The Bachelor's Baby(22)

“Call,” he said with a grate in the back of his own throat. “Let me know you landed safe. I want to know what the police are doing about that guy. You be careful.”

“I will,” she promised. He could hear the rueful, stirred note in her voice. She liked his protectiveness.

He wanted to protect her. If he wasn’t so dug in, with a truckload of heifers to prepare for, he might have gone to Chicago and ensured she was safe.

Hell. He ran a hand down his face, reminded himself how long he’d waited to be here. Women. He’d seen them play havoc with a lot of men’s plans. He wasn’t about to put his life on hold so he could go to Chicago for an affair that would end anyway, and probably with a lot more drama than this parting right here.

“I had a good time tonight too. You’re a helluva woman, Meg. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you, but I’m damned glad I did.”

She tilted her head and leaned closer, saying, “Me too,” against his mouth.

It was a good kiss, one he didn’t want to finish. He cradled the side of her face and memorized the feel of her lips, the smell of her skin, aware of regret and something like craving infusing the moment. Not pleasant surface emotions, but deep, dark feelings that weren’t like him at all.

He was going to look back on this as a ‘could have been.’

Disturbed, he drew back.

She ducked her head, touched her gloved finger to her mouth, then turned away to open her door herself.

“I’ll walk you in—” he said, reaching for his own latch.

“No, it’s okay,” she said, forestalling. “Look. Blake’s letting the dog out. I’ll be fine. ‘Bye.” She slid out and closed the door, calling a soft, “It’s me, Blue.”

She moved into the glow of his headlights and bent to greet the animal that bounded toward her with a friendly, “Woof!” The dog circled her, tail wagging excitedly. Snow collected on his fur and in her hair. She chuckled and patted him and called him a nut-job. With a wave at Linc, she headed toward the little outbuilding.

Linc waited until she had gone inside, then slowly backed up and crawled out the drive, thinking the whole time that he was making the smart choice.

But it was hard. Very, very hard.





Chapter Six




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Meg got Linc’s email from Lily, which took a few days. She hoped that was sufficient time that she didn’t look needy when she emailed him with a subject line of, Good news / Bad news.

I got home fine, she wrote in the body. Bad news is, my stalker broke into the apartment of someone with my same name while I was away. Good news is, they’ve arrested him and don’t think he’ll make bail. Which means I get my life back. Take care, M.

Short and sweet. She read it over a hundred times before she hit Send.

Two days later she got a reply:

Wind storm came through and blew the roof off my barn. I was going to replace it anyway, so I guess it’s good news I don’t have to tear it off myself, but it’s in pieces from here to your brother’s place. Now it’s snowing. I’ll be cleaning up ‘til August. I’m pissed right off.

She chuckled and sent back, Try not to get too deep into that cupboard of booze.

Too late, he replied, and that was the last she heard of him.

March was a busy time for any ranch, she reminded herself, and if he had a barn to tarp and re-roof along with a house he was rebuilding, he didn’t have time for long distance flirting.

Or he might have someone else in his life.

The thought was like an ice pick in her chest, one she masochistically wielded to carve out her longing for more with him. It was so futile!

Besides, work was busy and required her full concentration. She had her eye on a full-time morning anchor position.

She remained distracted as the weeks passed, however, thinking about Linc while feeling moody and lovesick, flu-ish and tired. She was on her last nerve, thinking mornings were definitely not for her, hating how badly coffee was upsetting her stomach lately, forcing her to give it up when she needed it most. Then the station’s security manager caught up to her as she was coming out of the ladies’ room one day around ten am. She’d almost thrown up again and really did not need Gavin’s dogged determination to talk to her right now.

“It’s important,” he said, following her into her office and closing the door. “I just got a call. He posted bail.”

“Who—What? No! How?” she cried, thinking that it really didn’t matter how her stalker had wound up on the street, only that he had. “Oh my God, I really am going to throw up,” she groaned, reaching for a tissue and pressing it to her lips, fighting nausea and light-headedness as she drew her wastebasket closer to her feet.