a bright blue gaze met his “—what you decide.”

      Colt bit the inside of his lip, an irritating if not painful habit. Once he divulged the skeleton in his closet, would Melanie Richards want to bear his child?

      “If we decide on this arrangement,” he said, “I was wondering where you plan on living, because a long-distance pregnancy isn’t what I had in mind. I want to be involved the way a father should be, attending doctor visits.”

      Melanie had a quick response. “The lease is almost up on my condo, so moving back to Montana isn’t a problem. I can pretty much work from anywhere, as long as I meet my deadlines. And since the situation would be temporary, Gloria said I could stay with her.” She sipped her juice. “But I’d rather get my own place. She already has eight kids underfoot. They don’t need me and my art supplies taking up space.”

      He smiled. She always managed to say all the right things, put him at ease. “This house used to be a lodge. I’ve got an empty cabin out back. Maybe you could take up residence there.”

      “A cabin?” Her eyes sparkled. “That might be just what I need. I have to admit I miss Montana. The rat race in L.A. gets to me sometimes. And the rent has to be more reasonable than a beachfront condo, right?”

      Colt realized they were both acting as though she were already his surrogate. “If you become my surrogate, there’s no way I’d expect you to pay rent. I intend to cover your housing and medical expenses in addition to the fee we talked about.” He couldn’t resist a wink. “I’ll even buy your groceries. You need to eat more, put some meat on those tiny bones of yours.”

      She laughed. “Oh, I think pregnancy might take care of that.” Colt finished his coffee. “How would you feel about me being present at the birth?”

      A soft blush rose in her cheeks. “I don’t know...I hadn’t thought about—Were you there when Meagan was born?”

      He nodded. “Most incredible experience of my life.”

      The pink stain on her cheeks remained. “Maybe we could start with those birthing classes and work up to the actual event.”

      Colt smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re modest. I thought California girls ran around in those itty-bitty bikinis.”

      She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s entirely different.”

      His body temperature rose a degree. Melanie in a skimpy bikini was a pleasant thought. “Why don’t you talk to Gloria about the actual event? She must be a pro by now. And speaking from experience, women forget all about modesty when they’re delivering a baby.”

      Melanie looked up from her unfinished meal. “Do you always say everything that’s on your mind?”

      “Pretty much.”

      But not always. He wouldn’t dare say what was on his mind now. She was concerned about modesty? What about his part in the insemination?

      Colt had already discussed the clinical details with the doctor. Fresh sperm versus frozen. Heck of a thing for a guy to have to contemplate. After weighing the facts, he’d opted fresh since usually twice as many inseminations were required with frozen.

      He gazed at the beautiful woman seated across from him and couldn’t help wishing another option was available. What? Penetration instead of insemination? He had no business entertaining that thought. None whatsoever.

      Three

      As she and Colt strode across the grounds to the barn, Melanie noticed it had been refurbished since the last time she had seen it. Everything was the same, yet different. The east side of the ranch still yielded a rodeo arena, the west, a chicken coop no longer clucking with life. There were almost as many horses as there had been, but a lot fewer steers.

      Most of all, she was different. Inside and out. Gertrude Richards had been tucked away, and Melanie, confident California artist had emerged. Colt, too, it seemed had changed. True, his silky, black mane and heart-stopping wink were the same, but the wild teenage boy was gone. The brisk Montana winds had carried him away and brought back a man—mature, strong and proud, as rooted to the land as a tall ponderosa pine.

      Colt went into the tack room while Melanie waited in the barn, amusing herself with a friendly mare. As she stroked the horse’s blaze, it nodded in approval. In the next stall, a flashy, red dun gelding poked out its big, snorting nose and whinnied. “Just like a male,” she said to the mare, “always looking for attention.”

      Colt’s laughter sounded behind her. “Young Rocky there doesn’t even know he’s male. Now, I’ve got a champion stallion—Outlaw’s Fancy...”

      Melanie smiled. It figured Colt owned a stud named Outlaw. She motioned to the mare. “What’s her name?”

      He placed a bucket of grooming aids on the ground. “Sweet Cinnamon Surprise.”

      She eyed the gentle mare. The feminine name fit. “Sounds like a dessert I used to order at this trendy coffee bar on Melrose. I want to ride her.”

      Colt chuckled again. “Just like a woman to pick a horse for its pretty name.”

      Her chin tilted. “I do the same thing at the track. Sometimes I even win.”

      He looked amused by her admission. “Can you ride, California girl? I don’t want Cinnamon taking advantage of you.”

      The chin protruded even further. “Of course I can ride. I was born in Montana, remember?” Besides riding on his ranch for nearly two years, she had also taken expensive lessons in California. Western pleasure and a little dressage. She wasn’t the best dressage rider, but she looked good in the tall, black boots. “I can saddle a horse, too.”

      “Good.” Colt reached for the halter and lead line hanging from a nail. “Put this on Cinnamon and hitch her up outside. I’ll get a bridle and look for a saddle that will fit you.” His gaze sparked appreciatively as it slid down her petite curves. “You sure are a little one.”

      “How does that saying go?” she asked, doing her best to seem innocent of his masculine stare. She didn’t think he was aware of the hungry look in his eyes. “Something about small things...”

      “Good things,” he corrected, spinning on his heel, his husky voice fading as he departed. “Come...in...small...pack—”

      “Like babies,” Melanie whispered to Cinnamon as she buckled СКАЧАТЬ