by Day Leclaire
That stung. “I was a wrangler.”
“Who hadn’t remained in any one place for longer than a season. What sort of life is that for a young girl?”
“You weren’t willing to give me a chance to make a home with her. You barged into our hotel room, knocked me on my backside without waiting for an explanation and took my wife from me.”
“My sister!”
Chaz caught himself in time and exchanged glares with Rafe. This was ridiculous. He refused to get into a slanging match over events nearly a decade old. It wasn’t worth it. Besides, he had other business to take care of tonight. “Forget it, Beaumont. It’s not important any more.”
After a long moment, Rafe nodded in agreement. “Very well. I appreciate your coming.”
“I’m sure.” Chaz shifted impatiently. He didn’t have time for social niceties, particularly those coming years too late. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
He’d only managed two short steps before Rafe stopped him in his tracks. “Aren’t you even going to ask about her?”
Chaz didn’t bother to turn around. “No.”
“Then why the hell did you come?”
Ella approached just then, laying a restraining hand on Rafe’s arm. “Easy, darling. You weren’t going to lose your temper, remember?” She turned her attention to Chaz. “My husband’s question is a good one. If you didn’t come back to find out about Shayne, why are you here?
He turned. Interesting. Apparently the Beaumonts had a hidden agenda. Now why didn’t that come as a surprise? Unable to resist, he slashed at his opponent. “I came for the same reason all your other guests have. To find myself a wife.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I assume you don’t have any objections?”
Rafe’s mouth tightened—a dead giveaway. Apparently, he had plenty of objections, though none he intended to state. “Not a one. I won’t bother giving you the usual rundown since this isn’t your first visit. I’m sure you remember where to find food and so forth.”
“Not to mention the women.” He offered a slow, insolent smile. “Think I’ll stick to the more enjoyable aspects of your shindig. Food can wait.”
“In case you weren’t aware, it’s a masked ball this time.”
“Yeah, I read that. Guess I forgot mine.”
Rafe inclined his head as regally as the Dona. “You’ll find extra masks on the table behind you. Help yourself.”
So stiff. So arrogant. So damned in control of his world and everyone in it. Chaz longed to take some of the stuffing out of his former brother-in-law. But he didn’t dare. As much as he resented it, he needed Rafe’s help. Or rather, he needed what Rafe’s ball so amply provided.... Women.
“Thanks. I’ll do that.” Chaz glanced at his hostess. “It’s been a pleasure, Cinder-girl.” Snagging a mask, he headed for the ballroom. And all the while he cursed himself for a fool. An odd warmth sparked close to the inner core of ice that protected him.
He should have let Beaumont tell him about Shayne.
Shayne stood on the balcony looking down at the crowd. This was it. Her last Cinderella Ball. The last time she’d allow herself to remember, to allow regret to overshadow all that life had to offer. To hide from pain and sleep, when she should be living. As this night waned and the sun rose on a new day, she’d confront the future, instead of constantly looking over her shoulder toward the past.
She glanced at the reception line. Her nephew, Donato, had long ago been put to bed and yet there was still a steady stream of visitors arriving, though the crowd had lightened somewhat. Perhaps she should go over and offer to take tickets again. Rafe had insisted she should enjoy herself, but she felt guilty dumping all the work on her brother and sister-in-law.
Studying Rafe, she frowned. Who was he talking to? If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was annoyed. Possibly, more than annoyed. His shoulders were rigid, his hands opening and closing into fists. What in the world had set him off? The crowd shifted and then she saw what had caused him such distress.
Chaz McIntyre stood at the head of the line.
Shock rolled over her like storm-driven waves, threatening to sweep her feet out from under her. From a great distance she heard the urgent clamor of silver-toned chimes and realized she must be trembling, setting off the strings of bells decorating her mask. She gripped the banister to keep from falling and the bells quieted. Dear heavens, how could it be? After all these years, her husband had returned. Why? Why now when the time had come to move on? What did he want? Or should she be asking... who? As she stood and watched, Chaz walked over to the table holding the spare masks and selected one. Then he plunged into the ballroom.
