It was a lot to take in. From Mitchum’s old-school way of thinking of his ranch to Kathleen’s unwavering loyalty to her grandfather and his way of thinking. She obviously wanted to make him proud. Wanted to carry on his legacy.
And she was being beaten down in the process.
“What can we do to make this work?”
She started, as if surprised to see him still there and then laughed. It was not a humorous sound. “Stay married. Kidding,” she said, waving a hand when the color drained out of Jackson’s face. “I don’t expect you to stick with me. I dug this hole and I’ll find a way out of it.”
What was left of Jackson’s better judgment flew out the window at the defeat in Kathleen’s voice. He might not understand all of the family dynamics at work and he did think Mitchum was a fool for not seeing how great his granddaughter was, husband or not, but he understood the kind of loyalty that Kathleen had for the man.
It was the kind of loyalty he had been looking for his entire life. “What if we did stay married?”
• • •
Jackson scrubbed a hand over his face, watched the asphalt shimmer ahead, and glanced in the rearview hoping to still be able to see San Antonio fading into the distance. Instead he saw nothing but rolling hills, Texas blue bonnets, and space. He closed his eyes. What was he doing in the Texas Hill country, a good hour outside his destination of San Antonio?
Trying to catch up with his sanity, apparently.
They had turned off the Interstate two roads ago and were now traveling more or less west on a narrow strip of highway. Jackson glanced at the gas tank and realized the gauge was teetering on the quarter tank mark. Obviously the rental agency took their “full tank with rental” slogan lightly. Hopefully they would hit a town soon and he’d get Kathleen’s attention so he could fill up.
Kathleen. The woman made him forget his own plans and immediately fall in line with hers. How did she do that? And why couldn’t he ignore her now the way he had ignored her in college?
Because of what he hadn’t found in any trash can in the villa. No empty condom wrappers, no used contraceptives. Nothing. Apparently he’d not only gotten rip-roaring drunk for a few days he’d forgotten Rule Number One — always, always, always use protection — in the process. He’d even looked into her carry-on bag — and felt like a pervert for doing it — to make sure she had birth control pills. Nothing. Which meant there could be a child between them now. A child he wouldn’t leave behind or throw away as he had been, not that he would or could tell her about that.
He hadn’t given her any solid reasons why he’d stay married to her. He’d mumbled something about getting more nature pictures, and she’d been so focused on getting Mitchum out of the villa she hadn’t asked questions. Suited him fine, he decided.
He could just make out the back of her head in the driver’s seat of the Chevy SUV ahead of him. Mitchum, riding in the passenger seat, was no more than the outline of a cowboy hat. She was probably still trying to explain why Jackson had insisted on having his own rental vehicle instead of using one of the many ranch vehicles soon to be at his disposal. Good luck since he hadn’t explained it to her, either. He wondered what kind of story she’d made up. He would have to get the details from her later so he didn’t screw up this idiotic plan of hers — his, too, if he were honest about it — in the next few weeks.
Or maybe she hadn’t bothered explaining the car situation and was still trying to convince the old guy that they weren’t both recovering from that three-day drunk-fest which culminated in their walking down the aisle — or the beach, he still wasn’t sure — to get married.
Sunlight glinted off the slim gold wedding band and he squinted.
Married.
He wanted to slam his head against the steering wheel.
Jackson Taylor didn’t do long-term relationships. He didn’t even do short-term. He did no-term. No expected phone calls, no flowers, and certainly no anniversaries.
And yet he had been the one to suggest they stay married, for a little while at least.
Kathleen, who apparently didn’t do long-term either, fell in line with the plan fairly quickly. In her villa bedroom she had laid out the ground rules for their continued “marriage.” It would last the summer, until her twenty-eighth birthday in August and then he would be free to go. While they were married she could care less what he did with his days as long as he showed up for dinner and breakfast so they could put on their honeymoon show. When August came he was free to return to New York and his career. It basically fit in with his plans. Instead of spending the next few weeks looking for Maria from a hotel base, he would do it from the ranch. Added benefit, which he had no intention of mentioning to Kathleen, he would know by then if she were pregnant or not. If she was…well, they would definitely have to reevaluate this arrangement because he wasn’t abandoning his child.
