Wed to the Texan

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Wed to the Texan Page 11

by Sara Orwig


  She heard a car and hurried to the window in time to see the limo disappear around the curve of the drive. Today and most of tomorrow, Jake would be gone. Just like that. No flirting, no coming on to her. She rubbed her brow and wondered what had come over him. Maybe he had accepted everything and decided to make the best of it. Had her dad really changed Jake’s view of the boys? She’d like to give her dad a call and see what she could get out of him on the subject, but her dad saved his words for his sermons. She might get a speech, but she didn’t think he’d tell her what he and Jake discussed.

  Hoping to look professional and businesslike, she selected a navy suit and white blouse.

  She headed to a bank—not her usual one—and opened an account so she could transfer the money again before she made donations. She felt on thin ice in her volatile relationship with Jake, as if it could disintegrate completely at any time. She wanted to get this money distributed as swiftly as possible.

  It was afternoon before she returned home, more relaxed to know that Jake was out of town. As she circled the sweeping drive, Emily wondered if she would ever become accustomed to his Texas mansion. It was far swankier than the island home, yet not as luxurious as his château in France with its formal gardens, fountains and antiques. She hadn’t yet seen his New York condo or his home in the Colorado Rockies. She had no idea how large Jake’s household staffs were and how many gardeners he employed, though she did know the head gardener at the Dallas mansion was Holz Ganshaw. Her husband was an enigma in many ways, and she suspected she might not know him or his lifestyle much better even after years of marriage—which wasn’t going to happen, anyway.

  With his first real taste of money, he’d retired his mother. Later, he’d provided for her lavishly and had sent his younger sister, Nina, to college. The gardeners and groundskeeper, along with his chauffeur, mechanic and bodyguard, all lived in quarters over the nine-car garage. Emily felt as if she was approaching a small village when she drove through the estate’s tall wrought-iron gates.

  When she entered the house, she went to the kitchen, to talk to Charley about her schedule for the week and to give him the rest of the day and Tuesday off. There were refrigerators and freezers filled with delicious food, and the walk-in pantry was like a small grocery.

  “If you’re certain you won’t need me, Mrs. T.,” Charley said, smiling as he got fresh bread out of an oven. His blue eyes were friendly and he always had a smile for her.

  “I’ll be fine,” she assured him, accustomed to the staff addressing her as Mrs. T. At first she’d asked them to call her Emily, but no one would. When she was more insistent with Charley and Olive, Charley had started calling her “Mrs. T.” and soon all the household staff followed his lead.

  As she ascended the spiral staircase, she saw Olive’s cheerful face, her brown eyes sparkling when she smiled. “Afternoon, Mrs. T. Glad to see you home. Can I get you anything?”

  “No. But thanks, Olive.”

  “You had a delivery today. It’s in the family room,” Olive said, waving a plump hand. “I thought you might enjoy it more in there.”

  “A delivery?” Emily repeated.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Olive replied. “A very beautiful one,” she added. “You go see.”

  Curious, Emily strolled into the family room. It was far less formal than the elegant living room, which was usually reserved for guests. As she entered the room with its high, beamed ceilings and fruitwood furniture, she gasped. On the polished cherry coffee table in front of one of the sofas, sat a vase with four dozen red roses and as many white tulips. The heady scent of flowers filled the air.

  She crossed the room to open the card that sat on the table next to the vase. It read: “Look forward to coming home and seeing you.” Jake had signed it in his familiar bold scrawl.

  She was astonished. She hadn’t expected to see much of him from now on. At least, that was her plan. She looked at the card again and realized it wasn’t Jake’s plan. And why flowers? He’d never sent her flowers before.

  Shrugging, she leaned forward to inhale deeply the rose scent. She touched a petal. Why flowers? Jake had a reason for everything he did and these blooms were spectacular.

  “They’re beautiful, ma’am,” Olive repeated from the doorway.

