Daddy Wore Spurs (Mills & Boon Cherish) (Men of the West, Book 32) by Stella Bagwell Read Free Book Online Page B

Mariah squeezed her eyes shut as heat raced up the side of her neck and down her arm.
    “Mariah,” he said gently, “I’m not an ogre. I can see how much you love Harry. But a man who could leave his son—well, he wouldn’t be much of a man. Would he?”
    Swallowing hard, she turned to face him, but the moment her gaze met his, her self-control crumbled and she began pounding her fist against his chest. “No, damn you! I wished I’d never called you! I’d have my baby and you’d never know the difference!”
    By the time he grabbed her flying fists and anchored them tightly against his chest, she was sobbing, her cheeks drenched with tears. But what this man thought about her no longer mattered. All she cared about was Harry.
    “Hush, Mariah. Please, don’t cry.”
    He gently drew her forward, until her wet cheek was pressed against the middle of his chest and his hand was stroking the back of her head.
    Even if Mariah had wanted to resist, the solid comfort of his arms, the tender touch of his fingers upon her hair, was a balm to her raw nerves. A man hadn’t touched her this way in ages. She hadn’t wanted one to touch her. Until now.
    Eventually, the warmth of his arms eased the chill inside her and dried the tears in her eyes. By then, his masculine scent and the hard muscle beneath her cheek were turning her thoughts in a totally different direction.
    He murmured against the top of her head. “Better now?”
    The husky note in his voice shivered through her like a cold drink on a hot day. So good. So perfect. But she couldn’t keep standing here in his arms, letting her erotic thoughts get out of control.
    Quickly, she stepped back from his tempting body and wiped fingers against the traces of tears on her cheeks.
    “Forgive me,” she whispered. “I’m behaving like a shrew. But I—” Her gaze met his and her heart very nearly stopped as she spotted a sensual gleam in his blue eyes. Had the embrace they’d just shared affected him, too? Or were her scattered senses making her see things that weren’t really there?
    His lips took on a wry slant. “Forget it, Mariah. I can take a few punches. Besides, you made your point. You chose to call me. Otherwise I wouldn’t have known anything about Harry. Unless by some chance I ran across some of her old friends at a horse show, and even then, I probably wouldn’t have made the connection of me being her child’s father.”
    His expression softened. “I’m grateful that you made that call, Mariah. Even though I understand how much it’s breaking your heart.”
    Blinking at a fresh wave of tears, she turned back to the sink and thrust her hands into the water. Better there than pounding them against Finn’s chest and making a complete neurotic fool of herself, she thought dismally.
    A shaky breath shuddered past her lips. “Harry deserves a father,” she said bluntly.
    He moved a few steps away and Mariah went limp with relief. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t trust herself near a man.
    “The afternoon is getting late,” he said, “and I haven’t gotten a room in town yet. Can you recommend a good place to stay?”
    She glanced over her shoulder at him and suddenly without warning, she heard herself saying, “You don’t need to drive back to town. You’re welcome to stay here. There are plenty of empty bedrooms and you’d be close to Harry.”
    And to me.
    The voice in her head came out of the blue. Just as her unplanned invitation had come from a place inside her she hadn’t known existed. Dear Lord, she must be cracking up. Earlier, she’d wanted rid of this man. Now she wanted to get closer to him. This cowboy was putting some sort of hypnotic spell on her.
    “It’s nice of you to offer, Mariah, but I don’t expect you to put me up for the night.”
    The arch of his brows said her invitation had surprised him. But it couldn’t have surprised him any more than it had her.
    “Dad would’ve already insisted you be our