Read Online Secret Baby Santos by Bárbara McCauley - Free Book Online

time Nick looked at her with those dark eyes, every time he smiled, that vise tightened another notch.
    That’s why she didn’t want quiet, why she didn’t want to think. With the quiet came the image of him touching her in his office, his fingers on her chin, the gentle caress of his thumb on her lips. Lips that still tingled. Lips that ached to be kissed.
    How could she resist him? And even worse, did she truly want to?
    She stared at the tin of cookies as if it were filled with snakes. A note. That’s it. She’d write a note and just leave it by the front door. He’d find them in the morning.
    Satisfied with that solution, she pulled into the parking lot of his shop and turned off the engine. His truck was in the back corner, but that didn’t mean he was there. He rode his motorcycle most of the time. Either way, she’d sneak in and out and never be seen. She quickly scribbled a note on a scrap of paper from her purse and stepped out of the car.
    The night was warm, and a breeze carried the scent of coyote mint from a nearby field. A crescent moon shone brightly overhead, and the sky was clear, sparkling with thousands of stars.
    As much as she enjoyed living in New York, with all its energy and vibrancy, the sky seemed higher here, the trees taller and the stars brighter. There was so much she missed about small-town life. The sense of community, the slower pace. The only horn she’d ever heard honk since she’d come back to Wolf River was
Ethel Myers’s attempt to shoo a loose cow out of the middle of the highway.
    Several times she’d thought about moving back. She could do free-lance work, or even take a job with a local newspaper. Her work had felt stale to her lately, and the constant chaos in her busy office ground on her nerves like knuckles on a cheese grater. She’d needed this leave of absence, not just for her parents’ sake, but for her own. The deadlines had been getting to her lately. The faster she worked, the more assignments they gave her, with tighter deadlines. And even more than all that, she missed her parents, wanted her son to see his grandma and grandpa all the time, instead of phone calls and letters.
    But coming back had only been a dream, a fantasy. She could never come back now. Not with Nick here.
    The front door to his shop was open a few inches, the lights were on inside. A song blared from a radio, about Hollywood Hills and Hollywood nights and Nick’s deep voice sang along. She smiled at his enthusiasm for the song, and in spite of herself couldn’t resist peeking her head inside.
    He stood over a workbench, a screwdriver in one hand and a carburetor in the other. At least, she thought it was a carburetor. Because she was single, she’d had to learn a little about cars and mechanical things, but she still couldn’t say what the difference was between an axle and a piston.
    She allowed herself a moment to watch him, to let her gaze linger on the dark waves of thick hair, the stretch of black T-shirt over wide, strong shoulders, the hug of faded denim over a fine rear end and Texaslong legs.
    Her pulse ricocheted, her breath quickened. Just
looking at him aroused her, made her want things she knew she could never have.
    She started to set the cookies down inside the door when he turned sharply. The irritation in his frown slowly turned to a smile.
    Darn, darn, dam.
    She couldn’t very well just run off now, not without looking completely ridiculous. And she’d certainly done that often enough when it came to Nick.
    Be calm, Margaret , she repeated over and over.
    He set the screwdriver down and reached for a rag, wiped his hands with it. “Well, well, Maggie Smith. What brings you to the wolfs den?”
    She prayed he wouldn’t notice her knees were shaking as she walked across the shop. “My mother thought you might like some cookies.”
    He kept his eyes on her when she handed him the tin.