Читать книгу The Cowboy and His Wayward Bride - Sherryl Woods - Страница 5

Pure, gut-deep exhaustion had settled over country-music superstar Laurie Jensen weeks earlier, and now it seemed she was walking around in a haze from dawn to dusk. A new baby who didn’t know the meaning of a full night’s sleep, a concert tour, publicity demands and the burden of keeping a secret from the one person in the world with whom she had always been totally, brutally honest—all of it had combined to take a terrible emotional toll.

She sat in her fancy dressing room long after her concert had ended and the fans had drifted away. With the sleeping baby nestled in her arms, her own eyes drifting shut, she relished the momentary silence, welcoming it just as she had the applause earlier.

Bliss, she thought. The quiet was absolute bliss.

Of course, it didn’t last.

“Laurie, you ready?” her assistant called out in a hushed tone with an accompanying rap on the door. “The limo’s outside to take us back to the hotel.”

Even the soft tap and whispered reminder were enough noise to wake the always restless baby, who began to fuss, then settled into a full-throated yowling that gave Laurie a splitting headache.

“Shh, sweetheart. Everything’s okay. Mama’s here,” she soothed, gathering up her purse and easing toward the door.

As the baby quieted and finally began to gurgle contentedly, Laurie did a quick survey of the room to be sure she’d left nothing behind, thankful once again for Val’s efficiency. Her assistant handled everything from toting diaper bags to making complex travel arrangements with total aplomb. She’d even been known to tuck Amy Lynn into the crook of her arm and feed her while answering Laurie’s fan mail with her free hand.

Often, observing her whirlwind assistant at work, Laurie wished she were half so competent, even a quarter so adept with the multiple demands facing her. There were times—and tonight was one of them—when she felt thoroughly overwhelmed, when she wanted nothing more than to run straight back to Texas and into Harlan Patrick’s waiting arms. Assuming he was still waiting for her after all this time and after she’d made it clear that her singing career was what she wanted most in this world.

What was wrong with her? Was she completely out of her mind trying to tackle the demands of motherhood and a singing career all on her own? Especially when she knew with absolute certainty that the baby’s father would have flown to her side in a heartbeat if only she’d told him about Amy Lynn?

But that was the trouble, of course. Harlan Patrick Adams would have taken the news that he was a daddy as reason enough to demand that she marry him at once, return to Los Piños, Texas, and be a rancher’s wife. There would have been no ifs, ands or buts about it.

She’d known the man since she was in kindergarten. She knew how he operated. A bulldozer did gentle nudging by comparison. Oh, she knew Harlan Patrick, all right. They’d exchanged birthday presents at five, their first awkward dance at thirteen, their first real kiss at fifteen.

Harlan Patrick had flirted with typical Adams abandon with every girl in town, but there’d never been a doubt in anyone’s mind that Laurie was the one he loved. With single-minded determination, he’d been asking her to marry him for years now. And she’d been saying no, while practically everyone in the universe told her she’d lost her mind.

Unlike the music business, Harlan Patrick Adams and his love were a sure thing, her mother had told her repeatedly. His family was the richest and most powerful in Los Piños, practically in all of Texas. He could give her stability, the kind of rock-solid future most women dreamed of, the kind her mother had always craved.

Unfortunately, Laurie’s dreams tended toward a world that no one, not even an Adams, could guarantee. From the time she’d learned the words to an old Patsy Cline hit, she’d wanted to be a country-music sensation. God had blessed her with the voice for it. Whether it was the church choir or the school chorus, Laurie had always been the star soloist. The applause had been wonderful, but she would have sung for the sheer joy of it. And maybe, at one time, she would have been content with that.

But over the years Harlan Patrick had unwittingly fed her obsession by seeing to it that she saw concerts by every country superstar who appeared anywhere in Texas. He’d even wrangled a backstage meeting with a few. Laurie had discovered her destiny.

Somehow, though, he’d never taken seriously her desire to be up there on the stage, earning her own applause. For him, the gestures had been an indulgence. For her, they had been an inspiration. He’d thought time, a little coaxing and a few breath-stealing kisses would change her mind. She’d found his inability to recognize and accept her dream more annoying than her mom’s.

After all, Mary Jensen had had a tough life. She was practical to the very core. Harlan Patrick, however, was supposed to be Laurie’s soul mate, the man in whom she’d confided her hopes and dreams all her life. The discovery that he’d merely been indulging what he called “her little fantasies” had brought on one of the most heated fights they’d ever had.

