Archer's Angels Page 5

  His eyes wide, he met her gaze.

  “Oh, you poor thing,” he said. “If you want me to kill the jerk, I swear I’ll bring an army of Jeffersons down on his head. He’ll wish he’d never done you this way.”

  “Archer,” she began uncomfortably. “I’m all right.”

  “You’re not all right,” he said. “If you were, you wouldn’t be unmarried, pregnant and living in a salon.”

  She swallowed. “I wasn’t seduced and then left, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  He looked at her doubtfully. “Clover, listen. You’re a nice girl. Very trusting. But that’s just what a man can be capable of. Making a woman love him and then leaving her.”

  She blinked. “It was the other way around. Not that you love me, but…”

  He looked at her funny for a moment, as if someone had told a bad joke he didn’t get. A muscle near his eye twitched. Slowly, his hand unsteady, he reached to pull her glasses from her face. He pulled her ponytail down, his fingers trembling.

  She sensed him pulling away from her.

  “Oh my God,” he murmured. “Oh, no.”

  Clove’s heart sank.

  “This can’t be,” Archer said. “You can’t be her. You can’t be pregnant.” To say that he was horrified would be putting it mildly. She could see in his face that he still didn’t want to be a father. He was not in love with her. In fact, he hadn’t known she was who she was. “Tell me I’m dreaming,” he said. “A big, huge, ugly nightmare.”

  She blinked at his harshness.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I mean, we went looking for you that night at Two-Bits. Well, Bandera was trolling for the bar-stool babe, and he took off with three stylists he met dancing that night. I was hanging around waiting for you to show up, thinking you needed a guardian eye. But you were the bar-stool babe.” He frowned. “I really thought you might need my protection.”

  “I was fine.”

  “That’s what you said that night when I asked you about birth control.” Archer told himself his heart wasn’t going to bust a valve; taking a deep breath, he made himself calm down. “You said you were fine.”

  She sank into a chair. “I was fine.”

  “Not if you’re pregnant!” he yelled. “Clover, that is not the definition of fine!”

  They stared at each other.

  Archer couldn’t believe his bad luck. One more Jefferson to add to the mix of booties and diapers at the ranch. Mason was going to explode. Hell, he was going to explode.

  “I suppose you want me to marry you. That’s what you’re hanging around Lonely Hearts Station for.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I’m hanging around because I didn’t expect to get pregnant this fast, and my plane ticket isn’t for another two weeks.”

  His eyes went wide. “This fast? You didn’t expect it this fast?”

  “Yes. I have a four-month visa from Australia.”

  “Australia?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “TexasArcher, I’m Clove Penmire. AussieClove, from Down Under.”

  “AussieClove,” he repeated stupidly. “No wonder you haven’t been answering my e-mails. You’ve been here.”

  “Yes.”

  “You came here to meet me.”

  She nodded.

  He thought hard, realizing by her tame responses that he was digging to the bottom of a very deep well. “You came here to get pregnant by me.”

  “I hoped so.”

  “You came here to marry an American.”

  “No. That was never my intention.”

  “So you just wanted a baby?”

  “Yes.” She looked away for a moment, then met his gaze defiantly. “Only The Plan went a bit awry.”

  “I’ll say,” he said bitterly.

  “I’m having three.”

  The world seemed to drop away from his feet. He stared at her, his gaze narrowed. “What?”

  She never flinched. “I’m having three babies.”

  Archer’s ears rang, his stomach pitched, his eyes burned. Anger made his body tighten, his guts a pinched cord of disbelief. “Congratulations,” he finally said, stalking from the room.

  He stood in the hall, gasping for breath, waiting for the stars of fury to leave his vision. AussieClove the stuntwoman had come here to get pregnant by him. The babe at Marvella’s and plain ol’ Clover were the same person. Whoa. She’d laid a trap and he’d fallen into it like a dope. Amazing what makeup and some curls and high heels could do to turn a man’s brain to mush!

