Читать книгу Hitched! - Ruth Dale Jean - Страница 11

“I’M WHAT?”

“Take it easy, Maxine. You’re just the kind of woman I need to get my family to—”

“I heard that part. What I want to know is what you meant.”

“Just that you’re smart,” he said quickly, wondering why she didn’t calm down. “Did we work great together to foil those hijackers or what?”

“Yes, well—”

“And you’re serious. I mean, you’re a serious person. You work for a living.”

“You don’t. Does that mean you’re not a serious person?”

That stung. “I’m getting serious, okay? It’s just a little case of arrested development.”

“Oh, really.”

Despite her scorn, the idea uttered in jest was seeping deeper into his consciousness. Maxine was an ideal candidate for a make-believe bride. Surely he could get her to see that.

The bus rattled on down the road. After another ten miles or so she said, “I can’t imagine you’re talking about a real marriage.”

“No way.” He shuddered. “I could just call my folks and tell them I’m married, let them speak to you, you back me up. Voilà! Inheritance released.”

“Voilà! You’ve got to be joking. They’d fall for that?”

“I don’t know. I never tried to scam my own family before.”

“But you have scammed others?”

“I didn’t say that.” He gave her an annoyed glance. “Hell, at this point, anything’s worth a shot.”

“Desperate times…”

“You got that right.”

The bus passed the turnoff to Ensenada. Eventually a highway sign indicated that Tijuana was just up the road.

She said, as if curiosity had gotten the best of her, “So give me details.”

“No details. I’ll just tell my mom I’m married. In a perfect world, she’ll swoon with delight and declare the terms of the will fulfilled.”

Maxine looked pained. “Rand, that will never work.”

“I can at least feel her out on the subject.” Traffic was increasing, cutting into his concentration. The old junker of a bus rumbled from lane to lane, the driver ignoring the indignant honking of many horns.

Maxine shook her head. “That’s crazy.”

“Not as crazy as letting a multimillion-dollar inheritance slip through my fingers without even taking a shot at it. What’s the worst thing that can happen? Even if they turn me down, I’ll be no worse off than I am now.”

She pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Why did you wait until the last minute to do this?”

Her question produced silence. He couldn’t tell her that he’d never expected to need the Rocking T.

Finally he said, “Something…happened. I don’t have access to the majority of my funds at the moment, plus the time just got away from me. Now I’m at the point where I’ve got to do something even if I do it wrong.”

“I see.” Strangely enough, she looked as if she really did.

Another long silence ensued and then he said, “It wouldn’t hurt you to help me out a little here.”

“Probably not.”

He frowned. “Maxine, you’re not getting into the spirit of this thing. After all, my great-grandpa wanted me to have the ranch or he wouldn’t have left it to me, right?”

“He wanted you to have it under certain conditions as specified by him.”

“Sure, but that’s because he was such an old busy-body.” Rand couldn’t help smiling, remembering Thom T. Taggart. “He was a real character, Maxine. He loved taking credit for getting my folks together, and both my uncles and their wives, too. He was quite the Cupid.”

“I’ve never had a grandpa myself, great or otherwise, but you sound vaguely disrespectful to me.”

“I would never disrespect Thom T.,” Rand said indignantly. “Neither would anyone else who knew him. He was just about the finest man ever to walk this earth, but he liked playing games. This is one of them. He couldn’t hang around long enough to get me and my sister and my cousins married, so he’s pulling strings from the grave.”

“Rand!” She gave him a scandalized glance. “You can’t believe that.”

“I sure as hell do.” The streets had narrowed and traffic kept increasing. The bus slowed almost to a crawl. “Looks like the main business district is right up there,” he said. “What say we dump this buggy?”

“I’m not sure they’ll let us.”

“Why not? We’re just innocent victims.”

“I suppose you could try.”

“Got to. The battery’s dead on my cell phone and I need to put through that call. You wouldn’t happen to have…?”

“Sorry. I don’t believe in the things.”

