Have Honeymoon, Need Husband

by Robin Wells

  Josie placed her napkin on the table and pushed back her chair, shaking her head in disgust. “He only wanted to marry me so Dad would make him a partner. He didn’t even try to deny it when I confronted him.”

  “You confronted him?”

  Josie nodded. “I marched right into the room and told him I’d heard the whole conversation. He went white as a ghost. He begged for my forgiveness—and pleaded with me not to tell my father. Can you imagine the nerve?”

  What was hard for Luke to imagine right now was any man preferring another woman over Josie. Her hair had dried into a mass of shiny, unruly curls that swayed when she moved her head, and her heart-shaped face was as sweet as a valentine, despite its indignant expression. Her eyes had the longest, silkiest lashes he’d ever seen on a human being, and they held him as enthralled as her story.

  “What did you do?” he asked.

  “Fortunately, my sister Sara had followed me into the hallway and heard the whole conversation—otherwise Robert probably would have tried to lie his way out of it. Sara helped explain things to my parents while I got the heck out of there. To avoid a scandal, it was agreed that the minister would announce that the wedding was postponed by mutual agreement.”

  Luke shook his head in amazement. “You’ve had quite a day.”

  Josie reached for her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

  For a person who’d been through such an ordeal, she sure seemed composed. But she’d left out a key element, Luke reflected: she hadn’t said how she felt about the man. If she’d planned to marry him, she must have cared for him.

  “What did you see in this guy in the first place?” Luke asked.

  Josie had been asking herself the same question, and she didn’t like the answers. They reflected too poorly on her decision-making abilities. They pointed out all too clearly how heavily she’d relied on the opinions of others, how little she’d trusted her own judgment.

  She pushed out of her chair and crossed the room to the fireplace. Leaning against the mantel, she settled on a partial answer. “I honestly don’t know.”

  Luke stood and joined her before the fire. His gaze was as warm on her face as the fire was on her back. “Was it just a physical thing?”

  The question startled her so much she replied without thinking. “Oh, no. It wasn’t physical at all.”

  “If you’d gone through with the ceremony, I imagine things would be getting pretty physical right about now.” Luke’s voice was tinged with sarcasm.

  Josie gazed into the fire and swallowed hard. She hadn’t really allowed herself to think about that part of the marriage. Every time she’d started to wonder about it, her mind had shut down, refusing to pursue the train of thought. She’d told herself it would all work out when the time arrived. Now she realized she’d avoided thinking about it because the necessary feelings were missing.

  “Surely you’d kissed him,” Luke persisted.

  “Well, yes, but there wasn’t any—I mean—” Josie swallowed once more. Her eyes locked on his lips as they had in the barn, and again she felt that strong, magnetic tug. “Nothing happened,” she murmured in a voice at least an octave lower than usual.

  He stepped closer, his gaze trapping hers. “Nothing else happened, or you felt nothing when you kissed him?”

  “Yes. Both.” Mercy, his eyes were sexy…so dark and intense and probing. With a jolt she realized she was looking at a mirror image of the attraction unfurling in her belly. She knew she should avert her gaze, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away.

  Sparks flew between them, filling the air like the scent of the cedar logs on the fire, raising the temperature of the room. Her voice lowered to a husky whisper. “Nothing ever happened.”

  But something was happening now.

  Luke moved closer until he was standing directly in front of her. The air all but disappeared from her lungs. A log snapped on the fire, and heat blazed between them.

  Attraction, hot and primitive and strong, curled between them like smoke. A shiver snaked up Josie’s arm and down her spine. She knew she was staring, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away. If the building had caught fire, she doubted she could have moved to save her life.

  The loud, impertinent ring of a telephone shattered the spell.

  Luke strode across the room and jerked the phone off the table. “Hello?” he demanded.

  Josie watched, dazed and jelly-kneed, her heart still racing like a runaway horse.

  A scowl crossed his face. “One moment.” He turned to Josie, his face stony, his eyes inscrutable, and thrust out the receiver. “It’s for you. It’s Robert.”