  This made no sense, though. After their night together, she’d made no effort to contact him, not even under the AussieClove e-mail address—and he would never have put two and two together—so was she done with him? It sure appeared that way. He reached for the one thing he could fight about, even if it wasn’t likely.

  He stalked back into the room. “This is about money.”

  She glared at him. “Could you step one foot closer, please, so I can slap you? I really don’t want to chase you to do it, because you’re not worth it.”

  “I’m not worth it? Who is the brain behind the lying, cheating plan, Clover? Clove?”

  “Do you want these cookies or not? I’m going to put them away.” She picked up the tray of assorted cookies, tightened the plastic, and put them next to the coffeepot for visitors to find. “I’ve been baking all day, and now I’m going to bed.”

  “You’re staying here?”

  “Yes, I am.” She moved past him, and Archer itched to grab her and make her stop bustling around as if his world hadn’t come to a bull-stomped halt. He followed her down the hall. “When did that change?”

  “When I found out I was pregnant. I moved over here. Because you had wanted me at Delilah’s in the first place.”

  She went up the stairs, and he followed her, carefully avoiding watching her fanny, though it was a herculean effort. “You got pregnant, and then you started taking my advice?”

  “Yes.”

  Nothing about this moment made any sense. “Maybe I should find a stud for Tonk. If all a woman needs to mind is to become preg—”

  She whirled on the stairs in front of him. “I didn’t take your advice so much as make a decision for the good of my children. Cool it with the cowboy macho, Archer.”

  “Now just a minute.” He followed her into her bedroom. “I am macho. I am somewhat chauvinistic, hardheaded and generally not a role model for young children. You knew all this. And still you came all the way to Texas to get pregnant by me.”

  She jerked a nightgown from a drawer. “Yes, I did.”

  “Aren’t there any real men in Australia?”

  “Plenty. But you were less complicated. Plus, you bragged all the time about your potency and it was just too tempting. Excuse me.”

  He sank into a chair as she went into the connecting bathroom and closed the door. “Triplets, damn it. Triplets!”

  “Okay, so you weren’t bragging,” she said through the bathroom door. “Give yourself a gold medal.” She came out of the bathroom in a white nightgown that went to her neck, touched her wrists with lace, and hovered at her ankles with more frothy lace. It billowed about her body, leaving everything to the imagination.

  “Jeez,” he said with some horror. “You’re either trying to be a frilly ghost or a gothic heroine. Where’s your candle and lantern?”

  “The nightgown’s practical, it’s expandable for three, and it’s modest enough for a home like this. So sorry it’s not your idea of sexy.”

  “I’ll say.” He gulped.

  She turned off the light. “Shut the door on your way out, please.”

  Man, she was a bossy one. She might not like being compared to Tonk, but his Appaloosa and his Australian had some mighty tight tempers on them. It made him want to jerk on the reins hard, but what he’d learned was that the more attitude a woman gave him, the softer his hands had to be.

  “Hey.” He reached over, switching the lamp back on. “Betty Crocker, you�
�re going to be a little late for your baking tomorrow. We’ve got to talk this out.”

  She sighed and shoved a pillow behind her back so that she was sitting up. “I think we should not talk ever again.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “That’s your problem.”

  “Maybe, but it would be best for the children if we talked.” The three children, he thought, his heart pounding with fear.

  A scratching in the hall made Clove jump from the bed in a billow of white and fling open the door. She scooped a cat from the floor, closed the door and got back into the white-sheeted bed. “The four children.”

  “Four?”

  She smiled. “Four children. This is my new baby, Tink.” The gray-and-white cat observed him from its secure place in Clove’s lap, its large, clear-water green eyes seeming to laugh at his plight. “I named her Tink after Tonk. Because she’s tricky like your Appaloosa. Plus, she has lots of spots, just like Tonk. Of course, she doesn’t have spotted nostrils like Tonk, but—”

  “Okay. Let’s stick with human babies conceived by me,” Archer said crossly. “Ones without bobbed tails.”

