Buddy grinned. “Well, to start with, Tate’s bed hadn’t been slept in when I got up this morning. The door to Abby’s room was still closed. And they didn’t get up until almost noon.”
Joe cackled. “Hot damn! I knew all it would take was a little time alone!”
“That’s not all. A few minutes ago Tate moved all his things into the room with Abby. And he was grinning like an idiot when he came downstairs.”
“Yee-haw!” Joe yelled, almost bursting Buddy’s ear drum. “But we aren’t out of the woods yet. I know we can’t keep an eye on them all the time, but when you’re there, try to be the one who answers the phone.”
“I could turn the answering machine on during the day while I’m at school.”
There was a second of silence while Joe thought about it. “No, don’t do that. If Diane gets the machine she might be tempted to leave Tate a message. I don’t think she’ll do much during the weekdays anyway. She knows Tate will be out working and she needs him for an audience.”
“What if she shows up here in the evening?”
“Well, much as I’d like to, we can’t keep a guard posted at the gate. Tate might get suspicious. But if she does show up, whatever you do, don’t leave her and Tate alone together. You stick to him like you’re joined at the hip no matter what either of them says. If you have time, call me. I can be there in five minutes.”
“You got it.”
“I’ll let you go. Keep me posted, okay?”
“Okay. Bye, Joe.”
* * * * *
“Is that sanitary?” Abby wrinkled her nose as she watched Buddy dump yet another wheelbarrow full of horse manure on the garden site.
Tate grinned at her. “Take my word for it. It’s one of the best natural fertilizers around.” He had used the tractor to break the ground up, but later switched to the hand tiller. “That should be enough, Buddy.” As soon as he worked the last load of manure into the dirt, he shut the tiller off and picked up a tape measure.
“Here, you two stretch this out and I’ll drive in the stakes.”
“What are we doing this for?” Abby held one end of the tape while Buddy walked to the other end of the garden.
“The rows have to be far enough apart to get the tiller between them. When we get both ends staked, we’ll tie a string from the ones at this end to the ones at the other end. That will keep the rows straight.”
“I didn’t realize it was going to be this complicated.” She watched the muscles ripple in Tate’s back as he swung the hammer. He’d discarded his shirt within thirty minutes of starting to work and now sweat gleamed on his bronzed skin. She was still having trouble believing she’d actually agreed to let him move into her room. And even more trouble believing he really wanted to.
Last night it had seemed natural to have him there, comfortable even. For once she hadn’t felt quite so alone. But the thought of deliberately, intentionally, going to bed together was making her stomach quiver with nerves. Would they have to get ready for bed together? In the same room? What would they talk about?
Another thought hit her and she almost groaned. What did he sleep in? She was pretty sure he didn’t sleep in his jeans every night and she hadn’t seen any pajamas in the wash. That meant… Oh, God. He slept nude. Why hadn’t she thought about that before she’d agreed to this?
For that matter, what was she going to sleep in? She only had two worn-out nightshirts. And that gown. She didn’t think she could bring herself to wear that particular item again. Until she could come up with something else, it was going to have to be the nightshirts.
She’d wandered into the room across from hers earlier just to take a look at it. To her surprise, there had been dozens of bolts of material stacked up on a table. And the sewing machine was an old treadle type. She’d examined it closely and it hadn’t looked as if it would be that difficult to operate. Maybe she could—
“Abby?”
She tore her gaze away from Tate’s chest, suddenly realizing she’d been staring at him intently.
“What were you thinking about so hard?”
“Oh.” She fought the blush that threatened. “I looked in your mother’s sewing room earlier. There’s lots of material in there. Do you think it would be okay if I used some of it?”
“Sure. Use all you want. No one else is going to.” He gestured at the row of stakes. “We’re ready to move to the other side.”
“Okay.” Abby lifted her end of the tape measure and walked to the other edge of the garden, watching as Tate lifted the hammer again. Much to her embarrassment, she appeared to be developing a fixation on his body. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him.
But then, she hadn’t been able to for a long time now. The difference was, when she’d watched him at Delly’s she’d been under no illusions. She’d been able to control her feelings because she’d known there was no hope for her where he was concerned. Just being able to see him occasionally had been enough for her.
Never in a million years would she have dreamed they might end up married. Part of her was desperately afraid she wouldn’t be able to keep her feelings for him hidden. Especially when she had to share the same bed with him, and when even Tate himself seemed determined to bridge the gap between them.
She couldn’t let it happen, didn’t dare risk it. He might honestly think things were over with Diane, but Abby knew he still loved her. In spite of what Tate had said last night, her time here was limited. And when she had to leave, it would only make it harder for her if she really let herself love him.
But, oh, it wasn’t going to be easy. She let her gaze run over him, from his coal black hair right down to those muscular legs that seemed to go on for miles. That odd little coil of expectancy twisted inside her again and mentally she grimaced. Why did it feel like she’d been waiting all her life for something wonderful and mysterious and now it was almost within her grasp?
