Page 46 of My Cowboy Temptation

Apparently he’s still pretending not to hear anything that would say this is a one-time thing. He might be even more stubborn than me. “Cheese is fine.”

“Red bell peppers are high in vitamin c and beta-carotene.”

“You’re a nutritionist now?” I ask, my brow rising.

He grins, and immediately my stupid stomach flutters with butterflies, forgetting everything he’s put me through. “I did a little research about what you should be eating at this point in your pregnancy.” He pulls out a large jar labeled prenatal pills. “You should be taking these daily too.”

“I already do.”

He counts out the eggs, leaves five in a bowl, and turns around to put the carton back in the fridge. As he shuts it, he pauses to stare at something on the fridge door. “An ultrasound appointment? Isn’t that kind of early for only being in your twelfth week?”

Crap. I completely forgot I had that there. My doctor made the ultrasound appointment for me at my sixteen-week visit. Brody really has done his research, something I might have found endearing if I wasn’t so mad at him.

“I don’t know if it’s early, per se, but yes, I have one scheduled.”

His brows furrow as he studies me again, and I look away, unable to keep his gaze when I’m not being honest with him. He nods finally, accepting my story. “Dinner’s going to be about twenty minutes. Why don’t you go take a bath and relax? I got this.”

He clearly hasn’t seen the size of my mini bathtub, or he would not be suggesting that.

Still. Now that he’s planted the idea of a hot relaxing bath, I can’t let it go. Just like the stupid pancakes. He knows me too well. “Okay. Maybe I will,” I say and start toward my bedroom.

“Make sure you don’t make it too hot. It’s not good for the baby.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I say over my shoulder and continue on.

The warm chuckle that follows should annoy me but instead sends a zap of excitement up my spine. It also leaves me feeling enormous guilt that I haven’t told him that the baby is his.

No. Worse than that. I outright denied it’s his and claimed it’s someone else’s.

But I know that the moment I tell him, he’ll insist on stepping up, telling my dad about everything we had between us in an effort to do the right thing.

The last thing I want is Brody in my life because it’s “the right thing to do.” I want him here and declaring whatever his feelings are for me because he wants to be here. Not because he feels like he has to be.

With a small addition of my body wash into the water, I fill the tub, enjoying the soft, fragrant scent filling the room even as I hear the sound of cupboards closing and a knife chopping on the other side of the bathroom wall.

I finally lower my body into the bath, sighing in instant relief at the soothing feeling the warm water provides my aching and tender muscles and joints. Who would have thought growing a tiny baby the size of an avocado would be causing so much havoc on my body as it makes room for the little guy. Or girl.

I don’t have a preference for which, since Brody’s warm brown eyes would look adorable on either one. And after Monday’s ultrasound, I’ll definitively know which it will be, so I can start decorating the nursery.

There’s a knock on the door, and before I can say come in, the door opens, and Brody is standing there.

His gaze immediately drops to my chest and my breasts that I know have swelled to an obscene size since the last time he’s seen them and that have caused me no small amount of discomfort. No matter how obscene my breasts seem to me, the appreciation in Brody’s eyes, the way his eyes widen and darken with lust, has me squeezing my legs together to get control of the rush of hormones racing to the area.

I was afraid of this reaction. Afraid because wanting Brody Dalton is the last thing I should feel after his sound rejection of me. But Lord, the thought of his fingers skimming the sensitive top layer of my skin, his lips and mouth finding all the right erogenous zones that would have me tightening and tumbling toward that climactic release, is enough to bring a flush to my cheeks as I squeeze my thighs together even tighter.

The seconds continue to pass between us, and I can’t help but notice his growing erection in the confines of his jeans. Brody seems as incapable of turning off his longing and desire for me any more than I am for him.

“Cal, I—” He still can’t speak, and I see him wrestling with his thoughts. “I came to say something’s come up. I have to take off.”

Instantly, I’m filled with disappointment and resignation. It’s like we’re back to square one with him determined to resist what’s obviously between us.

But I’m done. I’m getting off this merry-go-round. “Sure. I understand. Thanks for bringing me the supplies and making dinner.”

If he hears a tone in my voice, he doesn’t let on. “The pancakes are warming in the oven, and your omelet is in the covered pan on the stove. Sorry again for leaving like this. But remember what I said. Call me for anything.”

“Sure, Brody.”

Fat chance of that ever happening again. With a quick nod, he turns and heads out, the sound of the front door closing reaching me a minute later.

“Did you hear that, baby? Your daddy says call me for anything.”

But the one thing I need he’ll never be able to give me.

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