Part 1 (1/2)

Christine Rimmer.

Conveniently Yours The Bravos.

The Md She Had To Marry.

Chapter 1.

On a sunny afternoon at the end of June, Lacey Bravo returned to the old homesteader's cabin behind the horse pasture at the Rising Sun Ranch to find Dr. Logan Severance waiting for her.

She had known he would come. Still, the sight of him, there in the shade of the rough-s.h.i.+ngled overhang that served as the cabin's front porch, sent her pulse racing. Her palms on the steering wheel went clammy with sweat. She felt pulled in two directions at once. Her foolish heart urged her to rush into his arms. And something else, some contrary creature inside her, wanted only to spin her new SUV around and speed away, leaving nothing but a high trail of Wyoming dust in her wake.

Neither action was really an option. Throwing herself into his arms would only embarra.s.s them both. And as for running, well, Lacey had done plenty of that before she was even out of her teens. Eventually, she'd given it up. It never solved anything.

With a weary sigh, Lacey pushed the door open and maneuvered herself out from behind the wheel and down to the ground. She shut the door. Then, with as much dignity as she could muster, given that lately she tended to waddle like a duck, she plodded to the rear of the vehicle to get the two bags of groceries she had picked up in town.

She barely got the back door up beforeLoganwas at her side. ”I'll take those for you.”

Her initial reaction was to object, to lift her chin high and announce haughtily, ”I can carry my own groceries, thank you.”

But she stifled the impulse. There would be dissension enough between them. There always had been. And now, with the baby coming, the opportunities for argument would no doubt be endless. Better to keep her mouth shut whenever possible.

His dark gaze swept over her. She wore a tent-like denim jumper, a pink T-s.h.i.+rt and blue canvas ballerina flats.

Ballerina. Hah. An image from an old Disney movie, of a hippo in ballet shoes and a tutu, flitted through her mind.

No, she was not at her best. And he looked great. Terrific. Fit and tanned, in khaki pants and a cream-colored polo s.h.i.+rt. He looked like a model on the cover of a Brooks Brothers catalog-and she looked like someone who'd eaten a beach ball for lunch. She knew she shouldn't let that bother her. But it did.

”Hasn't your doctor told you that at this point in your pregnancy, you shouldn't be driving?”

She gritted her teeth and granted him the tiniest of shrugs.

”Is that a 'yes'?”

Lacey exerted superhuman effort and did not roll her eyes. ”Yes, Doctor. That is a 'yes'.”

He made a low, exasperated sound. ”Then what are you doing behind the wheel of a car?”

”I treasure my independence.”

The words may have sounded flippant, but Lacey did mean them. Doc Pruitt, who ran the clinic in the small nearby town ofMedicineCreek,had been nagging her to avoid driving. And Tess, her cousin's wife, who lived in the main ranch house not a half a mile away, would have been glad to take Lacey wherever she needed to go. But to Lacey, a car-and the possession of the keys to it-meant self-determination. Never would she willingly give that up.

Except, perhaps, for the love of this man.

But not to worry. Her independence was safe.Logan's heart was otherwise engaged.

”Lacey,” he said, in the thoroughly superior tone that had always made her want to throw something at him. ”There are times in life when independence has to take a back seat to necessity. It's not good for you, or the baby, for you to-” ”Logan, can we at least get inside before you start telling me everything I'm doing wrong?”

He blinked. Maybe it actually occurred to him that he'd started criticizing her before he'd even bothered to say h.e.l.lo. Whatever. Without another word, he scooped her grocery bags into his big arms and turned toward the cabin. Lacey was left to shut the rear door and trudge along in his wake, across the bare dirt yard, past the dusty midnight-blue luxury car he had driven there and up the two rickety steps to the cabin's front entrance. On the porch, he stood aside for her to open the door. Then she moved out of his way to let him go first.

They entered the main living area, which was small and dark and simply furnished. Lacey loved the cabin-hadloved it on sight. Though the light was never good enough to paint by, the rough plank walls pleased her artist's eye. And the layers of shadow were interesting, dark and intense in the corners, fading out to a pleasant dimness in the center of the room. Beyond the main room, there was a small sleeping nook in the northeast corner and a bathroom in a lean-to outside the back door.

Logandidn't seem to share her admiration for her rustic surroundings. His dismissing glance flicked over the stained sink, the old iron daybed bolstered to double as a sofa, and the faded curtain that served as a door to the sleeping nook.

He dipped his head at the grocery bags. ”Where do you want these?”

Lacey moved to clear a s.p.a.ce on the old pine table, s.h.i.+fting a stack of books, a sketch pad, a box of pastels and some pencils to one of the fourladderback chairs. ”Right here.” She pulled the chain on the bulb suspended over the table. The resulting wash of light was harsh, but functional.

Loganmoved forward and slid the groceries onto the table, then stepped back. They regarded each other. She saw that there were circles under those fine dark eyes of his.

Was it only the severity of the light? No. Now that she stared directly at him, she could see more than irritated disapproval in the sculpted planes of his face. She saw weariness. Reproach and concern were there, too.

She cleared her throat and spoke gently. ”Did you drive all the way fromCalifornia?”

He shook his head. ”I flew out ofReno. ToDenver, where I transferred to a smaller plane, which got me toSheridan. Then I rented a car for the rest of the trip.”

”You must be tired.”

His mouth tightened. She read the hidden meaning in his expression. He'd come to take care of her, whether she liked it or not.His own comfort was nothing. ”I'm fine.”

”Well. I'm glad to hear it.”

The silence stretched out again. Maybe he was thirsty. ”Do you want something to drink?”

He shrugged, then answered with a formality that tugged at her heart. ”Yes. Thank you. Something cold would be good.”

”Ginger ale?”

”That's fine.”

She went to the refrigerator, which was probably a collector's item-it stood on legs and had a coil on top. She took out a can, then turned to the cabinet over the one tiny section of counter. ”Never mind a gla.s.s,” he said. ”Just the can is fine.” She handed it to him across the table, absurdly conscious of the possibility that their fingers might brush in pa.s.sing. They didn't. She gestured at the chair in front of him. ”Have a seat.” He ignored that suggestion, popped the top on the can and took a long drink. She stared at his Adam's apple as it bobbed up and down on his strong, tanned throat and tried to ignore the yearning that flooded through her in a warm, tempting wave. She wanted him. Even big as a cow with the baby they had created together, she'd have happily sashayed right over to him and put her mouth against that brown throat. With delight, she would have teasingly sc.r.a.ped the skin with her teeth, stuck out her tongue and tasted- Lacey cut off the dangerous erotic thought before it could get too good a hold on her very healthy imagination. As if she evencould sashay, big as she'd grown in the last month or so.

Loganset the ginger ale can on the table. ”How long have you been here?”

”Seven weeks.”