Harlequin Desire February 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: The King Next DoorMarriage With BenefitsA Real Cowboy (Kings of California)

by Maureen Child

  She pressed her hand to the window again, wishing she could touch him, wishing she could feel his strong hand cover hers again. “I know, J.R.”

  The call ended. Thalia turned out the light, but she stood at the window for a few more moments, knowing he would keep her safe.

  The odd thing was, she wanted to do the same for him—to protect him. To make sure that he didn’t wind up as fodder for the paparazzi.

  This was all backward. There was no such thing as bad PR, after all. J.R. making a few headlines would add a big boost to the movie’s bottom line.

  Standing there in the dark, watching his truck, she knew she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t the kind of person who let someone destroy themselves for a strong opening weekend.

  She wouldn’t do that to him.

  * * *

  “I don’t like this wind.” Hoss tucked his chin into his coat as they headed back to the ranch house after another grueling afternoon of breaking ice. “Nope. Don’t like it at all.”

  “What?” J.R. tried to focus on what Hoss was saying, but it wasn’t easy. He was cold—nothing new there. But the cold on top of the bone-deep exhaustion made doing much of anything hard. Hell, a few fields over, he’d lost the grip on his ax midswing and nearly decapitated his best friend.

  Hoss snorted. “What time did you get home last night?”

  J.R. groaned. Hoss already knew the answer—three-thirty. “Late enough.”

  “Well, I don’t like this wind.”

  J.R. sat up in the saddle, paying a little more attention to the weather. The wind cut down out of the north with bitter speed, but the air felt heavy. “Snow?”

  “Snow,” Hoss agreed, burrowing deeper into his coat. “Lots of it. And soon.”

  “How soon?” Mentally, he slapped his head. If he’d been aware of his surroundings, he’d have started moving some cattle into the more sheltered fields. Maybe it wouldn’t hit for another day or two. Maybe they’d have time.

  “Weather says tomorrow night.” Hoss tipped his hat back and sniffed the air. “If we’re lucky.”

  Damn it. “Better check the generators when we get back.” The ranch house was well equipped to handle a blizzard. The fireplaces in each room kept the house warmish on their own, but after the first blizzard, J.R. had invested in several superpowered generators for the house and the barn. They had snowshoes, snowmobiles and enough food to last them a month.

  He had a ton of books, and Minnie was fond of Scrabble. Plus, they needed the snow to hedge their bets against a dry summer. In all reality, snow was not a bad thing.

  That didn’t mean J.R. had to like it.

  He liked it a whole lot less when he and Hoss crested the last hill and saw Thalia’s rental car in front of his house again. “Oh, no.”

  “What is she doing out here?” Hoss asked. The fact that Hoss hadn’t grabbed this opportunity to tease J.R. showed how worried his best friend was about the weather. “Don’t she know it’s going to snow?”

  “City folk,” J.R. grumbled, pushing his horse on as much as he dared in this wind.

  The weather took a lousy situation and made it downright dangerous. Bad enough that Thalia felt free to drop by any old time she felt like it; worse that her presence had led to him being banned from his favorite bar for the rest of the winter. All of that was inconvenient, annoying.

  But to have someone who had been so demonstrably unaware of the weather driving in blizzard conditions—hell, even a regular heavy snow—was a recipe for disaster. People died in this kind of weather. They drove off the road or got hit by a plow. Or they got disorientated and froze to death a few feet from their house.

  A golden, sunshine woman like Thalia wouldn’t stand a chance against a Montana blizzard. He didn’t have a doubt in his mind about that. And he knew, even though she drove him well past the point of distraction, that he’d do whatever he could to keep her safe.

  He didn’t know what that whatever would mean.

  He and Hoss got the horses fed and blanketed before they hurried inside. J.R. couldn’t say that he was exactly happy to see Thalia, not under the circumstances. When she turned her pretty face to him, and he watched her eyes light up because she was glad to see him, well, damn. He was glad to see her, too.

  “Before you say anything,” she began without any further ado, “I’m not here about the part.”

