The British are Coming Box Set

by Nancy Warren

  Matthew was completely insane.

  The smile was in full bloom now. Yes, he was. He also understood her, as perhaps no man ever had. In his shoes, she might have done something similar.

  So, he wanted to be surprised, did he?

  She waved her feet up and down in her delight and was momentarily distracted by the gold bows on the red straps. She’d paid a fortune for the shoes on Bond Street. Well, if all went well, she’d end up wearing tooled leather cowboy boots for the rest of her life, she supposed, and yelling yee-haw.

  From her cell phone in the taxi, she called Deborah’s office. It was almost five, but she called anyway, and was lucky enough to be put through.

  “Deborah Beaumont speaking.”

  “Hello, Deborah. This is Chloe Flynt.”

  “So my assistant said.” She didn’t sound happy to hear from Chloe, or hostile, simply neutral. “What can I do for you?”

  Chloe wondered what on earth she was doing. She’d followed her instincts and not thought through the fact that the last time she’d seen Deborah, the woman had been shouting at her. “I’m wondering—I know it’s late—but is there any chance you could see me today?”

  There was a long pause. She thought her cell phone had cut out, when finally the woman said, “You mean professionally?”

  “Well, I’m not asking you for a date.”

  Thankfully, the other woman chuckled. “I’ve had my last appointment for the day, but I’ll be here for a while. Where are you?”

  She squinted at the street signs. “About two blocks away.”

  “All right.”

  When the taxi dropped her off, she took a deep breath and then rode the elevator up.

  The young receptionist was packing up when Chloe got there, and luckily, there was no sign of Jordan.

  Deborah greeted her and ushered her into an office that was more like a living room. She noticed that Deborah was looking a lot more relaxed and somehow more human than the last time they’d seen each other.

  “This is lovely,” she said, admiring her surroundings. “Very homey. I watched you on television, by the way, and I thought you were very good.”

  “Thanks. Have a seat. Can I get you some tea?”

  Thinking about the last time they’d had tea, Chloe smiled. “No, thank you. I just finished two bowls of ice cream. Long story, but I did refer a very nice woman named Alice who may be calling here.”

  If Deborah thought that was strange behavior she didn’t say anything, merely settled herself on one chair and motioned for Chloe to sit across from her. “So, what can I do for you?”

  “I think I’ve made a terrible mistake. I broke it off with the man I’ve been seeing. We had a stupid row and I lost it.”

  Deborah nodded as if people did that all the time. God, they probably did. “Why do you think you did that?”

  “Because I love him!”

  “Why don’t you tell me all about it.”

  So she did. Chloe wasn’t one who had to be prompted. She loved to talk about herself. She’d been through all the top therapists in London, including one who wanted to throw away his practice and take her around the world on his sailboat. But most of them had been very helpful. She understood she was terrified of commitment; she’d simply never been able to do anything about it.

  When she got to the end of the recital, Deborah said, “You know, Chloe, change is terrifying. I see people all the time who, like you, understand what’s holding them back, but they are so afraid of changing that they are stuck in their old patterns.”

  “But I do want to change.”

  The face Deborah showed her wasn’t soft and understanding, but tough and uncompromising. “Then what are you going to do about it?”

  She opened her mouth. Closed it. “This is only my first session. Aren’t you getting a bit ahead of yourself?”

  “You’re the expert on breaking up relationships. I’m the one who knows about healing them. That means that in this room, I’m the boss. Okay?”

  She might have liked Deborah better when she was a ranting emotional wreck. “Okay.”

  “So, what are you going to do about changing?”

  She nibbled a corner of her thumbnail, something she hadn’t done since she was a teenager. “I’m going to get him back.”

  “Pardon? I didn’t hear you.”

  Chloe sat up straight. Put her hand in her lap. Took a deep breath. “I’m going to get him back.”

  If she wanted Matthew, and she knew she did, certainly for the long term—probably forever—she was going to have to work to get him back, something she’d never in her life done.