Jackson stepped on the brake, following her turn from the narrow black top onto a gravel road. Dust choked the road between the two vehicles and he eased farther off the gas, hoping to clear the visibility a bit. The gas gauge dropped a little lower, now hovering just over the red “E.”
The sharper hills gradually gave way to a rolling mass of tall grass and flowers and Jackson sucked in a breath. He’d erased from his memory how beautiful this part of the country could be, because the beauty of the place only reinforced the ugliness of his childhood. Now he couldn’t ignore either.
Black cattle dotted the hills as did a few horses drinking at a small creek running along the gravel road. Cottonwoods lined the banks, coleche glinted in the hills. He rolled down his window, slowed a bit more, and turned down the radio. Vaguely he could hear the call of a few birds hiding in the trees. Probably a few jackrabbits out there and maybe a prairie dog or two million. His fingers itched to grab his camera and capture the scene. There was so much life in the vast emptiness.
But he wasn’t a nature photographer yet and Vogue and Cosmo could care less about beautiful scenery that didn’t have a stick-thin model in the foreground. That was just one of a million reasons he had taken the sports shoot upon himself: a change of pace, a nice influx of cash, and an excuse to make a stop in Texas before his show in New York. Why it was so important to find Maria after all this time he wasn’t sure; all Jackson knew was he needed answers about his past.
A Latin beat drummed from the speakers and Jackson jolted, watching the images before him as if they were real.
Kathleen, auburn hair spread around her face on down-soft pillows. Eyes heavy, she reached for him as he entered her. Together they found a slow, seductive rhythm and, as one, flung over the cliff into the abyss together.
She sighed as he rolled his weight off of her and to the side. Brushing her hair from her face, he tucked her body close to his. He rested his arm across her belly, his thumb making small circles that made her stomach muscles clench.
This was right. This is what he’d been missing. Without conscious thought he’d said, “Marry me.” And immediately wished the words back into his mouth.
What was he doing? He didn’t want to get married and certainly not to Kathleen. This was a vacation fling. She went home tomorrow, he went to San Antonio for a short break, and then back to New York. What was he thinking?
Kathleen sighed again. “On the beach, just us and a justice of the peace and the ocean,” she said on a yawn. “Sounds perfect.”
She was dropping into sleep and probably wouldn’t remember, thank God, he thought. And then his worst fears came crashing onto his chest.
“I’ll train in Texas and you’ll photograph everything. We’ll go to New York together for your shows and travel the world.” She took a deep breath, exhaled. “Everything will be perfect.”
It took all of his control not to jump out of bed and run screaming into the night. Not a manly thought, but he didn’t care. What had
his subconscious just done? And why did a small piece of him want to marry Kathleen on the beach and live in her fantasy world?
Her breathing softened as she fell into sleep. Jackson pulled away from her to pour a drink from the cabinet across the room. Sitting in the overstuffed chair near the window, he nursed the drink, staring into the night.
Did he even know what he wanted any longer?
Jackson snapped back to the present. He had done this. All him. So forget trying to talk Kathleen into a quickie divorce when they reached the ranch and start figuring out how to make the old man believe this was the real thing. Because he couldn’t let Kathleen’s dreams die when getting married was his fault.
He would stick to the plan and be the dutiful husband for the next month. After that, assuming there were no little Kathleens on the horizon, he would black out Texas and this whole mess. Move on with his life. Launch the editorial arm of his business and start building contacts at news magazines around the globe. He didn’t have time for this diversion but he wouldn’t shirk his responsibilities.
For the next month, Jackson belonged to Kathleen.
