Читать книгу Runaway Lone Star Bride - Cathy Gillen Thacker - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Two years later...

“The prodigal son of Sanders Mountain is coming home. Today?” Callie Grimes asked.

Maggie settled into her desk chair at the Double Knot ranch house and pressed the phone to her ear. She and her twin sister might live two hundred miles apart, but they were still as close as ever. Whether she needed a sympathetic ear or someone to roll ideas off of, Callie was who she called. And when the widowed Callie needed a shoulder to lean on, Maggie was there for her, too. “That’s what the message on the office voice mail said.”

Just to be sure, she’d played it back several times, listening to the deep, husky timbre of Hart Sanders’s voice while tremors of awareness went up and down her spine.

Deliberately, Maggie pushed away the memory of the last time she and Hart had seen each other. Although that momentous encounter would forever be emblazoned in her mind, she was no longer just considered a runaway bride around here. In fact, she was a valued employee-slash-Jill-of-all-trades who had also managed to work off her portion of the botched wedding. It had been important to her that her parents not be left saddled with that. Almost as important as finding a place where she could heal, away from the inquiring eyes and minds of her family. And the fact that she had helped out Fiona and Frank Sanders, in turn, after Hart had departed for a job in Los Angeles, was of comfort to her, too.

Clueless to Maggie’s musing, Callie continued her inquisition. “And you’re there alone?”

“Temporarily.” She bit her lip. “I mean, I have prospective clients coming in later.” But not until after Hart had indicated he would be arriving.

Callie’s momentary silence indicated she was not fooled. “You’re not going to bare your soul to him again...are you?” her sister persisted above the happy babbling of her one-year-old son, Brian.

Maggie barely stifled a groan. “Callie!”

“The last time you were alone with Hart Sanders was on your wedding day. And you poured your heart out to him then.”

Don’t remind me. I can’t stop thinking about that day as it is. How kind he was. How sexy, how male. How personable, despite all the drama...

Never had she felt such pure animal attraction to another human being.

“I told you that was a mistake.” Maggie pressed a palm to her flushed skin. “I was overwrought.”

Callie laughed. “Don’t you mean turned-on?”

Maggie drew a deep breath. Leave it to her twin to intuit her deepest, darkest fantasies. She massaged the tension from her temples. “I am not having this conversation with you.”

“Mmm-hmm. Methinks my sister doth protest too much.”

“Oh, please,” Maggie huffed. “Stop conjuring up romance for me and go back to your adorable baby boy—”

Maggie heard the back door to the office complex open and shut. She covered the mouthpiece with her hand and spoke quietly into the phone. “And here he is.”

“You call me later! I want a full report!”

Her pulse racing, Maggie quickly put the phone down. She sat forward in her chair and went back to tackling yet another prenuptial task for a client. And not a second too soon, either, as firm male footsteps and the sound of something being rolled—maybe a cart?— followed. Seconds later, a familiar face appeared in the portal.

Maggie blinked at the sight of the ruggedly handsome ex-soldier. Although she and Hart had talked—or was it flirted?—from time to time on the phone when he “accidentally” called her extension, she’d never imagined what it might be like for them to actually come face-to-face again.

“Hey.” Ignoring the jolt of excitement coursing through her, Maggie rushed to fill the awkward silence. “What are you doing here?” she asked cheerfully.

Message or not, it wasn’t like Hart to just drop in. Particularly since he and his parents had barely been on speaking terms the last couple of years.

In fact, things had been so tense between Hart and his folks since he had taken a job in Los Angeles that the two times Hart had returned to the ranch, Maggie’d taken advantage of the prior notice and arranged to visit her own family until Hart was gone.

No such luck now, though, Maggie thought, still feeling a little embarrassed to square off with the man who had chased her down on what admittedly had been the worst day of her life. Not that Hart seemed to be thinking about that, Maggie noted cautiously. Or anything else remotely connected to her, thank heaven.

