Mariah felt a rush of emotion at her fathers poignant words. She smiled at Jake.
"On this farm, I think. "
Jake stared back at her, his smile slowly fading. A hint of moisture glittered in his eyes. "I dont have any other place to live. "
Mariah set down her knife and wiped her hands on her apron. "You always have a home here, Jake. I hope you know that. I—" She glanced at Rass and corrected herself. "We need you. In fact, its getting colder now, and I was thinking that you might like to move into the guest room downstairs. "
He swallowed hard. "Thanks. Id like that. "
They all stared at one another in silence.
Behind them, the front door creaked open and •slammed shut. Hard bootheels sounded on the wooden floor.
"Christ," came Mad Dogs voice from the foyer. "Not more apple pancakes. " He walked into the kitchen, grinning.
Marians heart swelled with quiet happiness at the sight of him, standing so casually in her kitchen, as if he belonged here. The wonder of it all rushed through her, warmed her as it did every morning. Fleetingly she wondered if he felt it, too, this growing sense of belonging, but she pushed the question aside with practiced ease.
Shed made a point of not asking such things; not of him, and not of herself. For now, she was content to simply accept the gift of their time together.
"Youre spoiling the kid," he said, leaning against the doorjamb.
"If you had an acceptable favorite breakfast, Id spoil you, too," she responded.
He gave her an affronted look. "Whats wrong with a shot of tequila?"
Rass snorted. "One more apple pancake and Im going to start siding with Mad Dog. "
"I love em," Jake piped up, beaming.
Mad Dog crossed the kitchen toward Mariah. She heard each footfall, felt each step. Anticipation shivered through her. Her heart beat erratically in her chest, her breathing sped up. Their gazes met, locked. She saw the carefully banked fire in his gaze, and knew it mirrored the look in her own eyes.
She spun back to the slopboard, focusing on the bacon so her father wouldnt see her eyes. It was getting harder to hide her feelings for Mad Dog. They had slept together several times since that first night. They sneaked around the farm like errant adolescents, laughing, looking for privacy. But no matter how often she loved him, she wanted more.
The need for him was like a living, breathing presence inside her. Every time she looked at him, she ached; when he touched her, she felt as if she were melting.
He came up behind her. She felt the heat of his body like a prickling fire against her back. "Morning, Mariah," he whispered.
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to lean back and let him hold her.
"Morning, Mr. Stone. "
The soft tendrils of his laughter curled around her heart and squeezed. "I was thinking, Miss Throck-morton . . . "
She caught her breath. "Yes, Mr. Stone?"
He leaned toward her. She felt his breathing ruffle the back of her unbound hair, slide along the back of her neck, heavy and moist. "My schedule is free tonight," he murmured in a voice so quiet, only she could hear it. "Again. "
Response washed through her in waves, radiating to the very tips of her fingers. She turned around and stared up into his smoldering, passionate gray eyes.
She swayed unsteadily. Lord, she wanted to kiss him. Right here, in the middle of her kitchen with her father and an impressionable boy looking on.
She tried to look calm and unaffected. But her knees were knocking so loudly, her father could probably hear them. . "Tonight," she mouthed.
He leaned toward her. "Its getting damn cold by the river," he whispered.
His breath was warm against her forehead. She shivered and fought the urge to close her eyes. "Ill get rid of Rass and come to you tonight. "
He smiled. "Id rather you come with me tonight. "