“I’ve decided,” Jess said as they munched on the sandwiches and chips they’d wheedled from Jess’s mother, Vi, in the bustling ranch house kitchen and carried back to the relative quiet of the office. It had been Abbie’s idea to eat at their desks. She’d said she had a dozen questions, which was true enough, even if the motivating factor was to minimize any chance of crossing Mac’s path.
“What? To fire me?” Abbie responded before crunching down on a chip.
“Nope. I’ve decided to keep you here forever, chained to that desk, if possible.”
Abbie smiled. “There does seem to be enough backlogged paperwork in this one room to last a lifetime.”
“Two lifetimes. Yours and mine. So, just forget any plans you have for the next forty years, because I have no intention of ever letting you leave.”
“I have no plans, that’s the problem. Well, except to give birth to this baby in a few months.” She checked the firm, rounded bubble that had once been her waistline and raised her eyebrows as her glance returned to Jess. “Can you believe I’ve spent five whole months just getting used to the idea that I’m really going to have a baby?”
“It’s a big idea to get a grip on.” Jessie peeled away the crusts from one side of her sandwich and nibbled it, a strip at a time. “I’m just so glad you’re here to help me, while you work out what you want to do.”
“I want to go back five months and act responsibly.” Abbie sighed, and frowned, then realized that was no longer true. She couldn’t regret the life that was growing inside her, no matter how unintentionally it had begun. “No, I guess I just wish I’d been more careful with whom I chose to be irresponsible and how I handled the situation afterward.”
“I take it he wasn’t thrilled when you told him.”
“He didn’t know.” Abbie wondered if Mac would have taken the news any differently a few months ago and decided that he’d have reacted exactly the same, with perhaps the additional suggestion that she take care of the problem. “I only just told him and, no, he’s not thrilled.”
“You didn’t tell him until recently?” Jessie asked, clearly surprised.
Abbie realized she had wandered onto a dangerous line of conversation. “The circumstances were sort of unusual.”
“He’s married?”
Abbie shook her head and pinched off a bite of sandwich, which she chewed rhythmically as she let the question settle. “No, he’s not married,” she said eventually, determined to move on to other topics. “Just a jerk.”
“I didn’t even know you were dating anyone. I’d hoped to introduce you to one of my cousins at graduation, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”
Abbie avoided choking by asking, “Which cousin?”
Jess shrugged and reached for the chip bag. “At the time, I’d have settled for any one of the three falling head over heels for you, but Mac was my first choice. That’s funny, huh? Especially since the two of you didn’t hit it off too well the first time you did meet.”
Actually, she and Mac had hit it off extremely well the first time they met, which was why she was in her current predicament.
“Oh, well,” Jessie continued, cheerfully sorting through the handful of corn chips in her palm. “If I can’t finagle you into a love match with Mac, my only available cousin, I’ll just have to pay you so well you can’t afford to work anywhere else.” She crunched the selected chip. “Either that, or I’ll fix you up with Stanley. He’s a trainer who comes in three times a week to give lessons and work with some of the boarders. He’s old enough to be your father, but I think you might like him.” She grinned and Abbie found herself grinning back.
“Just what I need,” she said. “Another father figure. As if I didn’t already have a father and four big brothers who want to run my life.”
“I’m only kidding about Stanley.” Jessie wiped her hands on a paper towel, wadded it up and tossed it into the trash. “He’s a great guy, but I’ve been saving him as my backup in case I never happen across the right frog to kiss and turn into my very own handsome prince.”
“There seems to be a surplus of princes on the Desert Rose,” Abbie said. “Don’t they have any prince friends?”
Jessie laughed. “And here I was, hoping you might introduce me to one of your brothers. I mean, if I can’t interest you in my cousin, the only way for us to become related is if I hook up with one of the Joneses, right?”