  Chapter Three

  The next morning Josie pushed through the double oak doors from the lodge’s dining room to the kitchen and found Consuela attacking a mound of dough with a rolling pin as she talked with a dark-haired man in rapid Spanish.

  The housekeeper looked up, her smile as welcoming as the kitchen’s warmth after the chilly predawn hike from the cabin. “Why, good morning, Miss Randall!”

  Josie smiled back. “Good morning, Consuela. And please, call me Josie.”

  The housekeeper beamed and pointed the rolling pin at the middle-aged man behind her, who was as thin as Consuela was hefty. “Josie, I’d like you to meet my husband. Manuel helps Mr. Luke with the ranch.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “The pleasure’s mine,” he replied with a grin. “Hope you enjoy your stay.” He gave Consuela a hearty kiss on the cheek. “Well, I’d better go see to the horses.”

  Consuela stopped rolling dough to kiss him back. Her eyes were soft and affectionate as she watched him leave the room.

  “Have you been married long?” Josie asked.

  “Twenty-seven years.”

  “You still seem very much in love.”

  “Si. He’s a wonderful man.” She turned concerned eyes on Josie as she resumed her attack on the dough. “But how are you this morning? What are you doing up so early?”

  Josie pulled her hands from the pockets of her plaid wool jacket and appreciatively inhaled the scent of baking bread and brewing coffee. “I’m fine. I’m an early riser, that’s all. I saw a light on in here and came in search of coffee.”

  Consuela nodded amiably. “It’s on the counter. Help yourself.”

  Josie selected an empty mug from a stack of cups near the pot and filled it with the fragrant, steaming brew. She looked around the kitchen, admiring the glazed brick floor, the cedar plank walls, the gleaming copper pots and pans. Despite its industrial-size appliances and sparkling stainless steel equipment, the kitchen had a homey, rustic charm.

  Consuela’s dark eyes were warm and intent as she regarded Josie. “Did you get any sleep?”

  “I slept like a baby.” Once she’d finished tossing and turning, Josie added silently.

  “I was afraid you had too much on your mind to sleep well.”

  She’d had a lot on her mind, all right—but her thoughts had not been on the man Consuela supposed. Instead, she’d found herself strangely preoccupied with Luke. He’d marched out of the cabin after handing her the phone, leaving her alone to talk with Robert.

  The conversation with her former fiancé had been brief. She’d had little to say, and when she’d hung up the phone, the only emotion she’d felt was relief.

  Josie knew Consuela was waiting for an explanation. “I was exhausted. I’d lain awake most of the night before, wondering if I wasn’t about to make a terrible mistake.”

  Surprise flickered across Consuela’s broad face as she set down the rolling pin. “You didn’t love this man you almost married.”

  Josie liked the matter-of-fact way she spoke the words, with no condemnation or judgment. “No.”

  The large woman cocked her head to the side, her brow furrowed. “So why were you going to marry him?”

  Josie sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter, cradling the coffee cup in her palms, and gazed at Consuela. Her face was open and kind, and Josie d
ecided to answer honestly. “Good question.”

  “Did you think you loved him?” the older woman asked gently.

  “I wasn’t sure.” Josie curled her fingers around the warm mug and searched for the right words. “Robert works for my father, and he seemed to be everything a woman could want—smart, handsome, charming, on his way to becoming a big success. My three older sisters considered him a real prize, and my parents adored him. My family was so crazy about him that when I told them he’d proposed, they didn’t even ask me what my answer was. They just immediately began making wedding plans. Everyone seemed so certain it was the right thing for me to do that I just went along with it.”

  “What were your feelings for him?”

  Josie shrugged. “I liked him, I admired his intelligence, but beyond that…I didn’t know. How are people supposed to feel if they’re in love? Surely not everyone sees fireworks or rainbows.” The memory of how she’d felt last night with Luke flashed through her mind, but she quickly shoved the thought aside. That had been nothing more than a reaction to the champagne and an emotionally charged state, she reasoned. “The bottom line is I didn’t know if I loved Robert or not because I didn’t know what love was supposed to feel like.”