  The effect this statement had on him was unexpected. Maybe he’d gotten a little too cold out in that wind, but a weird, light-headed feeling made his scalp tingle. “Oh?”

  “Everything okay?” Hoss stepped around J.R., wrapping one of his arms around Thalia’s shoulder and giving her an awkward squeeze. Thalia gave J.R. a look and a half smile, and he heard her voice say, “It would be like kissing my brother.” The tingly feeling got a little stronger.

  “Yes, it’s fine.” Thalia straightened, and Hoss’s arm fell away. “I came to say goodbye.”

  Minnie made a noise, and for the first time, J.R. noticed her. She looked like she’d been crying, or something close to it—watery eyes, red nose she kept wiping with a tissue. Thalia turned and patted Minnie on the arm, like she was trying to comfort her.

  What the heck was going on?

  “You sure about that?” Hoss was looking worried now, too, which only made the feeling that J.R. was missing something important get even stronger.

  “It’ll be okay.” Thalia smiled at Hoss, but J.R. could see that it didn’t reach her eyes. She was lying—about what?

  “Anytime you’re out this way, you stop by,” Minnie said with a hug. “It’s been a pleasure having you out here.” Then she patted Thalia’s cheek. “I know it’s hard to see now, but it’ll work out. I believe that.”

  The way Minnie—and Hoss—were talking was almost like they were trying to get Thalia to stay. And here J.R. had been trying to get rid of her for days.

  He didn’t know what was going on, but he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted her to leave. Only because of the weather, he quickly told himself.

  Thalia’s smile was more real this time. “I know. If I get any extra seats to an awards show, I’ll call you and you can see all those dresses in person.”

  Instead of acting like a kid on Christmas morning, like J.R. would have expected, Minnie sniffled again. “That’d be wonderful, dear, but call your mother first.”

  “Yeah, don’t let the turkeys get you down,” Hoss added, throwing his arm around her shoulder again. “You’ll call me if you find a good casting couch, right?”

  “If something comes up, you’re at the top of my list.”

  Then Hoss and Minnie stepped back, and it was just Thalia and J.R. “So you’re going back to California.”

  “Yes.” She was lying again. He could tell by the way her eyes didn’t move. She took a step toward him, her hand extended. “J.R., it has been a true pleasure meeting you.”

  Something about this goodbye felt so final. He didn’t like it, and he didn’t like that he didn’t like it. He’d wanted her to go. He’d told her so in no uncertain terms. And yet... “Likewise.” He took her hand in his and held it. The heat that coursed through her warmed him down to his toes. This was less erotic than when she’d touched his face, but no less dizzying. He would have sworn the room was spinning.

  Don’t go, he almost said. Before he could force the words out, she pulled her hand back and said, “And you don’t have to worry. I won’t tell Levinson where you are.”

  “You won’t?” It was like he understood each individual word, but strung together, they didn’t make any sense.

  “No.” She lowered her eyes, but looked at him through her thick lashes. “I won’t let anyone bother you.”

  The room—hell, the world—spun even faster, so much so that J.R. had to put his hand on the countertop to steady himself. No one—othe
r than Minnie and Hoss—had ever promised to protect him. And neither of them ever looked at J.R. like Thalia did.

  Then she grinned and the tension broke. “Of course, I’m not your agent, so...”

  “Yeah.” J.R. had to clear his throat. “I’m gonna fire that man.”

  “Be sure to sign him to a nondisclosure agreement first. That way, if he ever tells anyone else, you can sue him.”

  “Oh, okay.” Actually, that was a good idea. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? Probably because he’d never done anything with contracts beyond sign them. His mother had always negotiated everything. J.R. had never figured out if she’d gotten what she’d wanted.

  They stood there for a moment. She needed to leave—the weather wasn’t going to wait on her—but he couldn’t quite bring himself to be the one to say goodbye first.

  “Thalia—” he began, but the shrill siren of the emergency weather radio cut him off. Everyone jumped at the sound.