  Well, she’d discovered she could run a business, she could actually help people avoid unhappiness and therefore, hopefully, come a step closer to happiness. She could get herself a man. “What I need is a plan.”

  “You know, Chloe, most women in your position would go and knock on Matthew’s door and apologize.”

  “I am not most women.”

  “No, you certainly aren’t. All right. Let’s talk about your plan.”

  “What, just the two of us?”

  Deborah sat back and looked at Chloe as though in all her years she’d never come across anyone quite like her. Which, naturally, was true. “How many therapists do you think you need?”

  A feeling of hope, of sneaking happiness, began to seep through Chloe. “In London, I would call an emergency meeting. They never fail. All my friends and I get together and they help me sort out my problems.”

  “London is a long way to fly to solve your problems.”

  Chloe laughed. “God, in the old days, I’d have done that, you know. Perhaps you’re right. I have changed. Or I am changing. No. What I need is a Texas support team for a Texas-style plan.”

  “I think that’s a good idea. Talking things over with friends can really help.”

  “Excellent. So, are you free tonight?”

  “For what?”

  “My emergency meeting, silly. I always say there’s no time like the present.”

  “You think of me as a friend?” Deborah didn’t sound annoyed as much as surprised. Chloe was a little surprised herself.

  “I think we could be friends, yes. You’ve helped me a lot.” She glanced up through her lashes. “And don’t tell me I haven’t helped you, because I heard everything from Jordan. I saved your relationship.”

  “You tried to break us up!”

  “But it didn’t work. My interference only breaks up a relationship that’s already on its last legs. When two people are truly in love, all I do is make them realize it.” She smiled smugly. “You and Jordan being a case in point.” She shifted on the couch, curling her feet under her. “Don’t you want to be my friend?”

  “Strangely enough, I do.”

  “All right. I’ll call Brittany and Stephanie and we’ll do it tonight.”

  “Who’s Brittany?”

  “Matthew’s old girlfriend.”

  Deborah put her hand over her eyes. “Don’t tell me. Don’t even tell me.”

  Chloe chuckled. “She brought over salted caramel brownies to thank me for helping her break up with Matthew, and to ask if it was too soon to date another man—the gym teacher at her school who is, by the way, perfect for her in every way. Of course, I suggested she not waste a moment. And then, I decided to let her know that I found her ex very attractive.”

  “Did you end up slapped with a salted caramel brownie?”

  “On the contrary, after a stunned moment, I could see she was relieved. She’s a nurturer, you see, and the only cloud on her horizon was the thought that Matthew might be in pain. But, if he also had a new romance on the go, then she could relax and move on.”

  “I can’t believe the things you get away with.”

  Chloe shrugged modestly. “It’s a gift.”

  They ended up at a big, noisy place with wooden floors and a live band playing bluegrass. She glanced around the table and felt a wave of affection for her new fr
iends. Brittany and Stephanie both fit right in with this place, of course. Deborah looked as though she’d rather be home reading Freud, and she had to admit that even she was a little out of her element.

  Chloe said, “I asked you all to come out because I need a summit meeting of my top advisors.”

  Brittany and Stephanie exchanged a glance. “And we’re it?”

  “Absolutely.” She glanced around at the three attractive women—Brittany the blonde, Deborah the redhead, and Stephanie the brunette. She laughed. “We’re exactly like Charlie’s Angels.”

  Stephanie said, “Except that we don’t fight crime.”

  “Oh, well.” She waved the objection away. “We do help people solve their problems.”

  “We break hearts by proxy, for people who are too chicken to do it themselves. We’re not Charlie’s Angels, we’re Chloe’s Devils.”

  Brittany raised her glass. “To Chloe’s Devils.”

  “Right, girls. I’ve got myself a problem and I’m relying on you to help me fix it.”

  “Chloe’s Devils are on the case,” Brittany said, her blond hair even bigger today than usual, which Chloe had learned indicated her level of happiness. Today, apparently, was a good day.