Apparently oblivious to the conflicted feelings welling up within her, Hart faced her across the cluttered surface of her desk. Clad in an expensive olive green button-up, nice-fitting khaki pants and boots, he looked handsome and sexy. His sandy brown hair was still cut short enough to require little in the way of maintenance, although it was more stylish now. The taut, masculine angles of his face had been left unshaven. He also appeared unusually contained and exceptionally tired around the eyes, like he’d been travelling for what seemed forever to get there. Which, given the fact he accompanied his famous boss, Hollywood movie actress Monica Day, wherever her work took her, could certainly be the case.

“I came to see my folks,” he said. Every taut inch of his tall, imposing frame was poised and ready in a way she’d never seen before. “Are they around?”

Maggie studied the sticky-sweet smear of what looked like apple juice on the shoulder of his expensive shirt, and lower still, what looked like ground-in-cracker debris. Maybe it had been a long flight. Maybe he’d sat next to...well, what did it matter.

Aware he was still in need of an answer, she said, “Ah—actually, no. Your mom and dad are on a cruise to New Zealand and Australia.”

Briefly, Hart appeared stunned. “When will they be back?”

Maggie shifted her gaze upward, over the strong suntanned neck, to his intense sable brown eyes. He had the same devastating impact on her that he’d had the first time they’d met. “Ten days.”

His brow furrowed in a way that said he was anything but pleased about that.

Maggie fought back her attraction and pushed on, “I gather you’ve got some time off, too?”

“A little over two weeks, yeah.” He shrugged his broad shoulders restively. “I had something important—” He sighed. “I wanted to surprise them.”

Maggie leaned back in her chair. “Well, you did that, all right.”

He shoved a palm through his hair, looked around at the empty suite of rooms where The Wedding Train business was conducted. “I just assumed it being the height of the season, they’d be here.”

Normally, they would have been, Maggie knew. Unfortunately, bookings were down almost twenty-five percent in the past two years. Sadly, for a lot of reasons, it wasn’t looking to get any better. Not that she planned to get into any of that with Hart, who made it a habit to stay as far away from the family business as possible. She watched him tilt his head, as if listening in the direction of the hallway beyond. For the first time she wondered if it was possible he wasn’t alone. Could he have brought a woman home to meet his folks? Was that part of the surprise? And if so, why did she suddenly have a pit in the bottom of her stomach?

“When is the next event?” Hart asked softly.

A brief rustling sound echoed in the silence of the hall.

Maggie watched as Hart tensed even more and doubled back, toward the door. Brawny arms still folded in front of him, he stuck his head around the opening and peered out.

“At the end of next week,” she said.

She watched him frown, tense all the more, while still lingering there in the doorway looking at whatever was out there before finally turning back to her.

Drawing a deep, stabilizing breath, Maggie gestured at the stack of ivory placards and calligraphy pens on her desk. “I’m prepping for the next wedding now.”

He nodded. His expression indicated he wasn’t really interested in the details, but still he asked, “What about the rest of the staff? Where are they?”

Another thorny question. There had previously been four full-time time employees in addition to herself and his parents, as well as a number of part-timers. “They still show up for events, but right now they are working other jobs,” Maggie said.

“But you’re here.”

As the lone person on staff who had so little personal life she could afford to be constantly on call, Maggie confirmed lightly, “Twenty-four, seven.”

This caught his attention “You’re kidding, right? You’re not really still living here on the ranch?”

Aware her accepting one of the guest suites at the sprawling ranch house had initially been only a temporary measure, Maggie said stiffly, “Hate to break it to you, but yeah, I am.”

He looked her over critically, head to toe. “You do realize you can’t hide out here forever. Sooner or later you’re going to have to face the fallout of your ‘big mistake’ and rejoin the world.”

Leave it to Hart to be hopelessly blunt. “Thank you, Dr. Ruth,” Maggie bit out sarcastically.

Mischief sparkled in his dark brown eyes. “Funny, I would have thought you would’ve referenced Dr. Phil. But Dr. Ruth works.” He squinted. “You know you’re blushing.”

Probably because I just referenced a renowned sex therapist instead of a relationship expert. Maggie winced. “You have that effect on me.”

He gave her another long, steady look. “Get you all hot and bothered?”

Ignoring the tautening of her nipples, she allowed sweetly, “Hot under the collar, maybe.”

