Pregnant by the Cowboy CEO

by Catherine Mann

  Picking up his cell phone, he tapped the lint roller into motion for Roscoe again while trotting out some instructions to his personal assistant to get the ball rolling on his idea.

  A few moments later, his work was interrupted when the door to his suite clicked open and Amie stepped through the threshold. She was radiant.

  Yes, beautiful, but so much more.

  He would convince her to marry him, one way or another. He had to.

  * * *

  Amie was used to working close to home, which meant she wore casual business attire some days and ranch clothes on others. All these galas so close together gave her flashbacks to her pageant days. Except at least she got to choose her own clothes now. No more traditional stage garb like the kind her mother insisted on as her “manager.”

  Now she could let her creative impulses run free. And yes, she had to confess, she enjoyed watching the heat flame in Preston’s eyes every time she made an entrance.

  Since she’d pushed the edgy boundaries before, she went for a simpler look tonight, a fitted gold lace dress that flared around her feet. Her hair was slicked back into a tight bun. Simple, classic cat eyeliner and nude lips. Dangling hammered-flat gold earrings and multiple wide bracelets were engraved with her favorite quotes from her favorite poets. All the words of encouragement and perseverance were strung around her wrists. There to remind her to breathe.

  She walked down the grand winding staircase at the Saint Regis Hotel where they were staying and holding the event. No getting trapped in a limo together tonight.

  Her body heated at the memory of making love in the backseat. And continuing through the night when they’d returned to their hotel. The trip on the private jet had been too quick and full of business for any deep conversation, but that marriage proposal still hung in the air between them.

  Could she really just move in with him and see what happened over the next few months? She wished she knew the answer or saw some kind of sign. She felt adrift with nowhere to turn. Her mother wouldn’t be a help at all. Her brother had made his adversarial position clear. And she didn’t want to burden her grandmother.

  Her fingers clenched around Preston’s elbow as they reached the bottom of the staircase, noise from the jewelry show already drifting down the hall along with music from a string quartet.

  Preston glanced at her. “Are you feeling all right? Tired? Or dizzy?”

  “I’m feeling fine,” she said quickly. Of course, he’d meant the baby, not the proposal or her feelings. “I’m taking my prenatal vitamins religiously. I promise.”

  “Just making sure you aren’t overdoing it. It’s been a hectic week.” He patted her arm. “Let’s get to the party and find some food.”

  Okay, more pregnancy concerns, but it was thoughtful and she was starving. She spotted a waiter heading into the ballroom with a silver platter of persimmon pear caprese toast. Another with what looked like goat cheese and beets. Her mouth watered.

  “Definitely food. Sooner rather than later.”

  He smiled down at her with such light in his eyes she felt hope flutter to life inside her. Maybe, just maybe, they could be happy, sharing great sex and working hard to build a future together. They were both driven people. If they set their minds to this...

  He dropped a quick kiss on her lips before escorting her into the ballroom teeming with jewelry displays on models strategically seated and standing on small themed stages throughout the room. As songs changed, they changed jewels from the display cases beside them. More than just a runway event, they’d created an interactive jewelry fashion show to play throughout the evening. She was quite proud of the execution of this idea, the thematic podiums echoing the various Diamonds in the Rough lines.

  She snagged an appetizer from a passing waiter. Cheese truffle with chives. She could have eaten a dozen. Her mouth full, she looked around the domed space, searching for the contacts she needed to make. Taking her time to work the room, she sampled her way along the perimeter.

  Preston went still beside her, stopping her short of her goal of a mini lobster soufflé.

  “What’s wrong?” She followed his gaze and realized his attention was focused on a lovely blonde in a pale blue dress walking toward them on the arm of a distinguished-looking man in a conservative tux. “Preston?”

