Marriage, Maverick Style!

by Christine Rimmer

  All possible answers seemed dangerous. He settled on, “Yes.”

  “I...um. I want to take it slow, Carson. I want to...” She glanced down—and then up to meet his eyes full-on again. “Don’t laugh.”

  He banished the smile that was trying to pull at his mouth. “I’m not laughing.”

  “I want to be friends with you. Friends first. And then we’ll see.”

  Friends. Not really what he was going for. He wanted so much more. He wanted it all—everything that happened Monday night that he couldn’t remember. He wanted her naked, pressed tight against him. Wanted to coil that wild, dark hair around his hand, kiss her breathless, bury himself to the hilt in that tight, pretty body of hers, make her beg him to go deeper, hear her cry out his name.

  But none of that was happening right now. So he said the only thing he could say, given the circumstances. “However you want it, Tessa.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “I am.”

  “Because, I’m...” She ran out of steam. Or maybe courage.

  And that time he did reach out to curl a finger beneath her chin. She resisted at first, but then she gave in and lifted her gaze to his once more. He asked, “You’re what?”

  “I’m not good at this, you know?” She stared at him, her mouth soft and pliant, all earnestness, so sweetly sincere. “I’m kind of a doofus when it comes to romance and all that.”

  He laughed at that, though she’d warned him not to. “A doofus? No way, not you.”

  “Yes, me. Growing up, I wasn’t even interested in boys.”

  Damn. He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in snugly against his side. She didn’t resist—on the contrary, she laid her head on his shoulder. He took total advantage and pressed a quick kiss into the dark cloud of her hair. “Not interested in boys?” he teased. “That can’t be normal.”

  She nudged him with her shoulder. “You’re just asking for trouble.” But then she settled close again and continued. “I was obsessed, but not with boys. All I cared about was art. I was a total nerd about it. I spent hours drawing every day, and I never slacked on my schoolwork. I needed straight As so I could go to the best design school on scholarship. I got what I was after, a full ride to the college of my choice. I moved to New York, and I never looked back.”

  “But then, somehow, you ended up back in Bozeman?”

  Several seconds ticked by before she answered. “Really, it’s a long story and not all that interesting.”

  “That’s pretty much what you said Monday night. And then you clammed up. But now that we’ve decided we’re going to be friends, I think it’s only fair that you go ahead and tell me.”

  “Oh, right. Because you’re all about what’s fair.”

  “Come on,” he coaxed. “Tell me.”

  She tipped her head and looked up at him, her dark eyes turned darker, her mouth softer, more vulnerable. “Carson, I...”

  “I really do want to know.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder once more. And finally, she confessed, “I messed up.”

  “Messed up how?”

  “You’re not going to give up, are you?” she grumbled. “Not until you know it all.”

  He smiled to himself. “No, I’m not. You might as well just tell me everything—get it over with so that we can move on.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  “I’ve been called worse, believe me. So, you got a full scholarship to the School of Visual Arts and...”

  She hesitated, but then she forged ahead with it. “I did well there. In my last year of college, I got a great internship with a small Brooklyn firm. Two months later, they gave me a real job. And I was hired away from them by the Della Storm, who is as close to legendary as anyone gets in the world of graphic design.”

  Carson stroked her hair, loving the feel of it, so thick and wild and warm. He coiled a few strands around his finger as she explained that Della Storm was not only a legend in her field but also tough, uncompromising and difficult to work for. At the age of twenty-four, Tessa had already been given a lot of responsibility and creative say in the projects she took on under Della’s supervision. But then she met Della’s ex-boyfriend, an archeologist named Miles Rutherford.

  “It was insane, how fast I fell for him,” Tessa said. “One look in those blue eyes of his, and I was just gone. In the space of a glance, I went from zero interest in love and romance to head over heels.”

  Already, Carson hated this Miles character, though for all he knew, the guy hadn’t done a thing but be the man Tessa fell in love with. “Lucky Miles Rutherford. Let me guess. You were inseparable from that moment on.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Tell me more about him.”

  She lifted her head from his shoulder. “Do we really need to go into all the gory details?”

  He wanted to know everything about her—including the difficult stuff she was reluctant to share. “Come on. Just tell me.”

  “What can I say? He was from a wealthy Montana family and I felt this instant connection with him.”

  “How did you meet him?”

  “It was one of those big charity events at the Waldorf, the women in full evening dress, the men looking sharp in black tie. We struck up a conversation and talked for hours—about Montana, about design, about Miles’s life traveling the world. Then we went to his place and I stayed the night. I moved in with him the next day.” She glanced up and scanned his face as though looking for clues as to what he might be thinking. “Go ahead. Say it.”

  He gave a half shrug. “That was quick.”

  “I know. And I knew it then, that it was all happening much too fast. But I didn’t even care. From the first moment I saw him, he was everything to me. After that first night, I didn’t care about my job, didn’t give a damn about the career I’d spent my whole life up to that point building. I got sloppy. We were working on an important project, and Della trusted me to run it. I just blew the whole thing off. I messed up everything I’d worked so hard for. I let a lot of people down. It really was all on me. I chose some guy I didn’t even know over my life and my responsibilities.”

