Texas Temptation

by Kathryn Brocato

  His laugh was a hollow sound. “Fashion photography doesn’t capture terrible moments. Don’t mistake me for a driven photojournalist home from the wars.” He finished dressing and she was afraid he wouldn’t answer. Finally he said, “I became a photographer because it pays well, allows me to travel and spend a lot of time with a lot of beautiful women.” He shoved his feet into leather loafers. “Are we done?”

  The coldness in his voice froze her bleeding heart. This wasn’t the Jackson she knew. That man wouldn’t throw random women in her face just minutes after saying she was the only woman who mattered to him. She couldn’t stop pressing him now.

  “Why were you in San Antonio today?”

  The hesitation was brief but Kathleen saw it. “We went over this at breakfast. Alamo pictures for the showing. I think we know each other well enough for day three of our marriage, don’t you?”

  Not even close. She didn’t know why he was so focused on San Antonio. Why he chose to be a fashion photographer. His favorite food. Favorite color. Pet peeves. She didn’t know how he spent his time in New York. Did he have friends to take the place of his family? Was he well and truly alone in the world?

  And he didn’t know that Vanessa and Monica’s lifestyles both frustrated her and made her envious. Didn’t know how important her rescue horses were to her.

  How important he was.

  Oh, God, I do love him, don’t I? The only real thing I know about him is he’s leaving. And I love him.

  That was one conversation she would not have with Jackson. Remembering her school-girl crush, her face burned. He knew about the old crush, he never needed to know that he now held her whole heart.

  “Yeah, we’re done. Let’s go face the grilling at dinner.” She didn’t reach out to take his hand. It was painfully obvious from the distance in his voice that their closeness of the night before was purely sex based.

  At least for him.

  • • •

  She asked too many questions.

  He couldn’t take one more day filled with questions about his past, present, and future, much less three full weeks. No answer he gave would satisfy Kathleen’s curiosity and he would rather have her hate him for telling her nothing than see the pity in her eyes at learning he was so unlikeable both his mother and his father had abandoned him. His true story made her worries about her own family pale in comparison. Kathleen might not have her grandfather’s complete trust and her father might be a drunk but at least they hadn’t walked out on her. Like he was going to do in a few short weeks.

  Walking down the immaculate hallway, Jackson berated himself for not taking Kathleen’s offer of an annulment the night before. He shouldn’t have tried to comfort her. He should have run for the airport and gotten out of this ridiculous situation as quickly as he could. It would have been better for her. He’d seen the pity in her eyes. Pity plus a woman meant feelings. And from what he’d seen of Miss Fix-It she’d soon be trying to fix him, too. And probably falling in love with him in the process.

  Then he’d be the abandoner and that didn’t sit well.

  Why hadn’t he left? If he had he wouldn’t have seen the sad apartment building where Maria had lived for a while. Wouldn’t have seen children’s grubby faces, waiting behind locked doors for their parents to come home for the night. Wouldn’t have been reminded of where he came from.

  He had to keep Kathleen at a distance and the best way to do that was to shut her out. Maybe that pallet on the floor wasn’t such a bad idea. Because sooner or later they would both break from the weight of their lies and the weight of their silences.

  She was keeping her own secrets, maybe none as dark as his but secrets all the same. Those secrets would kill any possibility of a future.

  And there he went again. Thinking about a future with Kathleen when he should be convincing her to fall on her sword and tell Mitchum the truth.

  The dining room was just ahead; they couldn’t go inside this way. Mitchum would never buy their act if Jackson didn’t do something to take the anger and hurt from Kathleen’s face. They were supposed to be newlyweds. Inordinately happy with everything from the blue Texas sky to the fabulous smells coming from Guillermo’s kitchen.

  He pulled her into an alcove. “Look, we don’t need full life histories to pull this off. We can make up a wedding story. We can talk about our college days and we can fake the rest. All your grandfather expects is to see a happy, newlywed couple. Why can’t you just focus on that?”