  “Oh,” Clove said, sympathizing with her cat. “It’s only half-bobbed. And she’s still beautiful, in my eyes.”

  Archer glared at the feline. “I do not like cats.”

  “What man does?” She smiled at him. “Well, some do. Very secure men do.”

  “Pregnant women aren’t supposed to have cats. They carry diseases,” he opined majestically.

  “And I can’t take you back to Australia with me,” she said to the purring cat. “But Delilah says she’ll give you a good home once I’m gone.”

  “Back up,” he said. “I think we overlooked something in the conversation. You’re not going back to Australia.”

  “Yes, I am,” Clove said. “I don’t like it here. The air is all wrong, for one thing. It doesn’t smell right. It sort of smells like an old train depot. And—”

  “Which it is. Clove,” he said, certain his brain was going to stroke out from his rising temper, “you are not taking my children to a continent affectionately called Down Under.”

  “You’re suggesting that I take them to a ranch affectionately called Malfunction Junction? That sounds like it would be good for the children.”

  She was making him crazy with her defiance. Strangely, he couldn’t stop thinking about the pleasure her body had made him feel, and all the sassing he was receiving was giving him a fair-size urge to one-up her with some silencing kisses.

  “Anyway, it’s not like you were completely innocent in this,” she told him. “You told me I’d bent your baby-making delivery system. Ruined the pipes for good. Put the factory out of commission. How was I supposed to know you were better?”

  He frowned at the memory of her kicking him. Funny how the sexual pleasure they’d shared had wiped out his memories of the first time she’d had him flat on his back, gasping for breath. “Hey!” He sat up suddenly. “You hurt me. You really hurt me!”

  She blinked. “It’s in the past, Archer. I really think that, since you got me pregnant with triplets, the factory was only on a fifteen-minute shutdown.”

  “But I may have overlooked a really bad sign. What if the Curse of the Broken Body Parts hit me?”

  “No, I hit you.” Clove shook her head. “I may have been cursing you, but you did scare me and—”

  “You don’t understand.” He scratched his head, shoving his hat back. “You really kicked me hard.”

  “Yes, and still you managed to send three healthy sperm to do their job.” She glared at him. “Don’t tell me you’re a hypochondriac. That would be so unappealing.”

  She didn’t understand. The Curse of the Broken Body Parts had hit all of his brothers—right before they got married. Everything was moving too fast. “I find it somewhat ironic and downright hilarious that you nearly kicked in the holy grail of your quest. You should be gentler around the goods, specifically if you’ve come twenty-four hours and bought an expensive plane ticket to enjoy them.” He sighed. “I suppose you’re going to want money eventually. Support payments.”

  “A hypochondriac and a chauvinist. And I crossed a big ocean to be with you.” Clove sniffed disdainfully.

  “You’re a sperm-stealer wearing a Thanksgiving-dinner tablecloth,” he said. “Looks like we’re going to be the proud parents of triplets. Please put the cat on the floor. It’s making me nervous.”

  She sighed. “Tink, off you go. Big strong cowboy is afraid of you.”

  “No, I just need someplace to lay my pounding head.” Kicking off his boots and tossing his hat into the chair, he got up into the bed next to Clove. “We need to sleep on this and see if we still like each other in the morning.”

  “We don’t like each other right now!”

  He flipped off the bedside lamp. “I know. We’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of us. Right now, I’ve got to get over the migraine you’ve given me.”

  “You cannot sleep in my bed.”

  “I sure as hell am not leaving you, Miss Defiance. As soon as I turn my back, you’d probably give me the slip. I am here to mess up your plan, Clove Penmire from Down Under. Consider us wearing golden handcuffs. Mmm,” he said thoughtfully, “that actually sounds fun. Consider us wearing golden balls and chains, which are connected forever at the ankle. Awkward,” he mused. “Make that one ball, two chains and three baby-size ankle weights.”

  “I get the picture,” Clove said, annoyed. “You’re not leaving.”

  “That’s right. You invited me into your life by being so devious. And believe me, I know just how to handle devious.”

