Taming the Texas Playboy

by Crystal Green

  Jeremiah Barron shut the truck’s door, then took off his hat, tipping it to her. “Mornin’, Ally.”

  What the heck was he doing here?

  Her foolish heartbeat took over, pounding so loudly that she couldn’t hear much else, except his voice.

  “I thought a little housewarming gift might be just the thing for you,” he added.

  Ally didn’t know if he was talking about the roses or himself—a gift she would’ve surely sent back if she’d been given the option.

  Jeremiah had thought long and hard about how to approach Ally again, but he wasn’t used to pursuing a woman who didn’t take much stock in his usual trade.

  If he gave her diamonds, she would hand them right back.

  If he bought her a flashy new car, she would never drive it.

  And she had already refused the very idea of being whisked off to a romantic destination when he’d suggested it back at the charity event in Texas.

  So he’d gone simple by buying her some roses.

  Okay—a lot of roses.

  From the looks of her, it seemed as if he’d hit the nail on the head, too. Noting her elegant yet modest wide-brimmed straw hat, plus a flowing long-sleeved shirt over a white T and dirt-tinted jeans, he’d apparently caught her doing some gardening. The basket on her arm only proved his guess.

  Down-to-earth, he thought, his belly clenching. She was so different from any of the others he’d wasted time with.

  Different enough to matter?

  No. Jeremiah had chased her here for no other reason than the usual—a challenge. A way to build up his pride, which had taken so many hits lately.

  He motioned toward the roses. “I figured I could plant these for you. That way, they’ll last.”

  She was shaking her head, obviously at a loss for words.

  “Don’t tell me you’re not a rose kind of woman,” he said.

  When she took a step toward him, his heart jerked so hard that he thought it might’ve gotten yanked right out of him.

  “You’re not here for any housewarming,” she said, keeping her voice low.

  And he could see why, as an elderly woman limped toward them from around the side of Ally’s home.

  The dickens in him wanted to hurry up and tell Ally that, indeed, he would like nothing better than to warm her house, but she was already talking again.

  Two spots of color had settled on her cheeks. “I can’t believe you came out here, Jeremiah.”

  He stopped joking around. “We had unfinished business. You left before any of it came to a close.”

  It was obvious that he meant more than just her Galveston property, because her cheeks pinkened even more deeply.

  Was she remembering that kiss?

  Before he’d come out here, as he’d taken care of final details before traveling, he hadn’t been able to forget it—the way she’d smelled, like cherry blossoms. The way she’d made his mind spin, even before he’d touched his mouth to hers.

  The way she’d run off, just as he was about to lose control and maybe even whisper something dangerous to her. Something soft and vulnerable that had no business escaping him.

  He could see the flash of Ally’s green-blue eyes, even from this near distance.

  “We have no business,” she said. “I told you that you should go through my managers if you want that property.”

  A tense moment boxed them in, as if they were the only two people in this area, this world. And in those few, dragged-out seconds, Jeremiah felt his heart expanding, becoming something so unfamiliar that fear pressed back against it out of sheer desperation.

  He didn’t have room for a heart that was any bigger than he meant it to be.

  Breaking off their connected gaze, he turned to the green pickup he’d rented back at the small airport by San Luis Obispo. The veins in his neck were thudding, as if something unexpected was playing him.

  He unlatched the tailgate, scooping the first plastic planter full of roses into his arms. “Surely, by now, you’ve heard of my reputation—and I’m not talking about the one you read about on the gossip pages. When I set my mind on a business proposition, I go after it at the source. I don’t mess around with middlemen.”

  “So this is all about the Galveston property.”

  He would go with that. “I’m serious about acquiring it, Ally. And I could make you an offer you wouldn’t be able to refuse if you’d just hear me out.”

  For the first time, she seemed to give credence to his story. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head: selling the property to offset all the losses she’d suffered. Security in the profit she might make.

  A sense of protection—of wanting to see that she was secure—assailed Jeremiah, and he had no idea where it came from.

  “All I want to do is talk,” he said.

  While she looked into his eyes, as if to find the truth there, his chest seemed to open up, inviting her in even though it was the last thing he wanted.

  Wasn’t it?

  She obviously read some less than noble intentions in him, and she glanced away, as if disappointed.

  But why? Why expect much of anything from him except for the reputation he’d earned?

  He didn’t dare think that she saw more in him than other people did. Hell, even he didn’t believe he was more than the tycoon playboy who journeyed from party to party.

  “Where can I put these?” he asked softly, not realizing he was using that tone of voice until it had come out.

  She hesitated, then pointed to the back of her home.

  When she began walking in that direction, he followed like a damned puppy dog until he put down the planter.

  A space had been cleared back here, near a Spanish tiled patio decorated with wrought-iron lawn furniture and benches. It was as if Ally had been planning a flower garden but hadn’t gotten around to making it a reality yet.

  He gestured to the distance, where, over the hills, a hint of the ocean broke through the haze.

  “Perfect view,” he said. “How big are you going to make this garden?”

  “Nice sized.” She gave a puzzled look to the rose planter he’d been holding. “I was actually thinking about roses—rows and rows of them, with gravel pathways.”

