The Marrying Man

by Barbara Bretton

  His blood shifted south and he forced the image from his mind.

  "I dated her housekeeper for a few weeks," Max said. "Damn near gave me a nervous breakdown." He made to drag a hand through his perfect hair then apparently thought better of it. "Diapers, barking dogs, McDonald's Happy Meals--hell. Cat lives at the edge of disaster. Gimme Lutece any day."

  "So what was her husband like?"

  "I hear he was a nice guy."

  "You never met him?"

  "Cat started writing after David died."

  Riley started to ask another question then caught himself. She loved him enough to have five kids with him. That was all he needed to know.

  Max looked at him with open curiosity. "You're not interested in her as a woman, are you?"

  He thought about the long, lovely length of her legs, that beautiful face...then he thought about reality. "Five kids, a housekeeper, the housekeeper's kid, and an in-home zoo?" He threw back his head and laughed out loud. "Not me, Max. Not in this lifetime."

  ***

  Cat pushed open the heavy glass doors at 575 Madison and stepped out into the brilliant late autumn sunshine. She stood there, motionless, on the sidewalk and waited for the chilly wind whipping down the street to snap her back to normal. Whatever normal was. She wasn't sure she remembered. It had been a long time since she'd felt this way, a very long time since lust had reared its lovely head and beckoned her toward--

  "Hey, lady." One of New York City's finest stopped next to her. "You okay?"

  She blinked then managed to nod at the policeman.

  "Why don't I hail a cab for you?" the cop offered, raising a burly arm in the air. "You don't look too good to me."

  "No," she said, regaining her powers of speech. "I--I have a car." She glanced toward the corner and saw the familiar Chevy waiting for her. "But thank you."

  She drew a steadying breath into her lungs then marched off toward the vehicle. The driver saw her coming and leaped out to open the door. Alec Marton owned the one and only car service in her small Connecticut town. The Chevy had served as wedding car, delivery room, and taxi cab for most of the citizens of Danville at one time or another.

  "You don't look so good," Alec said as she climbed into the front seat next to him. "Maybe you should lie down in the back."

  She shook her head. "I'm fine, Alec." She managed a smile. "You know me. Not only can't I drive in the city, I can't even think."

  He looked no more convinced than the policeman had and no wonder. She wasn't fine. The truth was she felt as if the real Cat Zaslow had been taken over by aliens. Sixteen year old aliens, at that. She was aglow with excitement, alive with possibilities, and all for a man she didn't know and was reasonably certain she wouldn't like if she did.

  Her knees had gone weak when his eyes met hers and it was a wonder she hadn't swooned at his cowboy-booted feet.

  She'd lost her mind, that's what. All Riley McKendrick did was walk into Max's office and Cat's brain cells had decided to go on vacation. How humiliating. She had five wonderful children, a beautiful home, good friends, and a terrific career. She didn't need a man.

  Truth was, her infrequent experiments in dating all had been less than successful. Men were either intimidated by her success, her kids, or the fact that she liked her life exactly the way it was and made no bones about it.

  "You just haven't met the right man," Jenny liked to say whenever she got the chance.

  "Yes, I have," Cat always said. David Zaslow was a tough act to follow. Any man looking to fill his shoes would have a lot to live up to.

  He could do it, Cat. Maybe that cowboy is the one.

  She shook her head, ignoring Alec's curious glance in the rearview mirror. A clockwatcher. That gorgeous hunk of man was a clockwatcher. What a waste of natural resources.

  Alec maneuvered the Chevy into traffic. "Just getting out in time," he said as they headed crosstown. "Gonna be a zoo in another hour, everyone trying to get out early for Thanksgiving."

  She met his eyes in the mirror. "Alec, do you think I'm disorganized?"

  "Sure," he said, "but I'd never hold it against you. You got a career and five kids. Who wouldn't be behind the eight-ball now and again?"

  She sighed loudly.

  "Not my business," Alec said, "but you asked."

  "You and Sarah have three kids. How do you manage?"

  "Sarah's got everyone on a schedule," Alec said not without a touch of pride. "Even put it on computer."

