The Rancher's Surprise Marriage

by Susan Crosby

  Time to rein back, he decided. He wished he’d come to that conclusion before he’d driven himself to the set without thinking it through.

  Better late than never.

  Once again Tony was behaving differently, Maggie thought, but this time it was a swing to the other direction—less attentive and less solicitous. She would like to know why, but didn’t really want to spoil their ride if the answer was something she didn’t want to hear.

  They’d ridden for quite a while across open range, side by side, but now she followed him up a narrow trail, her well-trained mare picking her way. Maggie could identify more of the flora now, not just the mesquite, but the prickly pear cactus, a spiny shrub called a crucifixion thorn, piñon juniper and other desert scrub.

  She appreciated the harsh beauty of the surroundings but also Tony, the way he sat in the saddle, how he carried himself. The way he surveyed his land, pride in his posture and what little she could see of his expression now and then. He was king of this piece of the world, and he wore the crown well, even if it was black and wool and shaped like a Stetson—although in deference to the heat today, he was wearing a straw hat, had instructed her to, as well.

  Her survival skills were nonexistent here, but he could handle any emergency, of that she was sure. She couldn’t. She’d been sheltered, necessary in her position, and so well taken care of by other people that she didn’t really know how to manage the details of life—hers were handled for her. Someone was always with her. She didn’t have to be competent about anything but her work. Not that she never made a decision, but that she didn’t have to. She’d rarely been in a supermarket because it usually resulted in a commotion.

  Tony’s competency was a turn-on for her. She liked that he identified himself as the Alpha dog of her pack, and that he followed through in his self-designated role. She sighed, content.

  He turned around in the saddle. “You okay? You gettin’ sore?”

  “I’m fine. I’m happy.”

  “Don’t want you walking bowlegged on set tomorrow.” He watched her for a second longer then faced forward again.

  She understood why he hadn’t asked how her day went. He didn’t want to know. She got that. But he seemed to be keeping her at arm’s length completely, hadn’t even kissed her hello, even though Butch and Sadie were right there, and he always kept up the loving fiancé routine in front of them. It had been awkward for Maggie when he hadn’t at least hugged her. She’d tried to cover her discomfort by retreating to the bedroom right away, saying she needed to change clothes. But really, she just needed to be alone for a minute.

  By the time she’d changed, he’d brought two saddled horses to the front of the house, and they mounted up and rode off with hardly a word spoken.

  She’d never figured him for a moody man. A thoughtful one, yes, who went quiet frequently, but moody? Nope. But then, maybe the kiss last night had changed things for him.

  It had for her. It had made her needy and on edge—and yet it also thrilled her, being desired like that. How could they keep going on, without doing something to relieve the frustration? Was it even realistic to expect it could, especially once the marriage vows were said?

  “This is incredibly gorgeous scenery, Tony,” she said, banishing the questions, wanting him to open up. “Can we stay until sunset?”

  “Sure.”

  A few more minutes passed without conversation. They rode past an area overgrown with the crucifixion thorn-bushes, which reminded her of him at the moment—interesting to look at, but get too close and you get pricked.

  They came to the top of a rise. She pulled up beside him. “Your land?”

  “One of my pastures, but forest service land. We use it in January. It’s the closest to the ranch and the lowest elevation.”

  “Where are your cattle?”

  “Way up. Seven thousand feet. This is about four thousand. They’re in the last pasture before we start cutting, sorting, weaning, preg checking, that kind of thing. Then it’s off to market for the calves.” He climbed down. So did she. He took both sets of reins and looped them over a branch.

  They stood side by side and enjoyed the vista.

  “I was way out of line today,” he said finally. “Showing up on your set like that. I apologize.”

  Was that what had been bothering him? That he needed to apologize? He’d waited all this time to do so? “Thanks.”

  He kicked a rock loose. It bounced a couple of times. “I watched an old movie of yours this morning after you left.”

  Now they were getting to the heart of whatever was really bothering him. “Which one?”

  “The Marriage Broker.”

  Probably the sexiest movie she’d done. It had a bedroom scene, although she’d stayed under the covers. But the kissing scene was long, with lots of close-ups. “What’d you think?”

  “That I was glad I wasn’t watching you film it.”

  Apparently he was admitting to some jealousy, after all.

  “The one today wasn’t nearly as…graphic as that one,” she said.

  “You hooked up with the other actor. John Henderson.”

  “For a while, yes. After the movie was over.”

  “It’s not the first time that’s happened with you.”

  “No.” She put her hand on his arm. “But Rafe Valente is no threat, Tony. He’s just my costar.”

  “How do you do that? How do you kiss someone and make it seem real when you don’t feel it?”

  “You just do. It’s part of the job. But I think you’re asking a deeper question than that. You’re asking if I can fake it for the job, then could I fake it other times, too, right?”

  She waited. He didn’t answer, but he did look directly at her.

  “I’m not faking it with you, Tony. It’s honest with you.”

  “How do I know that? It looked real to me on the screen. I bought it.”

  “You’re supposed to buy it or I haven’t done my job. But remember, too, how you and I first got together. It was a choice. It was major attraction and trust and need. There was nothing fake about that.”