  “I did something very stupid involving a man and I need to fix it.”

  Brittany looked suddenly concerned. She didn’t want to think of anyone unhappy. “What did you do to Matthew?”

  “I did what I always do. Acted like a spoiled child and made a complete fool of myself.”

  “And then what did you do?” Steph wanted to know.

  Chloe grinned. One thing about her new friends—she couldn’t get much past them.

  But her grin was soon wiped off her face. “I hurt him,” she admitted. “I meant to hurt him at the time, but I was sorry immediately.”

  “Did you apologize?” Deborah’s quiet words broke through her façade.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “I need more than a simple apology. I need to make him understand that I want him permanently, that he’s not some temporary fling.”

  “Why would he think that?”

  She ran her index finger around the rim of her margarita glass, bumpy with salt. “I don’t have much of a track record. I tend to get engaged to men and then drop them. I was going to break up with him, but something stopped me… and then he broke it off with me.”

  “Maybe he’s afraid you’ll run back to England.”

  “Right,” Stephanie agreed. “He needs to understand you’re going to stick.”

  “So, you need to show him that you really are a Texan?” Deborah said, a slow smile beginning to build. She hadn’t seemed to hold a grudge against Chloe for almost ruining her life, but Chloe couldn’t help but be a little wary.

  “I suppose.”

  Deborah looked around at the other women and Chloe reminded herself that they were all Texans, she’d helped break two of their matches, and she was a delicate English rose.

  “We could fix your hair, make it big and Texan,” Brittany offered.

  “You could get a tattoo of the Lone Star in a prominent place,” Stephanie offered, staring thoughtfully at Chloe’s forehead. She wondered what she’d ever done to Stephanie. She’d ended up with Rafe, hadn’t she? It had all worked out.

  “A tattoo?” she said feebly.

  “Tattoos and hair are only skin deep,” Deb reminded them. “She needs to learn how to be a true Texas woman.”

  “They give classes for that?”

  “Oh, yeah.” By now, Deborah’s ladylike expression was more like a python’s right before it strikes. “Cowgirl University.”

  The other two hooted with laughter and Chloe smiled, willing to be the butt of a joke since she was perfectly confident there was no such institution.

  But Deborah wasn’t joking in the least. “It’s the National Cowgirl Museum and Hall of Fame. Check it out on the website. They teach Cowgirl 101, and everything from horse care to leather tooling. Honey, if you want to prove to your man that you are willing to work on this relationship, I can’t think of a better way.”

  “Wait a minute,” Brittany said. “We can have our own customized course. My aunt is Sadie Watkins Hawke.”

  Sadie Watkins Hawke certainly wasn’t a household name in London, England, and it seemed from the momentary silence that Sadie wasn’t exactly the most famous woman in all of Texas either. Then Deborah’s puzzled expression lightened. “The rodeo star?”

  “That’s right. My aunt did really well on the rodeo circuit, then she went to Hollywood for a while as a stunt rider. Now she’s back home and runs a ranch. I’m going to call her right now. She’d get the biggest kick out of teaching an English gal to be a cowgirl—she’s like to bust a gut laughing when I tell her our plan.”

  Chloe felt that now was the time to share her reservations about this excellent plan, but luckily, Deborah forestalled her. “You think your aunt would tailor a course especially for Chloe?” Her obvious feelings of doubt were shared by Chloe herself.

  Brittany laughed. “No, silly. For all of us.”

  “All of us?” Stephanie, who had been staring vacantly into space with an annoyingly satisfied smile tilting her lips, suddenly entered the conversation.

  “Yeah. We can’t let Chloe go alone. She’s going to need all our help. Deborah, you can give her the psychological training to be a true Texas woman, and me and Steph can give her the more practical techniques. Plus, we’ll all get to ride. It’ll be fun.”

  “When were you planning on doing this?”

  “Are you kidding? After the way Chloe completely blew it with Matt, there’s no time to lose. We’re going this weekend.”