Why hadn’t he been able to understand that singing was simply something she had to do with the gift God had given her? He’d let her—let her, she thought indignantly—sing in the neighboring towns if that’s what she wanted, but Nashville had been out of the question. His ultimatum had been phrased in a generous, condescending tone that had set her teeth on edge. As if the decision were his to make, she’d thought as she turned on her heel and walked out of his life for good.

In one way she was grateful. It had made it easier to say goodbye, to head for Nashville without looking back. She’d dug in her heels, too, even when the going had been tough and she’d been waiting tables to make ends meet. Knowing that he’d welcome her back with an I-told-you-so smile had driven her to stay the course.

It had been two long, lonely years before she’d been discovered by her agent, but then things had happened so quickly it had left her reeling. She’d captured the Horizon Award for up-and-coming stars with her first album, a Grammy and a CMA Award with her second. She’d gone from a show-starter for the superstars to a concert tour of her own that had broken box-office records. In no time, it seemed, every single debuted at the top of the charts and every album went gold.

Only then, with rave reviews and money in her pocket, had she gone back to Los Piños. It was the only time she’d seen Harlan Patrick in the five years since she’d left. She was home just long enough to discover that the chemistry between them was as explosive as ever and that he was every bit as bullheaded as he’d been the day she walked out. He’d actually thought that she’d be ready to walk away from it all now that she’d proved to herself she could do it, as if it had been some cute little game she’d been playing. The man could infuriate her faster than anyone else on earth.

Then, just a few weeks after their reunion, she’d discovered she was pregnant. From that moment on, all she’d been able to think about was keeping the baby a secret from Harlan Patrick. She’d been able to walk away from him not just once, but twice. Could she do it again, especially with a baby in the picture? She wasn’t sure she’d have the strength or even the will.

For the first few months of her pregnancy, it had been simple enough to avoid his calls and keep the secret. She was either in Nashville or on the road and she was extremely careful that no one—not even the very discreet Val—had any idea she was going to have a child. Val knew only that she had no desire to speak to one Harlan Patrick Adams, which pretty much assured that there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d get through to her. Eventually he’d gotten the message and given up. Not even Harlan Patrick was stubborn beyond all reason. Nor was he a masochist. It hadn’t taken all that long for the Adams pride to kick in and assure her of a reprieve from his pestering.

When Laurie could no longer disguise her expanding waistline, she had scheduled five months in seclusion at her home on the outskirts of Nashville. She’d let Val and no one else in on the secret and let her assistant run interference.

“She’s working on songs for her next album,” Val had told any and all callers, including Laurie’s agent. That had kept him, if not the media, satisfied.

Now she had Amy Lynn to remember her childhood sweetheart by, and it was both the most miraculous blessing on earth and a painful reminder of what might have been. When she thought of how Harlan Patrick would have adored their precious child, she hated herself for keeping silent. And yet, what choice had she had?

None, she assured herself. Handsome as sin, but stubborn as a mule, Harlan Patrick had given her none. The man didn’t know the meaning of compromise. He’d made it impossible for her to do anything other than exactly what she had done.

After Amy Lynn’s birth, she had scheduled recording sessions for the next two months. There’d been a short break, barely long enough for her to catch her breath while the album had been rushed to market, followed by the grueling pace of a concert tour set to coincide with the album’s release.

By then, those closest to her knew about the baby, but they’d all been sworn to secrecy and they had united to protect both Laurie and the baby from the glare of the spotlight. It couldn’t last forever, but it had to last long enough that Harlan Patrick wouldn’t connect her child with that last visit to Los Piños.

It meant sneaking in and out of concert halls and clubs, using hotel back doors and heavily tinted limo windows, but the worst of it was over. One more month, mostly in small towns and out-of-the-way clubs to which she owed a debt, and they’d be home again. She could drop out of sight completely there, live in seclusion with her daughter. Just thinking of it was enough to have her sighing with relief.

They were halfway down the hall when Val muttered a curse. “I left that package of autographed pictures in the office. Wait for me at the back door, and I’ll check the alley before you go out.”

It was an established routine. When Laurie had the baby with her, Val always preceded her to make sure the coast was clear, that there were no paparazzi or overly zealous fans lurking in the shadows. Sometimes it was Val who carried Amy Lynn tucked in her arms as if the baby were her own.

Tonight, though, Laurie was thinking only of crawling into the back of the limo, resting her aching head against the smooth-as-butter leather and catching a ten-minute nap on the way back to the hotel. That was how bad it had gotten. Even ten minutes of uninterrupted sleep sounded heavenly.