  “Amie...” He paused, his forehead furrowing. “I’m not sure how to tell you this or why she’s here, but—”

  The woman stopped directly in front of them. “Hello, Preston, it’s been too long, but you’re looking good.” She extended her hand to Amie. “I’m Dara West. I used to be married to Preston.”

  * * *

  After an awkward introduction to Amie, Preston cornered his ex-wife by the triple chocolate fondue fountains surrounded by fruit and small delicacies. She always had adored her sweets. That had gotten him out of trouble more times than he could count. He’d known they were through the day she’d thrown a box of her favorite Godiva’s exclusive G Collection chocolates at his head after he missed Leslie’s fourth-grade dance recital because he’d worked late. No good excuse.

  “Dara, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “I do keep up with your life thanks to the internet and an occasional Google search. I saw photos of you and Amie in the social pages. I know you, and I could see there’s a connection between the two of you. I was curious.” She picked up a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

  “And your husband doesn’t mind?” Preston raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

  “Bradley and I are secure. Solid. Besides, coming here gave us an excuse for a weekend away together. Mom and Dad are thrilled to watch the kids.”

  “The kids are—” he swallowed hard, thinking back to the photograph she’d sent—a family, a complete family “—beautiful. Thank you for the Christmas card.”

  “I’m happy...” Dara’s voice trailed, became leaden. She shook her head. “Well, there was a time I didn’t think that happy was possible. But I love Bradley, unconditionally, and I’ve worked hard to find happiness again after what you and I went through. I keep hoping you’ll find a way to be happy, too.”

  Leslie’s death had shredded Dara as deeply as it had hurt him. He knew that.

  “So here you are, checking up on my happy meter.” Preston’s arms crossed over his chest.

  “Checking up to make sure Amie McNair is worthy of you.” She gestured with her champagne flute to Amie, who was standing chatting with a potential client. She took Preston’s breath away with her understated charm and love for the company, for people.

  He threw back his head and laughed. “You are something else, Dara. But thank you. I can take care of myself. Truth be told, Amie’s too good for me.”

  “Spoken like the gentleman you’ve always been.”

  “Not always.” Preston’s eyes darkened, muscles tensing. He had spent years ignoring and burying his past. His ex. His dead child and premature grandchild. These past few days had brought every painful memory lurching back to the surface. “I’m sorry I let you and Leslie down. Sorrier than you’ll ever know.”

  “Casting blame takes away from thoughts of remembering her. I want to remember her and smile.” She looked thoughtfully at him. And she seemed to be at peace.

  “How did you do it?”

  “Do what?” Dara’s green eyes looked back inquisitively.

  Preston let out a long-held breath. He shrugged his shoulders. “Get up the guts to have another child in your life?”

  She nodded her head in understanding. “I have a mother’s love to give and nowhere to pour it. There are children who need that love.”

  “You’re a good woman. I was an idiot to let you get away.”

  “You aren’t about to hit on me, are you?”

  “Our time passed before Leslie died. I know that.” T
he weight of the past threatened to drag him under. He needed to lighten the mood. Fast. “Besides, your husband would kick my ass.”

  “He would try. But we both know you could take him.” She winked at him, tossing her blond hair over her shoulder with a dramatic flick of the hand.

  “Flattery? You surprise me.” He laughed. The conversation was easier than he could have ever imagined, than he felt he deserved.

  “I’ve realized our breakup wasn’t entirely your fault. I had my part in how things went south between us.”

  “That’s kind of you to say, but I know—”

  “Stop. You don’t have to protect me from myself. I take responsibility for my own actions. That’s a part of how I was able to move forward and enjoy my future.” Dara smiled at him.

  If she could move on, could he? Could he stop running from those old ghosts?

  He sighed, the words falling out before he could weigh the wisdom or why of speaking them. “Amie is pregnant. The baby’s mine.”

  Her eyes flashed with only an instant’s surprise, then total joy. “Congratulations. That’s wonderful news.”

  “It is.” Pain crept into his words.

  “Then why aren’t you smiling?”