  “You were needy, I’ll grant you that. But I think you were hurtin’ a lot from Scott’s breakup. It’s not the same thing as really needing someone, now, is it?”

  “I suppose not, but if you think I would’ve slept with you just because I was in pain—”

  “And needed to forget for a while.”

  “That, too. But if you’ll recall, I asked Leesa to find out who you were even before we met at the bar. I was attracted, period. I wouldn’t have done anything about it if Scott hadn’t ended things, but you got me going even before we talked.”

  “So, it was just animal attraction.”

  Was it? Could she explain it to him in a way that made sense? For her it had never been about animal attraction, but the whole deal—physical, emotional and intellectual. She knew it could be different for men.

  “That night,” she said, “I felt a pull toward you because of the man you are, inside. You helped me. Protected me. Got me away from the photographer without hesitation, even at your own inconvenience. But I wanted you bad.” She touched his hand. “Maybe the bigger question is why did you sleep with me? You could’ve said no.”

  “I wanted you.”

  “It’s that simple?”

  “Something wrong with that, Margaret? I’ve had one-night stands before, although not in several years. When I woke up that morning and you were gone, at first I thought, hey, I like her style. You know, that you weren’t much of one for mornings-after conversations, either.”

  “At first?”

  “A fleeting thought, barely acknowledged.” He brushed her hair back a little. “Because annoyance took over that you left without telling me.”

  She leaned into his hand. “You’re my first one-night stand.”

  “I’m flattered?”

  She smiled. “I’m thirty-one years old. You should be flattered.”

  “I ended up n
ot being a one-night stand, so does it even count?”

  “I guess you’re right. My record is clean.” She looked around. “Can we just sit here for a while?”

  He walked to his horse, unstrapped a pack from the back of the saddle and brought it over. Inside was a blanket he spread on the ground, a couple of chicken sandwiches, apples and oatmeal-raisin cookies. He offered her a sandwich, and they sat in silence, eating.

  “Tell me about your first kiss,” she said. “First real kiss. One that counted.”

  His brows went up, but he answered. “Ginger Magnuson. We were fourteen. Happened in my parents’ barn during a huge barbecue, with about a hundred guests.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Course I did—once I got over being scared.”

  She looked off into the horizon. “Mine involved a lot of people, too, and my first kiss was also when I was fourteen. It was on the set of the television series I was doing at the time, my second series. I’d started when I was five with one show, which lasted six years. Then at thirteen I started another, for a five-year run.” She met his interested gaze. “My first kiss was in front of all the cast and crew, and then some, with a boy I despised. Fortunately the writers ended that storyline and for another year I was safe. Then they brought in another love interest, and I had to do it again. By the time I was eighteen and the series ended, I’d kissed five different boys, but none of them was a choice I made. It was just what the script called for. I didn’t even have a real first date until I was twenty. Even then, I wasn’t sure whether he’d asked out Maggie McShane the woman or Maggie McShane the star.”

  “I can see where that would be hard, especially as a teenager.”

  “And you’re thinking I have no right to whine, because I chose my occupation, and that sort of thing comes with the territory of my business.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that at all. I was thinking that childhood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  “Yours, too?”

  He nodded.

  “My experience made me a little jaded,” she said.

  “Would’ve done the same to me.”

  “Tony, you’re the first man I ever thought was with me only because of who I am inside.”

  “Even Scott?”

  She blew out a long breath, as if she’d just realized what she’d admitted. “After the fact, yes, even Scott.”

  He frowned, then he took her hand in his. “It was your outside that caught my attention, darlin’. Don’t go thinkin’ otherwise. But I came to like the person inside real fast, and like her more every day. I wasn’t starstruck, if that’s what you’re saying, but I’m a man, Margaret. I appreciate how you look.”

  “Hey, you’re my John Wayne.”

  “So, I’m fulfillin’ some kind of fantasy for you?”

  “Definitely. I had the hots for him before I even knew what the hots were.”

  He laughed, evidenced only by a small shaking of his shoulders and twinkle in his eyes.

  “There’s a quote attributed to John Wayne,” she said. “Maybe you’ve heard it? ‘Talk low, talk slow and don’t say too much.’ It’s you.”

  “More my father, I think.”

  She tread carefully about the subject. “You and he seem to have…issues.”

  “You could say that.”

  She didn’t know if she should question him further or let him tell her in his own time, but before she had a chance to ask, he said, “I’m not interested in talking about it, okay? It’s a personal thing.”

  “Okay.” Now what? Time to change the subject, she figured. Where could she take the conversation? “A week from Sunday I need to make a quick trip to San Francisco and check out the wedding arrangements. Do you want to come?”

  “I’ll be on the trail moving the herd from Friday to Monday.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “I thought everything was being handled for you.”

  “It is. But Garnet’s been telling me that the company building the hotel, Taka-Hanson, is being sued. It’s pretty messy, apparently.”

  “Like what? Enough that the wedding might not happen?”

