The Texan's Bride

by Linda Warren

  They moved to the passenger side of the vehicle. Cadde pushed a button on his key ring and the doors unlocked with a click. Opening the door, he helped her inside. She smiled. Oh, yeah, this was the way it was supposed to be done.

  In a second, Cadde was in the driver’s seat and they sped away. Jessie leaned against the headrest. “It was a nice evening, wasn’t it?”

  “Touch and go at first, though,” he remarked.

  “That’s because you made me mad.”

  “I have a feeling you get mad a lot.”

  Jessie watched the night slip by in waves of blackness, punctuated with a light here and there. “I don’t…really.”

  “But you have a temper,” he added in a teasing way that didn’t offend her.

  “Yes,” she admitted. “I always thought I got that from Daddy, but I’m not sure.”

  “You got it from Roscoe,” Cadde assured her. “That man had a temper. I remember one time he lit into a tool pusher for letting a guy who was clearly intoxicated on a rig. He yelled so much he bit his cigar in two. You know how he was always chomping on a cigar.”

  “Yeah. And the angrier he got the more he chomped.”

  “Mmm.”

  Jessie relaxed in the loving memories of her father. She and Cadde shared that—the connection that held them together. Could there be more?

  Glancing at Cadde, she wondered how he expected this evening to end. Well, she knew—in the bedroom. She was the one who had asked to take their relationship further and she didn’t want to tease him. That would be cruel, but again she hesitated. And she knew why. She wanted more.

  He drove around to the garages and pushed a button on his sun visor. The garage door went up. Lights came on. While he guided the truck into his spot, the Dobermans barked, eager to confront their visitors.

  “Down, boys,” Cadde said as he got out and walked around to her side.

  The Dobermans sniffed her. “Good grief,” she complained, sliding out. “You’d think they’d know me by now.”

  “Just instinct, I suppose,” he said, and they went into the house. The dogs darted away to the front, on guard.

  Cadde pushed buttons on the wall, closing the garage door and setting the alarm system. Rosa had left the kitchen light on and there was another light on in her bedroom and the foyer. Coming into a dark house was not one of Jessie’s favorite things. Rosa knew her phobias.

  They walked through the kitchen, dining room and living room to the large foyer. Jessie’s nerves were taut, and she turned quickly to talk to Cadde. His arms went around her waist and she forgot what she was going to say. He took her lips gently this time and, unable to stop herself, she returned his ardor. His hands trailed from her back to her hair, and desire, raw and potent, shot through her.

  Breathing heavily, she whispered, “Cadde, could we talk?”

  He sagged against her. “Jessie…” he groaned.

  “Like you said—” she rushed into speech “—this is too fast. I need a little time.” She held her thumb and forefinger close together. “Just a little.”

  “More rules, huh?” His voice held a note of complacency rather than anger.

  She kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured, and ran up the stairs.

  “This is not how you get a baby, Jessie,” he called after her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JESSIE HURRIED INTO HER ROOM, smiling. Somehow, she’d known behind that hard exterior Cadde Hardin was a nice man. He was giving her time. Touching her lips, she still felt the heady sensation of his kiss. She fell across the bed and closed her eyes.

  Something wet touched her cheek and that euphoric feeling vanished. She reached out, pulling Mirry into the crook of her arm. “Miss me?”

  The dog snuggled closer, and Jessie could see dog hair clinging to her black dress. Oh, well, it was going to the cleaners anyway. Her cell buzzed. She grabbed her purse and fished it out. Seeing the name, she clicked on.

  “Hi, Myra.”

  “I called Mama earlier and she said you were out with Mr. Cadde.” Myra dragged out the last part.

  “Yes, and I had a great time.”

  There was a long pause. “So he agreed to the deal?” Myra was the only person she’d told about her plans, and she was vehemently against it. But Jessie had listened to her heart.

  “Yes.” Jessie bit her lip, trying not to react to the disapproval in Myra’s voice.

  “Just like that?”

  “No, but we worked it out.” Jessie scooted up against the headboard, the dress sliding up to her hips.

