The cowboy was just as handsome as she remembered, maybe more so. And his smile, which was both boyish and shy, sent her senses reeling.
“I would have called first, but I didn’t have your number.” He lifted the brim of his hat with an index finger.
He hadn’t had her address, either, but she was so stunned to see him again, so mesmerized by his familiar, musky scent, that she couldn’t seem to find the words to respond or to question him.
But her gaze was hard at work, checking him out and soaking him in. He’d shaved, which had softened his rugged edge a bit, but he still wore a Stetson, jeans and boots—clearly a cowboy through and through.
“If this isn’t a good time,” he said, those luscious brown eyes glimmering as he broke the silence, “I can come back another day.”
“No, it’s not that.” She stepped aside to let him in. “It’s just that I…”
“…didn’t expect to see me again?” He tossed her a crooked grin that darn near turned her inside out.
She managed a smile of her own. “How’d you find me? I didn’t even have an address to give you when we met.”
“It’s amazing what a person can learn over the internet.”
Jillian wasn’t sure if she should be happy he’d found her or concerned by it. After all, she didn’t know very much about him, other than the fact that he hadn’t always been a cowboy, and that he was divorced.
And that he’d claimed to be a tumbleweed, while they’d had dinner that night, which was a little worrisome. If he was indeed prone to wander and not set down roots, he wouldn’t be the kind of father she wanted for her baby. That alone had seemed like the perfect excuse not to contact him so far.
Not that she’d made a solid decision yet. She would need to know more about him before she could allow him to be involved in the baby’s upbringing.
And as luck would have it, here was her chance. So she swept her arm toward the brown tweed sofa that had once been in Gram’s den and the faux leather recliner that had belonged to her grandfather. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” He placed his hat on one side of the sofa, then sat on the middle cushion. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Just her conscience and her good sense.
“No, not really.” She combed her fingers through her hair, suddenly wondering what she looked like without any makeup, without having used a brush since this morning.
“I have a family function in Houston,” he said, “so, while I was in the area, I thought I’d stop by and say hello. I also thought it might be nice to have dinner together.”
The last time they’d shared a meal, she’d invited him to spend the night. Was he expecting the same thing to happen again?
She could certainly see where he might. When they’d danced in each other’s arms at The Rio, the sexual attraction had ignited. She’d never had a one-night stand before, so she’d struggled with her conscience before inviting him up to her room. But only momentarily.
Once she’d had that sweet experience, she hadn’t been sorry about it, either. Shane had been an incredible lover who’d done amazing things with his hands and his mouth, taking her places she’d never gone before. Ever.
If truth be told, she was sorely tempted to have him take her there again.
But look where sexual attraction and throwing caution to the wind had gotten her—pregnant with the cowboy’s baby.
“What do you say?” he asked, clearly picking up on how torn she was between a yes or a no.
Getting involved with him again would certainly complicate her life, so she was tempted to decline and send him on his way. But what did she know about the man who’d fathered her baby? And what was she supposed to tell her child when he or she inevitably asked the daddy questions?
“We really don’t have much in common,” she admitted. Nothing other than a baby, of course.
“Well, we don’t know that for sure. We never really had a chance to talk much that night.”
He was right about that. Even though they’d known each other’s bodies intimately, the rugged cowboy was pretty much a stranger to her—as she was to him.
But he’d also put her healing process on the fast track and had made her feel desirable again.
So did that make them friendly strangers?
Or strangers with benefits…?
Jillian fiddled momentarily with the silver pendant that dangled from her necklace, then made the decision. “All right. Let me freshen up and change my clothes.”
His smile nearly took her breath away, as he leaned back in his seat. “No problem. Take your time.”
Thirty minutes later, she and Shane entered a little Italian restaurant he’d recommended. She’d chosen to dress casually in black jeans and a pale blue sweater.
At least on the outside, she and Shane appeared to be a better match than they had before, but for some reason she felt like a late-blooming high school senior about to enter the adult world for the first time.
“This place isn’t as nice as the hotel restaurant,” Shane said, “but the food is out of this world.”
Jillian took a hearty whiff of tomatoes and basil, not doubting Shane about the taste. “It sure smells good.”
After the hostess seated them at a quiet table for two, a busboy brought them water with lemon and a basket of freshly baked bread.
“So what do you do for a living?” Shane asked.
Jillian had planned to be the first one to start asking questions, but she supposed they both had a lot to learn about each other. “Right now, I’m planning to go back to school, but I’ll be looking for part-time work soon.”
“What kind of job did you have before?”
She hated to admit that she’d never worked, even though she’d kept pretty busy. But she doubted that he’d care about her philanthropic endeavors—the hospital board on which she’d served or the women’s club, of which she’d been the chair. She was proud of her contributions, of course, but her heart hadn’t been in the projects that had been hand chosen by Thomas—or rather, by his mother. The trouble was, until recently, her volunteerism had been her life, her work. Her only legitimate purpose in the world.
For some reason, she felt as though she ought to apologize or make excuses while explaining that she had high hopes for the future. “I didn’t have a regular job, but I did volunteer work for several charitable organizations over the past few years.”
He seemed to mull that over for a moment, then reached for the bread basket, pulled back the linen cloth that kept it warm and offered her the first slice, which she took.
“So you’re going to take some college classes?” he asked.
“I’m getting a teaching credential.”
“Oh, yeah? You must like kids.”
“I do.”
“But, if I remember correctly, you don’t have any of your own.”
It wasn’t actually a question, just a conclusion he’d obviously come to after something she must have told him. She supposed there was no real reason to respond.
If truth be told, she’d always longed to have a baby—at least two or three. But she and Thomas had never been able to conceive—at least, not together.
And now here she was—unwed and pregnant.
The waiter stopped by to take their orders, which was a relief