  “You said that this Miles was your boss’s ex?”

  She shifted against him with a tiny sigh. “Caught that, did you?”

  He kissed her hair again. “Not a lot gets by me.”

  “I’ll bet. Yeah, Miles was Della’s ex. He was completely over her.”

  “But she wasn’t over him.”

  “Shh. This is my story.”

  “Am I right?”

  “Yes, you are. Della wasn’t over him. And I never had the guts to tell her that he and I were together. She found out about Miles and me around the same time I blew up that project she’d trusted me to run. She was furious with me on so many levels. She had no claim on Miles. But she did have every right to come after me for going AWOL on the job. She fired me and she promised me that she would see to it I never worked in a major firm again.”

  Carson thought about IMI. The Della Storm and her jealous vendetta aside, Tessa would have a job at IMI if he wanted her there—well, she would if he could talk her into going to work for them. “How long ago was it that this Storm woman fired you?”

  “Four years. And when Della blackballed me, I have to tell you, I didn’t even care. All I cared about was Miles. After that, I didn’t pick up a sketchbook or open a graphic design program for a year and a half. I was with Miles, and that was plenty for me. He worked in South America, in Egypt and in Spain. When he wasn’t on a dig, we lived in luxury in hotels in Paris, London, Rome, Marrakech—you name it. At first, it was like a fairy tale, but over time, the magic began to fade.”

  “How long were you with him?”

  “Two years.”
/>
  “Why did you break up?”

  “He got over me, just like he got over Della before me. I’m pretty sure he was cheating on me before the end. And I was...well, I was starting to admit to myself that what we had wasn’t really working for me, either. That I needed my own life, you know? I regretted tossing my career in the crapper like that. And then one day I walked in on Miles in bed with two gorgeous women, identical twins.”

  “Whoa.”

  “Exactly. That was a real eye-opener. I will never forget what he said to me. ‘Darling. Join us.’ He was smiling like it was nothing, daring me to make a scene.”

  “And you...?”

  “I didn’t say a word. I knew exactly what he was trying to tell me. He was done with me. I turned and left the room. Then I packed my stuff and flew home to Bozeman. The really sad part is, by then, I didn’t even care. Seeing him with those two women was just the final nail in the coffin of our bad romance. I’d screwed up my life for some guy I didn’t really even know.”

  “And I...remind you of him, of Miles?”

  She eased free of his hold and scooted away a little. He wanted to pull her back but thought better of it. “I love Montana, Carson. I missed Montana during the years I was in New York. And then, with Miles, living from one hotel to the next, I missed home even more.”

  “Tessa.” He waited until she looked at him. “Do I remind you of Miles?”

  “You really, truly want me to answer that?”

  He didn’t, not really. But he needed to know. “Yes.”

  “Fine.” She threw up both hands and then let them drop. “The more I’m around you, the less you remind me of him, the more you’re just...you. But yeah. When I first saw you, standing on the town hall steps looking like you ruled the world, it was pretty much Miles all over again.”

  He got up, went to the window and stared out over the street below. When he faced her again, he made his position very clear. “I don’t cheat. Yeah, I wanted to be free when my marriage ended. But I never got near another woman until I had my divorce.”

  “But there have been a lot of other women, right?”

  “Is that somehow a crime?”

  “Now who’s not answering the question, Carson?”

  He knew he was busted. “Okay. Yeah. There have been a lot of women. But I’m not seeing anyone now.” Truthfully, in the past year or so, he’d started to feel edgy and dissatisfied again, just as he had when his marriage was ending. He’d had his years of freedom, and it had been a great ride. But spending his nights with a series of beautiful women he would never really know—didn’t even want to know—just wasn’t as exciting as it used to be.

  Tessa prodded, “You sure there’s no part-time girlfriend thinking she means more to you than she does?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “No good-time girls waiting at your Beverly Hills mansion for you to return and join them in the hot tub?”

  “No. I live in Malibu, and I live alone.”

  She glared at him intently for a long count of five, as though if she only looked hard enough, she might see inside his skull and know with certainty his level of truthfulness. Finally, she nodded. “Okay, then,” she said on a soft little sigh.

  He had more questions—about a thousand of them. “Were you and Miles ever married?”

  “No.”

  “But you were exclusive with him?”

  “I thought so. But I thought a lot of things, and you see how well that turned out for me.”

  “You want us to be exclusive? That is what you’re talking about here, right?”

  She groaned at that. “See? I’m a mess when it comes to this relationship stuff. I just asked you to be my friend, and ten minutes later I’m grilling you about other women, making you think I’m demanding exclusivity.”

  “But you do want exclusivity, don’t you?” He had no doubt that she did. “See, that’s the thing, Tessa. You have to tell me what you want.”

  She blew out her cheeks with a hard breath. “Well, how about if you could be exclusive for the next two weeks, anyway?”