Understanding struck with as much pain and power as a fist to the chin. Finally, her prayers had been answered. Her husband had come back. The painful irony was... In all likelihood, he hadn’t returned for her.
For the first time in years, Shayne acted without thought. Her mask hung from her arm—an elaborate beaded and feathered affair decorated with the tiny bells that announced her slightest movement. It covered most of her face, making it almost impossible to identify her. She slipped it over her head, the bells singing a song of urgency. Crossing to the staircase leading to the ballroom, she lifted the wide skirts of her gold dress and descended the steps, searching the crowd for a tall, well-built man, brown hair highlighted with streaks of sun-bleached gold, dressed in a western-cut brown tux.
It took her forever to reach the ballroom. Three different people required assistance and she didn’t want to abandon them until their needs were met. Finally she reached the dance floor. She spotted Chaz almost immediately, standing to one side, calmly scrutinizing the three women who ringed him—a dainty blonde, a willowy redhead and a sultry brunette. It stopped her dead in her tracks.
What in the world was he up to? He couldn’t be here to find a wife. Her pulse picked up. Could he? Slipping close enough to observe, she watched as he swept first one of the women, then another onto the dance floor. He still moved as gracefully as she recalled, his movements sure and powerful.
A man appeared at Shayne’s elbow. “Excuse me, would you care to dance?”
“No, thanks,” she demurred.
“Please?” He smiled with unexpected charm. “Just one?”
What could it hurt? She’d help a guest and it would give her the opportunity to study Chaz without his noticing. “All right.”
“The name’s Sotherland.” He swung her around in an easy circle. “August Sotherland.”
“Hello, Mr. Sotherland. I’m Shayne.”
“So you’re hoping to get married?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
She’d caught him by surprise and his step faltered for a split second. “No?”
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, instantly contrite. “My brother and his wife host the Cinderella Ball. I’m simply observing. I guess I should have explained sooner.”
“A shame.” He recovered with impressive speed. “Well, I guess a single dance isn’t against the rules, right?”
“Not at all.”
She glanced over his shoulder toward Chaz. The blonde and the redhead had disappeared and he now danced with the sultry brunette. She was dressed as Cleopatra, her skirt so tight it was a wonder she could move at all. Perhaps that was why she found it necessary to drape herself over Chaz—so he could drag her around the dance floor without having to do more than shuffle her feet.
“... but if you were looking for a husband, what would you want him to be like?”
She forced her attention back to August. What should he be like? Her gaze drifted to Chaz once again. “Intelligent. Straightforward. Protective. Honorable.” Her husband had been all those things. At least, when she’d known him.
Sotherland grinned. “So far, so good.”
So far, so good? Surely, he didn’t think...? No, he didn’t, she realized in relief. She could see it in the teasing gleam in his eyes. Cute. She decided to play along. “Oh, but there’s more.”
/> He lifted his eyebrows. “Do tell.”
“If I were considering a husband, he’d have to be tall, broad-shouldered, have brown hair with whitish streaks, and intense blue eyes. Oh! And a tiny chip in his left canine tooth.”
“Darn. Not a chip to be found.” He grinned to prove it.
“Oh, dear. I’m afraid that will never do.”
He shook his head with a soft click of his tongue. “I guess that means we weren’t meant to be.”
“I guess not,” she responded with a sigh of regret.
“But I notice that fellow behind us has rather intense blue eyes.”
A hint of warmth washed across her cheekbones. “Really?”
“Sure enough.” He maneuvered them in a tight circle to get a better look. “I admit I’m not the best judge, but he appears on the tall side, too. Not to mention broad-shouldered.”
“How...interesting.”
“Isn’t it?” August murmured. “Too bad his streaks are gray—”
“They are not gray!”