  Consuela’s eyes were sympathetic and knowing. “If you were really in love, you wouldn’t have had any question. You would have just known.”

  Josie lifted her coffee cup and took a sip. “Well, there’s one thing I know now—I’m awfully glad the wedding was called off. I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders.”

  “That’s a sure sign you made the right decision.” Consuela turned back to the biscuits. “You were fortunate. Luke wasn’t so lucky.”

  “What do you mean?” Josie asked.

  “He was engaged to the wrong person, too, but he went ahead and married her. He and Cheryl were married only two months before she left.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Five years.” Consuela arranged the biscuits on a baking sheet. “I keep telling that man he needs to get a wife.”

  For some reason the thought of Luke with another woman made Josie’s stomach clench. “Does he have any prospects?”

  Josie had tried to keep her voice casual, but Consuela’s bright, dark eyes seemed to see right through her. The woman gave a small, Mona Lisa smile. “No. I think he’s— what’s the phrase? Goon-shy.”

  Josie smiled. “I think you mean gun-shy.”

  Consuela grinned back. “Maybe both, no?”

  Josie laughed and nodded, all the while wondering why the information should make her stomach flutter. Uneasy at the way the housekeeper was scrutinizing her, she set down her coffee cup and pushed off the counter, anxious to change the topic.

  “Do you do all the cooking here yourself? Don’t you have any help?”

  Consuela shook her head as she opened one of the double ovens and pulled out a tray of cinnamon rolls. She set them on a wire rack to cool, then slid the biscuits in to bake. “Ever since the last lodge manager left, we’ve had staffing trouble. Two girls are supposed to help in the kitchen in the mornings, but…” Consuela shrugged. “Sometimes they come late, sometimes they don’t come at all. The evening shift is better, but not much. And the ladies who clean the guest rooms—” Consuela rolled her eyes “—it’s a nightmare. Two quit last week. Mr. Luke has advertised for replacements, but for the time being, our hands are short.”

  Suppressing a smile, Josie took off her jacket, draped it over a chair and pushed up her sleeves. “I’d love to help. What can I do?”

  Consuela shook her head. “Oh, no. You’re a guest! You’re here to relax, not to work.”

  “I’m not the type who enjoys sitting around and twiddling my thumbs,” Josie insisted. She moved to the large, stainless steel sink and began washing her hands. “Besides, I worked as an assistant to the chef when I was taking a hotel training program and I’m pretty handy in a kitchen. I’ve missed it.” Josie pointed to a bag of potatoes on the counter. “Let me guess. These need to be washed and peeled for hash browns.”

  “Yes, but…”

  Josie pulled a potato scrubber out of a ceramic jar of implements, located a large empty bowl on the counter and dove into the task before Consuela could mount a protest. “I got the impression last night that Luke isn’t too fond of the guest part of the guest ranch,” Josie said as a diversion.

  Consuela nodded and scooped some softened butter into a bowl. “He didn’t want his father to build the lodge. They had a big argument, and Luke left the ranch. He only came back when his father was dying.” Consuela’s eyes grew sorrowful. “It was Mr. O’Dell’s corazon—his heart, God rest his soul.” She genuflected and gave a heavy sigh. “Now Luke has to run the lodge, and he hates it more than ever. He thinks his father worked himself to death over it. And it reminds him of the argument.”

  “Why does he keep it open?”

  “He has to, for the ends to make the meat.”

  “I think you mean ‘for ends to meet.’”

  “Si.” Consuela nodded as she added powdered sugar and vanilla to the butter. “Mr. O’Dell mortgaged the ranch to build the lodge. Now Luke has to operate it to make the payments.” She poured in heavy cream, then picked up a wooden spoon and stirred the ingredients together. “He’s hired professional managers, but none of them have lasted more than a couple of months.”

  “Why not?”

  “The first one was dishonest. The second one was—how do you say it?—incontinent.”