  Seconds later, the nasal voice of the weather guy came on. “The following is from the National Weather Service. The following counties are under a blizzard warning as of 4:00 p.m....”

  “Is that here?” Thalia looked at the clock on the stove. Three-fifteen. “I should go. I’m supposed to catch a flight out of Billings tonight.”

  “You won’t make it.” That seemed like a simple fact, but the look Thalia shot him made it clear that she took it as a personal attack on her driving skills.

  “I’m perfectly capable—” This time, she was cut off by the phone ringing.

  Minnie answered it while Thalia glared at him. Maybe he should get her to sign one of those nondisclosure things—just in case.

  “Yes, she’s here. Yes, we heard.” Minnie’s forehead was so knotted up with worry that her brows were in danger of swapping places. “No, that’s okay. You go on. We’ll take care of her.” She hung up and looked at J.R. “That was Lloyd. He wants to go stay with his daughter—she’s got a generator.” Her gaze pleaded with J.R. He could almost hear her saying, Don’t put that woman out in this weather. She won’t make it. “He said he’d leave the key in the mailbox if we needed it.”

  Minnie was right. In that moment, the path forward became crystal clear. “Thalia, you’ll stay here with us.”

  “I’m leaving. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “You will stay.” Thalia’s mouth opened, no doubt with a snappy comeback at the ready, but when he added, “As my guest,” she closed it again, looking a little off balance. How nice that J.R. wasn’t the only one who felt like that.

  “All of my things are at Lloyd’s. I was going to swing by on my way out of town.”

  Women, J.R. thought. If he were the one leaving town, he’d have that car packed up, first thing. “Minnie’s got stuff you can wear.”

  “No.” Thalia’s tone was insistent. “I have things I need.” He saw her swallow. “Prescriptions I have to take.”

  Damn.

  “I’ll go get my things. I’ll come right back.”

  The weather siren went off again. J.R., Hoss and Minnie shared a look. Thalia didn’t have two hours. “Fine. Get your coat. I’ll drive you.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Yes, I do. I have four-wheel drive.” Thalia probably only saw off-road vehicles stuck in traffic, but his Jeep could handle anything below two-foot drifts. If he drove real fast, they’d make it fine. He hoped.

  “But—”

  “No buts. Either I drive or you don’t get your things.” He turned to go. “I’ll bring the Jeep up.”

  “I’ll have a bag ready for you in a second.” Minnie was pulling muffins and granola bars out. “Just in case.”

  “You know where the rope is?” Hoss asked.

  “Yeah. You see to the generators.” J.R. looked at Thalia, who seemed confused. City folk, he thought. “Get your coat. I’ll pull up in front.”

  At least this time, she didn’t argue with him—with any of them. J.R. walked through the gale-force wind, grabbed the bundle of nylon rope and fired up the Jeep. He bought a new one every three years—life out here was hard on vehicles.

  The moment he pulled around to the front, Thalia and Minnie hurried out the front door. Thalia slid into the passenger seat. Minnie shoved a full bag, no doubt packed with energy foods and bottled water, and a bundle of blankets into the backseat and flat-out ran for the house without another word.

  Just in case, Minnie had said.

  Just in case they got stuck in a snowdrift.

  Seven

  Thalia sat in the passenger seat, fuming. First, J.R. couldn’t get rid of her fast enough. Now he was all but holding her hostage. Yes, the wind had been vicious—but was it that much worse than it had been the first day she’d driven out here? She didn’t think so.

  “This is ridiculous,” she said after they’d left the gravel road behind. She’d made this trip enough to know that they were only fifteen minutes outside of Beaverhead. At least, they would have been fifteen minutes if she’d been driving. J.R. seemed to be going fast. “I could have done this myself. You didn’t need to drive me.”

  He had the nerve to sit there and snort in what sounded like derision.

  “I can take care of myself, you know,” she shot out at him.

  “Thalia, the sooner you figure out this isn’t Hollywood, the better off we’ll all be.”

