Best of Cowboys Bundle

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Barbara White Daille, Judy Christenberry, Christine Wenger, Shirley Rogers, Crystal Green, Nina Bruhns, Candance Schuler, Carole Mortimer

  “Tanner Jones,” Gabe put in. “My wife, Marissa. Honey, this is the lucky guy who got Sarah. But I wouldn’t recommend visiting his place of business. He’s the local deputy sheriff.”

  She smiled. “That must make your place the town jail?”

  “Sure does.” Tanner reached to shake her hand.

  “Thank you for the invitation, Deputy Jones, though I believe I might find the bookstore more welcoming.”

  “I think you’re right there,” Sarah said.

  Tanner laughed and touched a stray curl that had escaped Sarah’s braid. She looked up, giving him a brilliant smile.

  Marissa couldn’t keep from wondering if Gabe would ever touch her so gently, so tenderly again—when it wasn’t just playacting.

  After a few minutes of conversation, Sarah and her husband slipped away. Gabe put his arm around her shoulders.

  And now she couldn’t suppress the shiver of pure desire that shot through her. Mortified by her instinctive response to him, she clenched her teeth but managed to force her lips into a smile.

  “Uh-uh, Marissa. Not very natural. Looks like you just backed into a prickly pear.”

  He slipped his arm to her waist. Even above the loud conversations and laughter flowing around them, she could hear her breath catch.

  “C’mon, now,” he murmured. “Gotta convince the neighbors, remember? Show ’em the happy bride and groom?”

  “I’ve acted happy all evening.”

  “From the other side of the room. I sure can’t play the smitten husband with my wife half a house away.”

  “I’ve been socializing,” she pointed out. “You’ve been busy, too.”

  “I’m here now. Time to act like the perfect couple. At least we dressed for the parts.” He caught her left hand and lifted it to his lips. His eyes held hers, forced her to watch him as he pressed a kiss against her wedding band.

  Then he turned her hand over to kiss her palm.

  Her heart gave a lurch.

  Wrong. All wrong. Acting like her loving husband was just that for Gabe—an act—while she hadn’t the performance skill to hide her reaction to his every glance, his every touch.

  To her dismay, he wrapped his other arm around her, bringing their bodies close together.

  “Hey, Miller,” shouted one of the men in the crowd, “ain’t your honeymoon finished yet?”

  Looking over her shoulder, Gabe called back, “Heck, Charlie, it’s just getting started.”

  “The mistletoe’s that way,” a woman called.

  “See,” he murmured in her ear, “it’s working already.” He released her but then took her by the elbow and moved forward.

  Unless she wanted to make a scene in front of all these people she already liked and who already seemed to like her, unless she wanted to look like Mrs. Scrooge instead of Gabe’s blushing bride, she had no choice but to move with him.

  He stopped beneath the small green sprig dangling from the overhead light in the middle of the room. Amid laughter and loud hoots, he took her in his arms again.

  She glanced up, then blurted in a whisper, “Wait. That’s not mistletoe, it’s holl—”

  Too late. Gabe’s lips had claimed hers.

  As always, the chemistry sparked between them, as bright and shiny as the flashing twinklers on the Christmas tree. The attraction was too strong to fight, too overwhelming to ignore. Too good to miss. So she didn’t.

  She accepted Gabe’s lingering kiss. Matched him move for tantalizing move.

  And gave a darned good show for the cheering crowd.

  “WELL, IF THAT lip-lock didn’t beat all,” Delia Brand said as Doc walked into his kitchen, “I don’t know what would.”

  “That was a wonderful idea of yours, Delia, mentioning the mistletoe. Still…” Lily frowned. “Though they did a superb job of trying to hide it, I suspect trouble.”

  “Sure enough,” Delia said. “They spent half the night circling each other like a pair of tomcats spoiling for a fight.”

  “Do you think anyone else noticed?”

  “Nah. They were too busy lining up to meet Marissa.”

  “We’ve got to do something to help.”