“No?” he asked innocently. “My mistake. Now if only we could discover if the poor man has chipped teeth....” Before she could protest, he swerved into the path of the oncoming couple. “Gee, didn’t see you folks,” he was quick to apologize.
Chaz swung around and looked at them. For a breathless moment, Shayne was certain he’d recognized her. That he, too, felt the hot, sweet emotions that lingered, charging the air between them. But after subjecting her to a swift, impersonal examination, he turned his attention to August. “No damage done.”
“Hey. Is that a chipped tooth you have there?”
Chaz’s jaw locked and a warning glitter appeared in his eyes. “What if it is?”
“Amazing coincidence, wouldn’t you say, my dear?” he asked Shayne. “White streaks, blue eyes, chipped tooth. It’s downright magical.”
Chaz folded his arms across his chest—a chest that seemed even broader than she remembered. “Buddy, you’re startin’ to rub me the wrong way. Maybe you should move on before you end up with a few chipped teeth of your own.”
“Right you are.” He gave Shayne a surreptitious wink, captured Cleopatra in an enthusiastic embrace and half-dragged, half-danced her across the floor.
A silent moment passed while Shayne scrambled for something to say. Chaz’s eyes behind his mask were every bit as piercing as she recalled and having them fixed so steadily on her didn’t help her conversational skills. “Mind telling me what that was all about?” he finally asked.
“August was just trying to be helpful.”
“Helpful.”
“Yes. He...he asked me to describe the man I’d want to marry and...” She shrugged, confessing with painful honesty, “I described you.”
“Why?”
“You remind me of someone I once knew.” Knew, and considered to be the perfect man. Had August sensed her feelings and decided to do a bit of match-making? Gratitude vied with nervousness. “When my friend saw you and made the connection, he took matters into his own hands.”
Chaz’s eyes narrowed. “Were you trying to blow him off? Is that why you described me?”
She sensed a harshness in him that hadn’t been there before, a molten core tamped under tight control. What would happen if that control ever slipped? She didn’t think she’d like to be around as a witness. “I wasn’t lying to him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Why describe me? It can’t just be my resemblance to this other man.”
The molten core had splashed closer to the surface and Shayne realized she’d have to respond very, very carefully. “I thought we might be compatible.” They had been, once upon a time.
“What about me made you think that?”
Everything. Their past. The way he’d made love to her. The fact that he stood before her after all these years. “It’s just a feeling.”
The chill coming off him froze her out completely. “I don’t trust feelings.”
That alarmed her more than anything else he could have said. Had he changed so much? “What do you trust?”
“Not much. I want to see and touch it to believe in its existence. And even then I have my doubts.”
Unbidden tears pricked her eyes. Had she and Rafe done that to him? Were they responsible for the coldness that iced his every word? “Why are you here?” she asked helplessly.
“To find a woman.”
For a split second hope raced through her. “What woman?”
“Doesn’t much matter so long as we can come to terms.”
She turned abruptly, the air escaping her lungs in a desperate rush. It hurt to inhale, hurt to blink, hurt to think. “What are your terms?” she asked thinly.
“Lady, we’re standing in the middle of a dance floor. Do you really want to negotiate a marriage contract here?”
“We could... We could go downstairs and have a cup of coffee.” She desperately needed the warmth to counteract this first, brief bitter-cold conversation. “Would that do?”
“Sure.”
Realization struck and she almost burst into hysterical laughter. Her ex-husband—were they considered ex-husbands when the marriage had been annulled?—wanted to sit down and share a cup of coffee with her while discussing what he needed in a new wife. Did life get any stranger than that?
She glanced over her shoulder to where August had stranded Cleopatra. She’d already picked up a new swarm of admirers. “Am I taking you away from someone?”
His hand settled at the base of her spine, filling the hollow with surprising heat. “No one important.” As though realizing how callous he sounded, he added, “We weren’t on the same wavelength.”