  “It’s been big stuff. Accusations of graft, talk of lawsuits against senior management. I’d just like to see for myself that everything is in place. Besides which, my friend Jenny Warren, the one who asked me to have the wedding at The Taka San Francisco in the first place, will be flying in from Chicago with her husband for the weekend. She’s pregnant, and it’s probably the last time she can safely fly before she gives birth, so she won’t be coming to the wedding. Two trips too close together. I’d like to see her.”

  “Whatever you need to do is fine with me. You know that.”

  She did. So, why had she felt a need to justify the trip? And why was she disappointed he wouldn’t be going along? She wanted Jenny to meet him.

  After a moment the reality she’d temporarily forgotten imploded, almost blinding her. She was thinking about him as long-term. As a real partner, husband, lover—forever. But that wasn’t the case. It was a here-and-now marriage, one with purpose. One of convenience…

  A marriage of convenience. Now there was an anachronism.

  Maggie gathered up the empty food wrappings and stuck them in the large plastic bag they’d been in. “Thanks for thinking to bring dinner with you.”

  He nodded. “Do you cook?”

  “I wouldn’t starve, but it’s not a passion. My specialty is scrambled eggs.” Big deal, she thought. Anyone could do that. But she’d also never cleaned her own house. Had never paid a bill or balanced a checkbook. She didn’t even make her own bed.

  “What’s running through your head?” Tony asked.

  “How few domestic skills I have.”

  “Is it something you aspire to?” His tone was wry.

  “I don’t know. I feel very…unwifely.”

  “I figure it’s safe to say it wouldn’t be expected of you, given your schedule and place in the world. But if you’d like to give it a shot, I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a cute little white apron.”

  “And nothing else?”

  “Maybe some four-inch heels.”

  “Fishnet stockings?”

  “Sounds good. And a garter belt.” He eyed her legs. “You’ve got the legs for it.” He lifted his gaze. “Ever had sex in the great outdoors?”

  “No.” Why was he asking? Did he intend to—

  “Outdoors adds a little extra kick. It’s the danger element. Wild animals. People.”

  She got it now. He was teasing her, trying to lighten the mood. They were out for a picnic, a break from routine. Their conversation shouldn’t be so serious.

  “Speaking of danger,” she said, then touched a scar on his forehead that arrowed into his hair. “You really got banged up rodeoing, didn’t you?”

  “That? Hell. That’s nothin’. I’ve broken a lot of bones. Some have healed well. Some haven’t. I know it’s gonna rain long before it does.”

  A thrashing noise reached her, starting a distance away but coming closer in a hurry. It blurred past.

  “It’s just a buck.” There was a smile in his voice.

  “I know. I’ve seen pictures.” She continued to scout the terrain.

  “Pictures, huh? Okay.”

  “Don’t tease me.”

  “Why not? It’s fun.”

  “I feel like such a city slicker.”

  “You are. But what’s wrong with that?”

  She shrugged, but was still watchful.

  “There are herds of elk and deer and antelope all over,” he said. “Lots of eagles and coyotes, too.”

  She looked harder at the underbrush. “Coyotes?”

  “Yep. The Lucky Hand adjoins a wilderness area.” He rolled up the blanket and fastened it to his saddle then brought her horse to her and cupped his hands for her to step up. He mounted his own horse, then moved it close to her, leaned across and kissed her lightly. “This was good.”

  An understatement. They’d r
esolved a few issues, shared a few confidences. “Yes. Thank you, cowboy.”

  “You’re mighty welcome, ma’am,” he drawled in a pretty good imitation of the Duke. He tipped his hat then urged his horse toward the trail, leaving her to follow, a stupid grin on her face, happier than she’d been in, well, forever.

  “When we get back to the ranch, I’ll be heading to Phoenix for the evening. My monthly poker game,” he said. “You shouldn’t wait up.”

  “I can’t come?”

  “Well, that’d sorta be like me showing up on your set today.”

  “Oh. It’s a serious game.”

  “You could say that.”

  “What do you play?”

  “Texas hold’em.”

  “Do you win?”

  “More often than not.”

  “Oh, yeah. You won the ranch in a poker game.”

  He was quiet a little while, then he reined his horse a little closer to hers. “Here’s something only Butch knows. The man I won the ranch from, he had cancer. Knew he was dying. He had no family. He’d sponsored me at the beginning of my rodeo career, and I knew I was ready to give up the circuit and settle down. He had a winning hand—I knew it, he knew it, but he folded, leaving the deed on the table. A month later he was gone. I think he liked the romance of giving up his ranch that way. People would talk about it. About him. And me, I suppose.”

  It seemed like such an old-fashioned thing to have happened, but Maggie was getting used to the fact that some things didn’t change here as fast as elsewhere. In a good way.

  “So, you were like a son to him?” she asked.

  “Not exactly, but we admired each other. And he and my dad had knocked heads a few times. He wanted the ranch to survive and thought I’d make a good caretaker.”

  “He was right.”

  “Yeah, he was right. Anyway, sometimes the poker games last all night. I don’t want you worrying if I’m not home when you wake up.”

  She smiled slowly. “And if you do get home early enough, will I know if you won or lost by whether or not you wake me up and make mad, passionate love to me?”

  What are you doing, teasing him like that? Her mind echoed with the repercussions of such teasing, especially when he got all serious-looking.