Читать книгу The Pregnant Ms. Potter - Millie Criswell - Страница 11

Leaning back against the goose-down pillows, Maddy shut the book she’d just finished reading and heaved a contented sigh. Pete’s mother had been fond of romance novels, and there was a wicker basket full of them next to the bed.

Maddy had never considered herself the romance novel type—she’d always been fond of mysteries and science fiction. But once she’d started reading she hadn’t been able to stop and had already devoured two books in less than three hours.

Too bad real life wasn’t as romantic as in the novels, she thought. In romance fiction the hero loved the heroine more than life itself and married her. Happily ever after was a fait accompli. He didn’t tell her to get lost and have an abortion. Of course, David Lassiter was not a hero in any way, shape or form.

Now Pete Taggart, rescuer of stranded women, was another story altogether.

Maddy smiled at the thought, feeling a wee bit guilty that Pete had spent most of the day down in the cold basement trying to fix the generator, while she had been upstairs lazing around reading books. Still, it had been heavenly to just sit back, relax and do nothing. She hadn’t done something so purposely selfish in years.

The fireplace flickered softly, and Maddy ran her hand over the lovely heirloom quilt covering the bed. It had been fashioned in various colors and patterns of fabric in the wedding ring design and was exquisite. The material looked very old, and she made a mental note to ask Pete where he’d gotten it.

Maybe she could have one made for her bedroom back in New York, though it would never look as nice as it did on the antique four-poster she’d been sleeping on. There was something to be said for antiques, like real wood instead of pressboard, and brass fixtures instead of brass-plated tin.

The room where she slept was quaint and cozy compared to her white-walled bedroom back home, which now seemed stark and sterile. White had appeared so cosmopolitan when she’d first purchased her comforter and pillows. She’d painted her walls and appliances white to match the apartment’s wall-to-wall carpeting. Now she wished she’d been a bit more imaginative. For a woman who made a living at being creative, her decorating skills sucked.

Gazing at the tiny yellow daffodils splayed across the walls, she smiled. You couldn’t help smiling in such a room. It spoke of sunshine and happiness. The bed had been painted buttercup-yellow, as well as the dresser and nightstand, which had been stenciled in an ivy motif. Even someone with as many problems as she had at the moment couldn’t help but be cheered.

“You did a good job, Mrs. Taggart,” she said, caressing the quilt, unsure if she was complimenting the rancher’s deceased wife or mother. “I’m not sure that praise extends to Pete—I haven’t made up my mind about him yet—but your taste in decorating is just wonderful.”

Suddenly the little milk-glass lamp on the bedside table flickered then lit, and Maddy’s eyes widened. At first she’d thought Mrs. Taggart might be trying to reach her from the great beyond, but then realized that the clever rancher had finally fixed the generator. They had electricity!

Laughing excitedly, she hurried downstairs.

“You did it!” she said to Pete when she entered the kitchen a few moments later. He was leaning against the counter, holding a cup of coffee and looking inordinately pleased with himself. And sexy as all get-out! She stopped short of throwing herself into his arms.

He caught her huge smile and nodded. “Yep. The generator’s going on a wing and a prayer, but it’s going. Let’s not breathe too deeply or we might jinx it.”

“Oh, I can’t believe it. I can finally style my hair, bake Christmas cookies—you do like cookies, don’t you?”

“I—” A funny look crossed his face. Pete hadn’t celebrated the holidays since Bethany’s death. There didn’t seem much point in giving thanks, in praising God for all he had done. God might work in mysterious ways, but Pete hadn’t been able to figure out his plan in taking his wife and unborn child away from him.

He’d been disappointed, angry at God’s handiwork. But now reflecting back on that anger, Pete realized it hadn’t gotten him anywhere. It hadn’t brought Bethany or the baby back. It had only served to make him miserable, lonely and embittered.

Maybe it was time to rethink things, like his brother John had urged him to do. “You’re wallowing, big brother. And miserable to be around. Get on with your life or shoot yourself in the head. I’m sick and tired of watching you go on like this.” John had never been one to mince words.

