The Cowboy's Secret Family by Judy Duarte

Author:Judy Duarte
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-03-13T19:45:34+00:00

Chapter Eight

The second Miranda’s hand slipped behind Matt’s neck, her fingers lit his skin on fire. And when her lips met his, he was toast. His knees went weak, and his heart began to pump as if there were no tomorrow. And right now, there didn’t seem to be any yesterdays, either.

The kiss started soft and tentative, but within a beat, it damn near exploded with pent-up desire and pumped up a demanding erection.

Before he knew it, he’d morphed back into that same stupid kid who’d yet to be hurt, disappointed and abandoned. And that kid only knew one thing. He’d missed Miranda something fierce. And he’d missed this.

Her mouth opened, and his tongue slid inside, where it met hers in a heated rush, twisting, tasting. He remembered how good it had been between them, how good it still was.

It was also crazy. What in the hell was he thinking? Kissing Miranda had to be the dumbest thing he’d ever done. Yet, he couldn’t seem to help himself from pulling her close and holding her tight.

Her baby bump pressed into him, but even that didn’t slow him down. Nor did it matter, as the years rolled away, taking the pain and anger with them and leaving him with this one magical moment in time.

Only the screen door creaking open brought him back to his senses, and he would’ve jumped a foot—if he hadn’t had a bum knee—taking a startled Miranda with him.

“Whoopsy-daisy.” George cleared his throat and chuckled. “You missed a call, so I thought I’d bring your phone out to you. But I guess I should’ve let the damn thing ring.”

Matt didn’t have the foggiest clue what to say, let alone how to explain this. Not to his uncle, and certainly not to himself.

He took the phone from George and thanked him, his voice thick with guilt and embarrassment and who knew what else.

George was still chuckling to himself as he returned to the house, allowing the screen door to slam behind him.

Matt wished he could do the same thing—slip away, disappear, forget what had just happened under the amber glow of the porch light. But it wasn’t the light that had cast a spell on him tonight.

“I’m sorry,” he said. But hell, why should he be contrite when she’s the one who’d started it?

“Me, too.” Her words came out soft and tender. Maybe even fragile.

“I...uh...” He lifted his cell phone to show her a plausible excuse for taking off without addressing what they’d just done, which would only open up a slew of emotion and pain he’d rather not wade through. “I’ve got a call to return.”

“And I have a bedtime story to read.” She smiled, then headed indoors, leaving him in one hell of a quandary.

He remained outside for a while, holding his phone, bewildered and kicking himself until his erection subsided.

Finally, he glanced at the lighted screen and saw that his buddy, Clay Masters, had called. If Clay wasn’t married and the daddy to twins,

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