  “With strings, I’m sure, to his benefit.”

  Jessie gave up on being tolerant. “Myrie, I’m not talking to you if you keep being so critical.”

  “I’m just worried about you.”

  “Don’t be. I could use my friend’s support.”

  “Cadde Hardin is wrong for you.”

  And the conversation went like so many in the past— Myra in her misguided wisdom was always trying to protect Jessie, and Jessie inevitably lost her cool. Why couldn’t the people closest to her understand that she had to live life—her way?

  “You don’t know him.”

  “I know his type.”

  “And what is that?” Jessie stroked Mirry to calm herself.

  “Strong, powerful, determined and in control…always. I see his type in the courtroom all the time.”

  “Cadde’s not like that.” Well, that probably wasn’t true. Jessie barely knew Cadde, but she was trying to make a point.

  “You’ve known him, what? Ten years or more? And ninety-nine percent of that time he’s ignored you. He was sucking up to your father for a big chunk of Shilah.”

  “I didn’t meet him until I came home from college and that hasn’t been ten years. If you don’t apologize, I’m done talking to you.”

  A tense pause. “Okay, I’m sorry, but he’s going to hurt you.”

  “I might hurt him. Have you thought of that?”

  “Since you’re besotted with the guy it hasn’t crossed my mind.”

  Jessie sighed. “Myrie, I’m not that little girl you used to lead around by the hand. I can make my own decisions and handle the consequences.” She stuffed a pillow behind her back with more force than necessary. “I recall a certain lawyer I know who dated a man for nine months and then found out he was married. She cried for three days.”

  Another pause. “Okay, I’m a lousy judge of men.”

  “Yes, you are, so let me make my own mistakes.”

  “That’s hard to do.”

  “Try.”

  Myra laughed. “Tell me about your evening.”

  “No. It’s private.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Jessie kicked off her heels and they landed with a thud on the carpet. “He’s my husband and I’m not telling tales about our relationship.” And it would be a whopping tale. She could embellish with the best, but the truth was they were both feeling their way and she wasn’t giving Myra details. She wasn’t a teenager.

  “Wow! This is serious. We talk about everything.”

  “Not my husband, though.”

  A long pause.

  “Wanna hear about this lawyer who’s been giving me the eye?”

  “Oh, no. Not another one.” Jessie settled back to hear the rest of the story.

  CADDE FLUNG HIS HAT ACROSS Roscoe’s study and it landed somewhere behind the brown leather sofa. He needed something strong. Opening the liquor cabinet, he pulled out a bottle of Scotch. He didn’t bother with a glass. He wasn’t going to need one.

  Unscrewing the top, he set the Scotch on the coffee table and plopped onto the sofa. Jessie needed time. She’d started this whole charade and now she wanted to wait. He didn’t get that, but then he didn’t get a lot about women. Maybe that’s why he was still…

  Single?

  He wasn’t single. He’d been married eighteen months—without sex.

  He reached for the bottle and took a sip, wincing as it went do
wn. Damn! The stuff was potent. Taking a breath, he noticed the lights were on all over the house. What was that about? Rosa and Felix had gone to bed long ago. Many nights he came in late and the lights were always on. Why? He upped the bottle again.

  Rules! Jessie had rules. As much as he wanted to be irritated, he somehow understood. At his age he had come to realize that men and women were different in more ways than the obvious ones. Compliments, flowers, open hearts and love reached a woman faster than a bullet could strike a moving target. The first two most men handled without a problem. The last one…love…proved to be the stumbling block.

  He was no different. He wasn’t even sure what love was. His parents were supposed to love each other and look how that had turned out—tragically. But their defunct marriage wasn’t the reason he was single all these years. He hadn’t really known about his dad’s affair until recently.

  Deep down he must have known. He came home from school early one day and found his mother crying. She said she’d had some sad news about a friend. She’d lied to cover up…for him. And then his dad had worked a lot of overtime. He was rarely home. There were signs, but as a kid he didn’t recognize them.