Her gaze moved back to Tate’s face and she suddenly realized he was watching her, had been watching her for some time now. A faint smile lifted the corners of his lips. Instantly, Abby’s cheeks burst into flames. Tate’s grin widened. Damn it all, the man knew exactly what she’d been thinking. And she had to go to bed with him tonight, every night. God help her.
Chapter Thirteen
Abby chewed on her bottom lip as she surveyed the material spread out on the kitchen table. There was no way she could finish a gown by tonight, but at least she could get started and maybe have one ready by tomorrow night. She’d chosen a white cotton from the stack upstairs and, if she worked it right, she could get several gowns out of it with enough left over for something else.
She picked up the scissors and began cutting, trying to concentrate on what she was doing instead of on Tate. It wasn’t easy. He was sitting in the living room pretending to read the newspaper, but she could feel his gaze on her every time she moved. She was beginning to feel like a bug under a microscope.
Buddy strolled though the kitchen, stopping at the fridge to take out a can of soda. “Nice party last night,” he commented. “Everyone really liked you.”
“They did?” She looked up.
“Yep. Don’t be surprised if you have a steady stream of visitors from now on.”
Abby smiled. “That would be nice. I’ve never really had any friends before. We moved too much at first, then later I was too busy.”
“Just don’t forget you promised to go to the library with me. I thought maybe we could go Tuesday evening.”
“What are you going to the library for?” Tate asked from the living room.
Buddy turned slightly. “Abby is going to help me find some books for my term paper in history. It’s due at the end of next week.”
Tate shook the newspaper out then turned the page. “I might go with you. There are some errands I need to run. I can do those while you two are busy.”
Abby smothered a grin when Buddy rolled his eyes. “Big brother strikes—” His words were cut off when the phone rang. Bud
dy almost knocked her down getting to it and she wondered if he were expecting a call from Amy Fletcher.
“Hello?” There was a slight pause as he listened.
“Nope. Gone and won’t be back for two weeks at least.” He slammed the phone down.
Abby stared at him in puzzlement and she could see Tate doing the same thing. Tate spoke first.
“Who was that?”
“Prank call.” Buddy took a long drink from his soda.
“What did they say?”
“Wanted to know if this was the town mortuary. Said they had to speak to the mortician right away.”
Tate started to get up. “Maybe I should try that star sixty-nine and see who it was.”
“Don’t bother,” Buddy said hastily. “Sounded like it was coming from a pay phone in town. I could hear kids laughing in the background.”
Tate settled back into the chair but he was watching Buddy intently. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” His brother stretched. “Well, I think I’ll go upstairs and watch TV for a while before bed. ‘Night.”
Abby watched him go, then carefully folded the material. “I think I’ll go take a bath. I feel like I’ve still got dirt all over me.”
“I know what you mean. But the garden does look good.” He smiled at her. “I’ll be up in a bit.”
She nodded and picked up the material, taking it upstairs with her. It looked like he was at least going to give her a chance to get ready for bed without him watching every move. For that she was grateful.
Hurrying through the bath, she pulled her nightshirt on then opened the door a crack and peeked into the hall. When she discovered it was empty, she dashed to her room and jumped into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. And then she waited.
* * * * *
As soon as Abby left the room, Tate gave up all pretense of reading the paper. Quietly, he listened to the noise from upstairs. When the sound of running water shut off, he glanced at the phone.
Buddy wasn’t any better at lying than Abby was. Whoever that had been on the phone, it was no prank call. He would put money on it. And he suspected he knew who it was. All he had to do to prove it was punch in three numbers.
Tate stood and walked to the phone, his hand reaching for the receiver. Suddenly he paused. Did he really want to know? What good would it do even if it were her?
He rubbed his face tiredly. It had been a good day today, better than any he’d spent in recent memory. He, Abby and Buddy were finally starting to become a real family. Soon there would be a fourth member, if Abby stayed. If things worked out, she had said, and he was pretty sure continuing to have anything to do with Diane wasn’t on her list of things working out.
Leaning his forehead against the door frame, Tate closed his eyes. But what if Diane really needed him? Pain like jagged shards of glass splintered inside him until he was shaking. No. He couldn’t play those games again. He’d been so damn confident when he’d told Abby this would work for them. And he had to stay that way if he wanted a chance to raise his child.
Maybe it was better to just accept Buddy’s word for the phone call. And, he realized suddenly, deep down he didn’t want to know if it had been Diane. From now on she was just going to have to find someone else to rely on. He had his own family to worry about and they were all that mattered. Not even for Diane would he jeopardize his chances with his child.
From upstairs, he heard the sound of footsteps crossing the hall and he turned away from the phone, heading up to the bathroom. He needed a shower before bed.
* * * * *
Abby lay still, listening to the sound of booted feet coming up the stairs. They went straight to the bathroom and in a few minutes she heard the shower come on. From down the hall, Buddy’s TV went off. A breeze blew in through the windows, stirring the curtains, and from the direction of the creek she heard Dog’s excited bark, faint with distance, as he chased a rabbit in the moonlight. From nearer at hand came the high-pitched squeal of horses bickering over some imagined slight.
