The Price by Cary West Page B

was intense. Most men would have been ready to roll over right after, but not Jack— never Jack . He liked to cocoon her in, wrapping his hard body around her and oozing his raw male scent all over her. Nothing Jack McBride did was in a small way; he worked hard, he played hard and he loved hard, and Kate loved that about him.
    Jack lifted his head and folded his arms around her hair. He stared at the line of freckles along her nose and the top of her cheeks, trailing them with his finger.
    “Do you love me, Jack?” she asked.
    “More than anything in the world,” he answered. “Do you love me?”
    “More than anything in the world,” she smiled.
    “Good. Let’s keep it that way, baby.” He nodded then rolled over, taking Kate with him.
    Jack lay on his back and rubbed her arm with light strokes. He closed his eyes, basking in the feel of her skin while his thoughts drifted back to the dream—the original dream that sparked it all, catapulting his need for wanting her, though if truth be told, it was the moment he first lay eyes on the pretty, blue-eyed blond at the Bucket of Blood Saloon that got his attention and he’d been lost ever since.
    He couldn’t get that ring on her finger fast enough, or walk her down the aisle in the Virginia City Church to say, I do, a month later. She looked beautiful that day, wearing a long, crème-colored gown and baby’s breath scattered in her hair. His heart almost stopped upon sight of her.
    He smiled inwardly with fond remembrance of both and pressed himself a little tighter around her so his hands could do more wandering. God, he loved touching her, every part of her. Her skin was soft and smooth like the petal of a rose; her hair always smelled so good like after a summer’s rain and her breasts were ripe and full, the perfect size to cup in his large, work-worn hands. Jack’s eyes darted open.
    “Kate, lay back,” he directed, pressing her back into the mattress.
    “Why? You ready for round two,” she almost purred.
    “No, I want to check your breast,” he stated, as his hand moved over her breast, like he was searching for something.
    “What are you doing?”
    “I felt a lump before,” he said, squeezing her ripe mound until he found what he was looking for. “There it is. Can you feel that?”
    He pressed against the tiny lump.
    “No,” said Kate, taking her hand and checking it herself. “That feels like it could be a clogged milk duct. The nurse practitioner said I should call if I think I might have an infection.”
    “Then call her,” said Jack in an authoritative tone. “The last thing we need is for you to have a full-blown infection so soon after giving birth.”
    “It doesn’t hurt, and I don’t think I have a fever,”
    Jack placed his hand on her forehead to make sure.
    “No fever, baby,” he breathed a sigh of relief. “But you should still call.”
    “I’ll call tomorrow and make an appointment,” said Kate. “There’s nothing they can do about it now since it’s Sunday, and I’m not about to waste the rest of the day sitting in some emergency room waiting to be seen.”
    “Fine, but tomorrow I am taking you to the doctor.” He pointed an overbearing finger at her.
    “Whatever you say, Jack.” Kate attempted to hide her grin and failed. His green eyes slanted on hers, and she knew damn well what that look meant. There was no point in arguing with Jack when his mind was made up. She was going and that was that.
    She’d almost forgotten, after an unusually quiet Sunday afternoon, spending time with her two favorite men and no Marnie St. Claire to spoil their lazy mood. But come Monday morning, Jack made the appointment, not taking no for an answer when the receptionist advised they were booked solid. It didn’t hurt that Jack had influence and the stubbornness of a mule.
    By late morning, Kate sat in the exam room with her husband by her side. It was rather embarrassing, Jack hovering over her, as the nurse practitioner