Taming the Texas Playboy

by Crystal Green

  “Jeremiah,” she said, “I appreciate all you’ve done. But you’ve got to go.”

  “I know that.”

  She blinked, wondering if she’d heard him correctly. At the same time, a sinking sensation traveled from her heart to her stomach.

  More disappointment?

  “But before I leave,” he said, “I’d like you to sit with me. Just for a minute or two.”

  Had he come to terms with reality?

  Would he finally leave if she did this one little thing?

  It seemed worth the gamble, so Ally sat down next to him, never even thinking that the terms just might be all his.

  Chapter Six

  Jeremiah had bided his time all day, betting that Ally would, at some point, come out, even if it was just to send him on his way.

  And, sure enough, here she was, next to him, the light from the stars silvering her long, unbound hair, driving him crazy with the desire to feel it flow through his fingers.

  But he’d also stayed around because he wanted more from her, although Lord knew what it was. Maybe he would figure it out before he left.

  Or maybe he never would.

  “Mrs. McCarter told me that you’ve been working in the nursery all day,” he said. “She mentioned something about bunnies.”

  “Bunnies are cute for a baby room.”

  She was still on guard, and the fighter within Jeremiah—the one that had kept him going every time he’d felt shut out while his dad had taken Tyler under his wing—raged on. The fighter made Jeremiah want to make Ally see him as more than some pain in the ass, even if she’d already dismissed him just as thoroughly as everyone else had during his lifetime.

  He felt her glance at him, and his skin prickled to goosebumps this time.

  “It’s not that I think you’re a bad guy,” she finally said. “It’s just that I need certain things for my baby.”

  “Like stability. And people around here who’ll be good influences.”

  She nodded. “Even back in Texas, I knew I’d be starting a new life, and—”

  “That’s why you left. I get it, Ally.”

  He wanted to ask what might’ve happened in Texas if she hadn’t been planning to adopt, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

  As soon as he realized that he was gripping his water glass, he loosened his hold.

  Now Ally seemed to relax a bit, too, probably because he wasn’t selling her a bill of goods anymore, pretending like he’d come out here to woo her for a business deal.

  If he had any brains whatsoever, he would cut his losses and run. By contacting her business managers, as she’d suggested, he could even save face, making everyone think that he had indeed visited to talk her into a sweet deal on the Galveston property and that he’d closed it.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  Why? Why couldn’t he just let this go?

  She tilted back her head, fixing her gaze on the sky, as if she was trying to think of a graceful way to brush him off and out of here.

  Jeremiah bought more time with her by motioning toward the sky. “You going to do a lot of stargazing out here?”

  “It seems a fine place for it.”

  “That’s the first thing I’d do. Back on Florence Ranch, when I was on vacation from boarding school, I had a telescope, and I used it near the gardens. Since the ranch is a bit distant from the city lights, the skies were clearer.”

  “Were you a science geek?” She was giving him an odd glance.

  He shrugged, the expert at hiding a lot of deeper things about himself. The king of deception. “I wouldn’t call myself a geek. I only had an interest. Besides, it got me out of the house most nights.”

  He didn’t add that it had been much easier for him to look at something far off than to deal with the sight of his dad fawning over Tyler, molding him, paying so much attention to him that it sent an unmistakable message: there wasn’t time for Jeremiah. He wasn’t worth the investment.

  Pushing the thought away, he said, “I bought a high-powered telescope and everything. Once, Ty called me a nerd. I think I was about ten, so I didn’t realize how successful nerds are in the outside world and I gave him a shiner.”

  Privately, his father had laid into Jeremiah for it, too, protecting his precious Ty, yet never letting Tyler himself know just how much he cared for him. Jeremiah might have been the only one to see that Eli loved his oldest son best. Then again, Dad had seemed to realize it, holding that over Jeremiah’s head in a sort of silent triumph, as if it would somehow push Jeremiah into being as good as Ty.

  “After that,” Jeremiah said, “I didn’t use the telescope much anymore.”

  He hadn’t meant to fish for sympathy, but Ally was watching him with a soft gaze anyway. It was the last thing he wanted from her, and he downed a gulp of water, hoping to break the moment.

  It worked, because she offered a casual comment.

  “At least you were a nerd with a good right hook.”

  Jeremiah laughed and Ally smiled, too.

  Yeah, he could make this last.

  He used his finger to trace a pattern in the sky.

  “During the right time of the year, I always seem to find the archer first. I guess because it’s my sign.”

  “Sagittarius is mine, too,” she said, before pressing her lips together, as if she regretted adding to the conversation.

  “That’s the last sign I thought you’d be.”

  “Why?”

  “It has to do with fire, right?” And she was all coolness and blue, just like the green-tinted azure of her eyes. “I would’ve guessed you were an Aquarius.”

  “You would’ve guessed wrong.” She said it as if there was a lot about her that she hid, just like he did. And based on how she’d surprised him with the baby news, Jeremiah supposed that she was just as good at keeping things to herself as he was.

  He pointed to the sky again, connecting a cluster of stars that formed a stringed instrument. “And there’s Lyra. The lyre. There’s a good story behind every constellation, and this one has to be in the top five.”

