Best of Cowboys Bundle
Page 19
“Did you just order a limo? Meg, I don’t need a—”
“That’s what you think. Ever made out in one?”
Slowly his look of concern became one of anticipation. “Nope.”
She held out her hand. “Come on, cowboy. You showed me how it’s done in the country. Now I’ll show you how it’s done in the big city.”
He caught her hand and pulled her close again. “How dark are those tinted windows?”
She laughed. “Dark enough.”
“This celebrity business may not be as bad as I thought. Okay, one for the road.” He gave her a quick kiss. “Oh, and I have a request.”
“Anything.”
“Please don’t ever call me Mr. Killer Cowboy Charm.”
She smiled up at him. “How about husband? Would you answer to that?”
“Oh, yeah.” His eyes glowed with happiness. “Definitely.”
“Then I think we have a deal.” As the two of them hurried out to the waiting limo, she anticipated the moment they’d be able to slow down and savor the next hour…the next week…the next year…a lifetime. There was no rush now. They had forever.
Epilogue
HERE THEY ARE, your Mandy and Mel in the Morning co-hosts, Mandy Franklin and Mel Harrison!
Meg stood backstage holding Clint’s hand. What a surreal experience, to be here and yet not hosting the show. But it didn’t bother her one bit. She gave Clint’s hand a squeeze, and he leaned down.
“Miss it?” he murmured in her ear.
“Not even slightly.” She spoke softly so that the mike attached to her lapel wouldn’t pick up what she said. Earlier, she’d found out that Mona Swift had left television entirely and was running a PR firm. Meg felt no sense of triumph about that, either. She’d moved beyond petty jealousy.
Mel’s voice drifted through the curtains. “We have two very special guests today, my former co-host, Meg Delancy, and Mr. Killer Cowboy Charm himself, Clint Walker! Evie and I attended their wedding out in Arizona several months ago, and let me tell you, Arizona is beautiful and hot. Nearly died of heat prostration during the ceremony.”
Meg smiled. Their April wedding had been scheduled to take advantage of Arizona’s springtime, but summer had arrived early. She and Clint had been married under sunny skies. Very sunny skies, with no shade for the guests. Mel had come back to New York with a sunburn.
As the intro continued, Meg listened to her replacement, instinctively critiquing her performance. She was excellent. Mandy set the perfect tone for working with Mel, sassy but never mouthy. She’d last a long time, if the current ratings were any indication.
Someone tapped Meg on the shoulder and she turned around to find Jamie right behind her. She pantomimed extreme joy and gave him a careful hug that didn’t jiggle her mike.
Clint shook Jamie’s hand and smiled. “How’s Alison?” he asked quietly.
“Pregnant. Gorgeous.” Jamie had put on a little weight, and he looked extremely satisfied and happy. He’d also been promoted, which was why he had the freedom to come over and talk with them.
Clint glanced at Meg, a question in his eyes.
She nodded. The news would be out in a few minutes, anyway.
“So’s Meg,” Clint said. Pride stuck out all over him.
Jamie’s eyes widened as he turned to Meg. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh.” She still got the most ridiculous jolt of happiness every time she thought about their baby. People had kids all the time—no biggie. Maybe by the time she was six or seven months along she’d sing a different tune, but right now, at three months, she felt like doing commercials for motherhood.
Jamie gave her another hug and shook Clint’s hand again. “That’s fabulous. What’s the due date?”
“Right about when the movie will be released,” Meg said. “We’ll probably be back then to plug it, if I can travel.”
“If not, I’ll talk Mel and Sharon into letting me come out and interview you at the Circle W.”
“Come anytime,” Clint said. “Don’t leave it up to Mel and Sharon. Pack your bags and bring Alison.”
“We’ll try to do that. Listen, I have to get back to work, but we’re looking forward to dinner tonight. Alison’s in a cooking frenzy. She and José are shooting e-mails back and forth, exchanging recipes.”
“One of these days, the two of them are going to make good on their plan to open a restaurant,” Meg said.
“Yeah, if they can ever figure out whether to do it in New York or Arizona.” Jamie turned to leave, still smiling. “See you two later.”
“You guys are on,” murmured a young woman wearing earphones.
Meg didn’t recognize her and decided she must be new. Giving her a friendly smile of thanks, Meg took Clint’s hand and walked onto the set. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d been in that woman’s spot, yearning for a big break.
Mandy and Mel had moved to the living-room setup for the interview. After hugs and handshakes all around, Meg and Clint sat in two of the armchairs arranged in a semicircle around a low coffee table.
“So the new movie’s in the can,” Mel said.
“Yes, it is.” Meg appreciated the support Mel was giving her as she ventured into this new arena. She talked about the movie a little, mentioning her co-stars and the release date.
“Sounds like a great story,” said Mandy, a brunette who looked like a young Sally Field.
Clint leaned forward in his chair. “It’s terrific.”
“Spoken like a proud hubby. And how about you, Mr. Killer Cowboy Charm?” Mel focused on Clint. “I understand that quarterhorse of yours, Gabriel, has done very well for you, so well that you bought that ranch right out from under my good friend George Forester.”