“In that case, we’ve got to make our break and find a phone. You’re with me on this, right?”

“Up to a point. I’m not promising anything, though.”

“If worst comes to worst, I’ll let my mom speak to my blushing bride. That’ll be you.”

She grimaced and said, “All right,” again.

Being nobody’s fool, he didn’t push it.

MEG TAGGART ANSWERED the telephone on the second ring, her arms overflowing with flowers freshly picked from the garden she cultivated outside the back door of the Hells Bells ranch house. Fresh flowers helped her deceive herself into believing that this rustic existence held a candle to life in her hometown of Boston.

She’d been battling such natural inclinations ever since she’d met Jesse James Taggart, the love of her life. A rodeo cowboy and a Boston socialite were an uneasy mix at best, but somehow they’d managed to work everything out—obviously, since they’d been married thirty-plus years and had two children to show for it.

She supposed one of those children would be on the other end of the line—Clementime, probably, who called at least once a week from her job at Taggart Oil in Houston. Meg said a cheery, “Hello,” then buried her nose in the shaggy bouquet of daisies.

“Mom? It’s me, Rand.”

Meg straightened in surprise and pleasure. “Randy? Honey, it’s been so long since we’ve heard from you.” She dropped the flowers on the kitchen counter, instantly alert. Unlike his sister, her only son called rarely. When he did, you could bet he’d slip some bombshell into the conversation. Once, it had been the announcement that he was dropping out of college; another time, that he was moving to Europe.

Still another call was to explain that they shouldn’t believe everything they read in the newspapers. That call had occurred just before photos hit the newspapers of him attending the Academy Awards with some actress— “Taylor Thompson and her fiancé, wealthy Texas playboy Rand Taggart…”

“Sorry about that, Mom. I’ve been…busy.”

His voice crackled on the line as if he was a very long way away. Bracing herself for the worst, she said, “Where are you, Randy? This connection is terrible.”

“Uh, I’m in Mexico.”

“Mexico! What in the world are you doing there?” She’d probably regret asking that.

“Actually…I was hijacked.”

“This is a terrible connection. It sounded as if you said you were hijacked.”

“I did. I was. Have you heard about the hijack yesterday of a flight from Chicago to some village in Mexico?”

Meg’s heart fluttered painfully in her breast and she pressed a hand to her chest. “You mean those two prison escapees who—Randy, you were on that plane?”

“Uh-huh, but don’t worry. I’m fine. In fact, no one was hurt, just inconvenienced.”

“This is terrible,” she wailed. “From what I hear, if it hadn’t been for that brave man from Iowa—”

“Yeah, old Larry was something, all right.” His tone was dry. “That’s not why I’m calling, though.”

Here it came, the bombshell. Meg sat down heavily on a chrome chair at the breakfast table. “I’m almost afraid to hear this.”

“No, Mom, this is good.” A long pause; she could picture him taking a deep breath. Then he blurted, “I’m married.”

“You’re…married?” She repeated the word stupidly, too shocked to censor her disbelief. “Randy!”

His laughter sounded anxious. “Don’t have a stroke, Mom. She’s exactly the kind of girl you and Dad and Great-granddad always told me I needed.”

Images of actresses and models flashed across her mind, not the sensible types she’d longed for her son to find. At almost thirty, he was certainly old enough for marriage, although his maturity was still in doubt.

She was relieved when he filled the silence.

“We were on that plane—me ’n’ Maxine, that’s her name. We were on our way to tell you and Dad the good news, that we were going to—”

“You mean you’re not already married?”

“We are now. We ended up in Mexico, where it’s easy to get married. It…it seemed like a sign. I mean, why wait?”

“Married…exactly when, Randall?” Oh, she shouldn’t have called him by his formal name. She had no right to be angry at his marriage, a marriage she’d yearned for.

Did he hesitate? “This morning, actually. We got married this morning.”

She didn’t believe him.