  He tipped up the bottle again.

  Cadde loved his brothers, his aunt and uncle, Dane and the Belle sisters. Those relationships were permanent, solid. They’d never change. Even though there were disagreements at times, the bond still remained.

  Marriage was different. He took another swig. How did he make it work without straying? How would he stay faithful to his wife and commitment year after year? So many others had tried and failed. What hope was there for two people who weren’t in love?

  He only knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t going to be like his father. Straightforwardness and honesty was his plan. As he raised the bottle again, he wondered what Jessie expected from him…besides a baby. Did she expect him to love her?

  Oh, God. His head hurt. Was it the Scotch? Or thoughts of Jessie? Another drink might help.

  He should be at Shilah working. Now, the oil business he understood. He set the bottle on the coffee table and reached for the phone on his belt. Being out of contact this long wasn’t like him. He’d turned off his cell because he knew Jessie would get mad if he took calls during dinner.

  Reading through his messages he saw he had one from the engineer, the geologist, three from Kid and two from Chance. He closed his cell. They could wait until morning. Right now he couldn’t focus enough to reply.

  He grabbed the bottle. Jessie had given him a shock when she’d left the restaurant. He didn’t expect her to do that. He didn’t expect her to do a lot of things. Through the haze of Scotch he realized Jessie had manipulated him and he’d bowed to her every whim. She was in control, as always.

  But maybe not.

  As he stood, the room seemed to sway. “O-o-oh.” He’d reached his limit. The coffee table was in front of him, but every time he tried to set the bottle on it, the damn thing moved. What the hell, he’d take it with him.

  He needed to go to bed.

  JESSIE QUICKLY UNDRESSED and slipped on short pajama bottoms and a tank top. After scrubbing her face, she applied moisturizer. Myra had talked on and on and it was past Jessie’s bedtime.

  It was ironic that for someone who was a brilliant attorney, Myra’s personal life was a mess. If anyone should be giving out advice on men, it should be Jessie instead of Myra. Jessie knew what she wanted. Myra did not. The fact they were brutally honest with each other was just part of their relationship.

  But Jessie hadn’t told Myra everything. Her secret was her own and she planned to keep it that way.

  Rinsing her hands, she froze. Someone had opened her door. She tiptoed to the bathroom doorway and peered around the frame.

  It was Cadde!

  He stumbled to the left side of the bed. He had something in his hand—a bottle, which he tried to set on the nightstand. After the third try, he managed it. He’d been drinking. That was more than evident, but what was he doing in her room?

  I’m moving into that big master bedroom.

  His words came back to her and she trembled. What did he plan to do?

  He sank onto the bed and yanked off his boots and then he stood and unbuttoned his shirt, sending it sailing toward her bay window. He seemed to sway. How drunk was he?

  Since the light was on she saw him clearly. Broad, naked shoulders met her eyes, followed by swirls of dark chest hairs that arrowed down his lean stomach into his slacks. She swallowed, but otherwise remained perfectly still, which was difficult because her pulse hammered loudly in her ears. He undid his belt and removed his pants, revealing black Jockey shorts.

  By now she was deaf. She couldn’t do anything but stare at the male body in front of her. Where did those gorgeous muscles come from? Cadde sat at a desk all day. Evidently he worked out. When? He spent every waking moment at Shilah. Or so she’d thought. Something else she didn’t know about him.

  He staggered for a moment and then threw the top sheet aside, crawling into the bed.

  Was he out?

  He sighed and she jumped back. Taking a deep breath, she glanced around the corner. He’d maneuvered his long body to the right side. That was her place. She always slept on the right. Damn!

  She slid to the floor and pulled up her knees. Mirry hopped into her lap. “Shh,” she whispered into Mirry’s nub of an ear. “We have a man in our room.”

  Mirry cocked her head, as if she understood.

  Jessie could sleep in a guest room, but her stubborn pride wouldn’t let her. On the other hand, she didn’t want to have drunken sex, either. She peered around the door again. He was out.

