His Valentine Bride

by Cindy Kirk

  Betsy jabbed him in the ribs, forgetting he was the man she’d loved—and lusted after—for years. “Settle down, or I’m going to tell everyone the story of when Keenan locked you out of the locker room in your boxers—”

  “You’re right. Stay clear of the shrimp.”

  She couldn’t help it. Betsy laughed with sheer joy. This was the Ryan she wanted. Not the perfectly behaved gentleman lawyer who hadn’t cracked one joke all week. But the Ryan who made her laugh and with whom she shared a common history.

  If only she could figure out a way to capture this moment. And better yet, find a way to translate friendship into love.

  * * *

  In the past ninety minutes Adrianna had talked to everyone but him. Yet Ryan wasn’t discouraged. He’d already accomplished a lot for one evening. When the hostess suggested a rousing game of charades, he knew it was time to leave on a high note.

  Ryan glanced at the woman by his side, delicately picking a piece of chicken meat from the bone. Her brows were pulled together and she was studying the tiny piece of meat as if it were a complex legal case she was researching. He got the feeling Betsy was bored, too.

  Actually, he realized, she was what had saved this party from being a total washout. They’d roamed the room like a couple of old friends, laughing and talking to others they knew and some they’d just met. The buffet table had drawn their attention several times and they’d picked and chosen from its sumptuous bounty.

  Betsy was fun, with a quick wit and a sly sense of humor in sync with his own. They talked about the old days and he’d just finished reliving his high school prom debacle when Betsy had decided she desperately needed more wings.

  “It’s no wonder you had to lasso a few more,” he said to her. “There isn’t enough meat on one to feed an ant.”

  A becoming shade of pink rose up her neck, but she lifted her chin. “I didn’t eat supper. So I’m not quite the porker I appear to be.”

  “Porker?” He dropped his gaze and slowly surveyed her lean but curvy body. “Not hardly.”

  The pink on her cheeks deepened to red. “You don’t need to make nice,” she said with a dismissive wave. “I love to eat. In fact several times during my childhood I was sorely tempted to cut the candy heart out of my Raggedy Ann.”

  “You played with dolls?”

  “I did when I was a little girl.”

  “You just never seemed the doll-playing type to me,” he said. “I don’t recall seeing any lying around your house.”

  “That’s because I hardly had any.” Betsy dropped the chicken wing to her plate, then wiped her fingers on a linen napkin. “Keenan bought Raggedy Ann for me with his paper-route money. She was my first and only doll. He was ten and I was five.”

  “Keenan bought a doll with his paper-route money.” Ryan could barely fathom that the rough-and-tumble friend from his youth would do something like that, even if it was for his little sister.

  The realization that perhaps he hadn’t known Keenan as well as he thought he did hadn’t even had time to settle in when Betsy grabbed the front of his sweater in her hand and pulled him close. “Don’t you say one word to him about it either.” Her eyes grew piercing. “Understand?”

  Ryan considered teasing her a bit more, but something in her eyes made him simply nod. Growing up in the McGregor household hadn’t been easy for either Keenan or Betsy. If his friend had found a way to make it easier on his little sister, well, Ryan would give him a break on the doll thing.

  Betsy’s gaze drifted to the groups already forming for the game. She wrinkled her nose. “I hate charades.”

  “That makes two of us,” Ryan said. “Want to sneak out?”

  A look he couldn’t quite decipher skittered across Betsy’s face. Then she sighed. “You came with Mitzi, remember?”

  Mitzi? Heck, he hadn’t seen the brunette since he’d walked through the door behind her. And that was just the way they both wanted it. “We drove separately.”

  Ryan thought for a minute. He hadn’t seen Betsy with anyone all night, with the exception of him, of course. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t come with someone. “What about you?”

  “I’m on my own.” The words came out on a little sigh.

  “Good.”

  She cocked her head. “Why good?”

  He smiled. “Because you and I are going to do some serious partying and now there’s nothing standing in our way.”