He chuckled, his eyes holding hers for a disreputably long moment. “I’m all for that, too.”

Maggie held her breath to avoid releasing a wistful sigh. Reaction shimmered through her, along with a deep-seated need that had gone too many years without sating. The merriment in his eyes faded, replaced by something stronger, hotter, more provoking still.

Then, without warning, there was another faint noise in the hall.

Hart appeared to tense, and glanced in that direction again.

Hopelessly curious, Maggie rose and moved around the desk. If Hart Sanders did have a ladylove out there, and he’d been in here flirting with her, she really would kick him in the shin.

“What about you?” she asked casually, edging closer to the door. “Doesn’t Monica Day have her new movie debuting all over Europe soon? Won’t you be going with her to handle security?”

Hart shifted, his warrior frame deliberately blocking her exit to the hall. “Which is something else I need to talk to my parents about,” he drawled.

Then there were two things that had brought him back to Texas—giving Maggie more food for thought. Although why any of this should matter to her, she didn’t know. They might have shared a special connection the day she decided not to marry Gus, but in reality, they barely knew each other.

“What’s the first item on your agenda?” she asked, as the faint rustling noises in the hallway steadily increased.

“This,” Hart said shortly.

He walked out of the office, just as a long, loud, enraged wail broke the office silence. He returned with an adorable baby boy cradled in his arms.

* * *

MAGGIE COULD NOT stop staring. For one thing, the little fella, who looked to be approximately eighteen months old, appeared to have been crying for a good long time before drifting off to sleep. His forehead bore a crease on one side, where he had pressed against something. His big blue eyes were swollen and puffy, his cherubic little face an indignant red and streaked with a mixture of the same crumbly matter Hart had stuck to his shirt. The tyke’s sandy brown curls were sticky and tangled, matted with what appeared to be a combination of spit-up, crushed crackers and apple juice. All in all, Maggie couldn’t help but note, the baby boy in Hart’s arms was having a terrible day. Evidenced by the way he continued to sob, as if his little heart were breaking.

Instinctively, Maggie drew nearer. She knew it was none of her business, and certainly not her responsibility, but she could not bear to see a little one in such distress. “Who is this?” she cooed, gently touching the back of the child’s head.

“My son. Henry,” Hart had to shout to be heard above the loud wailing.

Hart had a baby? Maggie thought in shock, resisting the strong maternal urge to take the tyke in her arms and soothe all his unhappiness away. Since when? “He apparently hates traveling,” Hart continued, shifting the inconsolable little boy carefully in his arms. With his free hand, he dragged a stroller and diaper bag from the hallway. “And it feels like he’s got a really soggy diaper.”

No kidding, Maggie thought, looking at the dampness dripping out of the little boy’s summer overalls onto Hart’s shirt.

Deciding the time for politeness had passed, she said officiously, “Well, let’s see what we can do about that.” Maggie grabbed the diaper bag from the handle of the stroller and carried it over to a small sofa in the corner of her office. Then she plucked a rolled plastic mat from the bottom of the bag and laid it across the upholstery. After adding a few other essentials, she gestured for Hart to put his son down.

Henry, who had been struggling incessantly in his daddy’s arms, went willingly onto the temporary changing area.

Maggie stepped back to let Hart do the honors.

A mistake.

Henry used the time to flip over onto his stomach and crawl swiftly to the other side of the sofa.

Worried he was going to fall off the edge and tumble onto the hardwood floor, Maggie dove after him. She caught Henry just as he neared the slipping point, and with her hands tucked gently but firmly about his midriff, she brought him up into her arms.

The baby stopped crying long enough to stare at her warily, as if thinking: Friend or Foe?

Maggie wrinkled her nose and said softly, “Hey there, Henry, I’m Maggie.”

Henry shoved the thumb on his left hand into his mouth. He sucked it noisily. Still cradling him tenderly in her arms, she sat down on the sofa. “How about you and I get that soggy, wet diaper off, and maybe some clean clothes on, too,” Maggie proposed softly. “So you’ll be all comfy again.” Gently, she placed Henry down onto the padded vinyl diaper-changing pad.