  With Mirry in her arms, she walked into the bedroom. Cadde didn’t stir. His breathing was heavy and there was a faint scent of Scotch in the room. Placing Mirry in her bed, Jessie flicked off the light and waited. Still he didn’t move.

  Frowning, she moved as quietly as possible to the left side. Cadde had most of the ecru sheet wrapped around him. The room was cool from the air-conditioning and she needed something to cover herself. Grabbing the peach comforter from a chair, she spread it out and eased beneath it.

  How was she going to sleep here? It wasn’t natural to her. She turned onto her right, hoping to get comfortable. It didn’t work. She heard a whine and looked down. Mirry stood on her hind legs, her paws on the mattress. The poor thing was confused because Jessie wasn’t sleeping in her normal spot near Mirry’s bed.

  Jessie scooped her in beside her and tried to get some sleep. And she must have. When she awoke she knew it was morning even though it was still dark. She pushed hair away from her face and sat up to look at the clock on her nightstand. The light was on in her bathroom and she could see clearly. Five o’clock.

  Cadde was still sleeping, inches from her in the king-size bed. His brown hair fell across his forehead and she wanted to smooth it back, to feel his skin and…shock him out of his mind probably. Enough time for that later. At present he was going to have a gigantic headache.

  Unable to resist, she studied his features. Dark eyebrows feathered away from his eyes, not too thick or thin, just manly. His eyelashes were long and sexy for a man, and his straight nose and curved lips were, again, sexy for a man. Dark stubble covered the lower part of his face. Her stomach quivered in awareness.

  Handsome was too generic of a word to describe him. Damn pulse-throbbing good-looking suited him better and she could just imagine the hearts he’d broken over the years.

  And she was dawdling. She didn’t want him to catch her staring at him. Easing from the bed with Mirry in her arms, she noticed the Scotch bottle on the nightstand. She grabbed it, not wanting Rosa to find it. Rosa had a thing about drinking. She’d given her father a few lectures on the subject. Once he’d fired her, but Rosa wouldn’t budge.

  She’d said she wasn’t leaving Jessie in the hands of a drunk and slammed the door in his face. Her father chomped on his cigar until it almost disappeared. He never ag
ain drank in front of Jessie or Rosa, though. He did that in his study or at the apartment at Shilah. It was the only time she’d ever seen her father make a concession to another human being. But he knew Rosa would take care of Jessie if anything happened to him.

  Quickly dressing in jeans and a T-shirt, she headed downstairs with the bottle. Looking down, she noticed Mirry wasn’t there. She glanced back to see her curled up in her bed. Too early for Mirry, she thought.

  And for her. Oh, God. She needed coffee.

  Not knowing what else to do with the evidence, she put it back in the liquor cabinet. But it made her think. Did Cadde drink a lot? He’d had wine at dinner and then almost killed a bottle of Scotch. He was an astute businessman and that thinking wasn’t fueled by liquor. Maybe she’d made him imbibe. Now there was a sobering thought.

  She went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. Rosa had it set to come on at six. How did she change the damn thing? She studied the control panel. “Miss Jessie…”

  Jessie almost jumped out of her skin at Rosa’s voice. She thought she was still sleeping.

  With a hand to her chest, she said, “You scared the life out of me.”

  “What are you doing up so early?” Rosa walked to the coffee machine, poked a couple of buttons and it came on. Since Rosa was in a cotton robe and slippers, she must have just gotten up.

  “Thanks. I…I couldn’t sleep.”

  “After your late night, I thought you’d sleep in.”

  “No, I…”

  “Rosa, have you seen my hat?” Cadde walked in, fully dressed in jeans and a white shirt. His hair was still damp from the shower. How did he do that so fast?

  “No, Mr. Cadde, I haven’t seen it.”

  “Dammit, where did I put it?” He turned and left the room.

  He didn’t appear to have a hangover, just a touch of grouchiness. The coffee machine beeped and she grabbed a cup and filled it, adding cream and sugar. As she sipped it, she realized Rosa was staring at her.

  “Why are you so nervous?”