  He tried not to grin. “Even though we’re just friends?”

  She covered her face with her hands. “We shouldn’t even be talking about this right now. It’s too early to be talking about this.”

  He suggested, “How about this? I promise not to seduce any strange women for the next two weeks—present company excluded.”

  She let her hands drop to her lap, revealing bright spots of red high on her cheeks. “Maybe you shouldn’t warn me ahead of time that you’ll be trying to seduce me.”

  “Why not? We both know that I will, so the least I can do is be honest about it.”

  “Hmm. Well, okay. I’m all for honesty.” Her soft mouth was trying not to smile. “And I admit that I am a little strange.”

  “But in a thoroughly captivating way.”

  She bent her dark head again and said almost shyly, “Every now and then, you say just the right thing.”

  “Tessa?”

  “What?”

  “Look at me.” He waited until she met his eyes directly before asking, “Are you absolutely determined to stay in Montana? You wouldn’t consider LA, even if you could get your dream job there?”

  She hitched up that firm chin. “You’re pushing too fast.”

  “I’m going home in two weeks.”

  “So then, could you maybe wait a few days at least before trying to talk me into moving to California when I’ve just said I want to be here? Besides, didn’t you hear me say I was blackballed from my own industry?”

  “With the right connections, anything is possible.”

  Her wide mouth tightened. “You mean your connections.”

  “That is exactly what I mean. You know IMI?”

  She actually gaped. “You’re telling me you think you can get me a job as a graphic designer with Interactive Marketing International?”

  “I don’t think it. I know it. And a real job, one that makes full use of your talent, one that’s exciting and challenging. You would be a full member of the team.”

  “Right. Just like that.”

  “Yeah. Just like that. Don’t stare at me as though this is something I should be ashamed of. I have connections, and I’m willing to use them to get what I want.”

  She glared at him. “Just when I start thinking how great you are, you make me want to hit you with a large, blunt object.”

  She was really cute when she was mad. But he had a feeling telling her so wouldn’t help his case. He gentled his tone. “You’re right. It’s only fair that I wait a few days before bullying you into taking a great job with a big paycheck in sunny Southern California.”

  A scoff escaped her. “Did you just say that you’ll let it be for now? Because somehow I’m not feeling it.”

  He tried his best to look solemn and sincere. “I’m leaving it alone. For now.”

  She stood. “Thank you.” And she turned for the door.

  His heart sank to his boots. “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “To my room.”

  “I just got you talking to me again, and now you want to leave?”

  She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “I have some work I need to do. But I’ll meet you downstairs at noon in the dining room. We can grab a couple of sandwiches and have a picnic in the park.”

  He’d been hoping at the very least to steal a kiss before he let her escape. Have patience, he told himself. But patience wasn’t his strong suit—especially not where she was concerned. “A picnic sounds good.”

  “All right, then.” And she pulled open the door and left him standing there alone by the window wishing it was noon already.

  * * *

  For lunch, Strickland’s offered
a variety of sandwich choices. The guests gathered in the dining room, where Melba served them beverages and took their orders.

  As part of the family, Tessa went straight to the kitchen. She always made her own lunch, careful not to get in Claire’s way. Today, she led Carson in there with her. Claire greeted them both and went back to work assembling a trio of club sandwiches.

  “Roast beef? Turkey? Ham?” Tessa asked him.

  Carson chose roast beef on rye. She made his sandwich and a turkey on whole wheat for herself. They grabbed two individual bags of chips, a couple of Claire’s to-die-for chocolate chip cookies and a bottled water each, and headed for the park just down the street.

  It was nice out, the day cool and bright. They found an empty picnic table under a big tree and sat down across from each other.

  He’d no sooner unwrapped his food than he wanted her to share specifics about Della Storm, about what exactly had happened when Della fired her. He was pushing too hard again, and Tessa almost let her temper flare.

  But then she caught herself. She took a moment to gaze at him across from her, heartbreaker handsome in a buff-colored jacket that hugged his broad shoulders over a white knit shirt that showed off his tan skin. And he was not only way too good-looking. He really did want to know about her, about her life, about what had made her the person she was.

  How could she get mad at him?

  She’d shut him down twice. Still, he’d knocked himself out to try to get close to her. He’d moved from the luxury and comfort of Maverick Manor to her grandmother’s no-frills boardinghouse just for a chance to get to know her better.

  If he wanted all the awful details of her past failures at life, work and love, well, so be it.

  “I was no innocent victim, Carson. Don’t even try to paint me as one. Yeah, Della was wildly jealous over Miles and vindictive about it. But I blew off a major project when I fell in love with him. It was as if my brain and ambition went on a long holiday, and all I wanted was to spend every moment with Miles. I’d never been in love before, never understood what other people thought was so important about finding ‘the one.’” She dropped her sandwich to air-quote that for him. “And then I met Miles and—boom! I got it. I had no balance, you know? I went from being all about my career to being all about Miles, with no middle ground. I really messed up, and I fully deserved to suffer serious professional consequences.”