  Chapter Three

  Betsy glanced at the glass of wine in her hand. Could someone have slipped something in her drink? That was the only explanation. She had to be hallucinating. There was no way on God’s green earth that Ryan Harcourt would ask her to party with him.

  She glanced up and into those eyes that reminded her of liquid silver. “Pardon?”

  “Good. I knew you’d be up for it.” He disappeared into a bedroom and returned with two coats—her Eskimo-inspired parka and his stylish but rugged L.L.Bean coat.

  “How did you know this one was mine?” she asked, slipping her arm into one sleeve.

  “You’ve worn it to the office every day this week.”

  Yes, but it had also been safely tucked into the coat closet by the time he arrived. While it was warm, Betsy was well aware it wasn’t the most fashionable of outerwear. Obviously all her stealth had been for nothing.

  The man was observant. Too observant. Alarm bells began ringing in her head. He’d noticed her coat. What would be next? Would he one day look in her eyes and see what she tried so hard to hide?

  He can’t know I love him. I won’t allow that to happen.

  “Nothing gets past you,” she said with a halfhearted chuckle.

  “Thanks for the compliment,” he said, sounding pleased.

  Before Betsy knew what was happening, he’d hauled her off to the hostess, and they’d said their goodbyes to everyone, including Adrianna, who seemed oddly pleased to see her best friend leaving the party early.

  Because Betsy and Ryan both lived not far from downtown Jackson, she dropped her car at her home and they took his truck from there. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea. What if she wanted to leave the bar before Ryan was ready to go? But he assured her that he would leave whenever she said the word.

  It made sense, she supposed, to ride together. After all, parking was at a premium in downtown Jackson, especially on a weekend night. Luckily a big Ram 4x4 was just pulling out of a spot on the street when they drew close.

  Ryan shot a smile at her and stopped to wait. “Looks like this is our lucky day.”

  Our lucky day. Not his lucky day. Not her lucky day. But ours.

  Even though Betsy liked the sound of that—liked it a lot—it didn’t mean she’d lost all power of rational thought. She knew she’d simply been in the right place at the right time. Ryan had wanted to ditch the party and it looked better to be leaving with her than to leave alone. Still, “our lucky day” did have a nice ring.

  “I’m going to leave my coat in the car,” Betsy said as he pulled into the vacated parking spot. She unfastened her seat belt, then reached for the zipper to her parka.

  “Let me help you with that.” Ryan leaned over and assisted her with slipping the jacket from her shoulders.

  She looked up and their eyes met. Electricity filled the air. Betsy held her breath.

  But when he stepped from the truck without saying another word, she decided it must have been only her own overactive imagination conjuring up something that wasn’t there.

  “I’m glad we found a close spot,” Betsy said over her shoulder. She’d started hurrying along the sidewalk the second her boots hit the pavement. Although she knew it would be toasty warm inside the crowded bar, outside the wind held a bone-chilling bite.

  Despite her rush, Ryan still reached the door to the bar first. Like a proper gentleman, he pulled it open, then stepped aside, motioning her inside.

  Betsy slipped past him, taking one deep breath of his spicy cologne before the pleasing scent was lost
in the smell of sawdust, French fried potatoes and peanuts.

  Ryan leaned close, shouting in her ear, “It’s packed tonight.”

  She nodded, unable to keep the smile from her face. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy. Okay, it had been Tuesday when Ryan had told her the job was hers. And again that day, when she’d learned that the salary was considerably higher than what she’d been making at her previous position.

  But this, well, this was different. This was a fantasy come to life. A night out with Ryan. She felt as if she was at a craps table in Vegas rolling sevens.

  “Ryan, ohmigod, someone said you weren’t coming tonight.”

  The sexy, breathless voice belonged to one of the blondes Betsy had seen him with last week. Her hair was tousled around her pretty face, but it wasn’t her bright smile that seemed to capture Ryan’s attention. It was her chambray shirt with pearl buttons hanging open, showing an amazing amount of cleavage. Even Betsy was impressed.

  Snake eyes, she could almost hear the craps dealer call out. Her luck had come to an end.

  “Who’s she?” The young blonde’s brows furrowed as she finally noticed the former bull rider wasn’t alone.

