The Bride Price

by Ginna Gray

  “Not yet. But one is sure to pop up,” he joked. “They always do.” Three seconds of silence followed, then, in a serious voice Eric said, “Wyatt, why are you taking this crazy trip? I’ve never known you to put anything before business. You’ve never even taken a weekend vacation since you took over Sommersby Enterprises.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe it’s time I did.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at a dirty limerick someone had scratched on the wall of the phone booth. For twelve long years he’d worked his buns off. The first three it had taken every ounce of energy and ingenuity he possessed just to keep the company afloat, thanks to the mess his father had made of the business.

  Wyatt’s grandfather had run Sommersby Enterprises until his death at the ripe old age of ninety-one. By then Wyatt’s father had been well into his sixties, and though he’d been an officer of the company, it had been a titular position. Winston Sommersby had been a gentleman of leisure, a polished socialite who excelled in polo and tennis and yachting, a man who’d had excellent taste in clothes and wine and who’d possessed impeccable manners.

  He had not, however, inherited the drive or business savvy of his ancestors. In the six years that Wyatt’s father had been at the helm of Sommersby Enterprises he had almost succeeded in ruining a business that had grown and flourished under five previous generations of Sommersbys.

  When Wyatt took over and discovered just how close they were to going belly-up, he had been forced to put in eighteen- and twenty-hour days. In those early years he had taken work home on weekends and holidays, hustled bankers, sweet-talked creditors and beat the bushes for every remote chance to turn even the tiniest profit. By the time the company was in the black again, it had become a habit, he realized now.

  One it was perhaps time to break.

  “The business can survive without me for a while. You just said everything was running smoothly.”

  “It is. We can, but... Look, Wyatt, I know how determined you get when you want something, but why Maggie? Aside from the fact that it makes it damned awkward for me to have my brother trying to seduce my fiancée’s sister, I just don’t get it. I mean, she’s cute and all, but you go out with better-looking women all the time. And she’s...well... different. What do you see—”

  “Just drop it, Eric.”

  “But—”

  “I said drop it.”

  An offended silence followed. “Very well. If that’s what you want,” Eric said in a stilted voice.

  Wyatt cursed under his breath. “Look, I’m sorry, I don’t want to discuss it right now. Just take care of things for me, okay? I’ll get in touch in a day or so if I can.”

  “Of course. Whatever you say.”

  When he’d hung up, Wyatt stood with his hand on the receiver. Damn. He could not recall ever being so frustrated in his life.

  How the devil could he explain to his brother what he didn’t understand himself? All he knew was he wanted Maggie like he’d never wanted any other woman, and it had little to do with physical beauty. Although, in his opinion, Maggie’s wholesome allure was a hundred times more appealing than conventional beauty, especially the pampered, polished looks of the women in their social circle.

  Hooking his thumbs in his belt loops, he strolled toward the corrals, his mind whirling. The problem was he was accustomed to being in control and giving orders. When he gave those orders they were obeyed without question. Yet the little Irish imp defied him at every turn. And laughed at him when she did it.

  Wyatt sighed. It didn’t matter. He wanted Maggie in his life. Damned if he knew why. The well-ordered existence he’d had before the pint-sized female had breezed into it and scrambled his brain had certainly been one hell of a lot easier. And saner. Nevertheless, having Maggie had become imperative.

  It wasn’t just sex, either, though God knew, desire for her was eating him alive.

  She mystified him and annoyed him and fascinated him. And the thought of harm coming to her terrified him. He liked being with her, he liked the way she looked, her enthusiasm and bubbly joy, her unique way of looking at the world. Her innocence.

  He’d never felt this way about a woman before—this possessive, this...connected. But then, Maggie wasn’t like any woman he’d ever known. Maggie was special. Maggie was...Maggie. A unique jewel and a pain in the butt.

  He stopped beside a corral, propped his forearms on the top rail, one booted foot on the bottom, and stared, unseeing, at the remuda of skittish horses across the pen. God, she was so open and trusting, so naive and reckless, so full of laughter and vivacity and enthusiasm, she scared the living hell out of him. He wanted to wrap her up in cotton wool and keep her safe. Was that so wrong?