Abbie had never thought about fixing up her friend with her brother. Any one of them. She adored them all, of course, but they were so overbearing. “I can arrange for you to meet them and take your pick,” she offered with a smile. “But I warn you, you’ll be happier in the long run if we just stay good friends.” She paused for a second, wanting again to express her gratitude for Jessie’s friendship. “I’m going to pay you back for all this, Jess, I promise. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been so generous and offered me this temporary—”
“Don’t mention it,” Jessie said, her eyes of different colors smiling with equal sincerity. “You are doing me the biggest favor ever and you’ve repaid me a dozen times over just this morning. I was really afraid when you got here yesterday that you weren’t going to stay.”
“It was a stressful day and I’m still wondering if I shouldn’t have just gone on home and faced the music.”
“You did the right thing, coming here, Abbie. And I’m not saying that just because I need the help. You owe yourself and your baby some time to decide what to do. You’ve waited this long to deal with your family. Another few weeks won’t make any difference. And it’s not as if you owe them an explanation. You’re pregnant, not an escapee from the penitentiary.”
“Oh, I don’t know. If I was on the lam, my brothers could spend their considerable energy hiding me from the authorities. But with a baby, they’ll have a whole new life to interfere in.”
“Okay, so maybe I’m too independent to pair up with one of your brothers. On the other hand, maybe it’s just your time to stand up to them. I’ve heard that having a baby brings out a fiercely protective streak in a woman.”
“Maybe,” Abbie agreed. “But I’m still in the cowardly stage. I’m dreading the moment they find out about the baby, because I know my brothers, and they won’t be thinking in terms of how much fun it could be to be an uncle. They’ll be thinking in terms of murdering the man who dared to have sex with their sister.”
“Sounds like just what the jerk deserves. I say, turn them loose.” Jessica dusted sandwich crumbs off her desk blotter and then pulled an inch-high stack of manila folders onto the cleared spot. “Guess it’s just as well, though, that he’s out of reach. They might decide you ought to marry the guy and then where would you be? Shotgun wedding, that’s where.”
Abbie hadn’t thought about that possibility. Not that anyone could force her to marry Mac, the princely jerk. Not even her four very persuasive, very determined brothers. “Great,” she said. “One more thing for me to worry about.”
Jessie laughed. “I was only kidding, goose. Even if the Jones men showed up this very minute, they’d have a heck of a time insisting you marry an invisible man, now wouldn’t they? Forget your troubles for today, Abbie. I mean it. You’re safe at the ranch. Believe me, nobody here is going to bother you.”
Abbie tossed aside her paper towel, including most of her sandwich. Truth was, somebody at this ranch was already bothering her. Here, where she should have been free to ponder the future and make her decisions with confidence, she was faced with muddled emotions and uncertainties. Here, she’d run head-on into a problem greater than the authoritarian but loving mantle of her family’s concern. Here, she had to face Mac and the unsettling knowledge that, after last night’s ill-conceived kiss, she was still stupidly but undeniably attracted to him.
SLIPPING QUIETLY into the viewing area of the indoor arena, Mac settled onto a riser and leaned forward, resting his arms on the metal rail. Olivia Smith was alone in the ring with a sleek black mare an
d her dusky colt, who at four months of age was already displaying the superb physical attributes and proud temperament of his sire, Jabbar, the Desert Rose foundation stallion. The colt, Khalid, was the result of a happy accident, when Jabbar—proving to be amazingly virile for an old fella—wound up in the same pasture with Alex’s recently purchased show mare, Khalahari. It had been touch-and-go when the mare went into labor, but Dr. Hannah Clark, who had since become Alex’s bride, had proved herself a hell of a good vet, and saved both mom and foal.
Khalid had the bloodlines and aptitude of a champion, but at the moment, he was mainly interested in the treats Livy kept in her pockets and doled out as rewards each time he made a little progress. Mac believed in starting a foal in training within a few days of birth and Khalid had been no exception, but today he seemed to be having trouble concentrating. Livy, however, wasn’t putting up with any horseplay and Mac smiled as the feisty colt and equally feisty trainer squared off in a battle of wills over who would be boss.