  “This is Betsy,” Ryan crooked a companionable arm around her shoulders. “She’s an old friend.”

  Old friend. Hmm. Better than saying she was his employee.

  The blonde looked her up and down, clearly not liking where Ryan’s arm was positioned. “I bet you don’t play darts.”

  Before Betsy could answer, the woman jerked a thumb toward Ryan. “Me and him are a winning combination.”

  “Actually I’ve tossed quite a few in my time.” Quite a few may have been a bit of an exaggeration, but Keenan had taught her how to hold and toss a dart. At one time she’d been pretty good at it, too, but that had been years ago.

  “I don’t think so.” The girl sniffed.

  Betsy felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She narrowed her gaze. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “Ladies, ladies.” Ryan may have spoken to both of them, but it was Betsy who found herself on the end of his conciliatory smile. “There’s no shame in not playing.”

  He thought she was lying, too. Betsy pressed her lips together and counted to ten. When she finally found her voice, she pinned the young blonde with her gaze. “Let’s play a game. Then you can offer me an apology.”

  A momentary indecision filled the girl’s gaze. She shot a glance in Ryan’s direction.

  Someone handed him a beer and he smiled benignly at the two women. “Sounds like a good solution to me,” he said, taking a sip.

  Suspicion filled the blonde’s eyes. She glanced from Ryan to Betsy. “Is this some kind of setup?”

  “A setup?” Betsy asked, puzzled.

  Ryan simply grinned and took another drink.

  “It is.” The blonde tossed her head, sending her hair cascading down her back. “Well, you can forget it. I’m not playing along.”

  She turned abruptly and sashayed her way across the bar, her head held high.

  “What’s up with her?” Betsy asked.

  “Heidi doesn’t—”

  “Her name is Heidi?” Betsy bit back a giggle, the name conjuring up an image of a mountain girl frolicking with goats.

  Ryan began to nod, then paused. “At least I think that’s her name.”

  “She looks more like a Bambi to me.” The second the words left her mouth, Betsy wished she could pull them back. Even though the girl’s attitude rubbed her wrong, there was no need to stoop to her level.

  “Maybe that is her name,” Ryan said, her comment appearing to have gone straight over his head. “I don’t remember.”

  The fact that he wasn’t really on a first-name basis with the curvaceous blonde buoyed Betsy’s spirits. She couldn’t keep a smile from her lips.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.

  “Club soda with a twist of lime, please.”

  “Ah, so you’ve decided to be a little wild and crazy tonight,” he said teasingly. “I like it.”

  He’d barely left for the bar when Betsy saw her former employer, Chad Dunlop, making his way through the crowd. Dressed in jeans and a navy long-sleeved cotton shirt, he looked different than he did in the office. There he always wore a hand-tailored suit and shiny Italian shoes with names she couldn’t begin to pronounce.

  She supposed she could have moved or looked away, but she didn’t. When she’d walked out of his family’s law offices all those weeks ago, Betsy had vowed that she wouldn’t let anyone make her feel like a victim. If anyone should feel awkward about their paths crossing again, it should be him.

  He saw her and changed course, making his trajectory one that would intersect with her. It figured that he wasn’t smart enough to leave well enough alone.

  Betsy wasn’t sure of his motives, but there was one thing of which she was certain. She wasn’t going to run or back down. If Chad was foolish enough to cause a scene, the only loser tonight was going to be him.

  * * *

  While Ryan waited at the bar for Betsy’s club soda—with a hint of lime—he flirted with a few of the waitstaff. Out of the corner of one eye, he kept watch on Betsy. Although he’d expected her to snag a table, she stood in the same spot he’d left her.

  The only difference was her back was now ramrod straight. As he watched, she lifted her chin.

  “Hurry up, Wally,” he said to the bartender without moving his gaze from Betsy. “The lady is really thirsty.”

  Of course it wasn’t true, but Betsy was Keenan’s little sister and nothing was going to happen to her on Ryan’s watch. For some reason, he had a feeling she needed him.