  “Yes, they are, but I expect to be out of the house a lot. Take them home with you, Olive, where you can enjoy them.”

  “Thank you, but I wouldn’t dream of carrying away your beautiful flowers. I’ll admire them in here.”

  Emily turned to look at the flowers again, still wondering why he’d sent them. She went upstairs to her bedroom and halted in surprise when she entered the room. Another huge bouquet of flowers sat in a vase on a table near the window. It was just as spectacular as the flowers downstairs. Her curiosity was heightened.

  She crossed the room to open the card. “I know you have to go to church Wednesday night. But I hope you’re free on Thursday. We both have to eat. Let me take you to dinner.” It was signed, “Thinking of you, Jake.”

  She sat down to stare at the mix of daises, lilies, freesia, irises, carnations and dahlias and then studied the card again. Jake hoped to get her to go to dinner with him. That was what had brought on the flowers. Two mammoth, expensive bouquets was overdoing it, but that was Jake. If he wanted something, he went after it with total focus.

  He could send her an entire garden, however, and he still could eat alone. She’d tell him to go find another woman. That should make him angry enough to send him on his way. Jake wasn’t accustomed to failure. Pretty soon, she suspected, he’d want to be rid of her and any reminders of her or that he’d failed in an endeavor.

  By eight that night she was curled in bed with a book when the phone rang. It was Jake. Lifting the receiver, she was thankful he was in Chicago.

  “Hi, Jake. Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful, but a bit much. If they’re a bribe to get me to go to dinner with you Thursday night, it won’t work. Sorry, but no.”

  “Have other plans?”

  “Yes,” she replied, even though she didn’t.

  “What are you doing now?”

  “I’m reading,” she said, trying to avoid conversation with him and get him off the line before she got pulled into doing something with him.

  “You’re in bed with a book,” he said softly, and she wondered how he guessed when it was far earlier than she usually went to bed. “I’d like to be there with you,” he said, lowering his voice another notch. “Last night was nice. And your massage helped take out the kinks,” he added. “I wish you had your hands on me right now.”

  “Stop that,” she said, setting aside her book.

  “I invited your folks to come over for barbecue Saturday night.”

  “You did what? Jake, why? You’ve never invited them here before. What’s the point now?” She knew the minute she asked. It enabled Jake to be with her. As long as he could be around her, he had a chance of winning her back and of her succumbing to his charm. Distance was her weapon, while proximity was Jake’s. “Never mind,” she said sharply.

  “I also asked Will and Beth to come and bring their families. I told them it’ll be casual and they can all swim. The kids will want to get into the pool.”

  She shook her head. “Very well. We don’t need to chitchat, Jake. You’ve never called when you’ve been away on business before. No need to start now.”

  “Lighten up a little, Emily. I do have a reason for calling. I’m sorry, but I need a phone number that I left on the desk in my office. I hate to make you get out of bed, but can you go see if you can find it?”

  She was tempted to refuse because she couldn’t imagine anyone as efficient as Jake leaving behind a phone number that he would need. “I’ll call you from downstairs,” she said, and broke the connection, wondering if he had asked for the number to keep her on the phone so he could talk to her longer.

  Flowers, a visit from her family, a long-distance phone call—all totally out of cha
racter for Jake. Also, his becoming so agreeable about coaching the boys. Jake was hell-bent on seduction. She had started down the winding stairs when she stopped, staring into space. Was he courting her, trying to make her fall in love with him?

  Surprised, she continued to stare without moving, forgetting her purpose, her thoughts totally on Jake and his motives. If Jake wanted to win her heart, he would throw himself into charming her.

  That had to be the reason for the flowers, the call, the invitation to her folks. Jake intended to win her love. And if she fell in love with him, he’d probably be able to talk her into staying with him. Anger surged, like a wave washing out and coming back in. Jake was still plotting to get his inheritance! He probably thought she would succumb to his charm if he threw himself into winning her love!