  Bull’s-eye. Damn, he was good.

  He tried to extend his streak. “I grew up with a garden like that, where you could walk through the lines of flowers.” He remembered Florence Ranch, with the magnolias, azaleas and wisteria in the back of the big house. As a boy, he’d run through its mazes. As an adult, he’d taken drinks back there, figuring out how to navigate other mazes, like those he encountered in business.

  Ally was a maze, too, he thought, and he wasn’t sure which way to go with her.

  Or what might be at the end.

  But who was he kidding? She would provide the same conclusion all the other women had—a sense of triumph at a conquest well done. Satiation, carnal and temporary.

  He started to walk back to the pickup for more roses, but her voice stopped him.

  “Despite everything, I just want to thank you for the thought. The roses, I mean.”

  Was she coming around? “You’re welcome.”

  “It was just a shock to see you here.”

  “You should’ve known that I wouldn’t be content with where we left matters.”

  He didn’t say whether he meant the Galveston property or something else, and he could see a battle playing out over her otherwise serene face.

  It didn’t make him feel good to be the cause of such confusion, either. For some reason, he felt dirtied, as if he should be better around her.

  “Ally,” he said.

  But she stopped him there, too.

  “I was serious when I said you should go through my business managers. All the roses in the world can’t change my mind about that. Not about…anything.”

  It was like an arrow through the heart, because he knew that she really wasn’t talking about the Galveston property anym
ore.

  She left him standing there, walking away from him across the patio and going through the sliding back door, closing it with a final thud.

  The sound reawakened every reason he’d come out here in the first place—to win, to show her and everyone else that he wasn’t irrelevant. That he could matter.

  He went back to the pickup and finished unloading his housewarming gift.

  Jeremiah had been shut out too many times by his father. He’d been put at the back of the line, first with Tyler and now with Chet.

  And he would be damned if it was going to happen again with Ally.

  Ally had sequestered herself in her master bedroom, taking a shower, then putting on a sundress. She wasted so much time that she thought Jeremiah might’ve already unloaded the roses and left her to deal with them.

  After all, she’d made it clear that she expected him to leave.

  As she brushed out her damp hair, her inner clock ticked away. Was it safe to venture out?

  The woman in the mirror of the antique vanity table stared back at her, wide-eyed, cheeks flushed. She looked…colorful. As if thoughts of Jeremiah animated her more than usual.

  She tossed the brush into a drawer and used a hair band to fix her hair into a low, floppy, casual bun. Surely he was gone by now.

  As for the gift he’d given her… Well, she was certainly grateful and a bit stunned by it—heck, she had planned to put roses in that same patch of land—but she knew that Jeremiah’s presents no doubt came with strings attached….

  She emerged from her room and went to the kitchen, going toward the vegetable basket she’d set on the wooden island in the middle of the room.

  Then she heard laughter.

  Wrinkling her brow, she looked around. It didn’t take long to find where the sounds were coming from as she went to the patio window, where she found an unwelcome sight.

  Jeremiah sat at the wrought-iron table with Mrs. McCarter, who was giggling like a young girl at some joke he’d obviously made. They had iced teas in front of them, as if it was happy hour.

  Why hadn’t she seen this coming? Of course Mrs. McCarter would’ve introduced herself to him, and of course he would’ve charmed the lashes off of her.

  Ally was certain that her friend wouldn’t have told him about the adoption plans—she’d sworn Mrs. McCarter to discretion—but she wondered what else Jeremiah might’ve wheedled out of her by now.

  She slid open the glass door, catching the attention of the pair.

  Mrs. McCarter lifted her iced tea. “Join us, Ally. It’s a beautiful day.”

  “Yeah,” Jeremiah said, grinning, his cowboy hat on the chair next to him, leaving his hair boyishly ruffled. “Join us.”

  “May I speak with you?” Ally said to Mrs. McCarter, ignoring him altogether.

  The woman glanced at her silver watch. “I should get my duff up anyway if I’m going to help Ally with our late lunch.” She turned to Ally. “What are we having? Vegetable sandwiches and that French cheese you picked up from the market?”

  Ally knew just where this was going, and she motioned for Mrs. McCarter to get that duff of hers inside.

  As her friend obliged, Jeremiah focused on the view again. Near him, all his roses waited in their planters like an army of thorns in her side.

  After Ally shut the patio door, Mrs. McCarter said, “What a wonderful young man. I didn’t know he was a friend of yours.”

  “He’s not.”

  “But…”

  “He’s a business shark, and he’s interested in the old Galveston resort. I’ve told him that I’m not up to dealing with him.”

  Mrs. McCarter didn’t need to know the rest.

  “Weren’t you thinking seriously about selling the property? It’s out of use, anyway.”

  “Yes, but… Not to him.”

  “Because…?”

  “Because he’s not the type of man I, personally, would do business with. I still have a few people on payroll for that.”

  “Oh?”

  Mrs. McCarter looked doubtful about that, as if Jeremiah Barron was just the kind of guy who was worthy of Ally’s trust.

