Читать книгу The Pregnant Ms. Potter - Millie Criswell - Страница 9

Maddy Potter didn’t think her life could get any worse.

Ha! What did she know? It wasn’t bad enough that she was eight weeks pregnant without a husband in sight—“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” Now she was stranded in the middle of Nowhere, Colorado, in the clutches of a snowstorm—a whiteout, the radio had called it—and her chances of reaching her sister’s house in Leadville seemed non-existent.

“Don’t even think about driving in this storm, little lady,” the car rental agent had told her two hours before. “Get yourself a nice warm hotel room somewhere near the airport and ride it out. It’s the sensible thing to do.”

“Of course, when have I ever been sensible?” Maddy asked herself. Surely not when she had allowed passion to override good judgment and had given in to David Lassiter’s persistent pursuit, engaging in unprotected sex for the first time in her life. Well, not exactly unprotected. They had used a condom, but the damn thing broke right in the middle of everything. Just her luck.

Stupid wasn’t really a strong enough sentiment to sum up how she felt about her behavior. Asinine was probably a better word. Or how about insane? That fit nicely, too.

Heaving a sigh, Maddy’s hand moved to her belly, and she felt the tiny life growing inside her—David’s child. But David Lassiter was her boss at Lassiter, Owens and Cumberland, the third largest advertising firm in New York City, not her boyfriend, and certainly not her fiancé. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t looking for any entanglements, including, and most especially, a wife.

Not that she was anxious to get married, either.

She’d been doing fine on her own. Wonderful, in fact! She didn’t need a man to complicate things, to view her as competition, or worse, the little woman.

But she thought it only fair that the father of her child be informed of his impending fatherhood. When she’d confided to David that she was pregnant, he hadn’t wasted any time in pulling out his checkbook and offering her a substantial amount of money for an abortion.

“Unfeeling bastard!” she muttered, thinking back to the smug look on his face. If he hadn’t been such a jerk, threatening her with her job and making it clear that there was no room in his life for a child, she wouldn’t have run off like a frightened teenager two weeks before Christmas to seek comfort in the arms of the one person she knew she could count on: her older sister, Mary Beth.

And it sure as heck hadn’t been sensible to drive through a snowstorm knowing how little experience she had operating a car in such conditions. She lived in New York City, for heaven’s sake! What did she know about driving? She took taxis and the subway when she needed to get somewhere; she didn’t even own a car.

“Well, Maddy, you dolt! You’ve really gone and done it this time.” The snow was piled so thickly on the windshield that she couldn’t see a foot in front of her, let alone the surrounding countryside. She knew only that she’d taken Highway 24 from the airport in Colorado Springs—Denver’s Stapleton had been closed due to the storm—and an hour later had taken a wrong turn onto a secondary road, hit a patch of icy pavement and careened into a ditch when she’d foolishly applied the brakes too hard. One of the front wheels had come off and the car was listing to one side. It was not driveable and the rental people were not going to be pleased—if, in fact, she ever saw them or anyone again. At this point she had her doubts.

“Okay, God, I need a little help here. It’s true, I screwed up, but now I need your help. This precious baby growing inside me shouldn’t be punished for my stupidity. I admit what I did was wrong, so give me a break.”

Maddy glanced down at the red leather purse on the seat next to her—a Coach bag, the symbol of her success. She remembered how happy she’d been when she had finally earned enough money to buy it.

Not that such things mattered now. Nothing mattered now except surviving.

Reaching into her purse, she extracted her cellular phone, wondering if it still worked, praying it did. If she could reach her sister, Mary Beth’s husband, Lyle, could come fetch her. Lyle was smart and sensible—the salt-of-the-earth type. He’d know what to do.

Grateful the phone’s battery appeared to be working, she punched in the Randolph’s number and hit send. It started ringing at once, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Her spurt of excitement was short-lived, however, for when the call was answered, it wasn’t Mary Beth or Lyle, but a female operator. “I’m sorry but your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please hang up and dial again.”

She did, twelve different times. And twelve different times she got the same message. Then the phone conked out completely.

Maddy wasn’t the type of woman who usually gave in to tears. She was the take-charge type, always in control of a situation, and a damn good advertising executive. Of course, she’d never been stranded in the middle of a blizzard with nothing to eat—her stomach grumbled, making it abundantly clear that it wanted to be fed; a useless cell phone—she tossed the offending object into the back seat; and a bladder that was full to bursting—she crossed her ankles and gritted her teeth.