  Josie grinned. “Incompetent?”

  “Si. The last one said there was no chance for advancement, and he took another job. That was over a month ago, and we’re having a hard time finding a replacement.” Consuela drizzled the freshly made icing over the cinnamon buns. “In the meantime, Luke’s wearing both hats.”

  Josie was about to ask another question when the door pushed open and there Luke stood, his frame filling the doorway, holding one of those hats in his hand. It was a brown Stetson, and it looked as worn as his faded jeans and denim jacket. The sight of him made the butterflies she’d felt earlier metamorphose into bat wings.

  Luke froze in the doorway as his eyes met hers. A nerve worked in his jaw. “I thought you’d be on your way back to Tulsa by now to kiss and make up.”

  Josie forced herself to continue calmly peeling the potato in her hand. “Why would you think a thing like that?”

  “Because your fiancé called last night, and these little lovers’ tiffs have a way of working themselves out.”

  “Wrong on three counts.” Josie dropped the peeled potato into the bowl and picked up another spud, trying hard to hide the fact her pulse was unaccountably racing. “Robert is my ex-fiancé. And it wasn’t a tiff.”

  “That’s two. What’s the third?”

  Josie felt the color rise in her cheeks as she attacked the potato. For the life of her, she didn’t want him to know how he rattled her. She tried to keep her voice cool, her tone offhanded. “We were never lovers, either.”

  Luke had surmised as much from their conversation last night, but he took an unexplained pleasure in hearing her say it. Not that it mattered to him, Luke thought. It made no difference to him either way.

  It bothered him, though, to see her act as if the whole thing were over and done with—as if she had no feelings for the guy at all. He’d seen this behavior before. From his experience, the more a woman insisted she didn’t care for a man, the more she actually did.

  He tossed his hat on the seat of a ladder-back chair by the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets. “He must have meant something to you, if you were going to marry him.”

  “Her family pushed her into the engagement,” Consuela chimed in. “She didn’t really love him.”

  Startled, Luke jerked around to find Consuela on the opposite side of the kitchen, watching the exchange with undisguised interest. He’d been so focused on Josie he hadn’t even registered the fact the housekeeper was in the
room.

  True to form, Consuela had wasted no time getting the inside scoop, Luke thought wryly. Hard to believe she’d fallen for Josie’s I-never-loved-the-guy routine, though. She was usually so shrewd about these things.

  How had Josie managed to snow her? Especially with such a phoney-baloney story. From what he’d seen of Josie, she wasn’t the type who’d be easily coerced into anything.

  Except maybe a kiss, Luke thought with a pang of guilt. It had sure been on his mind to try it last night. He ought to be ashamed of himself, entertaining thoughts like that about a woman in such a sad situation. It was a good thing the phone had rung when it did or he’d have had a hard time facing himself this morning.

  His gaze darted back to Josie, and it suddenly registered that she was up to her elbows in potatoes. “What the heck are you doing?” he demanded.

  “Peeling potatoes.”

  “I can see that. But why?”

  “Because I wanted to make myself useful.”

  The most useful thing she could do was go back to Tulsa and leave him in peace, Luke thought grumpily. She’d stirred up thoughts and feelings he’d kept locked up for a good long while, and she’d all but ruined his night’s sleep. “Thanks, but the kitchen is off-limits to guests. It’s a lodge rule.”

  Josie dropped a peeled spud in the bowl and flashed that infuriating dimple, the one that had plagued his thoughts for half the night. “Everyone knows rules are made to be broken. Besides, I’m enjoying myself, and Consuela needs some help. This is too much work for one person.”

  “Well, then, I’ll help her,” Luke retorted.

  Consuela rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. “Oh, no! Last time you helped, it took me an extra hour to clean up the mess.” She vigorously shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, where a knot of tension was forming, and watched Josie calmly peel another potato. It was true Consuela needed assistance, and it was a proven fact he was all thumbs in a kitchen. There was no reason why Josie’s helping out should bother him so.