Meg Taggart, who took her son’s side in all things, who defended him against his father’s criticisms, who believed everything he ever said to her, simply didn’t believe this. “That’s pretty far-fetched, dear,” was the best she could come up with. “Tell me the truth. Why so sudden?”

“Well, because…I want to start the legal wheels turning to get my inheritance from Thom T.”

“I see.”

Only, she didn’t. She didn’t see at all and he’d said very little to clarify matters. Why would he care about Thom T.’s Rocking T Ranch all of a sudden? Unless…maybe this Maxine was a ranch girl. Maybe she would be a good influence on Randy.

Meg got hold of herself. “May I speak to her, Randy?”

“Who?”

“Your wife, of course. Maxine, you said?”

“That’s right. Maxine. Sure, Mom, you can speak to her.”

A brief pause and then another voice came over the line, a woman’s voice that was low and cautious. “Mrs. Taggart? It’s nice to meet you, so to speak.”

“Maxine?” Meg’s mouth had gone dry. “Please call me ‘Mom,’ if you’d like, or ‘Mama.’ Even ‘Meg’ would be fine, but no ‘Mrs. Taggart,’ okay?”

“Of course.”

“My son tells me you’re married.”

Light, perhaps nervous laughter. Then Maxine said, “I warned him it would be a terrible shock, but he said he’d been remiss in not keeping in touch with you in the past. He wants to remedy that, Mrs.—Meg.”

“That’s good to hear.” At a loss, Meg stumbled over her words. “So h-how did the two of you meet, dear?”

“In an airplane. Planes seem to be good luck for us, even when we’re being hijacked.”

“Oh, don’t joke about it! It could have been a tragedy.”

“But it wasn’t. In fact, it gave Rand and me a chance to…really get to know each other so much better than we did when it all started. I guess you could say we truly…bonded.”

Jesse barged through the back door, took one look at his wife and stopped short, his gray eyes narrowing. “What the hell?” he demanded. “Bad news?”

Meg covered the mouthpiece with one hand and shook her head furiously. Licking her lips, she spoke into the phone again. “Well…that’s really…uh, it’s been nice chatting with you, Maxine. Will you put Randy on again?”

Randy said, “Isn’t she great? I told you you’d like her. Uh, Mom, can you start the ball rolling with the lawyers on that inheritance? I’d like to get that taken care of as quick as possible.”

“It may not be that easy, dear.”

“Why not?”

“They’ll want to see your marriage license and then we’ll all have to meet her—your father and me, Trey and Rachel and Boone and Kit.”

A long silence greeted this explanation. Then her only son said, “You don’t believe me.”

“That’s not it,” she protested. “Exactly. I mean, this is awfully sudden. I’m sure when we get to meet her…When will we, dear?”

“Soon. Uh, Maxine’s schedule is tough, actually. She has obligations in Chicago.”

“But—”

“You’ll meet her in good time,” he cut in defensively.

“That time had better be before September 30,” Meg retorted, “because that’s the deadline if you really truly want that ranch. And I have my doubts about that.”

“Thanks for your support, Mom. I thought of all people you were the one I could count on.”

“No, darling. You thought of all people I was the one most easily snowed—and you’re right. I hope everything is exactly as you say, that you and this girl are madly in love and will live happily ever after. But forgive me if I need more proof than a quickie telephone call from Mexico.”

She hung up with a hand that trembled. Automatically she turned to her handsome husband for the support he never failed to offer. “Oh, Jesse! What have I done?”

He threw back his head and laughed. When he straightened, dark hair with only a few strands of gray fell over his forehead. Dressed in the clothing of a working cowboy, he carried a coiled lariat in one hand and a halter in the other. Fearless and frank, Jesse was also solid and unyielding and stubborn as the day was long.

And he loved her. He dropped the halter and the lariat on the floor and took his trembling wife in his arms. “What the hell’s that boy done now—gone and got himself married?”

“He says so, but there’s something fishy about his story.”

