Texas Tough

by Janice Maynard

  When he awoke, it was almost five. He scrounged in the fridge and found a couple of chicken legs and some potato salad. Standing in the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxers, he pondered his options. At the end of the party tonight, he could take Abby somewhere private. The Bellamy had lots of luxurious nooks and crannies. He could find a spot and lay out his argument.

  The two of them had something. Sexual chemistry. And feelings. Strong feelings. If he admitted that to her and asked her to stay for him, for them, he figured there was a fifty-fifty chance Abby would agree.

  Later, when he strode into the lobby of her hotel right on time, she was waiting for him. Was that by design? To keep him out of her room?

  He was so caught up in analyzing her motives, it took him a few seconds to register what she was wearing.

  When he did absorb the full picture, all he could do was shake his head. “Wow. You look incredible.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her smile guarded.

  Gone was the young woman who didn’t mind getting dirty in pursuit of her career. In her place was a female who would draw the eye of every man at the Bellamy tonight. Abby’s beautiful, wavy dark hair fell down around her shoulders. Her dress was red. Sin red. Fire-engine red. If his physical response to her had a color, it would be exactly this shade of red.

  The dress was made of a thin, silky fabric in several layers that shifted and moved, drawing attention to her tall, alluring body. Tiny spaghetti straps supported a bodice that plunged deeply in front.

  Abby’s breasts curved in that opening, suggesting lush, unapologetic femininity. The dress clung to her form, defining her narrow waist and hugging her hips. The floor-length hem swished as she moved, revealing silver stiletto sandals and toenails painted to match the dress. The only jewelry Abby wore was a pair of dangly crystal and silver earrings.

  Carter struggled to find his breath. “I should have taken you to a party sooner,” he said, only half kidding.

  She kissed his cheek casually. “I’m taking you, cowboy. You’re my plus-one...remember?”

  “I stand corrected.” Outside, he helped her into the car and carefully tucked her skirt out of the way. When he slid behind the wheel, he shot her a glance. “If you were hoping to keep a low profile while you investigate possible fraud, that dress isn’t going to do it.”

  She shrugged, toying with the small beaded purse in her lap. “I’ve decided not to discuss business with you anymore. It only makes us quarrel.”

  His lips twitched. “Understood. We’re keeping things personal.” He reached for her arm and rested his thumb where a pulse beat at the back of her wrist. She seemed so fragile, and yet he knew differently. Abby Carmichael was strong and resilient.

  She tugged away, folding her hands primly in her lap. “Behave, Carter. I need to focus tonight.”

  “Is it possible you’re a little obsessed with this movie you’re doing? If you’d relax, we could eat and dance and mingle. You know...fun, normal people stuff.”

  “Don’t pick a fight with me,” she said. “I’ll dance with you. But I’m also going to network the heck out of this party.”

  * * *

  Abby realized that she wasn’t at all bothered by Carter’s gibes. She sensed the two of them were sustaining a fake argument for no other reason than to keep from jumping each other’s bones.

  The man was seriously hot. As a rich, rugged rancher, he always looked sexy, but tonight in his tux, he could make a girl swoon. His aftershave alone made her dizzy.

  When they entered the Bellamy and headed for the ballroom where the Soiree on the Bay event was taking place, the whole place hummed with excitement. At a long table just outside the ballroom entrance, Abby surrendered her invitation.

  No one was wearing name tags. This was too fancy a party for that. Besides, almost everyone present was a resident of Royal. They all knew each other.

  Abby tucked her tiny purse in Carter’s jacket pocket. As they made their way around the outer edge of the room toward the hors d’oeuvres, she spotted a number of people she recognized. The charismatic Rusty Edmond held court in one corner of the room, surrounded by beautiful women. He’d been married four times, but was currently single, hence the crowd.

  All of the Edmond offspring were in attendance, though none of them were in the same vicinity. Ross was with his fiancée, Charlotte. Asher was deep in conversation with a cluster of men who all held cocktails and ignored the crowd that ebbed and flowed around them. Gina flitted from group to group, talking up the festival and laughing with friends.

  Billy Holmes stood off by himself, surveying the chaos with a pleased smile.

  Then suddenly, there was Lila Jones wearing a lavender gown that flattered her pale complexion. She flashed a smile at Carter and Abby. “Hey, you two. I want you to meet my fiancé, Zachary. Zach, this is Abby Carmichael, who’s doing the documentary, and Carter Crane owns the Sunset Acres ranch just outside of town.”

  After greetings were exchanged, Abby whistled inwardly. Sweet little Lila Jones had hooked up with a blond, gorgeous guy like this? Good for her.

  When someone else demanded Lila’s and Zach’s attention, Carter leaned down and whispered in Abby’s ear, “Quit drooling. He’s taken.”

  She grinned. “I can appreciate a fine work of art.”

  Carter brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and gave her an intimate smile, his body close to hers in the press of the crowd. “Is he your type? Blond and hunky?”

  “I think you know that’s not true.” She searched his gaze. But it was as opaque and unreadable as the ocean at night. What was he thinking?

  A few moments later, Carter was drawn into a conversation with a trio of fellow ranchers, something about alarm over the falling price of beef.

