The Baby Race Read Online Free PDF Page A

used to
it."
    "She's housebroken and friendly. She doesn't
realize she's a pig. Most times she thinks she's a lapdog."
    What sort of damage had the pig done inside?
Race tried to remember how bad he'd left the house? Housekeeping
wasn't his strong suit. His work with the horses and his saddle
making business took up most of his time. What would Claire think?
And why should it matter?
    He glanced at Claire to judge her reaction to
Petula's appearance, but she was already out of the car greeting
the ecstatic pig.
    "You are a sweetheart, aren't you?" Petula
butted Claire's arm. "Sorry. I don't have any treats." She
scratched the pig's head and ears.
    Race swore he could almost hear the animal
purring in contentment. Who could blame her? The sight of Claire's
pale fingers stroking the pig's dark hide made him want to get down
on his knees, push Petula aside and claim his share of
attention.
    The sound of her singsong crooning to the pig
drew one of the farm cats from under the porch. He brushed against
Claire's side, demanding his due.
    "Well, aren't you a pretty kitty." She ran
her hand across the cat's sleek black and white coat. Petula
objected to Claire's switch in attention with a grunt. "You look
just like you're wearing a tux." She looked up at Race. "What's his
name?"
    "Tennessee."
    Her smile widened. "As in Tennessee
Tuxedo?"
    "Yes. Aren't you a little young to remember
that cartoon?"
    "Bobbie Sue's a cable TV addict." She
stood.
    In protest, Petula butted the back of
Claire's legs. She stumbled and tripped over Tennessee who was
intent on weaving between her legs. Off balance, Claire lurched
forward.
    To keep her from falling on her face, Race
closed his arms around her slim waist. Lips parted in a startled
gasp, her face lifted to his. From shoulder to knee her body
pressed against him. He could feel the rapid thud of her heart, the
moist touch of her breath on his face.
    Giving a satisfied snort, Petula waddled
off.
    As sweet and unexpected as the sun through
the clouds, desire blossomed between them. Race could see the
confusion in Claire's eyes.
    Should he kiss her? Would she let him? How
would this complicate their already complex arrangement? Then her
lids drifted shut and the questions faded from his mind. He wanted,
he needed to taste the lips she offered so innocently. His head
dipped toward hers.
    "Race?"
    The screen door banged. Cheeks flaming,
Claire jumped out of Race's arms. He stepped back, thankful for the
interruption. He had to remember to keep his distance from Claire.
This was a temporary relationship. One based on practical need, not
passion. He couldn't let hormones upset the balance and create a
whole new set of problems for both of them.
    Wiping her hands on a damp apron, Cindy Reed,
Race's stepmother, hurried across the porch toward them. "Welcome
back. How was Las Vegas? Your flight? I know you were in a hurry,
but I do wish you'd allowed your father and me to hold the wedding
at our home. Never mind." She waved her hand. "We've planned a
small reception for you this coming Saturday."
    Race cringed. Cindy's idea of small would
include the whole town. Though he and his father weren't close,
Race was fond of his stepmother. Slim and blonde, at forty she
didn't look much older than when he'd first met her fifteen years
ago. An angry teenager, he'd given her a tough time when she was
just a pregnant newlywed, but she'd never held his bad behavior
against him. In fact, she treated him with as much love as she did
her children. So as much as he disliked her interference, he didn't
have the heart to hurt her by saying no.
    Cindy hugged Race, then Claire. "Come on in.
I'm sure Claire would like to get settled. The girls," she referred
to her three daughters, "and I took the liberty of unpacking for
you. Bobbie Sue helped. I hope you don't mind?" She kept talking as
they followed her into the house.
    He hid his smile and whispered to Claire,
"Typical Cindy. Better to beg forgiveness than ask for