He surprised her by saying, “I hope to hell it’s true.” At her astonished glance, he grinned and added, “Nothing like a little responsibility to make a man grow up fast. Ask me how I know?”

And he kissed her, just as he’d kissed her the first time.

MAXINE SAID, “She didn’t believe us.”

“Didn’t seem to.”

“Well, I tried.” She walked across the hotel room to look down on the bustling streets of Tijuana.

Rand had gotten the room so they’d have a place to make their calls in peace and quiet—not that it’d done much good. “It wasn’t you,” he said honestly. “You were great. In fact, you were so great that I’ve just realized I’m gonna have to watch you in the future. You managed to imply all kinds of stuff without telling a single lie.”

“Lying comes easier to some people than to others.” She kept her face turned toward the window. “Okay, we tried and it didn’t work. We may as well go to the airport and get out of here.”

“Uh-uh. Not yet.” He picked up the telephone handset. “We’ve got two more shots. Just stand by….”

“YOUR NEPHEW’S on the phone, Mr. Mayor.”

In the mayor’s office in Showdown, Texas, attorney Boone Taggart put down the stack of city ordinances he’d been studying and picked up the handset. “Randy, is that you?”

“Sure is, Uncle Boone.”

“Bad connection.” Boone switched the receiver to the other ear. “What’s up, lad?”

“What makes you think something’s up?”

“Experience. The last time I heard from you was about 1995 and you wanted me to smooth over one thing or another with your parents.”

“Okay, I stand corrected. I’ll level with you. I just got off the phone with Mom and I need help with her.”

“Meg’s okay, isn’t she?”

“She’s fine. Here’s the deal. I want to claim my inheritance from Great-grandpa.”

“You’ll never break that will,” Boone said. “Guaranteed.”

“I don’t want to break it—I want to comply with it.”

Boone, an expert at reading between the lines, put two and two together in a flash. “You called Meg to tell her you’re married. I’d have expected her to be pleased.”

“If she believed me, which I don’t think she did. Do me a favor and convince her, okay? I got married this morning in Mexico and…”

As the boy explained, Boone could hardly keep from chuckling. He didn’t blame Meg for being dubious and said so first chance he got, ending with, “If you want my help, bring your wife here and give us all a chance to meet her and decide for ourselves if you’ve fulfilled the conditions of that will. It’s the only way.”

A sigh. Then Rand said, “Yeah, I guess I’ll have to do that. You can’t blame me for hoping, though. Give my love to Aunt Kit, okay?”

“Will do.”

“I was sorry to hear about her cancer surgery.”

“That was three years ago.” Boone hated to be reminded of the toughest ordeal his wife—or he—had ever faced. “We had a happy ending, anyway.”

“That’s what Mom said. The kids okay?”

“Yeah, they are.” Travis was eighteen and had just entered his senior year at Showdown High School; Cherish was an adorable eleven-year-old and still Daddy’s girl.

“That’s good. Okay, Uncle Boone, I’ll be in touch soon.”

Boone doubted it. He really did. For some reason, Randy wanted the ranch he’d ignored for nearly ten years and was willing to hustle his own family to get it.

What the hell. Taggart family life had been way too tame since Thom T. had died.

THE TELEPHONE was ringing when Trey Smith finally got the door open to his ranch house in the San Fernando Valley. This was Rachel’s day to work at the free clinic and the kids were in school, so his footsteps made lonely echoes across the hardwood floors.

“Yeah,” he said into the phone, “I’m here.”

“Uncle Trey, it’s Rand.”

“Rand who?” Trey looked down at the mail on a small silver plate next to the phone, then began sifting idly through it.

“Ha, ha, very funny. Randy, your favorite nephew, who else?”

“Oh, that Rand. What’s up, kid?”

“Nothing much. I was hijacked to Mexico and I got married. You’re the next stop on the family gauntlet.”

“Married?” Trey straightened. “What took you so long?”