  “Why’d you think I said that about the mistletoe?” Delia chuckled. “Gabe sure took up the idea pretty quick.”

  “That boy needs someone in his life. He needs Marissa. And now that she’s back, we’ve got to make sure she stays—”

  “Whoa, Nellie,” Doc interrupted. “You women can’t go sticking your noses into Gabe’s private business.”

  Delia shook with laughter. “Private? In Dillon? Doc, you know better than that. People have got about as much privacy around here as the desserts in my front display case.”

  He had to admit you couldn’t miss the sweets as soon as you walked into Delia’s Diner.

  “Dessert!” Lily Gannett cried, eyes gleaming behind her glasses. She pushed a plate of leftovers aside and put her palms flat on the counter. “That’s it, Delia.”

  He didn’t need his medical degree to diagnose the signs. Lily had found a new cause.

  She lived to run things. School-board meetings. Picnics. The annual Founder’s Day festival. Other people’s lives.

  If she’d decided to focus her talents on Gabe and Marissa, those two didn’t stand a chance.

  “We can take care of Marissa,” Lily said. “Everyone just raved about her dishes and desserts and homemade candy. I told her the women would be lining up for recipes.”

  “Heck, I wouldn’t mind some of them myself. Or, even better, maybe I can rope her into baking for the diner. We could use a few new selections during the holiday season.”

  “Just what I was thinking!”

  Doc had to admit it was a good idea. Marissa sure could cook.

  “All right, Delia. You speak to her about doing some orders for you. I’ll get a few women together. Doc, what about you?”

  His smile faded. “Hold on. I’m not involving myself—”

  “Now, Doc,” Lily said, and he recognized the schoolteacher tone right off, “don’t act like this is the first time we’ve taken a hand in bringing two people together. See how well Sarah and Tanner are doing.”

  He nodded his agreement.

  “We’ve known Gabe all his life,” she continued, “and a hard time he’s had of it, too. He finally has a chance for lasting happiness. How will you feel if Marissa leaves town again, and you haven’t done anything to help him keep her here?”

  “That still doesn’t give me the right to go interfering—”

  “Doc,” Delia cut in, “you helped birth that boy.”

  “She’s right. That certainly allows you to concern yourself with his welfare.” Lily’s normally sweet expression had disappeared, replaced by a commanding frown.

  Delia, sturdy arms crossed, looked twice as unyielding.

  “In fact, Doc,” Lily added, “close as you’ve been to him his whole life, you owe it to him.”

  He sighed.

  In all seriousness, that night he’d told Gabe the truth: he’d spent a lifetime taking care of this town. And Gabe himself had razzed him about handing out advice left and right. Guess that could include some marriage counseling.

  “All right,” he said. “I reckon I can take an interest.”

  LATE THE NEXT MORNING, Gabe kicked his heels up onto the coffee table in front of the couch and couldn’t hold back a grin.

  Holding and kissing Marissa had added a real perk to this pretend marriage. She’d liked it, too, judging by the way she’d responded. Soon as he could, he intended to kiss her again. They needed to get back in practice.

  He’d come to that decision last night, same time he’d decided he’d been riding the right path all along. Keep Marissa on the ranch. Wait in due course till she delivered the baby, if there was one. Then get Doc to run whatever tests necessary to prove whether or not he’d fathered the child.

  The telephone on the side table rang. Before he could grab it, Marissa answered the e
xtension in the kitchen. Her voice drew him to his feet.

  When he entered the room, she had already hung up the phone and stood filling a roasting pan. Only an hour till Sunday dinner, and the smell of something tasty permeated the air.

  She looked tasty, too, in a pale blue sweater and white denim jeans, her hair piled up and twisted into a knot on top of her head. He couldn’t resist coming up behind her and dropping a kiss on the back of her bare neck.

  Her grip on the pan tightened. Months before, she’d have turned around so he could kiss her properly. Yeah, she’d sure lost the habit.