  Cat suppressed a shudder. "Really?"

  Alec nodded. "You bet. Even Annie's on there."

  Her eyes widened. "Annie's four years old, Alec."

  "Never too soon to start. That's what Sarah says. How else you gonna keep their lessons and doctor's appointments and everything straight?"

  "Isn't that why God made refrigerator magnets?" Was it possible that the rest of the world operated with the efficiency of a Swiss watch while she was a sundial on a cloudy day?

  Which, of course, brought her right back to Riley McKendrick, who made a living putting people's lives into order.

  Had she lost her mind or just the part of it that governed the libido? It wasn't like there'd been any chemistry between them. Everybody knew one-way chemistry was a physical impossibility. He probably hadn't even realized she was a woman. So what if she'd noticed he was tall, dark, and handsome with a voice that could undress a woman without even trying. He couldn't help the effect he'd had on her, any more than she could help the heated fantasies dancing behind her eyeballs.

  She heard Max's voice, crystal clear, inside her head. "An hour with Riley McKendrick will change your life forever." Max couldn't be right. She didn't want her life changed. She liked her life the way it was. She had a home, she had a family, she had memories of a man she'd loved once and would never forget. So what if romance was a thing of the past. She could live without romance.

  At least she thought she could until today.

  She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the car window. "Oh, Max," she murmured. "What have you done to me?"

  Riley McKendrick was everything she didn't want in a man and she was afraid he was exactly what she needed.

  Chapter Two

  He wasn't going.

  That's what Riley told himself the next morning as he strode through the lobby of the Plaza Hotel.

  "We brought your car around front, Mr. McKendrick," the doorman said. "The Massachusetts road map is in the glove box as you requested."

  Riley nodded his thanks and pressed a ten dollar bill into the man's outstretched palm. They were efficient at the Plaza, efficient and polite. Too bad the place had all the warmth of Versailles after the Revolution.

  The doorman tipped his cap. "Have a Happy Thanksgiving, sir."

  Riley muttered something suitable in return. Truth was he didn't much give a damn about Thanksgiving or Christmas or Groundhog's Day. As far as he was concerned, holidays were nothing more than unnecessary interruptions in the normal pattern of life. Thanksgiving was a perfect example. At least if you were going to have a day off, make it a Monday or Friday so you reaped maximum benefit with minimum disruption.

  He'd spent yesterday bumming around Manhattan, trying to figure out why any sane man would choose to live in the middle of chaos. Millions of people crammed onto an island smaller than half of the ranches he'd worked on growing up, all of them searching for something that was just out of reach.

  He still wasn't sure why he'd said yes to Cat Zaslow's dinner invitation. She was hard-headed and outspoken, exactly the kind of woman he went out of his way to avoid. The kind of woman who thought her way was the only way. If he'd been stupid enough to get involved, she would've fought his organizational efforts every damn step of the way and they'd probably end up staring at each other over a pair of loaded rifles.

  No, he thought as he headed north toward the Thruway, he didn't need any part of it. Let Max worry about her kids and her deadlines.

  As for Riley, he had a whole
month stretched out in front of him with nothing to do but enjoy himself. With a little luck he'd reach Boston by dinnertime, where he knew a soft-spoken brunette who understood that some men were meant to be alone.

  ***

  Maybe he wouldn't show up.

  Cat swiped at a carrot with the vegetable peeler the next morning and considered the notion.

  Maybe he'd wake up, realize she hadn't meant to invite him for dinner, and go off to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.

  The idea of Riley McKendrick standing curbside with a score of six year olds made her laugh out loud.

  No, the cowboy wasn't the parade type. More than likely he'd spent the night with a buxom blonde whose I.Q. equaled the price of a cup of coffee. One of those flirty types whose sole purpose in life was the make a man feel more...manly.

  "Ouch!" She popped her forefinger into her mouth as Jenny poked her head into the kitchen.

  "You okay?"

  "Fine," Cat said around her finger. "Household utensils should come with warning labels."

  "You're out of practice, that's all. Just take your time."