  “Hermes invented the lyre, right? At least, according to the Greeks.”

  So she was an undercover nerd, too.

  A warm patch swirled inside Jeremiah, as if it was forming its own pattern. He had no idea what it would be though.

  “He pulled a cow gut across a tortoise shell or something, then gave it to Apollo,” Jeremiah said. “Then he gave it to Orpheus, and he learned how to play it so well that he charmed the tar out of anyone who heard him. Of course, that’s when he went down to the underworld to bring back his dead wife.”

  Jeremiah kept staring at Lyra, remembering how he’d often gone to his room after looking at the stars, reading up on astronomy and the Greek myths behind all those constellations out there. “Orpheus played that lyre for Hades to convince him to let Eurydice, his wife, go. Hades was so touched that he gave his okay, but only if Orpheus didn’t look back at her during the return trip home.”

  Ally didn’t interrupt, and he wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t know the end of the story or if it was because she was thinking about how tragically it had all turned out.

  “But he did take a peek behind him,” Jeremiah said, “just as he was emerging into the sunlight and…”

  He made a poof motion with his hand.

  In the resulting silence, he thought about the bigger meaning of this story, about how looking back could damage a person.

  Take his college sweetheart, for instance. She’d been a nice girl who was so curious about being with a bad boy that she hadn’t been able to help herself. But he’d loved her—at least, that’s what he’d thought—and he’d tried hard to change.

  Tried but failed. He’d given into his nature one stupid night at an out-of-town party. But he’d still put his heart out there for her afterward, saying he would never stray again, and he had meant it.

  Yet, after that, she’d never trusted him. She’d looked
back when she could’ve looked forward, to their future, and it had destroyed everything, including Jeremiah’s courage to offer his heart to anyone else again.

  After that, he knew that every woman would look back at his history, and rightly so. And when she did, he would also look behind him, just to see if she was still with him. That’s when he would find that she’d disappeared—just as thoroughly as Orpheus’s wife—a woman who was never meant to be with him forever, anyway.

  Jeremiah supposed that this was only one of the many reasons that he’d decided to live for the moment, to take what he had before it all poofed away.

  Ally had been sitting still, clearly affected by the story, so softhearted, so empathetic, and as the moon and stars shone down on her, Jeremiah had never wanted to kiss any woman so badly in his life.

  Knowing there might never be another opportunity with her—not with a child involved—he decided to live for this moment.

  He leaned toward Ally, who only had time to suck in a stunned breath before he pressed his mouth against hers, fully.

  Softly.

  But in that softness, there was also a hint of insistence, and when she didn’t resist him, he slid his hand to the back of her neck, feeling her smooth skin and the fall of hair that rained over his knuckles. The sensuality of it all—the warmth of her skin versus the coolness of her hair—drizzled into Jeremiah, coating him with a longing so strong that he never wanted to let go of her.

  What was so different about this woman that kept him making a fool of himself and coming back for more?

  Under his lips, she made a small, needful sound, and that pierced Jeremiah with an ache that only sharpened. He deepened the kiss, brought it to a longing draw that allowed him to taste her, smell her, get dizzy on her as she responded by latching her fingers onto his shirt.

  She pulled on the material, bringing him closer, and he wound his other arm around her waist, urging her against him.

  Ally seemed to melt, boneless, all heat.

  She wanted him. No matter what she did, how remote and disinterested she seemed, this kiss wasn’t lying.

  Desperate for breath, he skimmed his mouth down her chin, to her throat, where he rested against the wild thud of her vein.

  Yes, it said, punching in quick time, poking holes in him that felt like bright bursts of light. Yes, yes, yes…

  As she breathed against his temple, his hands itched to roam up her body, to cup her breasts and circle his thumbs around the centers of them until she was doing more than panting.

  That’s what a playboy would do—take advantage, get all he could while the getting was good.

  But, when around her, that man faded to the background, letting someone else emerge, someone Jeremiah hadn’t seen since those days of vulnerability and broken dreams in college.

  And that man ended the kiss, easing her back into her chair.

  She seemed just as thwarted as he was, but in his gut, he knew he was doing the right thing. He was going toward a better place, and she’d been the one to start him off in that direction.

  Before he changed his mind, he took up his hat, put it on his head, then stood.

  “Good night, Ally,” he said.

  He walked toward his pickup, and even though he knew he shouldn’t, he looked back at her.

  Much to Jeremiah’s shock, Ally was still there, her fingers on her lips, as if she’d never been kissed that way in her life.

  His veins pumping with a lightness he hadn’t felt in a long time, Jeremiah sauntered the rest of the way to his truck, wondering how the hell he was going to stay away from Ally Gale now.

  The next afternoon, Ally was still in a daze from that kiss.

  Her lips were still humming, as if Jeremiah was close enough to kiss her again. His scent, earthy and manly from the work he’d been doing, had lit up a primal need in her body, which was still on fire. It was as if the mere touch of him had the power to travel into her, abrading every cell with pleasure when he’d made his move—one that she’d fallen right into because she hadn’t expected it.