  “Short conversation,” he said. “Wrong number?”

  “No, it was Doc.”

  “I was only in the other room. Why didn’t you holler?”

  “He called to talk to me.”

  He raised his brows. “I knew Doc liked you, but calling another man’s wife seems pushy, don’t you think?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I told him I need his professional services, and he checked his appointment book for me this morning. He’s penciled me in for tomorrow.”

  Frowning, he took her by the hand.

  “An appointment with Doc? What for? Something wrong with the baby?” For a moment, all his doubts had fled. The skin around her eyes puckered as if she felt pain, and his heart thudded. “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “Nothing.” She sidled out from between him and the counter, pulling her hand from his. “There’s nothing wrong. I like Doc and I’m due for a regular checkup and I decided to make the appointment with him.”

  “He knows you’re pregnant?”

  “He will tomorrow.”

  He considered, then nodded. “Good. Once Doc finds out, no reason the whole town can’t hear about the baby, too.”

  She stiffened. “Let’s give it a little while longer.”

  Long enough for her to pack up and leave town?

  The thought struck him hard. All along, he’d focused on keeping her there, finding out what motives she had for coming back, seeing if she really was carrying his child. His plan kept him from facing the fear that she might leave, no matter what he did to keep her.

  “I’ll start to show soon,” she added, “and everyone will know then anyway.”

  “Even more reason to act like a happily married couple.” He reached for her again. She stepped back.

  “C’mon, Marissa. We need the practice.”

  “We certainly do not. And I don’t think we need to ‘practice’ in public at all. You didn’t see any other man drag his wife under that so-called mistletoe last night, did you?”

  “Yeah, but we’re newlyweds.”

  “Not good enough, as you’re so fond of saying. I’m not so sure this pretend marriage is necessary, except for offering you some fringe benefits you seem all too ready to take advantage of.”

  He winced, recalling his thoughts about the perks of holding and kissing her.

  “But,” she finished, planting her fists on her hips, “I don’t see where this farce offers me anything in return.”

  “You seemed to like it well enough last night.”

  Sudden tears sparkled in her eyes. He started to reach for her, until she held a palm out to hold him off and he realized she wasn’t ready to cry but to curse him.

  “Kissing you was never the problem, Gabe. Neither was making love with you. You know that. Before I left, I tried telling you a marriage needed more than that. Nothing has changed. And if you think I’ll stay when you’re the only one to benefit from this bargain, you’d better rethink the issue.”

  Panic shot through him. He imagined her taking off, never to return. “We agreed.”

  “Yes, for the baby’s sake. Only you’re pushing things too far, using this pretend marriage to get what you want without giving anything back. Take that kiss at the party. I’m just not willing to playact to that extent any longer. Not without a few concessions from you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like…like—”

  His panic trickled away. He had her. Blasting off with her crazy notions, probably not even knowing what all she’d said. Probably not meaning half of it.

  “Like courting me.” He heard the triumph in her tone.

  He laughed incredulously. “If that isn’t the most—”

  “Oh, no, Gabe Miller.” She moved so close he could see her hazel eyes had darkened to an ominous shade. “You’re the one who claims to be so old-fashioned about everything. Well, then, courting a woman ought to be just your style.”

  “That’s for people getting to know each other. You’re already my wife.”

  “Maybe that’s where we went wrong—skipping straight to marriage without learning much about each other first.”

  He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “You were happy enough with the idea then.”

  “Yes, Gabe, I admit it. But how good could the idea have been, if our marriage couldn’t last even three weeks?”

  “When you walked out.”

  “Yes, I did. After telling you over and over again how I felt. After trying so hard to get you to open up with me. Are you saying I was the only one at fault for giving up on us?”

  He set his jaw.

  “We didn’t have a courtship then—we barely had a relationship. But I want it now. We need to take a step back and do it right this time. Think it over, cowboy.”

  Before he could move or speak, she turned on her heel and stomped out of the kitchen.

  Damn.

