One Night Standoff - By Delores Fossen Page 0,21
she saw something other than pain in his deep-brown eyes. The heat, yes.
But maybe more.
“Do you remember?” she asked. She didn’t clarify—did he remember having sex with her—but Lenora figured they were on the same page here.
Their bodies seemed to be, anyway.
The air between them changed. So did the rhythm of her breathing. And even though she tried to level it, Lenora was reasonably sure she was giving off every signal a woman could give to a man to let him know she was interested. Definitely not a good idea, because she needed to get away from Clayton so he wouldn’t be attacked again.
It was a solid reason to move.
But she didn’t.
She huffed, beyond frustrated with herself. And worse. She still didn’t back away when Clayton leaned down, his mouth inching toward hers.
“This might help me remember.” His warm breath hit against her lips when he spoke.
And suddenly more than anything, Lenora wanted him to remember. Oh, and she wanted him to kiss her, too. Clayton might not have any memories of their one-night stand, but Lenora was well aware that he could set fires with his mouth.
He moved in closer. Closer. And she was just a breath away from kissing him again. Too bad she could already feel it and also too bad her body seemed to think this was foreplay, that Clayton would haul her off to bed again.
That wouldn’t happen.
Even if she desperately wanted it.
Her eyelids were already fluttering down, getting ready for that kiss, when Clayton stopped. It took her a moment to realize why. The baby was kicking, and with her body pressed against Clayton’s, he could feel it.
In that split second of time, the heat went from his eyes, and he slid his hand over her belly. Concern replaced the heat and the pain.
“Is the baby okay?” he asked.
It took her a moment to switch gears, and Lenora pushed away the attraction that she shouldn’t be feeling anyway. Especially not a time like this. “She’s fine.”
Clayton blinked. “She?”
Lenora shook her head when she realized what he was thinking. “I’ve had ultrasounds, but I was still trying to make up my mind about knowing the sex of the baby. So the tech didn’t tell me.”
His forehead bunched up again. “You went through the trauma of the shooting when you were...what...just two months pregnant? Are you sure that didn’t harm the baby in some way?”
“Positive. I had a checkup just last week.”
That didn’t ease the tension in his face. “And you need another one after what happened today.” He cursed again. “I should have already thought of it. Hell, I should have already taken you to the doctor.”
Lenora was about to assure him that she would indeed see her doctor as soon as she left the ranch, but Clayton pulled out his phone, scrolled through the numbers and made a call.
“Dr. Landry,” he said, then paused. “No, it’s not about Kirby. I need you to come out to the ranch, though. To examine someone.” He paused. “A pregnant woman in her second trimester.” Another pause, and he looked at her. “Are you having cramps or anything?”
“No,” Lenora quickly answered. She wanted to grab the phone and tell the doctor this wasn’t necessary.
But what if it was?
Lenora stepped back and tried not to think of the worst-case scenario, but she did anyway. She couldn’t lose this baby. And it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have a doctor check her out while she was making arrangements to leave and go someplace else.
“Dr. Landry’s on the way,” Clayton relayed to her as soon as he ended the call. “She’s not an obstetrician, but she does deliver some babies as part of her family practice.”
Before the last word had even left his mouth, Lenora heard the sound of a vehicle pulling to a stop in front of the ranch house. Normally, a sound that ordinary wouldn’t have shot renewed concern through her, but after the day Clayton and she had had, nothing felt normal and safe.
“You expecting anyone?” she asked.
“Maybe Ranger Griffin came back for round two.”
Clayton shoved back on his sunglasses and hurried to the door so he could look out the glass panel. He cursed.
Lenora hurried to his side, looked out at the visitor who’d just stepped from a black car, and she mumbled some profanity, too. This was not someone she wanted to see at the ranch. Not so soon after the latest attack.
James Britt, the head of the task force to which she’d once been assigned. Her