  She descended the stairs slowly while she thought about this latest development. She could resist Jake, stay out of the house, keep busy and out of reach as much as possible for six months. There would be little he could do to win her favor. Yet she knew Jake—he’d figure out all sorts of reasons for them to be together, like inviting her family for barbecue.

  She went to his office and found the number easily, then picked up the phone and called him back. She walked around to sit behind his elegant mahogany desk, and when Jake answered, she read the phone number to him.

  “Thanks, Em. Sorry you had to get out of bed to get it. I should’ve tried to call you earlier, but I didn’t think you’d already be in bed.”

  “That’s all right, Jake. Have a nice night,” she said, and hung up. As she did so, she heard his voice, but didn’t care, idly wondering if he’d call her back with another excuse. She stared at the phone for a minute, deciding not to pick up if he did call.

  She went back to her bedroom, but instead of getting into bed, she sat by the window, thinking about Jake, her fury growing. He was making another attempt to get his inheritance, trying to make her fall in love with him. She was certain he didn’t care when he left a woman brokenhearted. She knew he’d done it plenty of times in the past. Seething, she was up until the early hours of the morning.

  Tuesday, she made sizable donations, putting the money where Jake couldn’t get it back. She no longer trusted him in the least.

  Jake had lots of appointments, squeezing in as much as possible when he returned from Chicago on Tuesday so he could meet the four boys for a brief practice. He’d had his secretary contact each one of them. At six late that afternoon Jake changed into jeans and a T-shirt at the office and drove to the high-school football field. He’d had Charley pack a cooler and Toby, his chauffeur, take it to the office to put it in his car.

  It was seven when he got out of the car and headed toward the four waiting boys. Jake had a football tucked under his arm.

  “Hi,” he said as he drew close, They mumbled greetings in return, but none rose to their feet. Jake stopped in front of them, looking each one in the eye.

  “Look, I don’t like this any more than you do, but we’re all here because we like my wife,” he announced. “So let’s make an agreement here, just between the five of us,” he said, seeing that he had their full attention for the first time. “We’ll make it short. I have a car filled with food—hot pizzas, fried chicken and barbecued ribs. There’s a cooler of soda. We’ll toss the ball for about fifteen minutes, and then we’ll eat and you can go. And we’ll do it this way hereafter—if you can keep your mouths shut about it.”

  “Way to go, dude!” Orlando said, grinning and giving Jake a high-five as the others got up and murmured approval.

  “Okay,” Jake said, glancing at his watch. “Spread out and we’ll toss a few and practice some kicking.”

  They threw the ball for about five minutes and then they tried to kick field goals through rickety wooden posts that had long ago lost their paint. They got interested in Jake’s instructions.

  When the ball left his hands, Jake glanced at his watch and saw it had been exactly fifteen minutes.

  “Guys, it’s time to eat,” he said, running and reaching out to catch a high, spiraling pass from Orlando. “Good one,” he said and received a grin as the four men gathered balls and approached him.

  “You guys go get the food,” Jake said. Fishing in his pocket, Jake pulled out his keys and tossed them to Anthony who caught them easily.

  “Hey, man, you given’ us your keys? We might take a joyride. I’ve never driven a Jag,” he said and grinned.

  Laughing, Jake shook his head. “Just get the food. It’s a car and goes like other cars.”

  “Yeah, right,” Anthony replied, striding off with the others.

  Jake turned away to gather equipment. He trusted all four boys and knew they were too smart and too honest to take his car. He felt invigorated from the workout and realized he’d enjoyed it and the guys had relaxed and cooperated.

  In minutes they were back and unpacked all the food as they sat one the bleachers and began to eat pizza and ribs.

  “Tell us about the old days and when you played ball,” Orlando said. “What position did you play?”

  Jake grinned and figured this is when they’d give up on his coaching. “The years I played, I was the field goal kicker.”

  “No kiddin’?” Anthony asked and Tanek stopped eating.