  But she hadn’t exactly refused him. Where had the good girl gone? Where was the responsible woman who didn’t want any bad influences around her?

  “Ally?”

  She blinked, everything coming into focus at once: the chirp of birds, the table in front of her, the trellises surrounding the outdoor tables of the café where she had invited Michele, her facilitator, and Cheryl, the birth mother. She had just wanted to thank both of them for everything, and she had arranged to eat here at this modest place so Michele wouldn’t have to stray far from her office.

  Michele was the one who’d asked Ally a question she hadn’t quite heard. The woman’s brown eyes were curious under the thick, fashionable frames of her glasses, her face full, even cherubic, with perpetually pink cheeks.

  An angel, Ally thought. Her adoption angel.

  But, then again, everything seemed to have an aura about it today. She smiled as they waited for Cheryl to arrive.

  Shaking off the effects of Jeremiah, Ally said, “Sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.”

  “I was just asking how you’re feeling.” Michele took the linen napkin from the table and spread it over her lap.

  “Oh, I’m doing well.” Too well, Ally thought as she followed Michele’s example with the napkin.

  “It’s always a little stressful being with the birth mother, no matter how often you see her or how much she adores you.”

  “Adores me?”

  “Ally.” Michele clucked her tongue. “She chose you, and it wasn’t just because of how cleverly you put together your portfolio, with all those artistic touches, or how she thought you’d provide a great life for the child. You have an appreciation of the simple things, and she was drawn to that. She keeps telling me that you’re ‘awesome but humble,’ a wonderful combination.”

  “She kept mentioning those portfolio pictures of the horses and the country at our last meeting.”

  “Different things speak to different people. And she admires all the charitable work you’ve done. Good marks all around.”

  Ally was glad Michele was here, whether or not this was one of the official meetings they were required to have, because a neutral party eased the awkwardness between two strangers who were taking part in an emotion-laden transaction.

  Ally hated using that word, transaction, but that’s what this was, with an adoption agreement and everything. But it was an open adoption, where there would be the occasional picnic or event that allowed both Cheryl and Ally to spend time with the baby. Ally was even going to suggest that she could send pictures of the child to Cheryl if she wanted, although Ally wasn’t sure she would, what with the way Cheryl had already confessed to never wanting a baby in the future. Still, it left room for the child to get to know Cheryl, and that was Ally’s main concern.

  It just seemed as if she had already made her peace with her decision to give up her baby, though.

  When Cheryl came out of the doorway of the brick cottage that housed the café, she waved at Ally and Michele. She had corn-blond hair, big blue eyes and the cheekbones of a model; she even wore her rounded belly with aplomb, under a chic olive linen shorts suit. Once, Michele had commented that Ally and Cheryl had such similar coloring that the baby might even end up resembling Ally.

  She hugged Cheryl then helped her to sit in a comfortable wicker chair and sat back down herself. They already had water, and Cheryl took a few gulps before setting the glass on the table, where patterns from the slatted overhead awning created shadows.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “There was an accident on the 101.”

  “Not to worry,” Ally said.

  Cheryl leaned back in her chair, resting her hands on the armrests, her belly so big that Ally wanted to cup it, to feel the child under all that roundness.

  “My brother was driving me, and he reminded me that it’s nice to slow down every once in a while,” Cheryl said. “Life has gone pretty fast these
past couple of years. I’ve barely hauled in a breath since I started college, and now it seems like this adoption is flying by, too.”

  She’d taken the semester off to have the baby while staying at her brother’s home, but Cheryl was the type who would be right back at the books after this. At least, that’s how it seemed to Ally.

  Would the girl ever slow down again, looking up from her studies long enough to regret her decision to give up the baby?

  A zing of fear flew through Ally. She wouldn’t be able to bear it if Cheryl changed her mind about the adoption—and the closer they got to the due date, the more she worried about it. “Things are going fast,” Ally said. “But I don’t mind that a bit.”

  Michele handed Cheryl a menu. “Sometimes all the pieces fall into place, like they did with the two of you, and we can move fast. Actually, eighty percent of our agency’s families do adopt within the first year, so we’ve got a good track record.”

  Cheryl gave a perfunctory scan to the food list, then decided what she wanted within a minute, even before Michele or Ally.

  “It seems like everything is on fast-forward,” Ally said. “Last night, my garbage disposal broke, and I’ve been so distracted that I didn’t fully realize I needed to fix it until this morning.”

  Ally stopped herself right there. The only reason she hadn’t cared about the darn garbage disposal while cleaning up from dinner last night was that she’d been in such a state from Jeremiah. Her brain had only caught up this morning, when Mrs. McCarter, who’d thankfully gone straight to bed after she’d left Ally and Jeremiah alone outside, had mentioned it.

  Michele put down her own menu. “Prepare yourself, Ally. A lot of things are going to go by the wayside with a newborn.”

  Ally smiled with such verve that she knew she had to seem giddy.

  A newborn. Her own little baby.

  But when she glanced over at Cheryl, she found the girl looking at the menu again, as if she was reconsidering her choice.

  Trying not to read anything into that, Ally stilled the rush of fear and told herself that everything was going to go like clockwork.