  "Easy for you to say." She reached for the band-aids in the jar over the sink. "Are you sure you really want the weekend off, Jenny?"

  "Either that or combat pay," said Jenny. "Twenty-four hours from now Dawn and I will be frolicking with Mickey and Minnie." Dawn was Jenny's eighteen month old daughter who had a serious Disney habit.

  "Traitor," said Cat.

  "Slavedriver," said Jenny cheerfully. They both knew Cat was a pushover when it came to family.

  "How are we doing on chairs?" Cat asked, gesturing over her shoulder toward the dining room.

  "I borrowed two from next door. That should do it."

  "Did I tell you one of Max's business acquaintances might be coming for dinner?"

  "Only half a dozen times."

  "Not that it matters all that much. I don't really think he's going to show up," Cat said with studied nonchalance. "I can't imagine why he would. It's not like you can't find a perfectly good turkey dinner in Manhattan."

  "Uh-oh," said Jenny. "Does this mean what I think it means?"

  Cat wound the band-aid around her finger and tossed the wrapper into the trash. "I'm just wondering if we should set a place for Mr. McKendrick or not."

  "I suppose we should," said Jenny. "Unless you plan to make him eat on the porch with the cats."

  Cat looked up at the bright orange clock. "What time is the Wassersteins' pilgrim party?"

  "In ten minutes and don't change the subject."

  "Are the kids ready?"

  "Clean, dressed, and in the minivan."

  "You probably should get going then. They started without us last year and Jack threw a gourd at Becky Morgan. I had to speak at the Danville Women's Club to make up for it."

  "This clockwatcher of yours must really be something," said Jenny as she started for the door. "You're actually blushing. Wouldn't it be funny if he was Mr. Right?"

  "Mr. Right," Cat muttered as her friend disappeared. Who wouldn't be flushed, standing next to a hot oven? It had nothing to do with the subject matter.

  Jenny wouldn't have made that statement about Mr. right if she'd met McKendrick. The man had "loner" tattooed on his forehead in neon letters an inch high. The man might be gorgeous but he had all the warmth of a filing cabinet.

  And the saddest green eyes...

  She shook her head, trying to dispel the memory. That was just her over-active writer's imagination talking, twisting reality around until it was barely recognizable. Riley McKendrick had probably never known a lonely day in his entire misbegotten life. No doubt women threw themselves at his cowboy boots with mad, passionate abandon ever day of the week.

  In fact, Cat had no doubt he was with one of his harem right now, lying back in bed while the tramp pranced around in some flimsy negligee straight out of a Victoria's Secret catalog.

  A vision of her own flannel pajamas danced before her eyes and she sighed.

  She was glad that she'd seen the last of Riley McKendrick. And with a little luck, sooner or later she'd stop thinking about him as well.

  ***

  "Coffee, sir?"

  Riley looked up at the waitress. Tall, willowy, glossy golden brown hair that caressed her shoulders. A face so perfect it made your head spin like too much icy vodka on a hot summer's night.

  "Sir? Do you want more coffee?"

  He blinked and a short woman with curly grey hair came into focus. "Thanks," he said, as she bent close to refill the cup.

  "Anything else?"

  He shook his head. "Just the check."

  Make that a reality check. He'd spent the entire drive up to Danville trying not to think about the yellow flecks in Cat's soft blue eyes. He was determined not to think about the long, shapely legs left bare by her short black skirt. And there was no way in hell he was going to think about the fact that he'd driven all the way up to northern Connecticut to tell her he wasn't staying for dinner.

  So why had he said yes in the first place?

  It wasn't like he hadn't known exactly where Max was going with the questions about his Thanksgiving Day plans. But there had been something about the look in Cat's eyes that made it impossible. An invitation? A challenge, maybe? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that he felt the pull of something stronger than his misgivings.

  It wasn't like him to be a sucker for sentiment, swayed by the look in a woman's eyes. For all he knew she could've been stifling a sneeze or thinking about rush hour traffic or trying to figure out if he was really a cowboy or just dressed like one.