  Abby was happy to escape that discussion. She finally made it to the food table and snagged a couple of shrimp and a bacon-wrapped scallop. Though this was cattle country, there wasn’t much beef on the spread—only a tray of candied beef jerky.

  The room was sweltering. Her forehead was damp. She spotted Valencia Donovan on the opposite side of the floor. Abby made her way through the throng. “Hey, Valencia. How are you?”

  Valencia fanned her face with a napkin. “Hot. And you?”

  “The same. I realized after I left you the other day that I had one more question I wanted to ask.”

  “Go for it,” the other woman said.

  “After your proposal was approved, who has been your contact on the committee? Who will be the one to disburse the funds to you?”

  “Ah, yes. That would be Asher Edmond. He’s been so helpful along the way. And very encouraging about how soon I might have the money. I owe him and the committee a great deal.”

  Before Abby could respond, another guest snagged Valencia’s attention. Abby was alone for the moment. She wished fervently that she had thought to bring her video camera. Shots of this event, even if she only used snippets, would have been helpful. But in any case, she didn’t have permission, so maybe it was a moot point.

  Gradually, the room filled with glitz and glamour and excited chatter. The tuxedo-clad men were foils for the fashionable female plumage. Abby had grown up in an elite cross section of New York society. Her mother’s family had deep connections in the city.

  But here, she didn’t belong. Just as she had never completely belonged back at home. The ache in her chest made her wonder if she would ever feel comfortable anywhere. Or maybe her destiny was to be what the Greeks referred to as planetes, wanderers.

  Carter’s life was anchored by the ranch. He had a purpose, a fixed spot in the universe.

  Abby was a planet, always orbiting. Never finding home.

  Suddenly, a large hand landed on her shoulder. She flinched and backed away instinctively. When she spun around, Billy Holmes stared at her.

  “We need to talk,” he said.
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  Was she imagining a hint of menace in his words? “Why?” she asked.

  “I don’t think I stressed enough how much I want you to drop the missing money idea. As I said before, it’s a family matter. We’re dealing with it. The festival doesn’t need any bad publicity. Back off, Abby.”

  Before she could respond to his extraordinary remarks, Carter was back at her side. Scowling. He glared at Billy. “I hope I didn’t hear you threatening my date.”

  Billy shrugged. “She’s been poking her nose in a lot of places. If I were you, I’d convince her to stick to sweet stories with happy endings. Nothing like a libel charge to ruin a budding filmmaker’s career.”

  Abby was stunned. This was a very different man than the one who had entertained her at his home. “But is it true?” she asked. “Is some of the money gone?”

  Carter took her by the arm and steered her away. He vibrated with fury. “My God, you can’t let it go! There are a dozen people in this room who would be happy to give you something for your documentary, but you keep beating a dead horse. Billy Holmes can ruin you in this town. I think it would be best if you go back to New York until the festival starts.”

  Abby felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. There was not enough oxygen to breathe. “I was just doing my job,” she whispered, conscious of eyes watching them.

  “No,” Carter said. “You were endangering your health and your reputation. If there is a significant amount of money missing—and I’m not saying there is—then all hell will break loose when the truth comes out. If Billy knows who the culprit is and he’s protecting someone, you need to stay far, far away from this story.”

  “It’s not your call,” she hissed, angry and hurt.

  “Maybe not. But I won’t stand by and let you get caught in the cross fire. Come on,” he said. “The band is starting to play.”

  The last thing Abby wanted to do was dance with the infuriating, dictatorial Carter Crane. But short of making a scene, she had little choice.

  He pulled her into his arms and held her close. The music and the other dancers swirled around them. Abby felt her heart break clean through when she laid her cheek against Carter’s shoulder and finally admitted to herself that she was deeply in love with him.

  His body was big and hard and warm against hers. When they moved too quickly, her skirt tangled with his legs, binding them close. She felt the steady beat of his heart, heard the ragged tenor of his breath. He smelled of orange and clove and soap.

  For a moment, she debated telling him how she felt. Offering to move to Royal permanently. After all, he had broached the subject, at least on a temporary basis. A few weeks ago, such an idea would have been laughable. But that was before she met the man who made her want to put down roots. Royal might not feel like home, but Carter did.

  Even when he was being an overbearing pain in the ass, she knew he was the man for her, the man she wanted. But it was so quick. Could such intense feelings be trusted?

  Carter had already suffered through one broken relationship. He wouldn’t be eager to rush into another. She knew he had feelings for her. Lust. Affection. But anything more? How could she take that gamble?

  And what about her life and her career? Why did it always have to be the woman who made all the sacrifices? Again, she understood bleakly that she and Carter were the worst matchup imaginable.

  When the band took a break, Gina Edmond spoke briefly. As did her brother and stepbrother and Billy Holmes. Rusty Edmond looked on with a proud smile, but didn’t involve himself in the speeches.

  At last, the formalities were over.

  Despite how much she wanted to trust that what they had was worth fighting for, Abby couldn’t get over the fact that Carter had said he wanted her to leave town. Which meant he couldn’t be as emotionally involved as she was if he could so easily say goodbye. If she was looking for a sign, she had found one.