  “Was it difficult to get that position?” Tanek asked and Jake shook his head.

  “Not really.”

  “What kind of record did you have?” Anthony asked, surprising Jake that they were interested.

  Jake shrugged. “Good enough to stay on my scholarship.”

  “C’mon, man, what was your record?” Orlando persisted, and the others chimed in.

  “Thirty-six of thirty-eight field goals. I had four fifty-yard field goals,” Jake said, reciting figures from college days and realizing all four guys had stopped eating to listen.

  “What awards?” Orlando asked and all of them listened attentively as Jake listed some, growing even more surprised by the depth of their interest. They continued eating, but were filled with questions and when they finished, as they packed up the remains, Tanek turned to Jake.

  “Have time for another round of practice, Jake?”

  Startled, Jake paused and realized all of them were waiting for his answer. “Sure. If you guys want to, it’s fine with me. We can put the food in the car when we leave. Grab the balls.”

  They were still at it when the sun went down, and finally had to stop for the night. When Jake learned that the boys all walked home, he had them put the cooler in the back of his car and gave them all rides, along with the leftovers.

  As he drove home, he was surprised at himself and what had transpired at the practice. Once the boys knew that they didn’t have to work with him and that he was only doing this to please Emily, they relaxed and got friendlier. So did he. And, he had to admit, he’d enjoyed himself. They even played tag football for a while. It had been the first time he’d done that in years, but it had sure felt good.

  He shook his head, wondering if Emily would be happy about his bonding with the boys. Would she even believe him? Or care?

  His marriage had taken a nosedive, but he intended to court her every way he knew how to try to win her affections. A helluva lot was at stake. He wanted this as much as he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

  Last night had been good—sleeping in the same small bed with her had been as good as it could get without getting sexual. All the flames of her anger couldn’t burn away the response she had to him.

  He was eager to get home and tell her that he had bonded with the boys. He wondered if that would take away a degree of her anger with him.

  Tuesday evening Emily went to dinner with a friend to avoid Jake and slipped into the house late and as quietly as possible, hurrying to her room and closing the door.

  She could elude Jake until Saturday night when her family was coming, but she suspected he would try everything possible to get time with her. Determined to thwart him, she decided to stay out
of the house as much as possible.

  Early Wednesday morning, she heard a car and looked out to see the limousine headed down the drive. So Jake had gone for the day. She was relieved, certain he hadn’t given up hope on his inheritance.

  That day, more flowers arrived, and she prevailed on Olive to take two bouquets home. As Jake’s usual style was going at something wholeheartedly, she thought the mansion, as big as it was, would look like a florist’s shop before long.

  Emily left early in the afternoon for errands and to avoid seeing Jake before she left for church and her tutoring commitments.

  Thursday morning she ate breakfast away from home, before a meeting at the children’s shelter. As she rushed to get there on time, she congratulated herself on her success in evading Jake.

  When she entered the conference room at the children’s shelter, Jake rose from a chair and smiled at her.

  Shocked, she halted, hating that her pulse raced as swiftly as ever at the sight of him. She smiled and greeted everyone perfunctorily, not seeing them as she looked at Jake.

  Dressed in a gray suit, he appeared relaxed and in charge. Her throat tightened. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the room to him, tingling from head to toe as his gaze drifted slowly down and then back up over her, taking in every inch.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Good morning,” he said. Softly so only she could hear he added, “Because of the money you’ve donated—they think it’s actually from both of us and they’re grateful, Surely, you don’t mind?”

  She inhaled and shook her head, wanting to avoid admitting to him that she didn’t want him around. He would know why. All he had to do was detect her out-of-control pulse and he’d get that satisfied look. She wanted to cry in frustration, except she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

  “You look absolutely gorgeous,” he murmured, running his hand beneath the collar of her suit. His knuckles brushed her throat and she gulped for air.

  “Have you contributed all you’re going to to this cause, or will there be more donations later?” he asked.

 

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