Clint smiled. “We came to an agreement.”
Meg was glad she’d get a tape of this show so that she could watch that smile again and again. Seeing Clint in possession of his beloved Circle W meant the world to her.
“Just as well it belongs to you,” Mel said. “It’s too hot for George, anyway. So tell me, is there a movie role out there tempting you off that ranch?”
“Nope.” Clint glanced at Meg. “We have one actor in the family, and there she is. I’ve had my fill of the limelight.”
“Well, we might have another actor in the family,” Meg said. “You never know.”
“I suppose you could be right.” Clint started to glow again, the way he usually did when the baby was mentioned.
“Aha!” Mandy turned to Mel. “I think we just got some significant info.”
Mel looked blank. “What info? That they might have another actor in the family? That could be anybody. Meg’s brother-in-law, the one at the wedding who kept doing those impressions, or even her—”
Mandy put a hand on his arm. “I think Meg’s trying to tell us that she and Clint are having a baby.”
“You are?” Mel gazed at Meg, his eyes wide. “The Megster’s PG?”
Meg nodded.
“Why that’s wonderful!” Mel leaped out of his seat to shake Clint’s hand and give Meg a kiss on the cheek. “Congratulations! Wow, a movie and a baby.” He sat down again and shook his head in obvious wonder. “Little did I know when you left for Arizona last year that you’d end up a Hollywood star, a rancher’s wife and a mother, all in under twelve months. You move fast.”
Meg reached over and took Clint’s hand. “Actually, my new motto is to take it slow. Sit on the porch, watch the sunset, enjoy the peace and quiet.”
Clint gazed fondly at her. “Exactly.”
“I’m glad it works for you,” Mel said. “Personally, I’d go stir-crazy out there in the middle of nowhere. All that time on your hands. Nothing to do.”
Meg fought not to laugh. A year ago that would have been her opinion, too. But with a man like Clint around, nothing to do meant time for…other things.
“From the expression on her face, I think Meg enjoys that nothing to do part,” Mandy said. “Let’s not forget that she�
��s living with Mr. Killer Cowboy Charm.”
Mel glanced over at Meg and Clint and flushed. “Uh, well, yes! And this is a G-rated show, so we won’t go there! In fact, we’re out of time! Sharon’s signaling that we desperately need a commercial break. But it’s been super having you both on the show. Come back anytime.”
Meg kept her laughter in check through the goodbyes, but when she and Clint were finally headed out the back exit toward a waiting limo, she started to chuckle. “Nothing to do,” she said. “He walked right into that one, especially considering we’d just announced the baby.”
Clint helped her into the limo. “Lots of time with nothing to do works for me. I was thinking maybe we could head back to the hotel, because I don’t know about you, but I have all afternoon with nothing to do.”
“Same here.” She settled into the curve of his arm. “All those empty hours. How in the world can we fill them?”
He gazed at her. “Give me some time. Maybe I’ll think of something.”
“I’m counting on it.” Then she pulled his head down for a long, lingering, limo-style kiss.
Court Me, Cowboy
Barbara White Daille
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
One day soon, he’d get rid of this wedding ring.
Gabe Miller tossed the gold circle into the air and snatched it back again, trying not to think of the woman who’d slipped it onto his left hand, third finger. Trying not to think of what she’d had inscribed inside.
Forever, M
What a crock. Forever hadn’t lasted but three short weeks.
Scowling, he shoved the band into the velvet-lined jeweler’s box and slid it back in place beneath the stack of flannel shirts in the dresser drawer. Call him a dumb cowboy, but it’d taken his own wife’s desertion to finally get the familiar message rammed into his thick skull:
Never trust a woman.
“Yo, boss.”
He turned. Warren stood in the bedroom doorway, his whiskered face scrunched into a frown.
“Shake a leg. The boys’ll be raring to eat any minute now.”
“Right.” As Gabe headed down the hall in the wake of his elderly ranch hand, he cursed, then felt immediate guilt. Warren hadn’t caused his ugly mood.
Their two pairs of boots sounded loud on the bare wooden stairs that led them to the first floor, where they entered the kitchen.
“We gotta get us a cook, boss. It’s been nearly a month since Joe and Mary went back East.” Warren flipped a switch, powering up the coffeemaker Gabe had gotten ready the night before. “Lord knows, a rancher’s got enough to keep him moving sunup to sundown. And you’re kept busier than most, managing this big spread yourself ’n all.”
“We’re doing just fine, Warren.” He was careful to keep his tone neutral, knowing how much it grated on the older man that he couldn’t pull his weight with the younger hands anymore.
“Yeah, long as you don’t try gettin’ too fancy.”
“Okay, so the pancakes didn’t work out so well.”
That earned him a chuckle.
Gabe grabbed the egg carton and a pack of pork links from the refrigerator. Sure, having to undertake kitchen duties once his ranch cook and her husband had moved on had been the last thing he’d needed. Gabe did have more to handle than most of the local ranchers. Something Marissa hadn’t understood.