Watching the two go at it, Mac knew he’d done the right thing by letting Olivia train Jabbar’s last offspring. He’d wanted to do it himself, had wrestled with his ego for weeks before the birth, but in the end he decided Livy had more energy and a purer concentration. It wasn’t that he lacked confidence in his own abilities. On the contrary, he considered himself the best trainer of Arabians in the country. His success was witnessed by the consistent wins of the animals he trained and the number of owners vying for the occasional vacant spots in his training schedule. Mac had known even as a kid that he possessed an unusual and intuitive knowledge of what a horse was capable of doing and the best way to inspire that potential into reality. But, young as she was—a mere twenty-three—Olivia had a gift that rivaled his already. She’d developed an almost mystical bond with the young Khalid and he could see that one day, when she’d matured and honed her talents, her skill would surpass his. He felt twinges of competition about that and was, by turns, motivated by her ability and then eager to best her in any way he could.
But he was nobody’s fool and he intended to do whatever it took—even if it meant an occasional fight with his own ego—to keep her working for the Desert Rose. More than any other factor, her value to the ranch had prompted him to let her work with Khalid. “I think he’s going to be in good shape for his class at the show next week,” he said.
“He’ll win,” Livy announced confidently, her orphaned but resilient spirit alive and well in her petite, slim frame.
Mac wasn’t a dreamer like Livy, choosing to temper his wishes with a healthy both-boots-on-the-ground pragmatism. He admired her speak-the-words-and-claim-the-goal optimism, even if he didn’t believe life was that simple. And to back up that theory, all he had to do was look out at the lake, remember Abbie standing on the dock last night in his drenched denim shirt, and he had all the evidence he needed.
“I’m driving in to Austin to meet with Dale,” he said referring to another trainer who was negotiating fiercely to breed a mare from his stables to the retired Jabbar. “Be back late, so I’d appreciate it if you’d exercise the chestnut gelding for me this afternoon.”
“Sure,” Livy said, snapping the lead to get Khalid’s attention and then offering him soft words of praise and a tangible reward when he responded with a show-quality arching of his supple neck. “But I thought you met with Dale yesterday.”
He had, before he’d gone to the airport to meet Abbie, but no one needed to know he wasn’t meeting the trainer again today. Once in a while, a man had to get away from it all and have some space to think. In the twenty-four hours since Abbie’s arrival, he’d been doing a lot of thinking, and expended a considerable amount of energy on keeping away from her. A strategy that seemed to be working better today than it had last night. His lips burned with the memory of her full, wet kiss and his body hardened at the image of her, dripping and desirable. He shoved the memory into oblivion, where it surely belonged, along with all the gullible fantasies he’d concocted about her during the past five months. “You know what a pest Dale can be,” he said to Olivia. “He won’t stop pestering me until he gets a colt from Jabbar, even though I keep telling him Khalid was just an accident.”
“Well, tell him no and be done with it. You never have any trouble saying no around here.” Livy turned to grin at him and Khalid seized the opportunity to kick the air with his back legs and momentarily gain the upper hand.
“How many times do I have to remind you, Livy? You can’t take your eyes off him for a second. This kid has his own agenda.”
Livy’s chin went up and her attention returned, full-strength, to the colt. Straight away, she let him know his lack of respect was unacceptable and Mac grinned to himself, pleased with the progress both youngsters were making. Feeling the touch of a gaze, he looked over his shoulder and saw his mother, Rose, standing just inside the arena. She was looking at him, her lovely face cast in shadows. He’d seen that expression often since she’d arrived at the Desert Rose, a few months ago. It was as if she couldn’t choose between the happiness of finally being with her sons or sorrow for the years she’d been kept away from them. For him, it was no contest. After believing his mother dead for much of his life, it was a simple, sweet delight to glance up and see her now. He smiled and scooted over on the bench, silently inviting her to join him, which she did.