  Three voices rose in instant protest and Brittany held a hand in the air, like the elementary school teacher she was. “I do not want to hear excuses or whining,” she announced, silencing them all. “We’re going this weekend. Clear your schedules.”

  “Where is this place?” Deborah finally asked.

  “A couple of hours outside San Antonio. You’ll love it there. Trust me.”

  Chloe and Deborah traded glances. Delight was not the paramount emotion shared. However, even as Chloe opened her mouth to decline spending so much as five minutes on a dusty ranch learning to be a cowgirl, the idea began to appeal to her.

  Matthew wanted to be surprised?

  Oh, Matthew was going to get his wish.

  Chapter 28

  For the first time in his life, Matthew broke the law.

  He told himself he wasn’t really breaking the law by using his key to enter the house he owned and that Chloe was renting—he was worried about her. He hadn’t seen her in four days. Her car was gone.

  Not that he really believed anything bad had happened to her. He thought something bad might have happened to him. Her rent was paid to the end of the month, but what if she’d packed up and left—without even saying good-bye?

  He kept telling himself she was more of a fighter than that, but what really scared the hell out of him was the possibility that he wasn’t worth fighting for. That she’d gone back to England and her regular life, leaving him behind and everything he wanted to say to her unsaid.

  The second he stepped into the house next door, he wished he hadn’t. It was neat. Too neat. The fact that Chloe was a neat freak didn’t register as he yelled her name—which was crazy when her car was gone and he could sense the house was empty.

  He pounded up the stairs, more than a little disappointed that she’d take off like this, even as he was thinking he could rearrange his schedule and be in England in a couple of days.

  But when he burst into her bedroom, he stopped. Her stuff was still there. The girly things on the dresser, her bedding on the bed. He could smell her. The scent of whatever she used on her skin, that he thought of as English rose.

  He let out a long breath and increased his lawlessness by sitting on her bed. Wishing she were here so he could talk to her
, do all the things he wanted to do to her right here on this bed. Okay, he thought, chances were he’d get another shot. She wasn’t gone forever. She was coming back.

  And if she wasn’t coming for him, then damn it, he was coming for her.

  Knowing he should leave, he lingered a little longer. He didn’t touch anything, or pry. He just wanted to be in her space.

  Man, he had it bad. He was a walking humiliation to every Texan male.

  While he beat himself up, he held on to his cell phone, willing it to ring. Willing Chloe to tell him where she was so he could go get her. Four days was long enough to keep a man in suspense. More than long enough.

  When his cell phone rang, he answered before the first ring had finished. “Chloe?”

  “Hey, man. It’s Rafe.”

  “Hey. I can’t talk. I’m waiting for Chloe to call.” He should play it cool, make a joke, but he couldn’t. He was in love with that woman and tired of playing games. He never should have pushed her.

  There was a short pause. “Okay. Sorr—”

  “Do you have any idea where she is?”

  “You at home?”

  “Yeah.” Close enough.

  “I’ll come by later. We’ll have a beer.”

  Of course Rafe didn’t know where she was. “Sounds good.”

  He rose from Chloe’s bed, resisting the memories of the two of them in it, when he could have sworn he heard a horse neigh.

  Crazy. He was going crazy. There were no riding stables for miles. Still, he went to her bedroom window, which overlooked the cul de sac. And he blinked.

  Then a grin split his face.

  Chloe was coming down the sidewalk on horseback and it was the craziest damn sight he’d ever seen. She wore a blue spangled riding costume that would look more at home in Vegas than Austin, a blue and white cowboy hat to which somebody had pinned a rose, and a kickin’ pair of boots.

  She was riding a black gelding that didn’t seem too happy with its rider. Easy to see why. She was holding the reins all wrong and bouncing up and down in the saddle.

  “You’re riding English style again, Chloe,” Brittany called. He had no idea why, or what was going on, but Chloe had a whole posse of gals with her. And he suspected they were coming for him.