Ignoring the man to her left, who had backed up to give her room to work, Maggie kept her eyes on the baby. She could feel the intensity of Hart’s attention, though, hot as a firecracker on the Fourth of July.... “What do you say, Henry?” Maggie let go of the tyke with one hand long enough to reach for the snaps on the legs of his overalls designed to make diaper changing easier.

She was not going to allow herself to fall in love with this cute little whippersnapper, the way she did every baby that came her way. And she was certainly not going to fall for his equally good-looking daddy. It didn’t matter how many times she’d thought of the rugged ex-soldier-turned-personal-security-expert since they last met.

“Are you up for it, little guy?”

Henry removed the thumb from his mouth, decision made. “No!” he said loudly and distinctly. He flipped onto his tummy again.

Maggie gently brought Henry back around. “Sure about that?” she teased, already working off her wristwatch with her free hand. She dangled it in front of him and continued in a cheery singsong voice. “I’ve got something for you.”

Unable to resist the temptation of sparkling silver and gold, Henry reached for the accordion-style band. Maggie let him have it, and only when he was holding the wristwatch with both hands, avidly examining the face of it closely, did she quickly undo the snaps and ease the diaper off.

A short minute and a half later, Henry was good to go.

The boy was a little antsy, probably from being cooped up for too long. Maggie set him down on the floor and guided him to the open toy and play area adjacent to her office. He toddled happily into the carpeted area with the miniature chairs and table, obviously grateful for the chance to explore.

Satisfied the child would be fine for the moment, Maggie turned back to his daddy. And that was when she saw what Hart had been up to, too. She stared at broad shoulders and a very fine chest. Equally nice abs. And an arrow of dusky brown-gold hair sliding down into the waistband of his pants. She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped from her lips. “You took off your shirt!”

He shrugged. “It was soaking wet and smelled like pee. What would you have me do?”

Maggie gulped, as her nipples tautened once again. Lower still, there was an even more treacherous reaction. “Put on another?”

He met her chastising glance with a boyish, devil-may-care smile. “I would if I had one handy, but I don’t.” He peered at her closely. Moved nearer, too. “Why?” His seductive grin broadened. “Does the sight of my bare chest bother you?”

Maggie threw up her hands in aggravation. “Would the sight of my bare chest bother you?” she shot right back.

“Actually, now that you mention it...” He tilted his handsome head to one side, considered her a long, sensual moment. “I might enjoy the view.

Maggie was sure he would. “Well! This is hardly the time or place for this,” she fumed. “Especially when you have a baby to take care of.”

At the mention of Henry, Hart sobered. “You’re right. This should come later.”

And that was when the outer door opened, and Maggie’s next appointment of the day walked in.

For a moment, the affianced couple just stared, as if wondering what in the world they’d interrupted.

Then Hart flashed a sexy grin, and quickly discarded the soiled diaper. “My son had a little accident that somehow ended up on me, and Maggie was kind enough to help us out.” Hart rolled the damp clothing up into a ball, tucked it under one arm, walked over to the play area and reached for Henry. “And now that she has,” he said, “we’ll get out of your way. And let the three of you get down to business.”

* * *

LYNETTE JAWORSKI AND Ben Bauer were in their early twenties and, from the looks of it, head over heels in love with each other in a way that Maggie had never been.

Pushing aside her pang of envy, she offered them a seat, then said graciously, “I understand you’re getting married next April and are considering the Double Knot as a venue.”

Lynette took Ben’s hand. “Actually, we’re only here because my parents insisted we see it.”

Outside, Henry began to wail. Maggie struggled to keep her mind on business.

Ben continued, “We don’t want what happened to that one couple to happen to us.”

There was no need to ask what Ben and Lynette were talking about; Maggie knew all too well.

Without warning, Hart walked back in, clean casual shirt on, a tearful Henry in his arms. The boy’s lower lip quavered. He took one look at Maggie and held out his arms for her to come and get him.

Aware the choice was a full-blown toddler eruption or an interruption during the meeting, Maggie stood and walked over to Hart. The little boy vaulted into her arms, promptly stuck his thumb in his mouth and rested his head on her shoulder.

