She bit off the instant retort that trembled on her lips. She’d be darned if she’d justify her behavior to him. She wasn’t about to explain that she’d both written and called ahead, stating her intention to visit and supplying the date of her arrival. Or that her grandmother’s departure was the older woman’s oblique reply, an apparent payback for Tess’s own decision to leave ten years ago.
For one thing, she didn’t go around explaining her behavior to rude, disapproving strangers—no matter how compelling they were.
For another, unless she was mistaken, she had a much more pressing problem.
“Damn,” Jack said abruptly.
“What’s the matter?”
“The power’s out.”
Following his gaze, she glanced around as they drove into the ranch yard. Although a pair of dogs had come to attention on the back porch, not a single light glowed in welcome. Not from the pitch-roofed barn with its adjacent corrals, or the covered arena, or the rambling two-story house that looked pretty much the way she remembered it from childhood.
Tess’s heart sank as she realized something more. She wasn’t in the city anymore. Way out here, when the power went, so did the phones, since the two lines shared the same poles.
The icing on the cake. She took a deep breath. “Jack?”
“What?”
“Do you have a wife?”
He stared straight ahead. “Not anymore. Why? You thinking of applying for the job?”
“No.” Tess shook her head, clenching her hands as the pain, previously limited to her lower back, snaked along her sides and wrapped around her middle like an invisible boa constrictor. She gave an involuntary gasp as the painful pressure increased. “I’m in labor.”
Two
Jack didn’t think. He reacted. “No.” He swiveled toward Tess and shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
Her eyes, big and velvety like winter pansies, widened in astonishment. “What?”
“No way.” He shook his head again, adamant. “You’re not having a baby. Not here. Not now. Not with me.”
For the space of one endless, protracted second, she continued to send him that same incredulous look. Then she abruptly crossed her arms above her rounded middle and shifted her gaze to the darkness beyond the windshield. Her mouth—soft, lush, with an undeniable carnality that was all wrong on an expectant mother—flattened dangerously. “All right.”
It was the very last thing he expected. Primed for an argument, he stared blankly at her, struggling to get himself under control. “Good.” He knew he was behaving badly. He told himself he didn’t care. It was better than having her suspect the anxiety her announcement had brought him.
“Here.” She laid his coat down on the section of seat between them. “Thanks for the loan.” She shoved open the door and climbed out.
Jack gaped. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To the house. There must be someone there who’ll help.” She slammed the door.
Stunned, he sat frozen in place, his thoughts churning. Hell! What had he ever done to deserve this? One small good deed, one humanitarian be-a-good-citizen gesture, and suddenly he was stuck with a stubborn, unreasonable, overly independent woman who didn’t have the sense to stay out of a snowstorm. A woman who, if she really was in labor, was going to have to rely on him to deliver her baby.
Just the idea made his throat tighten. Memories, ruthlessly suppressed for the past three years, flashed through his mind. He recalled how happy he’d been when Elise told him she was pregnant. It had been enough to make him ignore his uneasiness when she asked him to move into a spare room so that he wouldn’t disturb her rest. It had sustained him through his loneliness when she insisted on moving into Gweneth her last trimester to be closer to the doctor. It had even made it possible for him to swallow his desperate disappointment when he arrived too late for the birth because someone had forgotten to call him. It had all seemed worth it when he finally held his small, precious, perfect son.
Unbidden, an arrow of longing pierced him. The boy would be almost three and a half now, walking, talking, his big green eyes full of questions—
All of sudden Jack realized what he was doing. This wasn’t going to help anyone, he thought savagely, slamming a door on the past. He could rail against fate, he could rehash history, he could sit around feeling sorry for himself indefinitely, but the end result would be the same. The child was gone, forever beyond his reach... and Tess had no one to rely on but him.
He took a calming breath and forced himself to look at the situation dispassionately. Tess’s labor had just started. Chances were, her baby wouldn’t be born for hours, possibly not even until sometime tomorrow. Hell, by the time she was actually ready to deliver, the weather might well have improved, the phone lines might be restored and he could call for help. Once he did, she would no longer be his problem.
In the meantime, all he had to do was provide shelter and a cursory moral support. As long as they both remained calm, there was no reason why they couldn’t get through this like the pair of adults they were. Unless something happened to her, he thought suddenly, as a particularly vicious gust of wind rattled the truck. For example, if she were to slip and fall...
He twisted around to grab his hat, forgetting he’d lost it, and that was when he noticed Tess’s damp boots, lying exactly were he’d tossed them earlier.
Damn, damn, domn. The little fool was out there without any shoes! His newfound calm evaporated in a flash. He shoved open his door and scrambled out of the truck. Heedless of the fact that he’d forgotten his coat, he stormed across the yard, catching up with her in a few furious strides. Ignoring her cry of surprise, he scooped her into his arms. “You just don’t learn, do you?” he shouted over the shriek of the wind.
“Learn what?” she replied, her voice muffled as she buried her face against the warmth of his thinly covered shoulder.
“To get the lay of the land before you go hightailing off.” He marched up the three wide, shallow steps and across the wraparound porch, skirting a trio of wooden rockers that swayed in the breeze as if filled with invisible occupants.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean there’s nobody here but me and you!” With a curt command to the dogs to stay down, he thrust open the back door, strode across the mudroom and opened the second door into the big country kitchen.
“What?” For the first time, she sounded uncertain. “What are you talking about? This is a big ranch. You can’t possibly...” Her voice trailed off. She cleared her throat “You can’t possibly run it by yourself.”
“The hell I can’t,” he said curdy. “I got rid of my herd a few years ago.” His voice, though hardly more than a murmur, sounded harsh and loud in the pitch-dark quiet, but at least he’d managed to state the facts with none of the furious anguish he’d felt at the time. “Now I’ve just got horses.”
Tess, still clutched in his arms, shifted. “Oh,” she said in surprise.
Her scent came up at him, delicate, mysterious, feminine. He had a sudden, vivid recollection of how it felt to lie naked with a woman, to touch her in all her soft, silky places—
What was he thinking? She was about to have a baby. Disgusted with himself, he set her on her feel “Stay here while I get a light. I don’t want you banging into something.” Despite his terse tone, he took an extra second to steady her, then strode to the big walk-in pantry, grateful for the privacy.
He halted before the shelves where the emergency supplies were kept, wondering what