Christmas was only two weeks away. Pete knew his family, especially John, would like it if he reentered the world of the living and made an effort to attend Mark’s annual Christmas party at the inn, which would be held next week.

There was a glow in Maddy’s cheeks, a sparkle in her eyes, that softened Pete’s heart. The woman had a lot on her plate at the moment. It wouldn’t hurt to be nice, make her happy, he thought. She’d be gone soon enough, and then he’d be alone again. The idea of her leaving didn’t sit very well. He’d been alone too long, and he liked having her around.

“How do you feel about Christmas trees?” he asked before he could change his mind.

“Christmas trees?” Her eyes widened at the strange question. “Why, I love them. They smell so wonderful. Of course, I haven’t had a real one in years. Last year I didn’t even put one up, I was so busy working on a huge ad campaign.” It suddenly occurred to Maddy that she hadn’t really enjoyed Christmas in years, not since joining the prestigious advertising firm. To David Lassiter, Frank Owens and Larry Cumberland, Christmas was just another day to earn money. Sadly, she had fallen into that same trap.

“We always had a live tree when I was growing up,” she added, the memory making her smile. “My mom used to make tons of popcorn and Mary Beth and I would decorate the branches with popcorn and cranberry garlands. Why do you ask?”

He shrugged, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Just thought it would give us something to do tomorrow, if I was to hitch the horse to the sleigh—”

“Sleigh! You have a sleigh?” She squealed with delight, making him laugh aloud.

“Yep. It’s very old and probably wouldn’t make it all the way to town, but I figure if we don’t go too far, we can take it and see about cutting down a tree.

“I—I haven’t put one up in years myself, but since this year’s kinda special…” He felt almost light-hearted at the idea, which was very odd in itself.

Special because of her? Maddy wanted to ask, unable to keep her pulse from skittering, though she knew she was being foolish. But right now, at this very moment, she just didn’t care. “I’ll make sandwiches and we can have a picnic of sorts.”

He arched a disbelieving brow. “In the snow?”

“You’re an Eagle Scout, remember? We’ll improvise.”

AS IF THE HEAVENS approved of their plan, the snow had finally stopped falling; the sun was making a valiant effort to peek through the cloud cover. Everywhere Maddy looked she saw white. From the thick frosting on the trees, to the marshmallow-covered landscape, to the frigid breath escaping her mouth.

“It’s beautiful here. I can see why you wanted to keep the ranch when no one else did.”

Pete turned to gaze at her, surprised by her remark. “I didn’t think you liked country living.” He clucked a few times and hitched the reins, urging the horse through the thick accumulation. The old sleigh’s rudders glided along, slicing through the snow like a hot knife through butter.

“I don’t, but I like the country. Besides, this is different country from where I grew up. We didn’t have all these pretty trees and mountains. Iowa’s pretty flat.” Her mother used to say that if you stood at one end of the state you could see clear over to the other side.

Maddy started humming Jingle Bells. It seemed appropriate, considering this was her very first time to go “dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleigh.” Her enthusiasm was catching and Pete soon found himself humming the same tune, then singing out loud in a deep baritone voice. They were laughing like giddy teenagers as they finished the second verse.

“What kind of tree do you want to cut?” he asked, realizing he hadn’t felt so carefree in years. It felt good. Damn good!

“A fir, natch. Is there any other kind?”

“Not to me, but I thought I’d be polite and ask anyway.”

She was tempted to remark that they had a lot in common, but knew that wasn’t really true. Pete was content to raise his animals and live a quiet kind of life. Maddy’d had that kind of life once before. She hadn’t liked it then, and it was doubtful she’d like it now, though admittedly she found her surroundings breathtakingly beautiful. And breathing in the pure mountain air was a welcome relief from the pollution of New York City.

They spotted a stand of fir trees a short distance ahead, and Maddy pointed enthusiastically. “There’s the one we should get. Do you see it? That big one over there, next to the decaying tree stump.”

Pete’s gaze rose up and up, and his eyes widened as he pulled the sleigh to a halt. “Are you crazy? That tree’s too tall. It’ll never fit in the family room. The ceilings are only twelve feet high.”