  “Here you go.” The plump, bald-headed owner of the establishment set the drink on the bar. “Can I get you a draw?”

  “Not now.” Without shifting his gaze from Betsy, Ryan curved his fingers around her glass of soda.

  He started through the crowd, smiling when someone called out a greeting or slapped him on the shoulder but not slowing his steps. Ryan was almost to Betsy when he saw him.

  Chad Dunlop had been a senior at Jackson Hole High School when Ryan was a sophomore. They’d been on the football team at the same time. Ryan had no use for the man. As a boy, he’d had a mean streak. As a man, there was something about him Ryan didn’t trust.

  From the defiant way she was standing, Betsy didn’t like the guy any more than he did. Even though Chad had given her a glowing letter of recommendation, Ryan wondered if there was more to the story of her departure than a simple downsizing.

  No time like the present to find out. He reached his friend’s little sister at the same time as the attorney.

  “Chad,” Ryan said in a hearty tone. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

  Ryan turned to Betsy and handed her the club soda. “Sorry it took so long.”

  Chad’s gaze turned sharp and assessing. “You’re together?”

  “Betsy and I are old friends,” Ryan said. “I understand she worked for you for a while.”

  For a second, the man’s smooth facade slipped and the bully Ryan remembered from all those years ago stood before him.

  “Yeah, what of it? We had to downsize.” Chad’s pale blue eyes settled on Betsy. “Whatever else she told you is a lie.”

  Anger rolled off Betsy in waves. If looks could kill, Chad would be six feet under.

  “She didn’t tell me anything.” Ryan kept his gaze fixed on the tall blond man. “But sounds as if there’s something to tell.”

  Chad shot Betsy a warning glance, then turned to Ryan. “Lynnette is waiting for me at home. We’re taking the kids over to the grandparents’ tonight.”

  If Chad was trying to convince Ryan he was a committed family man, he might as well have saved his breath. Ryan had seen the way the guy flirted with the waitstaff.

  “Jerk,” Betsy muttered as Chad spun on his heel and walked away.

  “You got that right,�
�� Ryan said.

  Betsy looked surprised. “You know about him?”

  “I know he’s got a wife and kids, but he’s no family man.” Ryan met her gaze. “I don’t know what he did to you.”

  Betsy averted her gaze and took a sip of her club soda. Her hand shook slightly. “Who said he did anything?”

  “You did.” Ryan put a hand on her arm and steered her to a table that a couple had just vacated. It was away from the karaoke stage and far from the three-piece band playing country classics. A quiet spot. Or at least as quiet as it got in Wally’s Place.

  “I did not.”

  “You said, and I quote, ‘You know about him?’”

  “That didn’t mean anything.”

  “It did, but you don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to.” Even though Ryan wanted to know what Chad had done to put the anger in her eyes, he was determined not to press. Until he saw tears forming.

  She blinked rapidly and immediately lowered her gaze to her drink, as if hoping he hadn’t noticed.

  But he’d noticed all right. He placed a hand on her arm. “You can trust me.”

  She looked up and met his gaze. Something in the liquid blue depths told Ryan he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

  “This has to stay here,” she said finally. “Just between us.”

  Ryan nodded. “Understood.”

  “Chad attacked me in the boardroom.”

  “He what?” Ryan shouted. He rose from his seat, but Betsy grabbed his hand and pulled him down.

  “Keep your voice down,” Betsy ordered. “This is between us, not everyone else in the bar.”

  “Tell me,” Ryan demanded. “And don’t leave anything out.”

  Although he’d been in his share of fights, Ryan wasn’t a violent man. But this was his friend’s sister and Keenan was, well, he wasn’t here. Betsy had no one to protect her. No one but him.

  “We were working late on a case.” Betsy’s voice shook slightly.

  Ryan tightened his fingers around the edge of the table. Let her talk, he told himself, don’t interrupt.

  Betsy glanced down at her club soda and took a deep breath. She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. “He made remarks about my—” she paused and chewed on her lower lip, then glanced down at her chest “—breasts. Apparently he likes women who have, uh, who are generously endowed.”