They left the floor and the bells decorating her headdress and mask swayed, colliding with soft, excited jangles. For some reason the melodic sound reassured her. It announced change and spiritual awakening—both of which she needed very badly.
Chaz flicked one of the golden strands. “I won’t lose you in the crowd with these.”
The words seemed prophetic. “It’s easy to become lost.”
“No problem. I’d find you again.”
He hadn’t last time and hurt made her reckless. “That’s assuming you want to find me.”
His careless grin was belied by the dead seriousness of his gaze. “Oh, I’d want to find you.”
As they left the ballroom, Shayne glanced toward the reception line. Rate and Ella were no longer there. What would they do if they discovered her with Chaz? Or was that the idea? Had her brother sent tickets to both of them in the hopes of sparking this meeting?
Once in the dining room, they bypassed the tables loaded with every conceivable delicacy and found a discreet table tucked away in the corner of the room. “I’ll get coffee,” Chaz said. “Looks like they have every sort in creation. What’s your preference?”
“Plain and black, please.”
“A hot water-and-beans woman, huh? And here I’d had you pegged as one of those fake coffee lovers.”
“You think I look like the cappuccino type?”
He cocked his head to one side as he assessed her. “I’d say a latte or perhaps a mochaccino.”
“Doubled or tripled?”
He regarded her in amusement. “Oh, a grande, at the very least.”
“Heavens, no! It has to be a tall skinny halfway between a flat white and a cap. No foam.” Her brows drew together as she gave it further consideration. “On second thoughts maybe I should go with a lungo or a poophead.”
He held up his hands in surrender and a smile pulled the harshness from his face, hinting at the boyishness she’d once known so intimately. “One black coffee, it is.”
“The thicker, the better?” she teased.
“I drink the type you have to cut with a knife and fork. But I’ll be a nice guy and make yours a bit weaker if that’s what you prefer.”
“You want a strong cup of coffee? Maybe you should try—” She’d almost suggested the Costa Rican tacita de café, bu
t caught herself at the last minute. Bringing Costa Rica into the conversation would be a dead giveaway.
“Try...?”
“Try asking the barista,” Shayne replied instead. “I’m sure she’ll know which will offer the best jolt for the sip.”
To her relief, he appeared to accept her comment at face value. Thank goodness! She didn’t want Chaz to know who she was. Not yet. Not until she’d had a chance to spend some time with him. She wanted to discover what had happened over the past nine years and see if they could regain what they’d once shared. It was a ridiculous dream, as foolish as it was reckless. But she couldn’t help herself. Just as she’d been instantly attracted to him that infamous night so long ago, she found that attraction every bit as immediate and powerful the second time around.
“Here we are. Two coffees. Both black.” He took a seat opposite her. “I don’t believe we’ve introduced ourselves.” He offered his hand. “I’m Chaz from Lullabye, Colorado.”
He hadn’t volunteered his last name. That would simplify matters. “My first name’s Marianna.” It was the truth. She’d only adopted her middle name, Shayne, when Rafe had rescued her from her hellish existence in Florida.
“Marianna. Pretty. And why are you here?”
“The same reason most of the people are. I’d like to find a husband.” One special, long-lost husband. “What about you?” She struggled not to appear too anxious.
“I’m looking for a wife.”
“Why?” she couldn’t help asking. “Why here?”
He shrugged. “Someone sent me a ticket.”
Rafe! “So you came? Just because you received a ticket?”
“I had another reason.” He toyed with his coffee cup. “I recently bought a ranch.”
So the wanderlust had finally left Chaz McIntyre. “And this ranch requires a wife?”
“Yes.” Bald. Abrupt. He spoke the word in a tone that warned he wouldn’t take kindly to questions.
Too bad. She had questions and a lot of them. Did he really expect to show up at the ball and entice someone to the altar with just his good looks? He’d be satisfied married to such a shallow, undemanding woman? “Why do you want a wife, Chaz?”