  “Because a happy newlywed couple knows things about one another. They know family history, they know about friends and past relationships. I can count on one hand the number of things I know about you. We can’t fake that.” She poked a finger into his chest. “Don’t you get it? If we don’t know each other we can’t be married.”

  Frustrated, Jackson dug his hand through his hair. “But don’t you get it? We aren’t a typical date-for-two-years-then-marry couple. We eloped on a beach in Mexico. We’re supposed to be using the honeymoon to figure out that past history stuff. No one will think twice if I mess up your birth-order or if you talk about my dead parents as if they were alive.”

  She sucked in a breath. Exhaled. “I would never marry a man if I hadn’t met his family.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Well, honey, I guess I married your evil twin, then, because you don’t know my family. And you married me anyway.” He crossed his arms, mirroring her stubborn stance.

  This wasn’t working. He was frustrating her and she was driving him mad with her incessant “tell me everything” conversations. Couldn’t she understand that there was simply very little to tell?

  “That’s different. You don’t have any family for me to know. And stop taking me so literally. I’m not a flighty person. I think about things before I act, Mexico notwithstanding.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “If I don’t have answers to their questions they’ll figure out exactly what happened in Puerto Vallarta.”

  Ahh, so that was it. Non-flighty Kathleen was trying to convince herself that her actions in Mexico were in keeping with her keep-it-together attitude. But knowing useless facts about him wouldn’t convince Mitchum their marriage was for real. And he could spout factoids about her life until he was blue in the face. None of that changed the fact they got married in a drunken haze in Mexico and really didn’t know one another.

  Didn’t she get that?

  He realized she wouldn’t let up and no amount of interesting facts about his life would replace the mutinous expression on her face with joy.

  Telling himself he had no choice, Jackson pulled Kathleen into his arms and crushed her mouth under his. She resisted and Jackson softened the attack on her mouth, teasing her lips with nipping kisses.

  He rubbed her shoulders in small circles, willing her to relax. She did.

  Kathleen pressed against his chest, her arms encircling his neck to tease the little hairs there. It was all the encouragement Jackson needed to change the kiss from a necessary move to a needed one.

  One hand cupped the back of Kathleen’s head as the other teased the skin beneath the halter straps of her dress. Her body quivered and he stepped closer, pushing her back against the wall of the alcove. He kissed her eyelids, the pulse in her temple, and lightly bit her earlobe. She shivered, a soft moan escaping her lungs.

  Ringing brought them both crashing back to earth in the small nook next to the chiming grandfather clock. Jackson had no idea where he was. Why was the clock ringing?

  “Phone,” Kathleen said, pushing him back with one hand and reaching for the phone with the other. She cleared her throat and answered. Jackson heard rapid-fire chatter on the other end as Kathleen’s eyebrows knit together.

  “So when — ” But the other conversant just kept talking. A few seconds later Kathleen hung up the phone, worry all over her face.
Jackson reached for her. Was something wrong with one of her horses?

  “What is it?” he said softly.

  Kathleen shrugged. “My sister, Monica. She’s somewhere doing something, I couldn’t really understand her, and won’t be home this summer. And why do I even care? She’s horrible most visits, even worse than Vanessa, so why do I feel like the only kid left at the bus stop waiting for her mother to arrive?” She turned unhappy eyes to Jackson but he didn’t have an answer. Family dynamics weren’t his specialty.

  He hugged Kathleen, rubbing her back as she rested against him.

  “Are you two coming to dinner? Or do you need a few more minutes to yourselves?” Mitchum asked, chuckling at the dining room door.

  Kathleen abruptly pulled out of Jackson’s embrace, her face beet red. “N-n-no.” The move annoyed Jackson but not because of their act. At that moment he didn’t care if Mitchum figured everything out. He just wanted Kathleen back in his arms.

  For an experienced woman of the world, his new wife acted very much like an insecure virgin when her grandfather was around, Jackson thought. He took Kathleen’s hand, pulling her into the dining room. At least he’d accomplished one thing: she certainly didn’t look angry with him now.