  “Amie won’t marry me. I’m having to work my ass off just to get her to agree to let us move in together.”

  “She doesn’t love you in return?”

  He scratched the back of his neck. “We, uh, didn’t talk about love.”

  Dara rolled her eyes. “She won’t marry a man who doesn’t love her, who only proposed to her because she’s pregnant. Hmm...” She tapped her chin in mock thought. “I wonder why she said no. That would have been enough to sell me.”

  Sarcasm dripped. And yet, the theatrical delivery helped him get the message. Sometimes he needed things spelled out for him.

  Damn. How could he be so successful in the business world and such a screwup in the relationship department? Of course Amie wanted more from him. How had he overlooked that? “Okay, I hear you. And by the way, you’re funnier than I remember.”

  “And I’m hoping you still remember how to be romantic. There was a time you were quite good at that. You do love her, don’t you?”

  “This is not the way I saw this conversation going,” Preston admitted.

  She raised an inquisitive brow at him. “But you’re not denying it.”

  “Because I can’t.” Realization bubbled in his stomach.

  She rolled her eyes, tilting her glass back to Amie. “Well, don’t tell me. Tell her.”

  Eleven

  Amie kept her cat in her lap on the flight back to Fort Worth, needing the comfort of stroking Roscoe. The rhythm of Roscoe’s purring was the only thing anchoring her. The last week had left her raw. Vulnerable. She had spanned a year’s worth of emotions over the course of a few days. How could it have only been a week since her grandmother gave her orders to travel with Preston, to make peace with him for the future of the company?

  She felt anything but peaceful after seeing the way Preston greeted his ex-wife. It was obvious he had feelings for her. It didn’t matter that Dara had moved on with a new family. Amie hadn’t been able to take her eyes off Preston with his former wife at the party in Atlanta, mesmerized by the emotions she saw broadcast through his hazel eyes.

  Emotions she’d never seen for her.

  She’d hardly slept afterward, her stomach churning all night, knowing that Preston didn’t care for her that way. Knowing she didn’t have a fraction of his heart. His offer to stay, to marry her, was not out of desire or longing for her.

  Roscoe nudged closer, standing to make his feline presence felt. She brushed her fingers behind his ear, doing her best to keep herself from shedding tears on the flight home. Instead, Amie concentrated hard on Roscoe’s purring. She could only imagine the turmoil that would erupt over her news, especially with the memory of Alex’s reaction weighing on her heart.

  She needed to do what she could to control the family response. Which meant talking to Preston. And she wasn’t ready to face more questions about marriage or moving in. She needed time and space to think.

  Stroking the senior Siamese, fur soft under her fingers, she hoped it was a good time to broach the topic. On her terms. “Now that Alex and Nina know, it’s only a matter of time before word gets out.”

  Preston stretched out his long legs, crossing his boots at the ankles, wearing faded jeans with his suit jacket now that the galas were done. “Do you think they would talk, even if you asked them to keep their silence? I assume you asked them to wait for you to make your own announcement.”

  “I did ask before they left. Nina won’t say a word and no one will guess from her behavior. But Alex? Even if he keeps his silence, I’m not so sure he can hold back his emotions. He’s mad—which I think is ridiculous because I’m a consenting adult. I am damn tired of this family treating me like a flighty nitwit who doesn’t know her own mind. So it’s going to be time to tell them soon.”

  “They’re your family,” he said, his hand resting on his Stetson beside him as if he took comfort from it the way she did her cat. “You have my support in however you decide to handle the announcement. I do want to be there with you.”

  “Okay, I’m all right with that. I think we need to tell them about the baby after the final event in Fort Worth. We can say we’re still working out the details between us, but that we’re committed to doing the best by our child.”

  “You can say that and I’ll support you. That doesn’t mean I agree with you.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes skimming her turquoise and gold–trimmed maxidress, taking in every inch of her as he always did. “I want to marry you. I would like them to know that.”