“But you could trim just a bit off the top and bottom, couldn’t you? I could help.”

He rubbed his chin, considering. “I doubt if I have enough lights and ornaments for such a huge tree, Maddy.” And there was also the problem of dragging it home. He doubted the old sleigh could take the strain.

She gazed imploringly at him. “But we could—”

“Improvise,” he finished with a wry grin. “Got it.”

“Oh, look—mistletoe! We’ll need some to hang in the doorway.” Then noting his odd look, she blushed, embarrassed by what he must be thinking. “I’m sorry. I guess we don’t—”

“We should have mistletoe,” he agreed. “It’s traditional, right?” And one never knew when it would come in handy.

Watch it, Taggart! You’re heading down a dangerous path.

But Pete couldn’t seem to help himself. It was like some strange spell had been cast on him and he was powerless to resist.

Maddy, the Madison Avenue witch, was proving downright intoxicating.

“I TOLD YOU IT WOULDN’T fit.”

Gazing at the huge tree, which took up half of the family room, Maddy’s eyes lit with appreciation. They’d had to move most of the furniture to the other side to accommodate it, but the effort had been worth it. “It’s beautiful.” She smiled happily. “Just perfect. And once it’s decorated it’s going to look even better.”

Pete looked skeptical. As he’d suspected, the Douglas Fir was much too big for the room. And it was a big room! “I can see you’re not the kind of woman to give up on an idea once you put your mind to it.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and arched a brow. “How do you think I became successful in a male-dominated profession?”

“I’ll need to trim a bit more off the top, if we’re going to put the angel up there. Then I can start hanging the lights.”

“While you’re doing that, I’ll go and bake us some cookies. If it’s okay to use the oven, that is. I hope so, because you can’t have a tree-trimming party without cookies.”

“Might as well go ahead. And having cookies to eat will make the chore of decorating the tree somewhat palatable.” And he knew John would most likely bring extra gas when he came over to check up on him. His younger brother was worse than a mother hen.

“It’ll be fun. You’ll see.”

He shook his head. “I thought pregnant women were supposed to be tired all the time. You seem to be bursting with energy.”

“I refuse to let this pregnancy slow me down. Having a baby’s as natural as breathing, right?” She’d mentally challenged herself not to have any more bouts of morning sickness. So far she’d been successful. “I bet your great-grandma Maggie was out plowing fields right after she birthed those big strapping sons of hers.”

“Maybe branding cows. But Maggie would never have pushed a plow. The woman was a rancher, not a farmer.”

“Whatever,” Maddy said, not caring much about the distinction as she sailed out of the room.

City girl, he reminded himself. And would keep reminding himself whenever he started getting stupid ideas. He’d been having a lot of stupid ideas lately where Maddy was concerned.

He and Maddy Potter were about as different as any two people could be. He’d be wise to remember that fact.

Pete was up to his ears in lights and tree branches when Maddy floated back into the room an hour later, carrying a large tray laden with coffee and cookies. “Time for a break, Santa. I’ve brought treats.”

He descended the tall ladder, looking disheveled and twice as frustrated. “We’ve only got enough lights for the top half of the tree. It’s gonna look ugly. I tried to—”

She held a cookie out to him. The sweet smell of vanilla wafted up, and he inhaled deeply before taking it. “It’s going to be perfectly lovely. Once we get on the decorations you’re not going to notice how many lights there are. Besides, we’re not entering a contest. We’re merely doing this for our own enjoyment. Are you this much of a perfectionist about everything?”

He bit into his cookie and plopped down onto the sofa next to her. “Mmm. These are good.” A fire was blazing in the large stone fireplace. His parents had added the large family room three years before his dad’s death, and it was his favorite room in the old house. The bank of windows at the rear allowed in plenty of light, affording a magnificent view of the gently rolling landscape and mountains beyond.

“Yep. Can’t stand not being the best at everything. Just ask my brothers. It drives them nuts.” He seemed pleased by that notion and reached for a handful of cookies.