“Sorry about the interruption,” Hart said, clearly not sorry at all, if it meant his little boy would get the maternal comfort he needed. “But Henry wanted Maggie.”

“No problem.” Lynette waved off the intrusion. “All little boys want their mommies.”

Except I’m not his mommy, Maggie thought. And I’m not going to be his nanny, either. But not wanting to get into that, during what was turning out to be a not-so-easy sales pitch, she prompted instead, “So, you were saying...?”

“After reading everything in the reviews online, there’s no way we would feel comfortable holding our wedding here, even if the Double Knot is where Lynette’s parents were married,” Ben said flatly. “So,” they rose and headed hand-in-hand for the door, eager to be on their way, “thanks for meeting with us, Ms. McCabe, but no thanks.”

They walked swiftly out the door. Seconds later, the exterior door banged shut.

Hart turned to Maggie, perplexed. “What was that about?”

“The malfunction of the steam engine, a year and a half ago. The train broke down as it was headed up the mountain. We had to transport the wedding party up to Nature’s Cathedral by bus. The wedding ceremony itself went without a hitch, but the train still wasn’t fixed, so everyone had to get back on the buses and drive down the old logging trails to the reception. Naturally, we apologized profusely for the inconvenience and the couple was given a hefty discount in compensation, but a number of the members of the wedding party were terribly upset, and they posted bad reviews about the Double Knot and The Wedding Train all over the place.”

Hart slipped into business mode. “What’s been the impact on the bottom line?”

“Not good.” Contentment flowing through her as Henry snuggled even closer against her, Maggie explained the subsequent lag in business.

“Can’t anything be done to counter the negative reviews?”

Maggie decided not to sugarcoat the situation. “If your parents would agree to a social media presence, then, yes.”

“You’ve tried to persuade them?” Hart guessed.

“A few times,” Maggie admitted. “Callie is an expert in the field and could probably help us, but your parents don’t want any part of it.”

Hart shook his head in wordless disapproval. “Tell me about it! Since they aren’t keeping up with the times, I tried to get them to sell the business and retire. But they refused. They wanted me to come in and take it over. They still do.”

“But you’re not interested,” Maggie allowed, trying without success to figure out why the notion that Hart did not want to return to his home state of Texas was so upsetting to her. Given the sparks they drew off each other, she ought to want him as far away as possible.

“I’m grateful for the upbringing I had here and the people skills I learned from working in such a chaotic business, but it’s not for me.”

Honestly, Maggie couldn’t see Hart managing the wedding business, either. A larger than life, big-picture guy like him would go crazy with the aesthetics and the minutiae. Sometimes, she felt like she might, too. “I understand. But that aside...” Aware she was loving holding the toddler a little too much, she handed Henry back to his dad. “You really can’t barge in when I’m in the middle of a meeting.”

Hart was instantly contrite. “I know—I’m sorry. I forgot to take the diaper bag with me and Henry’s toys were in there. And once Henry heard your voice...”

Maggie took a seat behind her desk and retorted, “You couldn’t have entertained him any other way?”

Smiling casually, Hart gave her a leisurely once-over. “Magnolia McCabe...are you accusing me of just wanting to commandeer your attention and spend time with you?”

Maggie flushed at his low, flirtatious tone.

With his smile widening and his son cradled tenderly against his chest, he inched closer. Maggie rocked back in her chair and tried to tamp down the immediate spark of excitement she felt. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to rise and join them both.

“Because it’s really not true,” Hart quipped. He sat on the edge of her desk, facing her. “It’s Henry here, who is completely and utterly crushing on you.” He indicated the winsome toddler. “Henry, whose heart you seemed to have captured.”

It was easy to see the staggering resemblance between Hart and his son. Both were incredibly handsome and engaging, in their own way. Maggie felt something catch in her heart. She knew her need for connection went soul-deep. But this was not the time or place to indulge that desire. Not when the child was so vulnerable.

She swallowed around the telltale tightness of her throat. “I know Henry likes me. I like him, too. But you can’t keep treating me like his nanny.”