  The phrase you’re not the boss of me was on the tip of her tongue, but even she knew how immature that would sound. “I’m fully aware I’m not in California.”

  “Ever have a blizzard down in Oklahoma?”

  “It snowed sometimes, sure.” A rare enough event, but she had wonderful memories sledding out at her grandfather’s farm and throwing snowballs at her mom.

  “I didn’t say snow. I said blizzard.”

  As if to punctuate his point, one, then two, then two million snowflakes suddenly appeared. One minute, the road was right there. The next, she couldn’t see the center stripe, much less the pavement. Each snowflake seemed to slam into the windshield with true menace.

  “Uh—wow.” Snow had always been a happy, joyful thing when she was a kid—no school, lots of cocoa and cookies, fluffy snow angels.

  This was another beast entirely.

  She felt foolish all over again, just as she had a few days ago, when she’d stood on his porch in a dress and tights and nearly froze to death. She’d grossly misjudged the situation, and now she felt stupid for having protested as much as she had.

  Another emotion tempered that feeling—gratitude. J.R. had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, but as far as she could tell, he hadn’t slowed down. He’d known this was coming—and had refused to let her drive off into it. Just like he’d refused to let that hick get close to her.

  “Timing is everything.” His voice had dropped back into the no-nonsense tone he’d used to inform her he was driving. “I’ll get you close to the door. Did you see where the mailbox was?”

  “Yes. Lloyd showed me, in case I was out late.” The whole thing had seemed hopelessly old-fashioned at the time. She was used to hotels with doormen and key cards. But now? Old-fashioned ruled.

  “We’ll do this together, but we’ve got to be fast.”

  The next thing she knew, he was skidding to a stop, and Lloyd’s house popped out from behind a curtain of white. He reached into the back, and when he sat back up, he had a huge bundle of rope in his hands. Silently, he leaned over her and tied the rope to the door handle. “You get out first, but I’ll be right behind you. We’ll do this together,” he repeated. “You’ve got to stay with me, okay?”

  “Okay.” She didn’t know what was scaring her more—the snow or how serious he was about it.

  He touched his gloved hand to hers and gave her a crooked smile, then
he opened her door and all but shoved her out.

  The wind. Oh, lord, the wind. What had she thought? That this wind wasn’t much different from that first day? Maybe, maybe not. This wind wasn’t alone. It drove each snowflake into her face with a ruthlessness that took her breath away. Snowflakes? These were more like ice knives, each bent on world domination.

  “Move!” J.R. shouted before she was pushed away from the Jeep.

  Right. To stand still was to die. J.R. must have driven up onto the front lawn, because she could actually see the front door and the mailbox a few feet away. Fighting the wind with every step, she pushed her way forward until she got a hand on the doorknob.

  J.R. was right behind her. As far as she could tell, he had a fistful of her coat in his hand, but she wasn’t about to complain. She got the lid of the mailbox open and fished out the key to the front door. The wind almost whipped it right out of her hand, but she got her pinkie finger looped through the keychain and held on.

  Finally, after what felt like four false starts, she got the door unlocked and they fell into the house. A few inches of drifted snow came in with them, but Thalia and J.R. got to their feet and got the door shut. The relief she felt was physical, except for the fact they were only halfway. “Two minutes,” he said, and she was off.

  Thank heavens she’d at least packed her stuff before she’d gone to say goodbye. She grabbed her suitcase—with her birth control pills in it—and the shopping bags with all her winter clothes in seconds. When she flew down the stairs, struggling to hang on to her stuff, J.R. was leaning against the door, looking beat. The door was mostly shut, but she saw he still had a hold of the rope, which was wedged in the door. The wind was pushing at the door so hard, J.R. had to dig in his heels to keep his balance.

  His gaze flicked over her with cold-blooded efficiency. “Three bags?”

  “Yes.” She braced herself for some sort of comment on women and clothes, but he didn’t say anything.

  With a sigh, he held out his hand. “Give me the two shopping bags so you can hold on to the rope. Whatever you do, don’t let go of the rope.”