The first night she’d spent in this house, she’d been too exhausted, too emotionally drained to let the strangeness of the night keep her awake. But every night since then, it had taken her forever to go to sleep. The sound of traffic had been replaced by the quite chirp of crickets. The laughter and voices from people walking by had been usurped by the croaking of tree frogs.
What she had at first considered utter silence now seemed thunderous with the sounds of life. And she was finally getting used to it, even starting to enjoy it. Nature’s lullaby, she thought. You just had to be willing to listen hard enough to hear the melody.
The water went off and she heard the metal rings of the shower curtain slide down the rod. Instantly, her mind presented her with an image of Tate, moisture streaming down his tanned body, as he reached for a towel. She shut her eyes to force it away, but it seemed to be glued to the back of her eyelids.
Way sooner than she was expecting, the bedroom door opened and she didn’t need her imagination anymore. The real thing was right there in the room with her. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and was using another one to dry his hair as he walked toward the bed.
“You haven’t been getting sick the last few days. I guess the medicine Doctor Spanos gave you is helping?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good.” He hung the towel he’d been drying his hair with over the back of a chair then, before she could even blink, he dropped the second towel and threw it to join the first. She got only the merest glimpse of all that bare skin before he slid under the blankets next to her, but it was enough to make her mouth go dry.
He glanced down at her and the corners of his lips turned up in the same smile he’d had at the garden. “Goodnight, Abby.” He leaned over and put a tiny peck on her lips before turning out the lamp next to the bed.
The bed rocked as he settled into it, adjusting his position until he was comfortable. Abby lay still, afraid to even breathe. Until she realized he had his back to her. A small tinge of disappointment wiggled its way through her. In spite of the fact that he’d told her not to worry about the sex, she’d thought…what? That he’d swoop her up and make passionate love to her? The kind of lovemaking she’d only read about?
You’re stupid, she chastised herself silently. Things like that don’t happen in real life. And even if they did, it’s not you he wants. But even knowing that didn’t quell the urge she had to run her hands over that body, to explore each wonderful inch until she knew him by heart.
It was going to be a long night, she decided, staring wide-eyed into the darkness.
* * * * *
The sound of buzzing woke her to the pearly light of morning’s first rays, and to the sensation of smothering. Instinctively, she tried to reach the alarm clock, but she couldn’t move. Something was pinning her to the bed.
No, she thought. Not something, someone. Tate. He was lying half on top of her, his leg and arm holding her securely in place. Even as she became fully, startlingly alert, his hand moved across the bare skin at her waist, drifting lower with each moment.
But what alarmed her even more than the movement was the reaction her body seemed to be having to his touch. Her nipples were hardened into erect points, so tender that just the brush of her nightshirt against them sent jolts of feeling skittering to the pit of her stomach.
Tate’s chin was buried on her shoulder, but she managed to turn her head enough to see his face. His eyes were closed. Was it possible he was still asleep and didn’t know what he was doing to her?
By the time the thought was completely formed, his hand had slipped under the elastic of her panties. Panic hit her. With her one free hand on his shoulder, she tried to push him away. He wasn’t budging.
“Tate. Please. I have to get up.”
He mumbled something that she couldn’t understand, but his hand stopped and he shifted slightly. It still wasn’t enough to let her move.
“Tate.” She
shoved against him again.
This time he rolled all the way off her and, when his eyes opened, she could see sleepy confusion in them.
“What?” His voice sounded raspy and there was dark stubble on his chin and jaw. “What’s wrong?”
Abby tried to keep her own voice calm even though her heart was slamming into her ribs. “I have to go start breakfast. You were holding me down and I couldn’t move.”
“I was?” He rubbed his face, his eyes blearily fixing on hers. “Sorry. What time is it?”
“Almost six. I guess the clock’s been going off for a while.” She reached over and hit the stop button.
She’d already slid from the bed when it occurred to her that she was going to have to get dressed before she went downstairs. And Tate was showing no signs of getting up. She was thinking about taking her clothes across the hall to the bathroom when the sound of the toilet flushing changed her mind. Apparently Buddy was already up.
Stopping in front of the dresser, she pulled a drawer open then took a quick look over her shoulder. Tate was leaned against the headboard, his knees raised under the blankets, but his eyes had drifted shut again. Without pausing, Abby yanked the nightshirt over her head and was reaching into the drawer when the hair stood up on her arms. She didn’t even have to look to know he was watching her.
“You have a wonderful body, Abby. There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about.” The raspy tone was still in his voice, but it had a deeper, huskier quality now.
“No,” Abby whispered. She was frozen, trembling so hard that the drawer under her hands was vibrating. Why was he doing this to her? She knew what she looked like. Was he cruel enough to make fun of her?
She lifted her eyes, her gaze meeting his in the mirror and her knees went weak at the smoldering intensity in their blue depths. She could literally feel his gaze moving over her and the sensation galvanized her into action. Grabbing the first T-shirt she came to, she pulled it over her head.
“I mean it, Abby. I’ve always liked the way you look. I used to watch you work at Delly’s, even before…that night.”