Then she started singing at the top of her lungs. Maddy always sang when she was nervous. She began with Silent Night, then moved on to Santa Claus is Coming to Town, and ended with a screeching chorus of O Holy Night that would have made a dog howl had there been one in the vicinity. But the festive songs hadn’t made her predicament any more bearable. If anything, they made it worse, for she realized she just might not make it until Christmas. And that made her mad.

“Okay, God, you’ve had your laugh. Now, how about helping me out? I said I was sorry. I admitted to being stupid. What more do you want?”

It was at that low point when she thought she would surely die of exposure—you couldn’t keep your engine idling or you’d die of carbon monoxide poisoning, she knew that much—when a light suddenly flashed through her windshield.

The beam was muted because of the snow, but it appeared to be from headlights, truck headlights, if she wasn’t mistaken. The roar of the diesel engine was distinctive. She knew about diesel engines because she’d once designed an ad campaign for Ford Motor Company.

“Hello!” a male voice called out, becoming clearer as her rescuer approached the vehicle. “Is anyone there?”

Heart pounding, she banged on the driver’s side window. “Yes! I’m here! Please help me!” She tried to open the door, but the snow piled against it made that impossible.

He banged twice on the roof, she thought to reassure her, for which she was grateful. “Hang on. I’m coming around the other side of the car. I’ll try to get the door open. Looks like you’ve busted an axel.” few moments later, and not without a great deal of cursing, he pried open the door.

Maddy breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, God!” she mouthed, blinking back tears and scooting toward the man standing there. He was tall, blue eyed and covered with snow, and she’d never seen anything or anyone look so wonderful.

PETE TAGGART SHOOK HIS HEAD as he helped the woman out of her vehicle. She had on high heels—high heels, for Pete’s sake!—a navy-blue suit with little gold buttons, and a raincoat that may have had a woolen liner in it, but he couldn’t be certain. Based on what he’d seen so far, he doubted it.

City girl, he thought, curling his lip disdainfully.

“You’ll never be able to walk in those shoes, ma’am. Put your arms around my neck, and I’ll carry you to the truck.”

She shook her head. “That’s n-not ne-neces…cessary.” The woman’s teeth were chattering. “I c-can man-manage.”

“Dammit! Of course, it’s necessary, or I wouldn’t have said so. Now quit being stubborn and do as I say, or we’re both going to freeze to death.”

Since the snow was nearly up to her knees, she finally nodded and held out her arms. With ease, he lifted her, but it took a lot more concentration and muscle to maneuver his way back to the pickup. The snow had drifted several feet in some places, making the going slow and arduous.

When they finally reached the three-quarter-ton truck, he lifted her onto the front bench seat, slammed the door shut and seated himself behind the wheel. “You’re lucky I came down this road this afternoon, or you’d probably have frozen to death. The road’s private and doesn’t get much in the way of traffic. And the way your car looks you won’t be driving it for awhile.”

“Th-thank you,” she managed, holding her hands out to the heater vent. The hot air pricked her skin like needles as it thawed her hands. “I didn’t mean to trespass. I was on my way to my sister’s in Leadville, and I guess I took a wrong turn.”

He whistled. “Leadville? You’re hell and gone from Leadville. You’re on Taggart land, ma’am. I’m Pete Taggart, owner of this cattle ranch.”

The pride in his voice was unmistakable. She’d heard pride like that voiced by her own father many times before. She wasn’t impressed then, and she wasn’t now. “I don’t really know how I ended up here.”

“It’s easy to lose your bearings during a whiteout. I’m just glad I was checking on my ornery bull, Henry, and had reason to come this far from the house.”

She found it endearing that he named his animals. Maybe he wasn’t such a hard-ass after all. Maddy forced a smile, though her frozen face felt as if it would crack from the effort. “I’m Madeline Potter, but most people call me Maddy.”

He kept his eyes riveted on the road in front of him as he talked. “Whatever possessed you to drive in weather like this? A person should have more sense than that. Of course, women don’t.”

Maddy stiffened, unable to believe what she was hearing. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me right. Most women don’t have a lick of sense when it comes to practical things, like the elements. Like wearing proper clothing and shoes.” He gazed at her high heels once again and shook his head, not bothering to hide his disdain. “Looks like you’re one of those women.”

The heat flaming her cheeks and body had Maddy thawing out quickly. “I’m an advertising executive from New York City, I’ll have you know. And I’m extremely intelligent. I graduated with honors from Vassar.” She wouldn’t waste her breath telling him about having to work three jobs simultaneously on top of the heavy class load she carried, or the numerous loans she’d taken out to achieve her goal. She doubted Cowboy Pete would give a hoot or a holler.