  She sighed and inched her pillow down next to his. But he could feel her hanging on to the edge of the bed, in order to keep as much room as possible between them.

  “We’re going to have to get a bigger bed,” he said, “because I have a feeling you’re going to get as big as a house. That voluminous nightgown is only a precursor of more awkward things to come.”

  “Archer!”

  He closed his eyes. Black spots of tiredness danced behind his lids, reminding him of Tonk and the low-down, scurvy hoof she liked to throw every once in a while to keep him honest.

  He’d be watching out for Clove’s attempts to kick him when he wasn’t looking—because the first kick she’d thrown had been breathtaking.

  Chapter Six

  Clove awakened early the next morning, shifted Archer off her back where he’d settled comfortably and took his hand out from underneath her gown, where, to her dismay, it had come to rest quite proprietorially on her stomach.

  He slept like the dead, his face buried in her hair.

  Having never had a man in her bed before, this presented a dilemma. She liked having him sleep with her. Too much. He was loud and ornery and thought he knew everything, but when he wasn’t expounding opinions and his eyes were shut, he was quite pleasant. Warm. Strong. Sexy.

  How could she be strict of will when she really admired his possessiveness toward his children?

  She was just going to have to stick to the original plan, for Lucy’s sake. In fact, she needed to call Lucy—right now. It was just about the right time in Australia to drop a major bombshell.

  She left the sleeping cowboy, closing the door softly. Tink slept in Archer’s upturned hat where he’d tossed it in the chair; the feline was curled up just as contentedly as Archer in Clove’s bed.

  Someone’s fur was going to fly when Archer awakened to find his hat taken over—Clove didn’t want to be around when he discovered Tink’s newfound bed. Quietly moving down the hall, Clove went downstairs into the kitchen. Luckily there was no one there yet, as only Clove rose this early to begin baking.

  She picked up the kitchen phone, placed the call, and the next sound she heard was Lucy’s voice accepting the charges.

  “Clove!” Lucy exclaimed. “I thought we’d hear from you sooner!”

  “I’m sorry,” Clove said. “I miss you. So much!�
��

  “We miss you! How is your trip?”

  “I’m enjoying it. Ready to come home, though. How are you?”

  “Good, darling. Good.”

  “And Robert?”

  There was silence for a moment. Then Lucy said, “Good as well. Everything is just fine.”

  Clove closed her eyes, hearing what Lucy didn’t want her to know. “And the farm?”

  “Well, the horses are good—miss you, of course—but we’re still looking for the right situation to fix all.”

  Clove nodded. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I have a bit of news, actually.”

  “Do tell! I hope it’s wonderful.”

  “It is. I’m pregnant.”

  “Pregnant!” Lucy gasped. “Clove! No wonder you haven’t called. You met a man!”

  “Well, he isn’t the reason I haven’t called. I should have called sooner, but—”

  “But you’ve been having too much fun. I’m so happy for you.”

  “Well, truthfully, this isn’t about fun. I’m not in love or anything.” Strong like, maybe. Overwhelming attraction, admittedly. But love? Neither she nor Archer would claim that. “Neither one of us are in love.”

  “I guess your…the father knows?”

  “Yes.” Clove closed her eyes.

  “And what does he say?”

  He says a lot, Clove thought. He says too much. “He’s still a bit shocked. I’m having triplets.”

  “Triplets!” Lucy gasped again, then started laughing with excitement. “Triplets! Please come home at once so I can shower you with love and affection and presents. I’ll be an aunt!”

  “Maybe more a mother,” Clove said.

  “Mother?” Lucy stopped laughing. “Mother?”

  “I could use the help,” Clove said. “It would be really hard for me to do stunt work and take care of three babies.”

  “You should stay home and take care of them,” Lucy said.

  “And pay bills with what?” Clove asked.

  “Of course, we would help you—” Lucy began.

  “Lucy, I do not want to be supported by my older sister. I don’t want to be supported by anyone. And just think how much you’d enjoy having three little ones in the house.”