“Khalid is very like his sire, I think,” she said softly. “He reminds me of Jabbar at that age, in much the same way you remind me of your father.”
“Headstrong, you mean?”
She smiled and touched his hair, like a soft and thankful prayer. “Proud,” she replied. “Strong. Determined. Certain that your way is the right way. Ibrahim chose your name rightly. Makin. It means strong, firm, and it suits you.”
Mac didn’t believe for a second that any strength or resolve he’d inherited came entirely from his father. Rose had proved the depths of her courage and determination before Mac was even old enough to know the meaning of the words. Countless times, he’d heard the story of how his mother, with help from her sister-in-law, Layla, had smuggled him and his two brothers along with Jabbar, who’d been but a colt then, himself, out of Sorajhee. He knew by rote the events leading up to the unrest and feared revolution that had precipitated their flight from the country of his birth. But he didn’t remember any of it. Not even a shadowy memory of his father, King Ibrahim, could be found. In his heart, he was a Texan, his aunt Vi and uncle Randy were the only parents he’d known, and this ranch, this rugged hill country was the only place he could ever imagine calling home. Maybe, in the future, he’d visit Sorajhee and Balahar from time to time, as Cade and Serena meant to do, but he knew it would never claim more than a corner of his life and that his journeys to that land of sun and sand would never be more than a pilgrimage he owed to the Sorajhee king who had been his father.
“You’re looking particularly pretty today.” He paid his mother the compliment with sincerity and a soft smile and was surprised when her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. She was still a beautiful woman with a grace honed by tragedy, and in the brief time he’d actually known her, she had begun to bloom like a true rose after a long, frozen winter. “The dry heat of Texas obviously agrees with you.”
“I love the heat,” she said. “I missed the warmth during all those years in France. It always seemed so cold there.”
“A sanitarium isn’t exactly what anyone would consider a warm place to call home.”
Her lips curved in acknowledgment. “It was not a terrible place. But that is all behind us now. I am with you and Alex and Cade again. Family is all that matters.”
Mac privately thought the stream of letters she’d received lately—all of them bearing the royal seal of King Zakariyya Al Farid of Balahar—might have a little something to do with her new blush of contentment. Cade and Serena believed the communication between Serena’s father and Rose was more than an exchange of congratulations on the love match between their children. Mac had been ske
ptical when Cade first suggested the idea, but he was beginning to think there was something to it, after all. “Has the mail come today?” he asked, and watched for the return of the tell-tale blush.
It came in a soft wave of pink across her cheeks, but her blue eyes met his with clear purpose. “Yes, as a matter of fact, it has. You should probably go to the office right now and see if whatever you are expecting is there.”
“I’m not expecting anything,” he answered, his voice edgy with a sudden influx of tension. “And I certainly have no business in the office.”
“Hmm,” Rose said, her gaze turning to Olivia and Khalid, as if her second son’s crisp denial was of no consequence. “Jessica’s friend, Abbie, is quite lovely. I thought you might have noticed.”
“She’s pregnant,” he said, as if she might have missed the obvious.
Rose laughed softly. “Ah, you are afraid of her condition. Many men would be. Now I understand why you wish to avoid her.”
Mac blinked, beginning to think his mother had insights he’d just as soon she didn’t have. “I’m not afraid of her,” he stated confidently. “Her condition has nothing at all to do with me and she hasn’t even been here twenty-four hours yet. How can anyone think I’m avoiding her?”
Rose’s brows arched in gentle reproach. “It was a simple comment, Makin. I only spent a brief time in conversation with Abbie, but she seems a lovely girl and someone with whom you have common interests. I did not intend to upset you.”
“I’m not upset,” he lied, although it was plenty obvious he was. Abbie was already ruining his life, going behind his back and making friends with his mother. That, in itself, was a low-down, rotten thing to do. “And I don’t know how you could think I’d have anything at all in common with her.”
“Jessica has believed for some time that you and her friend would like each other, but now she believes you said something to offend Abbie.”
His Shotgun Proposal Page 6