“Is that so? And did they teach you at Vassar to drive through blizzards and risk your fool neck?” Pete knew he was being unreasonably hard—he didn’t know the woman, after all—but he had good reasons. The best of reasons.

“What they taught me was to be independent, which I am. And to compete in a man’s world, which I’ve done, quite successfully, thank you very much. They also taught me about male chauvinists who don’t like women. Men such as yourself, Mr. Taggart.”

“Oh, I like women just fine, Miz Potter, ma’am,” he replied, exaggerating the feminist moniker. “I like ’em hot, naked and under me.”

Maddy swallowed her gasp, her lips thinning. “You, Mr. Taggart, are…are…never mind. You just are.” She didn’t want to anger the Neanderthal and find herself dumped back out in the snow, so she kept her unflattering opinion to herself. She doubted a man with a head as thick as a tree trunk would listen anyway.

Pete grinned, noting the heightened color to her cheeks. “I suspect so, ma’am. But I know when to come out of the rain, or, in this case, snow.”

“I admit it was foolish of me to attempt driving to Mary Beth’s house during the storm, but I was anxious to see my sister. And I wasn’t planning on getting lost or having my car skid off the road.”

“Hit the brakes, did you? Didn’t your daddy ever teach you never to hit the brakes during a skid?”

Maddy counted silently to ten, unclenched her teeth and said, “My daddy, as you refer to my father, Mr. Taggart, was more enamored with raising his prized Duroc pigs than with raising me or my sister, or teaching us how to drive. That task fell to my mother.”

Most things having to do with Maddy or Mary Beth had fallen to their mother, and it had come as no surprise when Sarah Potter’s heart had finally given out, from a defective valve, the doctors had said. But Maddy felt her mother’s death had really been caused by Andrew Potter’s indifference and self-absorption, his total lack of awareness where others were concerned. Another grievance in a long list of grievances to heap upon her father’s head.

The hurt in Maddy Potter’s voice was unmistakable, so Pete backed off. The woman obviously had some unresolved issues with her old man, and he wasn’t interested in hearing them.

“It’s not much farther to the house. Once you’ve had a hot bath and hearty meal, you’re going to feel a whole lot better.”

A hot bath! Was the man insane? She had no intention of taking off her clothes in a stranger’s house. Not that she could, even if she wanted to. Her suitcase was still in the trunk of the rental car—something she neglected to mention. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Taggart, but I’ll just use your phone, if that’s all right, and be on my way. I wouldn’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

“Afraid that’s not going to be possible, ma’am,” he said, and Maddy knew a moment of fear. After all, she didn’t know this man from Adam. He could be a rapist or sadistic killer, although, he certainly didn’t seem to be. What he seemed to be was rude, arrogant, the Marlboro man come to life.

Nervous, she started humming Jingle Bells, and he looked at her strangely. “Phone lines are down and the electricity’s out. I suspect we won’t have phone service again for weeks. Fir and pine trees have been snapping like twigs all morning and afternoon. And the forecast is for at least six to eight more inches of snow before morning. I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere for a while.”

The dismay she felt reflected in her voice. “But—but my clothes are back in the car. And my sister is expecting me.” That wasn’t quite the truth. She’d never gotten around to calling Mary Beth. She didn’t want to get into any explanations about why she was coming until she could speak to her sister in person.

It was a conversation she dreaded having. Mary Beth had always been so proud of Maddy’s accomplishments, of her working her way through college and making something of herself in the business world. And Mary Beth, who desperately wanted a child, couldn’t conceive one, while Maddy had had no such problem. The conversation wouldn’t be easy on several levels.

“It would have been helpful, ma’am, if you’d mentioned about the clothes while we were back at the car.” He didn’t bother to hide his exasperation. “It’s going to be a while before we can get her towed.” Perhaps weeks, Pete thought. Willis Helmsley’s tow truck was about as reliable as Willis, who wasn’t very.

She turned her attention back to him. “I wasn’t thinking beyond surviving, Mr. Taggart. I’m sorry if I’ve inconvenienced you.”

“I’m not the one without any clothes, Miz Potter. But I’m sure we can find something for you to wear.” He still had all of Bethany’s clothing stored up in the attic, but he wouldn’t offer her any of those garments.

Even after four years, memories of Bethany were painful. And the anger still festered like an open wound that would never heal. Pete wasn’t sure he wanted it to. The anger at least made him feel alive. And it served as a constant reminder of how stubborn, self-centered and foolish women could be.