  “No, absolutely not.” She shook her head adamantly, remembering the way he’d looked at his ex. The shine in his eyes and warm quality of his face as they slipped into easy conversation. That, more than anything, had assured her she was making the right decision. She would not rush into this and wind up with only a shell of a man doing his duty. “They’ll all pressure me to say yes and I can’t take all of them coming at me that way.”

  He frowned.

  “What?” Did he know she was withholding her deeper concerns?

  “If they say so much as a cross word to you, I’m going to have trouble with that. I don’t relish the notion of all of them coming swinging at me, but I’ll handle it.”

  The thought of another fight breaking out made her shiver. A follow-up thought popped to mind. “Is that why you proposed? Because you care what they think?”

  “Hell, no, and frankly I’m offended you think that of me.” He held her eyes with unwavering intensity. “I proposed because I want us to be a family. I want us to bring up the baby together, no split-time parenting.”

  Something she wanted, too. But was that enough to build a marriage on?

  “And if it doesn’t work out between us and things turn acrimonious?”

  “It will work out. I care about you, Amie.” He said it so earnestly she wanted to believe he meant more than that. “I won’t fail again.”

  He wouldn’t fail? Like they were a work project? The thought sent her spiraling. His honor and protectiveness weren’t in question. But she wanted more from him than just “caring” about her. She wanted... Her heart lurched as if the plane had lost altitude, realization making her unsteady.

  She loved him. She loved Preston Armstrong. And she wanted him to propose because he loved her, too.

  * * *

  Preston was losing control fast. Something had shifted with Amie during their discussion on the flight. She’d shut down and clammed up. He’d seen this volatile woman go through many emotions, but closed off? That was never one of them. Even when she was icy, it was that cold ice that burned. This shutdown came from bur
ied emotions. She’d left the plane as quickly as possible, abandoning her luggage except for her cat. She’d even taken the waiting limo and said she needed to leave immediately, mumbling an excuse about needing to get a vial for the cat.

  He didn’t know what he’d done to flip things so fast other than asking to marry her, for heaven’s sake. He’d even told her he cared about her, as Dara had reminded him to say. And it hadn’t made things better. In fact, they were worse off than before, and he wasn’t sure what move to make next.

  He’d caught a ride from one of the flight-line crew back to the ranch to find her. She wasn’t answering her phone. He got out to the ranch, a buzz of activity with vacationers taking riding lessons and the kids’ camp off to the side. The resort side of the main lodge was busy, as well, but the private living quarters looked quiet.

  He saw the limo backing up beside the barn, attempting to turn around to leave. He jogged over and knocked on the chauffeur’s window.

  The electric window slid down. “Yes, Mr. Armstrong? I was just coming back to pick you up. Miss McNair said you were conferring with the pilot.”

  “I found my way back. Thanks. Which way did Miss McNair go?”

  “She handed the cat to one of the staffers and headed to the barn. She said she needed to ride Crystal to clear the cobwebs.”

  Riding? Pregnant? Was that wise? Panic rolled in his gut.

  “Thank you for the information,” Preston said, already jogging toward the main barn. He readied his personal sorrel quarter horse, Chance, waving aside the stable hand that offered to help. Leather creaking, he swung up into the saddle. He looked down at the stable hand. “Which way did Amie ride off?”

  The employee pointed toward the forest to the east, away from the kids’ camp. Off to privacy and away from the more beaten trails. Preston urged Chance forward. The horse leaped instinctively, digging hooves into earth with as much desperation as Preston felt. He set off after her, unsure what he would say when he found her but knowing he couldn’t leave things this way.

  The wind whistled in his ear as his horse galloped. He gave Chance his head, pressing his legs into the horse’s sides. He needed to find her. Quickly. While the speed was safe for him, it made him afraid to think of Amie racing over trees and creeks—afraid for their child and for her.