  He thought of that wild spirit, the excitement that sparkled in her eyes, and he knew the answer. He sighed and rubbed his chin on the top of his hands. Yes, it was wrong. It was probably criminal.

  Asa was right; Maggie was a will-o’-the-wisp. A wild little bird who needed freedom as much as she needed oxygen. But dammit, it was hard. How did a man stand back and let her have her head? When every instinct in him wanted to lock her up and throw away the key and keep her safe?

  * * *

  Inside the RV, Maggie sat curled up on the sofa, arms around her updrawn legs, chin on her knees, and stared out the window at the bright summer day.

  What was she going to do about Wyatt? She’d tried reason and humor and now anger, but he wouldn’t give up. He just kept pushing his way into her life, edging closer.

  She should never have gotten within a mile of a dominant man like Wyatt. If she wasn’t careful he would take over.

  “The problem is, my girl, you don’t want him to go away altogether,” she muttered. “Face it, you want to have your cake and eat it, too. You’re attracted to the bothersome man, and you want him around, but on your own terms. Much the same as he wants you. Och, what a fine pair. Two mules in harness, that’s what you are.”

  Maybe she ought to just go ahead and have a flaming fling with him and be done with it. Get him out of her system. It was time—past time—she found out what all the fuss was about, anyway. Lord knew, if the way her body responded when he was around, she was ready. She could look at it as just another new experience.

  Except that the act entailed a degree of intimacy that she found unsettling.

  Was it possible to share that kind of physical closeness without becoming emotionally involved? Oh, she knew that men did it all the time. Wyatt had made it abundantly clear that a temporary relationship of limited commitment was what he wanted with her. But even that made her nervous.

  Women were such creatures of emotion. Even sane, sensible women couldn’t seem to resist falling in love when their hormones ran amok.

  Well, not her.

  Ever since Eve, emotions had been the downfall of women. Maggie didn’t want to end up like her mother—wasting her life, never going anywhere, never doing anything but waiting for her lover to show up and dole out a few crumbs of affection. She shuddered. No. Love was not for her. She could not let herself fall in love with Wyatt. She wouldn’t.

  * * *

  When Wyatt returned, Maggie was working on her laptop computer, drafting out her next book, he presumed. She didn’t so much as look up when he entered the RV.

  He took the chair opposite her and waited for her to acknowledge him. Finally he gave up.

  “Maggie, for Pete’s sake, will you stop that and listen to me for a minute? I want to say something.”

  At first he thought she hadn’t heard him, but after a moment her fingers stilled on the keyboard. She looked up and eyed him warily. “What?”

  “I want you to know that...” He grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Dammit, this isn’t easy for me, but...well...I’m sorry. You were right. I had no business doing what I did. I still think it was a foolish risk,” he added quickly. “But I realize that it’s not my place to interfere. It won’t be easy, but I promise I’ll try my best not to do it a
gain.”

  She stared at him, silently assessing. After a moment her remote expression softened and a grin lit up her face. “Apology accepted. Now, was that so hard?”

  “Yes,” he snapped, and Maggie laughed.

  “No doubt that’s because it’s the first one you’ve given in a long while. Well, cheer up, ’tis good for the character they say.” She gave him a vague smile and returned her attention to the computer screen.

  Wyatt stared at her. She had tuned him out, just like that. Already she was so engrossed in that damned story she was writing he doubted she was even aware that he was there. He’d never in his life had any woman treat him with such breezy indifference. The woman was driving him around the bend.

  He stood up and stomped into the tiny kitchen a few feet away and began to drag out what he needed to prepare dinner. Muttering under his breath, he slammed drawers and cabinet doors and banged pans with more force than necessary, but Maggie didn’t so much as flinch. Her fingers flew over the keyboard and her gaze never left the screen.

  Several times he had to reach around her to set the table, but she never noticed. When the meal was ready he had to shake her shoulder to get her attention.