  Damn. Riley knew trouble when he saw it and Cat Zaslow had trouble written across her pretty forehead in capital letters.

  He gulped down some coffee then glanced at the clock hanging over the cash register near the door. Three minutes to noon. According to the map Max had given him, he was 8.7 miles away from her house. He'd stop by, offer his apologies, then by twelve-fifteen be'd be back on the road to Boston where he'd spend the night with a woman who had as little interest in holidays and family celebrations as he had.

  A woman who wasn't Cat.

  He knew all about high maintenance types like Catherine O'Leary Zaslow. The kind who came with lots of expectations, not to mention children, pets, and a house with a white picket fence. Everything he'd gone out of his way to avoid since he packed and left Nevada behind a lifetime ago.

  It wasn't that he didn't believe in all of those things. He did. At least he did for other people. He'd learned early on that the things the rest of the world took for granted weren't in the cards for him and he'd made his peace with it. You learned how to stand on your own real fast when you grew up bouncing from foster home to foster home.

  He'd been on the wrong line when life handed out lucky breaks. All he'd had going for him was his size and he'd managed to parlay athletic ability into scholarships that had funded his education. Too bad there'd been nobody around to celebrate when his dreams began to come true.

  People talked about family. They talked about sacrifice and love. But Riley knew that love was the first thing to disappear when the sacrifices became too much to bear. He'd been five years old when he found out.

  And he wasn't about to forget it.

  ***

  Cat leaped from the bathtub, sending a spray of Mr. Bubbles across the room.

  "Jenny!" She wrapped a bright yellow bath sheet around her body as she she raced downstairs, then through the hallway toward the kitchen. "Please be home, Jenny! We forgot the cranberries!"

  No such luck. Jenny was still at the Wassersteins' pilgrim party over at Danville Park.

  The smell of turkey wafted from the oven while assorted pots and casseroles were lined up on the countertops, awaiting their turn. Too bad cranberry sauce wasn't hiding in one of them.

  Scooter, her ten year old golden retriever, bounded into the room, followed by three of their multitude of cats. "We've got trouble, guys," she said, scratching the
dog behind the ear. Jenny was out with the minivan. Cat's station wagon was in the shop. And only a monster would call Alec Marton for a cab on Thanksgiving afternoon.

  She glanced up at the clock over the sink. Not quite ten after twelve. If Jenny would just hurry home, there might still be time to jump into the car and head for the mini-mart before the guests started arriving.

  She wrapped the towel more tightly around her torso and started back toward the staircase. Anyone could forget cranberry sauce, she reasoned as she left a trail of Mr. Bubbles behind her. It's not as if it was a crime against the nation, even if certain people like Riley McKendrick would probably take it as a sign of her total lack of character.

  She was halfway up the stairs when the rumble of a car engine caught her attention. Turning she raced back down the stairs, darted around two of the newest litter of kittens, and barely avoided a collision with Kevin's skateboard.

  She swung open the front door. "Jenny! Don't turn off the engine, I--"

  It wasn't Jenny.

  It was Riley McKendrick and he was striding up the path and heading straight for her. He wore grey flannel slacks that hugged his form, a cream-colored sweater, and that sexy-as-hell leather jacket.

  Cat hadn't been raised in New York City for nothing. She knew exactly what to do in a situation like this. She slammed the door in his face.

  He rang the doorbell. She looked down at the bright yellow bath towel and the amount of skin it left uncovered and felt her cheeks redden.

  "Go away!" she called out. "You're three hours early." She admired punctuality as much as the next woman but this was an affront to human decency.

  He banged on the door. Scooter started to bark, which woke up Bingo and Fred, two of Scooter's offspring. Bingo and Fred started to bark as well, followed by Mitzi the beagle's preternatural howling.

  She opened the door a crack and glared at McKendrick. "I thought you clockwatchers knew how to tell time." He was every bit as gorgeous as she remembered. Why couldn't he look the way he was supposed to look? Pale, wan, and not the slightest bit interested in seeing her in a bath towel. She hesitated. The thought that he might not be interested bothered her even more.