“I’d be happy to ask your brothers. When do you think I’ll get to meet them?” She hoped soon, because she doubted she’d be around too much longer. The thought saddened her.

Get real, Maddy! You’ve already made one huge mistake. Don’t compound it by making another. Pete Taggart’s got more baggage than Grand Central Station. And so do you, for that matter!

“I suspect now that the snow’s let up John’ll be making his way over to check up on me. He’s the worrywart of the family, too conscientious for his own good. He has a snowmobile, so he can get around better than most.”

“And is this adventurous, worrywart-of-a-brother of yours married?”

“Nope. John’s still a bachelor. Don’t think he dates that much. All of his passion’s been poured into his animals and veterinary clinic. He’s a fine vet. Sweetheart’s lucky to have him.”

“So all three of the Taggart men are single? And the only eligible woman for miles around is the spinster librarian? Does that about sum it up?”

He grinned sheepishly. “Something like that, though there might be a single woman or two in town. Just no one that appeals to any of us.” That wasn’t quite true. John was still hung up on Allison Montgomery, though the woman didn’t seem to feel the same way about him.

“I guess I’m not surprised, then, that you’re all still unmarried, as picky as you seem to be.”

“Well, you’re pretty choosy yourself. I don’t see you married and settled down yet, either.”

Her face flushed. “Apparently I wasn’t choosy enough. I didn’t date all that much, and I guess I was flattered by the amount of attention an older, successful man paid to me. I guess he was only after one thing, but I was too stupid and naive to realize it.”

He’d meant to tease, not hurt her. “Someday you’ll meet someone. You seem the type of woman to be married.”

Pete’s comment annoyed the heck out of Maddy, and she stiffened. “Why, because I bake cookies and decorate Christmas trees? That’s a rather old-fashioned assumption, Pete Taggart, if you don’t mind my saying so. A modern woman can do a lot of—”

He held up his hand. “Please, spare me the ‘I am woman, hear me roar’ speech. I’ve heard it before.”

There was pain in his eyes, and she was sure he was thinking about his dead wife, but Maddy didn’t press. It was none of her business anyway. “Since it’s obvious we don’t see eye to eye on women in the workplace, why don’t we continue on with decorating the tree? Where are the ornaments? I’ll fetch them.”

He felt stupid and small for picking a fight with her. Maddy was a successful career woman with a life back in New York. What did it matter if her goals were different from his? He barely knew the woman. And yet, he felt as if they’d known each other all their lives. It was strange how quickly they’d connected. Strange and worrisome.

“The ornaments and such are kept in the storage closet in the guest room. I’ll carry them down for you. You shouldn’t be lifting things in your condition.”

She brushed off his concern with a wave of her hand. “Don’t be silly. You’ve got enough to contend with at the moment. I might look like a weakling, but I’m strong as an ox. Being pregnant doesn’t change that.” She lifted her arm. “Feel my muscle. I work out with weights.”

Smiling inwardly, he wrapped his hand around the puny biceps and squeezed gently. “You sure you’ve been working out?”

She made a face, then said, “By the way—you know that lovely wedding ring quilt that’s covering the bed in the guest room? Do you have any idea where it came from? I’d like to have one made just like it for my apartment in New York.”

“It was my mother’s. She left it to me, as the oldest Taggart, in her will when she died. Mom inherited it from her mother. The quilt originally belonged to Great-Grandma Maggie and has been passed down from generation to generation.

“The old trunk it originally came in sits in the far corner of the guest room, next to the rocker. You can look and see if there’s a pattern or something in there you can use to make one.”

Maddy laughed, as if the idea was totally absurd. “I’m not that clever. Cooking and thinking up brilliant ad campaigns are about as creative as I get. Sewing is not one of my talents. Now Mary Beth, she can sew just about anything. I intend to talk her into making me a replica of the quilt.”

Pete didn’t doubt for a moment that she could. Maddy Potter could sweet-talk anyone into doing just about anything. He gazed at the too-tall tree and sighed.

A sweet-talking woman was trouble. A sweet-talking, pretty woman—well, a smart man would run for cover and hide.