  Chapter Ten

  For the first time since landing in Texas Jackson felt completely at ease. Although he didn’t attend gala balls regularly in New York, he’d been to enough to know his way around. Hell, he made it through Fashion Week each year in New York and Paris without incident so he could certainly make it through a benefit where, according to his rough calculations, sixty percent of the men wore denim jeans and sport coats rather than tuxes.

  Although she didn’t force him to rent a tux, Kathleen demanded that they leave the ranch early that morning so he could buy proper clothing, which included a pair of off-the-rack Lucchese boots of his own. Jackson was surprised at how comfortable his feet felt. Sport-coat of his own and new jeans had him fitting in with the Texas crowd. He grabbed two flutes of champagne as a tuxedoed waiter passed by, handing one to Kathleen. They sipped, eyes locked over the rims of the glasses. Did she want to get out of here as badly as he did?

  Josie Bryan, the charity president, interrupted them, telling Kathleen that several benefactors wanted to speak with her before handing over their very large checks.

  “They won’t be happy listening to my speech about the surgeries, clinic visits, and in-home care we provided last year?” Kathleen asked.

  Josie shook her perfectly coiffed head, hammered silver earrings glinting in the low light. The big diamond on her right hand looked deadly, but from what Jackson had seen as she worked the room, Josie wasn’t attached to any one man. Her black designer gown showed a modest neckline but the back plunged low. Josie was currently using that backside view to keep at least two men interested in her comings and goings across the wide ballroom. She took Kathleen’s elbow and steered her away from Jackson.

  “We’ll be right back, Jackson, honey. Why don’t you mingle?” Kath suggested.

  Unlike the men most of the women wore formal attire, turning the ballroom of The Omni La Mansion del Rio, steps from the famed River Walk, into a fashion photographer’s paradise. There were more beads, sequins, and oh-so-low plunging necklines in attendance tonight than Jackson had seen since Paris Fashion Week. He appreciated the scenery, especially Kathleen. In a killer emerald green off-the-shoulder sheath, a slit which revealed most of her left leg each time she moved and tiny feet encased in four-inch stilettos, his new wife was turning heads, his included.

  Kathleen and Josie, on the opposite side of the ballroom, seemed entranced in the conversation of a man in a wheelchair and a tall, athletic woman. She seemed familiar but Jackson couldn’t place her face.

  “And how do you know our little Kathleen?” The voice over his shoulder startled Jackson out of his scenery enjoyment. A middle-aged man with the beginnings of a paunch stood to his side, watching him close and Kathleen even more closely.

  They intentionally left their wedding rings at the penthouse before coming to the benefit, Kathleen rationalizing that with her family not in attendance it would be simpler. Jackson had the feeling she didn’t want to explain her quickie marriage and even quicker annulment to San Antonio society when he left in a few weeks. That was fine with him at the penthouse. Not so fine with Middle-Aged Paunch standing beside him as if he’d like to have Kathleen for dessert. Uncomfortable explanations or not, he wanted that wedding ring back on his finger.

  He settled for the quickly-becoming-standard college sweethearts reunited story Kathleen kept telling everyone, leaving out the alcohol-tinged wedding ceremony. He held out his hand. “Jackson Taylor,” he said.

  The older man shook his hand and grinned. “Kent Williams. You aren’t Jackson Taylor, the photographer, are you?”

  Jackson was surprised. He had quite a reputation, and even a little bit of fame, in fashion circles but very little notoriety in the rest of the world. Kent kept talking. “My daughter sat for you…oh, I guess it was last year around Christmas. Said you made her freeze her, ah, bottom off on the coldest day ever recorded in Tahiti.” He chuckled. “Leastways that was her excuse for not coming home for the holidays.”