She was so anxious to reach the car and settle in that she opened the door of the auditorium without waiting for Val. The instant she did, a photographer’s flashbulb exploded in her face. Panic had her whirling to shield the baby, but she knew in her heart it was too late. The man had had a clear shot in that instant before she’d been aware of his presence and time to click off a few more shots while she’d been temporarily blinded by the first brilliant flash of light.

“Oh, God, no,” she murmured, imagining the picture splashed across the front of every tabloid in the country. Tears slid down her cheeks even as Val exited the building, saw what was happening and took off after the photographer with fire in her eyes.

To Laurie’s relief, Val caught him at the end of the alley, but all of her pleading and cajoling could not make him relinquish the prized roll of film. Nor could the swift kick she aimed at his shin or the knee she tried to place deftly in his groin, but Laurie had to admire her courage in trying. She vowed to give the woman a raise for going way above the call of duty, even if her efforts had failed.

Defeated, Val returned to the limo. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should have checked the alley.”

“It’s not your fault,” Laurie reassured her wearily. “I should have waited. I was just so tired.”

“Maybe he was just some local guy and the picture won’t make it beyond here,” Val suggested hopefully.

“Ever heard of wire services?” Laurie inquired, wishing she could believe Val, but knowing that she was doomed. Harlan Patrick was going to see the picture. Sooner or later someone would bring it to his attention, and then, no matter what conclusion he reached when he saw it, it was going to rip his heart in two.

Then, she thought with a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, all hell was going to break loose. It was just a matter of time.

* * *

“I say we buy up all the copies in town and burn them,” Sharon Lynn said vehemently, tossing the offending tabloid onto her parents’ kitchen table. “If Harlan Patrick sees this, he’s going to freak out.”

This was a half-page picture of country-music superstar Laurie Jensen with “Her Secret Love Child.”

“He’s finally over her,” Sharon Lynn said of her brother. “He’s not even playing her songs on the new jukebox down at Dolan’s anymore.”

“No, now he plays them on that boom box he carries with him everywhere he goes,” her mother said. “We have to show it to him. Maybe this will finally close that chapter in his life. He’ll have to move on once he sees she has a child.”

Harlan Patrick stood outside the kitchen door and listened to the whole conversation. His stomach had clenched and his hand had stilled on the screen door the instant he’d realized the topic. The merest mention of Laurie was all it took to get his heart to thudding dully and his forehead to break out in a cold sweat.

How the hell was he supposed to get over Laurie when she was a part of him, as vital to him as breathing? Losing her had made him question everything, every choice he’d made, even his commitment to the family ranch. There were times when the weight of the family’s expectations and his sense of his own destiny almost combined to crush him.

With his grandfather in his eighties and his father, Cody, getting older, the fate of White Pines was all but his. Ranching was in his blood; it defined who he was, but that didn’t make it any less of a burden at times. Day in, day out, 365 days a year, the demands were unceasing. The damned ranch was what stood between him and Laurie, and yet, when the chips had been down, the ranch was what he’d chosen, just as surely as she’d chosen her music over him.

His heritage over his heart. It was pitiful enough to be the heartbreaking theme of a country-music megahit. He was surprised Laurie hadn’t written it herself. She’d turned everything else they’d shared into top-ten hits. There was something downright eerie and irritating about hearing his life played out on the radio.

Thinking back, he realized that maybe he’d made the decisions he had because he hadn’t believed for a minute that she’d really leave. Despite repeated warnings from his sister, his cousin Justin, his grandfather, just about everyone, he’d trusted that their love was stronger than anything else on earth. By the time he’d recognized his mistake, it was too late. Laurie had been gone and with her, his soul.

Ironically he’d gotten another chance a little over a year ago, but his pride had kicked in with a vengeance and he’d watched her run out on him all over again. Pride, as his granddaddy had told him more than once, made a mighty cold bedmate. Even knowing the truth of that, he still hadn’t been able to make himself go after her. He’d called for a while, but when those calls hadn’t been returned, he’d cursed her every which way and given up.

Okay, so he was a damned fool. He admitted it. She’d made things clear enough the last time he’d seen her. She’d told him flat out that she still loved him, just not enough to come home and be his wife. He’d accepted her decision. What choice did he have? He couldn’t go chasing halfway around the world to be by her side, could he? What was he supposed to do? Run White Pines long-distance?

But he hadn’t forgotten about her, not for a single second. Now she had a child? He didn’t believe it, couldn’t believe that some other man had shared her bed, not when she’d so fiercely declared that she was still in love with him. Theirs simply wasn’t the kind of love that died overnight, no matter how badly they’d mistreated each other. No one had replaced her in his heart or even in his bed. He’d managed to convince himself that she’d do the same. Apparently that was just one on a whole long list of delusions he’d held about Laurie.