The Chevy hadn’t slowed when Jackson did and, afraid he’d lose his tour guide, Jackson stepped on the gas to catch up.
Both vehicles topped a hill and a small community lay spread out before them. A two-lane black top highway snaked perpendicular to the gravel road they were driving. As the town came into view Jackson made out an old-fashioned gas station, complete with manual pumps, what appeared to be a restaurant stuck inside an old sale barn, a farm implement store, and two bars. Across the street from the faded sale barn was a large, new barn surrounded by dusty holding pens. All were empty. Must not be a sale day. The town looked exactly the same as it always had and Jackson’s gut clenched.
He flashed his lights and pulled into the gas station. Ahead Kathleen slowed, pulled a U-y and headed back to him. An attendant hurried outside with a musty rag sticking out of his left pocket. The older man leaned on the hood of Jackson’s rented Honda 4-Runner and said, “Fill ’er up?”
Had they stumbled through a time warp at some point along the gravel road?
Befuddled, Jackson nodded and got out of his car to stretch his legs. Mitchum did the same and then walked over to the attendant, both men huddling at the gas tank to shoot the breeze. Jackson headed to Kathleen.
“Any problems?”
She shook her head. “I actually think he’s buying this,” she said, reaching out and then pulling her hand back quickly. Like she was afraid to touch him.
Jackson gritted his teeth. If their act was going to work she couldn’t be afraid to touch him and he couldn’t be afraid to touch her. He felt eyes boring into his back and straightened his spine. No time like the present to get acquainted without the assistance of alcohol.
He moved closer and before Kathleen could step back, Jackson reached out and pulled her to him. His chest pressed against hers. Her wide eyes raised to his. Jackson lowered his head.
“He may not be asking,” Jackson said as his lips brushed hers, “but the questions are still there. We better make this good.” And his lips pressed down on hers, demanding that she open to him.
Kathleen pushed her hands against his shoulders and tried to take a step back from his body. He countered every move she made with one of his own. His legs followed hers until her back was pressed against the side of the SUV. His hand captured hers, holding it tight against his side. For a brief moment he pulled back.
He tilted his head, whispering, “He’s watching and whether he has asked or not he wants to know why I’m driving a rental car instead of riding back to the ranch with my new wife.” He turned the knife a little, knowing she would respond more quickly if she felt threatened. “This is your big plan, if you want it to work, work with me.”
Jackson held his face inches away from hers, watching and waiting. He saw the realization dawn in her eyes and watched as the fight drained from her body. He almost wished it hadn’t. Almost.
• • •
“Give me back my hand,” Kathleen demanded, trying to look over Jackson’s shoulder to her grandfather. No use. She couldn’t see over the man unless she wore four-inch heels. But she knew he was right. Mitchum was watching them. Wondering what had gotten into his granddaughter. Wondering why she would marry a virtual stranger while on vacation and then not want to kiss him after being separated for a few hours.
The problem was she did want to kiss her new husband. A little bit too much. And he wasn’t her husband. Not really. Sure he was a husband on paper but according to their rules — her rules — he wouldn’t be a long-term husband. He wouldn’t be the life partner she needed or the stomach-fluttering, romantic partner she wanted. She needed to remember that so she wouldn’t get attached to him.
Jackson released her but instead of ducking back into the truck like she wanted, she rested her hands lightly against his ribs. She gazed up at the man she would have done anything for in college and wondered for the first time if he had changed as much as she had. Realized she wanted to know him and not just for the next four weeks.
“I’m sorry. You just…surprised me before,” she said, and then stepped up on her tip-toes to kiss him back.
His lips were firm and he tasted of Dr. Pepper. For a second Kathleen tried to convince herself it was the sugar rush from the soda that made her heart race. But it wasn’t. It was simply Jackson. Rubbing her mouth against his, back and forth, back and forth, she let her fingers walk up his ribcage and felt the muscles in his abdomen shiver in response.