  Her chest hurt so badly she wondered if she was having a heart attack. She reached in Carter’s jacket pocket for her small clutch purse. “I’m leaving,” she said brokenly. “I—I don’t want to see you anymore. Goodbye, Carter.”

  His face went blank with shock. Before he could say anything, Rusty Edmond took him by the arm, demanding his attention. Abby used Carter’s momentary distraction to flee. She was counting on the fact that it would take him a few moments to break free.

  Thankfully, she found a Lyft driver waiting at the front entrance. She flagged him down, climbed in and gave the hotel address.

  But she didn’t cry until she was in her room with the door locked and the dead bolt turned.

  * * *

  Carter felt like he was living in an alternate universe. How could Abby simply disappear? They’d been having a fight, sure, but he thought their dance had smoothed over the rough patch. He loved holding her, moving to the music.

  I don’t want to see you anymore. Goodbye, Carter. It was only when he heard those words that the blinders had fallen. Yes, it was quick. And yes, such emotion was suspect. But dammit, he loved Abby Carmichael.

  If he’d had doubts about that, the sick feeling in his gut spelled out the truth. He had held something fragile and beautiful in his grasp, but he had let it slip away.

  For three hours he called her cell, and then the hotel room landline. Eventually, he resorted to storming the Miramar and banging on Abby’s door. When the night manager politely asked that he leave, Carter drove to the ranch, momentarily defeated, but not deterred. He paced the floor until 3:00 a.m. After that, he finally slept.

  The following morning was Sunday. There was nothing he had to do. Nothing but find Abby and tell her the truth. He loved her.

  But as it turned out, he had missed his chance. She was gone. Checked out of the hotel. And he’d been the one to send her away. In fact, he had told her to go. He was an idiot.

  His first instinct was to jump on a plane and follow her, but to what end?

  The two of them had been dancing around an ugly truth for days. They had no common ground. Even so, he was a stubborn son of a bitch. He was passionate about Abby, and he refused to believe that love wasn’t enough...all evidence to the contrary.

  * * *

  Abby returned to New York with her heart and her composure in shreds. To make matters worse, her mother was already staying at Bradley’s. When she heard that Abby was home, she offered to come back to the apartment. But Abby declined, keeping her voice light and cheerful.

  Life would go on.

  The worst part was, she had to go back to Royal to film the festival. That was nonnegotiable. Otherwise, all the work she had done already would be wasted.

  For five days, she huddled in her bed, crying, staring bleakly at the ceiling. How did anyone survive this kind of heartbreak? Carter was all she thought about.

  Eventually, she got angry with herself. There was more to life than sex and love. She would go back to being the same person she had always been.

  She showered and dressed and went to a museum. Had lunch at her favorite café. But it didn’t help much at all. She wasn’t the same person. Carter had changed her. He had made her want things. And she didn’t know what to do.

  Though she stayed out most of the day, there were no answers to be found. Late in the afternoon, she wandered into Central Park and walked the paths aimlessly. It was cloudy. A front had come through, bringing cooler temperatures and a smattering of raindrops.

  A few things were clear. First, she had to return to the scene of her heartbreak. Even if she managed to avoid seeing Carter, the journey would be painful.

  Second, she would finish her documentary. Either with or without the stolen money angle, she would do her very best work, and she would be proud of it.

  And last, she had to find some closure. Did that mean confessing her love and watching Carter squirm as he searched for a way to let her down easily? The
prospect was depressing. Even if she offered to move to Royal, she didn’t think he loved her. How could he? They had been together such a short time.

  When her legs were rubbery with exhaustion, she found a bench and sat down to watch children playing kickball on a grassy slope. All around her, the world kept marching on. Even her mother had found love.

  Abby sipped her iced coffee and tried to find meaning in her rather colossal personal failure. Was she supposed to learn something from this experience? And if so, what?

  People passed her occasionally, following the path. One stopped. “Abby...”

  That single word, uttered in a deep masculine voice...

  “Carter?” She looked up at him, wondering if she was hallucinating.

  When he sat down beside her, the warmth and solidity of his presence convinced her he was real. “I’ve been looking for you for hours,” he said, his tone terse.

  She refused to apologize. “You’re the one who told me to leave Royal,” she said. If the words were snippy, she couldn’t be blamed.

  He sighed mightily. “You can’t possibly know how much I regret that.”

  The silence between them stretched painfully. Everything she wanted was at her fingertips. But she didn’t know how to reach for it...didn’t know how to be true to herself and avoid her parents’ mistakes.

  Carter looked as handsome as ever, although perhaps there were new lines on his face, new shadows in his beautiful blue eyes. She didn’t want to make him unhappy. Heck, she didn’t want to make herself unhappy.

  Did he expect to pull a ring out of his pocket and have her fall into his arms? Or maybe she was assuming too much. He might be here for nothing more than a booty call.

  Suddenly, it was more than she could bear. She sprang to her feet. “You shouldn’t have come,” she said. Despair roiled inside her. She’d spent almost a week trying to forget him. How dare he stir things up all over again? It wasn’t fair.