He rubbed the back of his neck and swallowed a growl. He had to stop thinking of Marissa.
Lost cause, that idea. He brooded on it anyway. Why the heck had he woken up this morning—alone in his big bed—with the feeling today would turn out worse than the usual? He couldn’t manage to push the gloom from his mind the way he’d shoved the wedding ring back under his flannel shirts. The ring he should have tossed out, just as she’d tossed him aside months ago.
That, right there, was the problem.
She’d walked out three months ago today.
Jared and Hank and the rest of the cowhands trooped into the kitchen. Their usual banter drowned out the sizzle of eggs and sausages.
“Hey, boys, hold it down a bit,” Warren grumbled. “Don’t know where you get your energy this early in the morning.”
Gabe grimaced, knowing his own bad mood had caused the complaints. He was used to rowdy cowboys before the sun was even up—he’d breakfasted with ranch hands all his life. But he remembered best those days—those way too few days—when he’d skipped the chow-downs out at the bunkhouse to spend every last early-morning moment he could bedded down with his wife.
Hank, best known as the ranch’s clown, looked over Gabe’s shoulder. “No pancakes today, boss?”
The rest of the men guffawed.
“All right, so I’m not much of a cook.” Marissa was. He shook the thought away. “Better knock it off, or y’all will be taking turns at the stove.”
Silence fell heavier than a bale dropped from the hayloft. His back still turned to his men, he reached for the egg carton again and grinned. Shut them up, all right.
In the calm, he heard the noise of a car’s engine. Awfully early for visitors.
Warren pushed up the blind over the kitchen sink and squinted through the window. “Seems like you got company, boss.” The old cowboy’s voice had gone rusty.
Gabe stepped to his side. “Must be Doc. Nobody else’d—”
What he saw, though, shut him up, too. The light over the back porch stabbing through predawn darkness. The white Mustang purring in the drive. And the woman sitting behind the wheel.
Marissa.
He must still be sleeping after all, must be dreaming. But blinking didn’t help. The image remained. He closed his eyes for a long moment and opened them again. Nope, she was still there.
Looking right at the lighted kitchen window. Right at him.
He stumbled back a pace.
“Easy, now.” Warren might have been talking to a skittish colt. He pulled the forgotten carton of eggs from Gabe’s hands. “Got it under control here, boss. I guess you got some business needs taking care of.”
“Yeah, right.” He glanced through the window again, gritted his teeth and set his jaw.
He had something to take care of, all right.
Throwing his ex-wife off his land.
Flexing his suddenly unsteady fingers, he crossed the kitchen to yank open the wooden back door. His heavy breath hit the cold morning air, spewing white mist in front of him like some smoke-and-fire-breathing dragon.
Feeling afire himself, he strode along the porch, down the steps and across the wide expanse of dirt between the house and the driveway, powered by three months of misery and—worse—the poorly disguised pity of his men, his neighbors, his friends.
Seduced by a pretty face. Shamed by one, too, going from like to love in thirty-five seconds, with a quick detour for lust in between.
He should’ve stopped at that bend.
Then again, he should’ve known better than to hook up with her at all. He wasn’t the kind of man who was good at loving a woman. Or having a woman love him. He’d lived with that knowledge for most of his life.
Marissa had made him forget it. For a very short time.
He moved down the driveway toward the Mustang, an easy target in the light streaming from the porch.
His anger raged…but sanity ruled.
As he neared the car, he began to slow, struggling to calm himself, to uncurl his fingers, to take a deep breath. Memori
es of Marissa, their brief marriage, and her curt rejection had him riled.
But tough Texas cowboys didn’t let emotions overtake them.
By the time he reached the Mustang, he managed to set his hands lightly on the frame above the open driver’s window and crook his mouth up on one side.
“You needing directions somewhere?” Good. Lazy smile. Laid-back tone. Peaceable question. He’d done himself proud.
She couldn’t seem to say a word. His body blocked the light from her face, making those huge hazel eyes he remembered so well look blue-black in the shadows.
Her lips parted a bit. Before he could stop himself, his gaze shot to her full, rosy mouth. It had been a long time since he’d had it under his.
That wasn’t something he should be thinking.
In the dead silence, a horse neighed, maybe in warning.
Seeing her reach for the door handle, he backed up a few feet and crossed his arms over his chest.
She climbed from the car and stood in front of him, a petite bundle of woman barely reaching his chin. Her body looked shapeless beneath her bulky jacket. Didn’t matter. His traitorous memory called to mind every feminine curve and hollow.
His mouth felt filled with prairie dust.
The harsh porch lighting washed out her delicate features and peachy complexion, but it couldn’t hide her high cheekbones and firm chin. Couldn’t fade the fawn-colored hair tumbling in waves around her shoulders. Those heavy strands had spilled around his shoulders, too, when she’d rested against his chest after they’d made love….
The thought toughened his resolve. She’d staked a claim on him once, then abandoned it. “What do you want, Marissa?”
“We need to talk.”
“Nothing to talk about.” Three months of misery. The thought drove him forward. “You’re nothing to me anymore.”
“I’m your wife.”