Good. So he wasn’t any more immune to her than she was to him. At least they were on even footing there. Good chemistry would help them fake the honeymooning love-birds her family would expect to see.
Clasping her hands behind his neck, Kathleen gave herself over to the kiss, opening her mouth and reaching her tongue out to trace the outline of his lips. Jackson’s mouth opened in response, his tongue pressing quickly against hers and then withdrawing inside his mouth. The contact wasn’t nearly enough.
Kathleen deepened the kiss, pressing her body closer to his. She stepped up, her left leg angling between his legs so that she could feel the heaviness of his erection against her upper thigh. No, he wasn’t immune to her. Not by any stretch of her imagination.
The knowledge was power and Kathleen drew back, opening her eyes.
A chuckle and a cough brought her back to the present. They weren’t alone. They weren’t in love.
They were putting on a show.
She looked around and saw Vern at the gas tanks, her grandfather standing off to one side. Mrs. Gillespie, the owner of the Cattle Café was standing beside Mitchum with old Mr. Yoder, the owner of the corner drug store on his other side.
They were putting on a show for the entire town.
Crap, crap, crap!
“As I was saying,” Mitchum said proudly, “Kathy-bean here went off to Mexico and found herself a husband. That’s Jackson Taylor, y’all will remember him. Now he takes fancy pictures for magazines.”
“Um, Grandfather, Jackson’s one of the best fashion photographers in the world. He owns one of the best photography studios in New York and also has an office in Los Angeles,” she said, vaguely remembering dinner at a small restaurant near the Malecon in Puerto Vallarta when Jackson told her about his business.
“Well, isn’t that somethin’, Jackson,” said Mrs. Gillespie, fanning her face with a lace handkerchief.
Jackson pulled away from Kathleen long enough to offer a wave to the older folks. Kathleen watched him, stuck with a feeling that he would have tipped his hat to Mrs. Gillespie had he been wearing one.
“Ma’am,” Jackson said in that same smooth, Texas twang that Kathleen remembered. She wondered why he was bringing out the twang now when she couldn’t remember him so much as slurring a word up unt
il this moment. “Excuse me,” he said and kissed Kathleen lightly on the lips, his eyes dancing the entire time. “Looks like we’ve got a fan club,” he whispered, clasping her hand and stepping away from the SUV. “But next time, don’t talk about me as if I’m just a resume. Doesn’t look good.”
Mrs. Gillespie tittered and Mr. Yoder chuckled. “Young love,” he said. “Sure isn’t wasted on those two.” He waved at Kathleen and headed across the street to his store. The rest of the town would know just how hot Kathleen and Jackson were for one another by sundown.
Maybe this wouldn’t be such a hard thing to pull off after all. A few kisses here and there, Jackson showing up at the dinner table. They could pull this off. She would still be married on her twenty-eighth birthday, giving Grandfather the confidence that she was ready to settle down. Jackson could leave a few days after that, ready to return to his big life in New York and they would divorce.
No harm. No foul. They both knew the rules going in.
So why was her heart cold at the thought of Jackson returning to New York?
Chapter Five
The rest of the drive passed quickly. Four weeks of wedded bliss with Kathleen would be simple enough to handle. He called his office to let Heather know he would be reachable by cell if anything huge popped onto the calendar. Knowing he had already cleared most of the summer for his trip to San Antonio and the upcoming gallery showing he wasn’t worried.
Last minute fashion shoots were the norm but his contacts at the agencies knew he wouldn’t jump just because they called. If they wanted his personal touch, they had to give him notice.
After watching the scenery passing by his window during the drive from the city, Jackson was positive that on the days he didn’t go into the city he could find plenty to keep his camera busy.
All in all, this wasn’t such a bad plan.
They rounded a final curve and he sucked in a breath. He knew Kathleen’s family had roots in Texas going back practically to the conquistadores, but he hadn’t known their roots were quite this rich.
Texas Wishes: The Complete Series Page 4