  “What is it?” she asked, blinking at the food he had put in front of her.

  “Steak, baked potato and salad. Not very fancy but nourishing and easy to prepare. So eat up.”

  At the beginning of the meal Wyatt made several attempts at conversation, but Maggie’s mind seemed to be miles away, so finally he quit trying. After eating only about half of her meal she shoved her plate aside and replaced it with her computer. Wyatt stacked and washed the dishes, to the sound of the keyboard clacking without letup.

  When he’d finished in the kitchen he sat down on the sofa opposite Maggie and flipped through a magazine. He shifted positions several times. He cleared his throat loudly, then coughed. Maggie pounded on without so much as a blink.

  Finally he made a disgusted sound, shot to his feet and stomped into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later he returned, smelling of soap and toothpaste and mouthwash, dressed in only his jeans, the top button of which was undone. He stretched and yawned.

  “I think I’ll turn in,” he announced. Deliberately, watching Maggie all the while, and standing only a few feet from her, he stripped off down to his underwear.

  She paid no more attention to him than she had over dinner. “Oh, for Pete’s sake! Good night!”

  Cursing through his clenched teeth, Wyatt climbed into the bed above the cab and yanked the privacy curtain closed.

  The clack of the keyboard continued without pause as Maggie’s mouth slowly curled up at the corners.

  Chapter Nine

  “Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-baaad to the bone!”

  Wyatt’s whole body jerked and he came up off the mattress. “What the— His forehead slammed into the ceiling so hard he went sprawling again. “Ow! Dammit to hell!”

  “Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-baaad to the bone!”

  The deep bass beat of the rock music reverberated through the RV. Wyatt groaned and grabbed his head. Grimacing, he peered over the edge of the mattress in time to see Maggie come boogying down the passageway. Dressed in her bunny slippers and that damned football jersey, eyes closed tight, she was singing along with the gravelly-voiced vocalist.

  “Baa-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-baaad! Baa-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-baaad!”

  She danced around the minuscule kitchen with her arms over her head, that delicious little body gyrating in a perfect bump-and-grind to the raunchy beat. In the same way she did everything, she threw herself into the music with utter abandon and joy.

  Wyatt could have watched her all day—except that it was only five in the morning, he had a lump on his forehead big enough to hang a hat on, and that damned pounding music was about to take his head off.

  “For Pete’s sake, Maggie, will you turn that stuff off! Or at least turn it down,” he bellowed.

  “Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-baad to the bone!” Maggie sang on in ecstasy, shimmying her shoulders to the beat. Eyes still squeezed shut, she was lost in the pounding rhythm and oblivious to anything else.

  “Argh!” Pressing his palms flat over his ears, Wyatt tried to shut out the raucous music, but the whole rig shook with it. “Oh, for the love of—” He pumped his legs and kicked the cover into a wad at his ankles, rolled to the edge and jumped down.

  The music was coming from the bedroom. Maggie gyrated in the tiny kitchen between there and where he stood. He tried to dodge around her but whichever way he stepped so did she. Finally he made an aggravated sound, clamped his hands around her waist and lifted her out of the way.

  Her eyes popped open, and she grinned down at him from midair. “Oh, hi! Top o’ the mornin’, Your Nibs. Isn’t it a great day?” she shouted.

  Wyatt glared into her cheery face, plunked her down in the sitting area without so much as a word, and stomped into the bedroom. He located the CD player on a shelf above her bed and jabbed the Off button with enough force to scoot the unit back three inches.

  He sighed and let his head fall back. Blessed relief.

  The silence was thick and absolute, but it still seemed to pulse with the heavy beat. Or maybe that was just the ringing in his ears.

  The calm lasted only seconds. Maggie marched into the bedroom with her hands on her hips. “Why did you do that?”

  Rubbing the knot on his forehead, Wyatt skewered her with a look. “Because it’s too damned early for that kind of noise.”

  “Noise! I’ll have you know that’s one of my favorite songs. And it can’t be that early. I—”

  She jumped when a fist pounded on the outside of the RV. “Hey! Keep it down in there, will ya! People are trying to sleep around here, for Pete’s sake!”