Pete had always credited himself with being smart. Until now.

MADDY WAS WAVING an old wrinkled piece of parchment when she reentered the family room a short time later. She looked so enthralled with whatever she held that Pete’s curiosity sparked immediately, and he set aside the sports magazine he was reading.

“All right, I’ll bite. What did you find, a pattern for the quilt?”

Her eyes were wide with wonder when she said, “You’re not going to believe this, Pete.” She plopped down on the sofa and leaned toward him. “This paper was in the trunk, hidden beneath tissue-wrapped baby clothes. I hope you don’t mind. I just couldn’t resist looking at those tiny garments.” Seeing those clothes had made her pregnancy seem all too real.

Maddy smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, and Pete’s heart started pounding. He was hungry, but not for cookies, and took a deep breath. “I don’t mind. Now, are you going to tell me what that paper says?” He couldn’t recall ever seeing it before, but then he hadn’t felt much like going through his mother’s possessions after she died. It would have been too painful. Sorting through Beth’s things had been difficult enough.

“It’s a legend about the wedding ring quilt, and it looks to be quite old. Listen to this—‘Place this quilt upon your bed and in one month you shall be wed, but if you think you’d rather not, then a spinster’s life shall be your lot.’ Isn’t that something?”

Pete paled somewhat. A legend about the quilt that foretold of a wedding? It couldn’t be true, could it? “It’s probably just something my great-grandmother made up.”

“Maybe. But I also found a letter written to one of her sons. Apparently Maggie wanted him to marry, settle down and have children, so the ranch would pass on to a Taggart. And she didn’t mince words. From the stern tone of the letter, I think her son, Jared, was pretty resistant to the idea.”

“Taggart men don’t like being told what to do.”

“Well, since you’re here as living proof, I guess your great-grandmother got her way, because it’s obvious both her sons eventually married and had children—your ancestors.”

Pete digested what she’d said then flashed a teasing grin. “Well, Maddy, if you truly believe in the legend then you might just find yourself in the same predicament as my great-uncles.”

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been sleeping under the wedding ring quilt for a couple of nights now. If the legend’s true, and you seem to think it is, you’ll be married before a month is up.”

She reread the legend and gasped. Then realizing that there were actually two pages of paper not just one, she ran her thumbnail between the sheets and unstuck them, reading to herself. “A man and a woman who meet if by chance, will soon be doing the marital dance. A kiss on the lips, the bargain will seal, and undying love will the couple soon feel.”

“Good heavens! This can’t be true.” She forced a nervous laugh. “You’re right. It was just something your great-grandma Maggie made up.” She and Pete hadn’t kissed. They had nothing to worry about.

“What is it? What’s it say?” He tried to grab the paper from her hand, but she held it behind her back and out of his reach.

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Really. Just fanciful musings of an elderly woman, I’m sure.”

“I don’t believe you. You turned as pale as that snow outside the window when you read it. Now let me see what it says.”

Maddy tried to scoot away, but Pete grabbed her gently about the waist and pinned her down with his body, being careful not to crush her with his weight.

Pete was no longer interested in wrestling for the paper, not when Maddy’s lips were mere inches away and he had a burning desire to kiss her.

Licking his lips in anticipation, his intention reflected quite clearly in his eyes, Maddy panicked. “Pete, wait! Don’t do it! You don’t under—”

“I’m sorry, Maddy, but I’ve got to.” He covered her mouth with his own, cutting off her protest, and plundered the honey within, savoring the sweet, irresistible taste of her. Like a starving man he feasted, unable to get his fill.

Losing herself in the passion of the moment, Maddy allowed him to taste, tease and nibble. Until she remembered the words written on the paper, and then she panicked.

Pushing hard against the granite wall of his chest, she was finally able to break free of his hold. “Stop, Pete! You’ve done a terrible thing!”

He was breathing hard, his eyes heavy lidded with passion, but he didn’t look at all contrite. “Oh, come on now, Maddy,” he finally said. “It was only a kiss. I’m sorry if you’re offended, but I just couldn’t help myself.”