  “Please tell me that you didn’t invite him to stay for lunch,” Ally said.

  The other woman shrugged.

  “He can’t stay.”

  “It would be rude to take back the invitation, especially after he brought all those roses.”

  Clearly, Mrs. McCarter was under his spell. Perfect.

  What would it take for him to go?

  Ally watched him through the patio door—how he’d stretched his long, jeans-clad legs in front of him, as if he was completely at home. How well his body—broad shoulders, lean hips, nice butt and all—fit so well into her chair.

  Too comfortable. Too…

  Then it hit her.

  She knew what would scare a playboy off.

  “Would you do me a favor and wash the vegetables?” she asked Mrs. McCarter. “I’ll be back inside shortly to do the rest.”

  The older woman gave Ally a measuring glance, but she went to the kitchen anyway.

  Ally opened the door and stepped through. First, she would lead up to her plan, fooling him with kindness. Then…

  Bam.

  When she sat down in the chair that Mrs. McCarter had vacated, Jeremiah got that rogue’s grin again, as if he thought he’d come one step closer to winning her over.

  Even while Ally’s body filled with buzzing shocks, just from being this close to him, she calmed herself down, relaxing back into her chair. She could see out of the corner of her eye how he grew a little cautious at her sudden change of attitude.

  “So you’re staying for lunch?” she asked.

  “If that’s fine with you.”

  “Oh, sure, as long as you don’t mind a lot of girl talk between me and Mrs. M.”

  A sideways smile swiped his mouth. “Sounds fine to me.”

  “Good. It’s just that a lot has been happening with me.”

  “I imagine. Settling into a new home must take up a lot of your time. Is that why you hightailed it back out here after the charity event?”

  He was prodding her into talking about that kiss, but she would be damned if she’d give in.

  “Sure, the house is one of the reasons I left in such a hurry that day.” Before he could say anything, she added, “There was a lot of work to get done around here, with putting final touches on the rooms—one in particular that needs extra attention.”

  “Which one?”

  “The nursery.”

  At that last word, Jeremiah froze, his grin fading.

  “Nursery?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She put on her own smile, sweet as could be, preparing to force his hand. “I’m adopting a baby.”

  Chapter Five

  Baby?

  As the words sank in, Jeremiah’s vision fuzzed, breaking his view of Ally into a puzzle with all the beautiful pieces scattered.

  Kids were scary enough, but when he thought of babies, he pictured little helpless bundles who cried all night and looked up at you with wide, innocent stares that said, “I depend on you, and only you. Love me. Be responsible for me.”

  Babies.

  Good God. He could put together million-dollar deals at the drop of a hat, but babies scared him witless. They needed guidance, good modeling. They were nothing to be taken lightly.

  Not like this game he’d been playing with Ally.

  As if things weren’t complicated enough, Jeremiah also realized that when she left the Howards’ ranch it wasn’t because of that kiss they’d shared.

  She’d had an adoption to take care of out here.

  While he shifted in his chair, his gaze snapped into focus on Ally, who sat across from him, angling her head as if she’d witnessed some sort of truth in Jeremiah.

  “Did I surprise you?” she asked.

  If he didn’t know better, he might’ve said she’d put forth the question with a certain amount of satisfaction.

>   “Yeah. Kind of.” But then he recalled the look on her face that he’d seen back on the Howards’ ranch, when she’d been watching the children outside. “Or maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re meant to have kids. A family. It’s just that…”

  “You didn’t expect me to jump the gun before I got married.” It was as if she’d put her usual shield back up—polite, kind, but still remote. “If you wanted children, wouldn’t you do the same? You strike me as someone who goes out and gets what he wants, too.”

  He had to admire her gumption. But…

  A baby.

  Jeremiah had the urge to reach for his hat, say farewell, then go on his merry way. It was one thing to cuddle up to a single woman who didn’t offer too many complications, but a mother-to-be?

  He steeled himself for the inevitable instinct to run.

  Waited for it. And waited.

  Yet, here he still was. Even odder, there was something else taking him over.

  Curiosity. About her. About why she needed a child in her life. About why she thought this was going to complete her when nothing else had.

  How had she found answers when he couldn’t? What did she know about how to get them that he just couldn’t figure out?

  “Why?” he asked. “What made you decide to do this?”

  Ally seemed taken off guard, as if she’d expected him to blaze out of here at the mere mention of a baby.

  “I guess I’m just a nester,” she said. “A quiet life is all I’ve ever wanted, with family. With people who’ll spend the rest of their lives with me.”

  “You’re going to retire here, in the country?”

  “With pleasure.”

  Jeremiah tried to picture himself doing the same, getting away from the high life—all the things that had kept him going during the scandal, all the pretenses he’d been able to hide behind. But he felt bereft. Bare.

  Truly and very much alone.

  Yet, what if there was someone else with him? Someone who mattered…?

  He could hardly believe what was running through his mind, but there it was, and he let it linger, just for a frightening moment. Two moments.

  Then he said, “I get why you’d want to have a baby, but…adoption?”

  When Ally lowered her gaze, he got a hint.