  Shaking his head, he grabbed a piece of raw carrot from the roasting pan and chomped a piece off it.

  She was already his wife. And why should he try so hard to please her, when he couldn’t trust her? Hell, he hadn’t even been able to rely on her to file for the divorce.

  How could he expect that she’d stay this time? She’d left once to go back to the big city. She could—and probably would—do it again. Like a few other people he could name. Folks had a habit of running out on him.

  Double damn.

  He tossed the remaining bit of carrot in the trash.

  His head told him Marissa would only leave again. His heart said to kick her out while he was still in one piece. But his gut warned him to slow down and think things through.

  If she was pregnant, if they had made a child, that baby was the only real family he had.

  If she took off somewhere, he might never find her. No way would he let that happen. Not until he’d learned the truth.

  He found Marissa on the living room couch with her feet up and her arms wrapped around her knees. The position suggested she had no interest in compromise. So did the look on her face. She wouldn’t turn his way, just stared across the room as if the Seth Thomas clock on the corner shelf fascinated her.

  For a minute, he stood there, taken back to when they’d met, before all the trouble had started between them.

  Then he hardened his heart.

  “All right, Marissa. You’ve got a deal.”

  She whipped her head around to face him. Her eyes wide and locked on his, she rose from the couch.

  Good.

  The surprises weren’t over yet. He might have to swallow his pride, accept her demand until things straightened themselves out. But that didn’t mean he had to follow all the rules.

  He crossed the room and stopped in front of her.

  “I’ll make the concessions you asked for.” Keeping his touch easy, he cupped his hand under her chin. “Now, let’s seal the bargain.”

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning, the sound of Gabe’s shower sent Marissa running out to the bunkhouse kitchen earlier than usual. She was determined to keep her distance from him.

  By the time he arrived, smelling soap-fresh and with his hair damply curling, she was well into breakfast preparation.

  She chopped ruthlessly at the green peppers on her cutting board and tried to keep from grinding her teeth.

  The night before, she had felt happy when Gabe agreed to court her. His willingn
ess seemed to show they had reached a new phase in their relationship, one that might lead them where a true marriage should go. To an emotional closeness, a bonding, that went far beyond sexual attraction.

  Then he had taken her in his arms, and her untrustworthy heart had given in without the slightest resistance. For the briefest moment, she’d thought of nothing but him. Almost too late, she had come to her senses and torn herself away. How could she have let herself give in? For him, their kisses meant little beyond regaining the respect of his friends.

  Worst of all was the feeling that Gabe knew exactly what his touch did to her, and exactly when to use it to his advantage.

  She wouldn’t—couldn’t—let him entice her again.

  She gave the final chunk of pepper a chop solid enough to make him jump.

  “Feeling energetic this morning?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  Warren and the other men entered the room.

  “Good morning,” she greeted them, relieved that she was no longer alone with Gabe.

  Taking advantage of the distraction, she sidled away from him. Knowing he watched made her move as stiffly as though she’d lined the floor with discarded eggshells.

  Only a roomful of starving cowboys could have missed her awkward escape—and, luckily, she’d learned, Gabe’s cowboys were always starving.

  Unfortunately, Warren noticed more than the rest. She caught him staring at her and forced a quick smile. “Western omelets, coming right up.”

  “Sounds great, doesn’t it, boss?”

  “Yeah,” Gabe muttered.

  Her back to him, she braced herself for his approach. He would close the gap between them, would force her to play the loving bride in front of witnesses.

  But, to her surprise, he took his seat at the table.

  It wasn’t until later, after the other men had left the kitchen and Gabe followed close on their heels, that she realized he hadn’t had any trouble avoiding her.

  This piqued her interest. Why ignore her today, when last night he’d agreed to court her?

  SHORTLY AFTER NINE o’clock that morning, Marissa stood outside Delia’s Diner. Through the glass door, she could see the smoky haze from frying bacon hanging in the air. The scent of it stirred the queasiness she had managed recently to hold off.