  Jackson remembered the shoot and he remembered the model, Kyra. She’d complained throughout most of the day but when a male waiter went for a swim after the shoot she was right back in the water, trying to get his attention. He skipped the anecdote but told Kent his daughter was a joy to shoot, a little white lie he told hundreds of time each year. “I didn’t realize Kyra was from Texas,” he said to pass the time while Kathleen finished glad-handing with the big donors.

  “I suspect she doesn’t want to admit being from Texas, as little as she comes home. She’s nothing like Mitch’s Kathleen. That girl lives for Texas and her horses, although I’m guessing you know that already.”

  “Mmm,” Jackson replied, watching Kathleen make her way back across the room. Kent slapped Jackson on the shoulder, grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and sipped. Kathleen stepped up to them, smiling, placed her hand in Jackson’s, and greeted Kent.

  She raised one eyebrow and said, “You’re going to beat last year’s donation, right?”

  “Now, Kathleen, you know it’s been a tough year,” Kent said, dropping his empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and holding up both hands. “I’m not quite — ”

  Kathleen released Jackson’s hand to hook her elbow through Kent’s arm and turned a charming smile on him. “Don’t make me call Grandfather — or bring Josie over here to browbeat you.” His eyes glittered. She chuckled and Jackson watched both of them, wondering what he was missing. “And don’t think you can fake a psychotic episode to get out of anything. You can run naked and screaming around this room, telling the secrets of every man and woman in here. As long as you increase last year’s donation by twenty percent, and before you tell me you can’t, think about the big write-off you’ll be able to take. If that doesn’t work, think about the kids you’ll help with medical and dental care.”

  “You fight dirty.”

  “Learned from the best — you and Grandfather.” She poked him in the ribs, friends again now that he’d accepted her terms.

  “If you talk to all the donors the way you talk to me, I can see why this is one of the biggest fundraisers in all of Texas each year.”

  Grinning, she said, “Most are happy to show the rest of the world what fine citizens they are by donating a few dollars every year. I only blackmail the donors I really hate.”

  Kent grinned back. “If I weren’t your family’s lawyer, I’d take offense to that.”

  “If you weren’t my family’s lawyer you wouldn’t be invited and you wouldn’t be rubbing elbows with the West Texas aristocracy — and drumming up business by the end of the night.”

  “Hey, the rich and famous n
eed my lucrative advice.”

  “They need your finely worded prenuptial agreements, you mean.” Kathleen turned back to Jackson. “I saw you two talking, but should I make official introductions?”

  Jackson wasn’t sure how to react. This was the family lawyer? He shook his head. “Kent and I were just talking about his daughter, a model I shot with last year.”

  “You were Kyra’s photographer?” Kathleen’s eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t think Kyra has looked quite so…innocent since she and Vanessa were in kindergarten together.”

  Jackson shrugged, still off-balance at knowing Kent’s connection to the family. Had he said anything that might hurt Kathleen’s plans? He couldn’t remember anything except how the lights played in Kathleen’s hair, how she held all of her nervousness in the way her foot tapped against the floor. “What kind of law do you practice?” He asked Kent, hoping the lawyer hadn’t caught on to anything.

  Kent talked about his all-purpose law firm. “The best kind to have in Texas,” he said once, before asking Kathleen if she could come to his office the next week to look over some paperwork about the rescue horses.

  “Rescue horses?” Jackson asked.

  Kathleen’s face glowed as she told Jackson about her pet project providing homes for sick horses and aging or disabled racers.

  “We only have two at the ranch right now, but I realized a while back that if anything happened to me my rescue horses would probably go under. Kent has been working on a trust of sorts, to make sure they are cared for no matter what happens at the ranch.”

  Josie returned to lead Kathleen to the podium at the front of the room, leaving Jackson to wait at their table. Two older women, sitting across the table, exchanged a look.

  “We are Millicent and Virginia Teegarden,” said the white-blonde one, “of the Teegarden Oil Teegardens.” Jackson realized this was his cue to introduce himself and make polite conversation. He did a mental eye roll. These women were piranhas if he were an accurate guesser. “You’re here with our Kathleen?”