THE MULTICOLORED, four-story Victorian house stood out amidst the pristine white snow. It had been painted a buttery yellow with dark green shutters, its gingerbread trim accented in a deep cinnamon color. And it was hardly the house Maddy expected rugged rancher Pete Taggart to own. A log cabin would have suited the man much better. Or better yet—a cave!

“It looks like something out of a fairy tale,” she remarked, instantly enamored of the wide wraparound front porch, which probably sported a swing in the warmer months. She secretly dreamed of owning such a house but knew her modern, efficient cubicle of a Manhattan apartment would have to do.

“Thanks. It’s been in the family for generations. My great-grandmother Maggie Taggart had it built with the intention that a Taggart would always live in it.”

“Then she was lucky her offspring produced males.”

Pete laughed, and his face took on an entirely different appearance. With his dark hair, light blue eyes and chiseled features, he was already ridiculously handsome. But now those features were relaxed, his eyes smiling, and he looked almost appealing.

“Luck had nothing to do with it, or so I’ve been told. Great-grandma Maggie was a determined woman. She wouldn’t have accepted anything less than a grandson from either one of her boys.”

“Hard to believe you dislike women so much when you’ve got such a sterling example of womanhood as your ancestor. I doubt your great-grandmother would have approved of your attitude.” He said nothing, but his mouth set in a grim line, indicating his displeasure.

Great! Maddy thought, wondering why she just didn’t learn to keep her mouth shut and her opinions to herself. Of course, there were some people—CEOs of large corporations, for example—who paid a lot of money to hear those very opinions.

She’d been on the fast track with Lassiter, Owens and Cumberland until her pregnancy had caused a derailment and brought her career to a screeching halt. But she refused to think about that now. It was too depressing! Better to pull a Scarlett O’Hara and think about it later, tomorrow, never!

Hauling Maddy into the house like a sack of feed, Pete deposited her in the center of the front hallway, where they were immediately assaulted by a barking, tail-wagging mutt.

Smiling at the dog, he bent over to scratch him behind the ear and was rewarded with several enthusiastic swipes of his tongue. “This is Rufus. He’s harmless. And he likes women.”

The homely creature wasn’t a true Taggart then, Maddy thought uncharitably.

“Make yourself at home. Guest room’s on the left at the top of the stairs. There’s a bath attached and a clean robe hanging on the back of the door, if you want to take a hot soak. I’ll be back in a bit. I’ve got to check on my animals. Make sure they’re okay. Come on, Rufus.” He whistled for the dog, who followed him loyally to the door, though Maddy sensed he’d rather be anywhere but outside in the cold snow.

She nodded, too startled to say much else. And what she was tempted to say could only get her into a great deal of trouble, of which she had plenty already. “Thank you,” she finally managed, watching all six feet two inches of him disappear out into the frigid snowstorm.

Removing her shoes, Maddy wiggled her frozen toes, then padded across hardwood floors, inspecting first one room then another. The front parlor was filled with antique furnishings; knickknacks and framed photographs hung on rose-and-green-floral-papered walls. The Taggart family, she assumed, studying an old daguerreotype of two handsome men who looked enough alike to be brothers.

Goodness, but the Taggart men had great genes!

After making use of the bathroom, she entered the kitchen, where she found the makings for tea. Deciding to take Pete Taggart at his word, Maddy proceeded to make herself at home.

She was still cold, despite the fact the house was warmed by a very efficient woodstove. As she waited for the kettle of water to boil, she plopped down on one of the pine ladder-backed chairs at the long trestle table, which had seen some use over the years, judging from the deep scars and nicks, and surveyed the large room.

It had all the modern conveniences one would expect of a kitchen, but still retained an old-fashioned charm with the heart-of-pine cabinets and wide-planked pine flooring, covered in part by a round multicolored braided rug. Shiny copper pots hung over the center island, and cheery apple-patterned curtains framed the window over the double cast-iron sink.

The teapot whistled, and finding tea bags in one of the copper canisters on the counter, she fixed herself a cup of the steaming liquid. “Heavenly,” she murmured after taking a sip, allowing the warmth to penetrate and consume her.

The back door slammed shut, and Maddy turned to find her host entering the kitchen, Rufus following close on his heels. The dog flopped down on the braided rug and promptly went to sleep.

Pete had removed his jacket and boots, but his denims were soaked from the snow; they hugged his muscular thighs in a very intriguing fashion. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, not liking where her thoughts had traveled. If there was one thing she didn’t need right now, it was another complication. “I made myself some tea.” His face was chapped red, and he looked chilled to the bone.