“That’s the spirit.” The kid sounded relieved. “Mom and Uncle Boone were less enthusiastic.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Who knows?” Rand sounded disgusted. “The deal is, I want to claim that inheritance Great-grandpa left me and I’ve only got something less than two weeks to do it in. I thought Mom or Uncle Boone could start the ball rolling, but they seem to have a problem with this marriage.”

“There’s an easy way out of that.”

“Name it!”

Ah, such eagerness. No wonder Meg and Boone weren’t buying the boy’s story. “Take your blushing bride on the grand family tour. Where are you calling from, by the way?”

“Mexico.”

“Oh, yeah, the hijacking.”

“How did you—?”

“It figures, that’s all. Anyway, bring your bride here to meet your dear old Uncle Trey and Aunt Rachel—we’re closest and easiest to convince. Then you can tackle the rest of ’em.”

“Time is of the essence here.”

“Time’s been of the essence for damn near ten years. Now all of a sudden you’re in a hurry?”

“Good point,” Rand said. “Okay. Gotta go, but you’ll be hearing from me.”

“Wanna bet?” Trey asked nobody in particular. He hung up the phone. Wait until he told Rachel about this. That kid was up to something, sure as the world. Trey wished him luck but knew it would take more than that to get anything past Daniel Boone and Jesse James Taggart, even if their wives tended to be soft touches.

“WELL, HELL.” Rand gave Maxine a dour look. “I must have been nuts to think that would work.”

“I told you so.” She picked up another tortilla chip from the basket on the tray delivered earlier by room service, painfully aware of the trembling of her hand. “I guess that’s that, then.”

“Not so fast. I haven’t given up yet.”

She waited, her heart in her throat.

Suddenly his eyes widened. “Why didn’t I see this before? We have to really get married. That should be easy in Mexico, and equally easy to get unmarried once we’ve achieved our ends.”

Maxine gasped. “You can’t be serious. When I get married it will be once and for all.”

“This won’t count against that,” he argued, “because this will be a business arrangement.”

“You just said—”

“It will be legal but not real, in that we won’t really be husband and wife.”

“Meaning no sex and I wouldn’t have to live with you?” Blunt but precise.

“Meaning no sex but you would have to make what Trey called the ‘grand family tour’ to convince everyone concerned that we’re married and madly in love. Then you can do anything you want to do, with my blessings.”

She regarded him for a moment in silence, her heart throbbing erratically. She had never expected anything like this, even in her wildest imaginings. Finally she said, “Isn’t that kind of a dirty trick?”

He obviously didn’t want to consider that aspect, but she’d forced the issue. “I guess it might look that way,” he said slowly, “but…my back’s to the wall, Maxine. There are complications you know nothing about.”

“Go on.”

“Not now. Look.” He hauled out his checkbook. “Let’s be businesslike about this. I want to hire you for a maximum of…say, one month? That should be enough time to do what I have to.”

“Hire me?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“That’s right. I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars now and another twenty if we pull this off and I get my inheritance.”

She gasped. “What makes you think I can be bought?”

“You’re out of a job, right? Besides, I don’t want to buy you. I just want to rent you for a little while. What do you say?”

“Give me a minute to think.” She pressed her palms to her temples. “If I do this—and I’m not saying I will—there will be absolutely no sex.”

His expression said he had absolutely no interest in her that way. “No sex. Agreed.”

“Put it in writing.”

“Sorry, no can do. You’ll have to trust me on that.”

“Why should I? Why should you trust me?”

He eyed her solemnly. “Maxine,” he said slowly, “I always go with my first impressions. My first impression of you is that you’re a woman who can be trusted. I liked the way you handled yourself on that airplane and the way you stood up for yourself when we had to share that room. As Great-grandpa Taggart would say, ‘Girl, you got spunk!’”

She couldn’t return that smile. “I suppose your first impressions are always right.”

“I wish. Sometimes you just have to go on faith.” He put out his hand. “Is it a deal?”