He yanked open the screen door, then let it slam behind him as he stared into two shocked, guilty faces. “Let me see it,” he demanded, his voice deadly calm.

Sharon Lynn moved between him and the table, blocking his view of the paper. “Forget about it,” she said. “Forget about her.”

He watched as her sense of indignation and family loyalty kicked in and loved her for it. His big sister had a mile-wide protective streak. All of the Adamses did.

“Laurie Jensen isn’t worth one more second of your time,” Sharon Lynn declared. “She’s never been any good for you, and this proves it.”

“I know what you’re trying to do, sis, but you and I both know that Laurie is the only woman for me.”

Sharon Lynn blushed. “Okay, I’m sorry. It just makes me so mad the way she keeps walking out on you.”

He decided not to remind her that that was only half of the story. The first time Laurie had gone, Sharon Lynn had actually taken her side, accused him of being a short-sighted jerk for not going after her, for not trying harder to become a part of her new life, maybe using his business degree to become her manager or something. When Laurie had gone this last time, Sharon Lynn had positioned herself staunchly behind him. Rarely did a kind word about Laurie cross her lips. The rest of his family tried never to mention her at all.

He scowled at Sharon Lynn. “Just hand over the paper, okay?”

His sister wasn’t quite finished. Once she got wound up, it was impossible to slow her down. She gave him defiant look. “You have to forget about her, Harlan Patrick. Move on. There are a zillion women in Texas who’d love to be with you. Pick one of them, one who’ll treat you right instead of running out on everything you have to offer.”

“Easier said than done,” he said.

He ought to know. He’d cut a wide swath through the available women in three or four counties after Laurie had left the first time. He hadn’t had more than a date or two with any of them then and he hadn’t bothered to call even one of them after Laurie had left this last time. He’d accepted the possibility that no one would ever measure up.

“Sis, I appreciate your loyalty. I really do,” he assured her, then glared. “Now let me see the blasted paper, unless you’d prefer to have me drive all the way into town to pick one up. Do you want me to be standing in the supermarket with half the town gawking at me when I read it? That ought to keep the gossips busy for a while.”

His mother, who’d been letting the two of them battle it out up until now, sighed. “Let him see it, Sharon Lynn. The horse is out of the barn anyway.”

His sister handed him the paper with obvious reluctance. The front page was folded in two. He opened it slowly, regretting that he had even his mother and sister as his audience.

The sight of Laurie, all done up in her fancy, rhinestone-studded cowgirl stage costume, brought his pulse skidding to a halt. No matter how many times he saw her picture, he never got over the wonder of her beauty—the thick chestnut-colored hair, the dare-you curve of her smile, the sparkle in her eyes. Despite the fancy getup, there was no artifice about her. She didn’t need a lot of makeup to enhance what nature had given her.

He’d pretty much stopped looking at these rags, because the sight of her always had the same effect and he figured sooner or later it was going to turn deadly. How many times could a man’s heart grind to a halt before it stopped pumping altogether?

This time, though, the photographer hadn’t done her justice. There was no glint in her eyes, no smile on her lips. He’d caught her in an instant of stunned disbelief, one hand held up, futilely trying to block the lens, while she turned to try to shield the baby in her arms.

She’d been too slow. The baby was in perfect focus, round faced, smiling, with a halo of soft brown curls and blue, blue eyes sparkling with pure devilment. Adams eyes, Harlan Patrick thought at once, unmistakably Adams eyes. There was a whole mantle full of baby pictures just like this up at Grandpa Harlan’s. He was surprised his mother and Sharon Lynn hadn’t guessed the truth—but then they hadn’t known about that last meeting—the one where he lost his head and made love to her one last time.

This time it wasn’t love or even lust that kicked his pulse into overdrive. It was fury. The suspicion that had been nagging at him from the moment he’d heard his mother and Sharon Lynn talking was all but confirmed. Laurie Jensen had had his baby and kept it from him. Betrayal cut through him like a lance. He was surprised he wasn’t bleeding from the wound.

In less than an instant, fury was replaced by icy resolve. He whirled around and without a word went out the way he’d come in, slamming the door behind him, the tabloid crushed in his hand.

“Oh, my God,” Sharon Lynn murmured. “Did you see his face?”

“I saw,” his mother said, racing out the door after him. “Harlan Patrick, get back here!”

He ignored the command and headed straight for his pickup. A half hour later he was at the airstrip with Uncle Jordan’s corporate jet fired up and waiting for him.

He was going after Laurie Jensen and his baby and when he found them, there was going to be hell to pay.