“Don’t mind at all, if you’re sharing.” He blew into his hands to warm them.

She filled a ceramic mug with hot water and a tea bag, then set it down before him. “It’s a good thing you’ve got gas appliances, or we’d really be in a fix with the power out.”

“Only the stove’s gas, the rest are electric, so we’re still in a fix. But I’ve got plenty of kerosene lanterns, and the woodstove and fireplaces will keep the house warm.”

“Guess you’re used to this kind of storm.”

Pete shrugged, trying not to notice the way her soft brown hair, shot with streaks of gold, framed a very lovely face, or the way her eyes, the color of green clover, sparkled prettily. “I should be. I’ve had to live with them for thirty-six years.”

“Is there a town close by? I couldn’t see much of the surrounding area, with the way the snow was blowing. I need to get my car repaired.”

“Sweetheart’s about twelve miles to the west of us. It’s small, so there aren’t many amenities. If you want things like malls and movie theaters, you’ve got to drive to Colorado Springs or Canyon City, and I wouldn’t hold your breath about the car. If Willis can tow it out, and that’s a big if, it’s doubtful he’ll have the parts to make the repairs right away. He’ll have to order them from Denver, and that could take a while. Plus, Willis has a real aversion to working in cold weather.”

Maddy was genuinely concerned. “But I need my car. I need to—”

“No sense trying to buck the weather, and no use worrying over things you can’t control.”

“But I don’t want to be an imposition, Mr. Taggart. Is there a motel or an inn nearby where I can stay?”

Pete nodded. “There’s the Sweetheart Inn and Flannery’s Motel.” At her sigh of relief he added, “But they’re both full, because of the Christmas holidays. Looks like you’re stuck with me—for now.”

“Oh, I couldn’t…”

“Sweetheart’s not New York City, and that’s a fact, Miz Potter. I guess you’ll find that out soon enough.”

Sweetheart. There was a story behind that name, she’d bet money on it. Maddy thought about all the advertising possibilities it proffered and smiled to herself.

“Sounds familiar. I grew up in a small farming community in Iowa.” And hated every minute of it. She’d left as soon as she turned eighteen, not that her father would’ve noticed. Her mother had died by then, and Mary Beth had married her high school sweetheart, Lyle Randolph, so there’d been nothing to keep her there, certainly not Andrew Potter, whose only passion in life had been pigs.

She’d read once that an actress had been jealous of her famous ventriloquist father’s dummy while she was growing up, which was exactly how Maddy had felt about her dad’s stupid swine. He’d treated those pigs with far more affection than he’d ever shown her.

Her father was still living alone on the farm, still tending his pigs. Mary Beth kept in contact with him, but he and Maddy hadn’t spoken in years. They’d never had all that much to say to each other. Nothing good, anyway.

“New York must have been quite a culture shock after Iowa,” Pete remarked, drawing her attention back.

“At first, but I’ve grown to love it. It’s got a heartbeat all its own. And you never feel alone there.” Lonely, but never alone.

“I went there once with my—” He almost said wife, but caught himself just in time. Pete didn’t like discussing Bethany with strangers, with anyone really. If Maddy noticed, she didn’t let on. “Didn’t much like it,” he said finally.

Maddy continued sipping her tea. “Guess it’s not for everyone. It’s certainly not tranquil like this. How do you stand it? I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep without horns honking outside my bedroom window all night.”

He studied her thoughtfully for several moments, seemed disturbed about something, then pushed back his chair and said, “If you’re done, I’ll show you to your room. It’s got a fireplace, so you should be warm enough. Tomorrow I’ll try to hook up the generator.”

“I’m truly sorry to be such an imposition, Mr. Taggart. It’s kind of you to put me up.”

“We don’t turn away stranded folks out here in the country, ma’am, so you needn’t apologize. And you may as well call me Pete, seeing as how we’ll be living together for an indefinite period of time.”

The very idea of their “living together” was disconcerting, if not downright alarming, but she nodded anyway, following him up the stairs, thinking that it would be glorious to take off her wet stockings and soak her feet in a tub of hot water. “Where is your room located, if you don’t mind my asking?”

His smile grew teasing. “Why, right next door to yours. But you needn’t worry about locking your door. I think I’ll be able to control myself.”

Her face flamed. “I wasn’t trying to imply—”

“If you need anything, just give a holler. And if you’re hungry, there’re sandwich makings in the cooler out on the back porch.”

He walked away then, leaving Maddy to stare at the audacious man’s broad back and wonder how she was going to survive in his company for even one more day, let alone an indeterminate length of time.