  Folding his arms over his bare chest, Wyatt cocked one black eyebrow. “You were saying?”

  Maggie grimaced and put her hand over her mouth. “Oops.” She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Now you know why I don’t like to stay in campgrounds. I do things when the mood strikes me. Sometimes I forget that other people live their lives by the clock.”

  Suddenly alert, Wyatt cocked his head to one side and studied her. “Is that why you like living above a warehouse in a nonresidential part of town? So you have the freedom to do whatever you feel like doing whenever you want without disturbing anyone?”

  “I guess. But I also happen to like the place.”

  “Mmm. Interesting.”

  Maggie didn’t like the sound of that at all. Squirming, she lowered her gaze to escape his searching look and found herself staring at a bare, furry chest. Belatedly she realized that she was standing there having a conversation with an almost naked man. The only article of clothing Wyatt had on was a pair of white cotton briefs.

  She tried to keep her gaze focused on his chest, but as always, curiosity got the best of her. As though drawn by a magnet, her eyes followed the line of silky hair that arrowed down from the mat on his chest. It bisected a hard, flat belly and swirled around his navel before disappearing beneath the brief swath of material riding low on his hips. An impressive bulge stretched the soft cotton.

  Her eyes widened. Oh, my. Heat climbed her neck and her chest grew tight.

  “Like what you see?”

  Her gaze flew upward and her blush deepened. Beneath half-closed lids, his eyes smoldered with laughter and blatant sexual heat.

  Fighting the urge to look away, she ignored the pulsing fire in her cheeks and met his look with twinkling eyes. “What I’d like is for you to either go back to bed or put your clothes on. Sweet Mary and Joseph, couldn’t you have bought a pair of pajamas while you were in that store yesterday? ‘Tis indecent, you are.”

  Ignoring her thundering heart, she turned and strolled back into the kitchen as though she hadn’t a care in the world, opened the refrigerator, stuck her head inside and pretended to scrounge for something for breakfast. She poked through the contents without having any idea of what she was seeing. Her stomach was so aflutter, if
she had been starving she couldn’t have eaten a bite.

  Wyatt grinned appreciatively at her cute little rump as he sidled around her. “I never wear pajamas.” Making no effort at all to hide his amusement, he picked up the jeans he’d tossed on the chair the night before and stepped into them. “As a matter of fact, I’m only wearing these briefs out of respect for your modesty. Normally I sleep nude.”

  The remark, as she was sure he intended, sent a fresh surge of color to her face, but she kept her head buried in the refrigerator long enough to let her cheeks cool and regain her equilibrium.

  Straightening with a carton of milk in her hand, she sent him an amused look over the top of the refrigerator door, deliberately letting her gaze linger on his body. “Och, and don’t think I don’t appreciate it. Enticing as I’m sure your lady friends find your sleeping habits, seeing you naked as a jaybird is a pleasure I’ll forego, thank you. The sight might be too much for this old-maid heart of mine to take.”

  She closed the door and turned. She jumped and let out a little squeak when Wyatt’s hands slapped against the refrigerator on either side of her. Penned in by his braced arms, she pressed back against the cool enamel and stared, wide-eyed into his face, just inches from her own.

  The look in his eyes made her heart trip. “Honey, believe me, you may be an innocent, but you’re no old maid,” he murmured in a husky voice that did strange things to her insides. “And I promise you, before this trip is over, you will see me naked. Just as I’ll see you. In fact, I plan to kiss every inch of your delectable little body.”

  Maggie’s heart did a dance against her ribs, but her lips curved up in an impudent smile and she rolled her eyes. “Och, would you listen to the conceit of the man?”

  “It’s not conceit, just a sure thing.” He touched her neck with his forefinger where a pulse hammered. “You know it as well as I do. It’s just a matter of time.”

  Not a single sassy comeback came to mind. All Maggie could do was stare into those silver eyes like a deer caught in headlights, while her heart thundered and her lungs struggled for air. Never in her life had she been so totally aware of another human being.