The Rancher And The Amnesiac Bride

by Joan Elliott Pickart

Was she pregnant with Max Carter’s baby?

  Tick...tick...tick.

  With a trembling hand, she flipped through the pages of her address book until she found the name of her doctor.

  Then, as though watching herself from afar, she saw her hand float upward and lift the receiver to the telephone.

  Tick...tick...tick...

  Chapter Twelve

  Late that afternoon Josie stood in front of a department-store window, giving the impression, she hoped, that she was totally engrossed in the expensive clothes on the mannequins.

  In actuality, because of the way the sun was striking the glass, she was able to see her own reflection as clearly as if she was staring into a mirror.

  She stood statue-still, hardly breathing, searching for something, anything, that was visual evidence of the difference between the Josie Wentworth who’d left her apartment several hours before and who she was now.

  She looked exactly the same, she thought in amazement. That hardly seemed possible, considering that her life—her entire future—had just been turned upside down.

  “Oh, isn’t that gorgeous?” a woman said.

  Josie jerked in surprise at the sudden intrusion into her thoughts.

  “What?” she said, turning her head toward the woman now standing next to her.

  “That black dress. The one in the middle there. Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “Oh, yes, it certainly is,” Josie said, looking at the creation for the first time. “It’s very elegant, simple but classy.”

  The woman sighed. “And I’d never go anywhere to wear it. When you have three little kids, you’re lucky to get out to a movie once in a while.” She laughed. “If my husband and I went out to dinner, I’d probably get up and start clearing the table. Oh, well, so it goes. I wouldn’t trade my babies for all the fancy nights on the town in the world.”

  “No, of course you wouldn’t,” Josie said.

  “Do you have children?” the woman asked pleasantly.

  Josie drew a steadying breath. “I just came from the doctor’s office, where I was told that I’m pregnant. I’m...I’m going to have a baby.” She smiled. “There. I said it right out loud for the first time. It’s really sinking in. It’s true. I’m going to have a beautiful, healthy, wonderful baby.”

  The woman beamed. “Well, bless your heart. Congratulations. You’re obviously thrilled, so I assume your husband will be, too. Oh, look at the time. I must dash. Every happiness to you and your husband. What a lucky little baby to have parents so excited about its arrival. Bye.”

  “Goodbye,” Josie said, then turned and walked slowly down the sidewalk.

  So much for euphoria, she thought. That conversation had brought her back to reality with a jarring thud, to say the least.

  She didn’t have a husband, let alone one who would be thrilled upon hearing her news. The last thing Max Carter, of the Single C Ranch, wanted in his life was a wife and baby.

  Josie crossed the street and entered a small park, pulling her coat closer around her as she settled onto a bench beneath a tree. A chilly breeze whispered by, and she shivered.

  She’d gotten pregnant the very first time she and Max had made love, she was certain, when birth control had been the farthest thing from their minds.

  Oh, how cocky they’d been, feeling so in charge, so in control of their lives in their world beyond reality. The rancher and the woman with no memory, pretending that everything was perfect as they meshed their bodies night after night, ignoring the fact that they weren’t one entity in heart and soul.

  “What are you going to do, Josie Wentworth?” she murmured as she watched a pigeon waddle past. “This is reality-check time, remember?”

  She was Josie Wentworth, of the famous Wentworth Oil Works family of Oklahoma, a family who made tabloid news if they so much as sneezed twice in a row.

  She was twenty-nine years old, single and carrying the baby of a man who was land-poor.

  A man who refused to share his innermost thoughts and dreams with her.

  A man who moved through life alone and fully intended to continue to do so.

  A man...

  Josie stiffened and her breath caught. Out of nowhere, as vividly as though she was living it at that very moment, she saw in her mind’s eye the scene in Max’s kitchen when she’d run through the door seeking help for him. She was clutching her grandfather’s suit jacket as she sobbed out her heartfelt plea.

  Oh, Granddad, please, you’ve got to help Max. He came looking for me because I... It’s all my fault that he’s hurt and...a tree in the woods...the lightning... Granddad, please, Max is pinned beneath a tree. He’s unconscious, but he’s alive, and I promised him I’d get help for him. Please, Granddad, please. I love him. He’s my Max. Please, you’ve got to—

  I love him.

  He’s my Max.

  I love him...I love him ... I love him...

  “Oh, dear heaven,” Josie whispered as the words echoed over and over in her mind.

  And her heart.

  And her soul.

  She was in love with Max Carter.

  Yes. Yes, she was. She knew that now, knew she’d buried that staggering fact deep within her, knew there was no longer anywhere to hide from the truth.

  That was what Joseph Wentworth was waiting for her to remember.

  That was why he’d moved heaven and earth to place Max securely in her apartment.

  He knew she was in love with Max Carter, and anything his precious Princess wanted, by damn, she would have.

  “Not this time, Granddad,” Josie said, her eyes misting with tears.

  Max Carter couldn’t be bought. The Wentworth power and money meant nothing. Max’s love didn’t have a price tag on it that could be met easily by a snap of mighty Wentworth fingers.

  Josie sighed, then dashed away the tears that slid down her cheeks.

  She was in love for the first time in her life. Deeply, irrevocably in love. But the man of her heart didn’t love her, didn’t want her as his life partner, his wife, nor would he want their baby, who was nestled deep within her.

  “Oh, God,” she said, a sob in her voice, “what am I going to do?”

  No, no, no! she told herself in the next instant. She was not going to fall apart, dissolve into a weeping mess of despair. Absolutely not.

  She lifted her chin and swallowed past the ache of unshed tears in her throat.

  She was a Wentworth.

  She was strong, stood tall in the face of adversity.

  She wanted this baby, would rejoice in this child, raise it with heartfelt love—alone.

  She’d survive the hateful glee of reporters splashing stories across the tabloids about one of the oh-so-proper and important Wentworths stepping over the line of convention and becoming an unwed mother.

  Josie Wentworth To Have Love Child, the headlines would probably scream. So he it. Let them do their worst, she didn’t care. Love child? Fine. Yes. She would love this child and its father until the day she died.

  She would ask nothing of Max, wouldn’t attempt to force him into a life he wanted no part of.

  Should she even tell Max about the baby? Did a man have a right—no matter what his reaction to the news might be—to know he was going to be a father?

  Yes, she supposed he did. She would tell Max about their child when the time was right, when her courage about facing the future alone was more firmly grounded. He would be told—but not yet.

  Josie got to her feet and walked slowly along the cobbled sidewalk in the park.

  She wasn’t ready to go home, she realized. She needed some space, some solitude, to come to grips with the newly discovered truth of her love for Max Carter and with the existence of their baby.

  At the edge of the park Josie stopped at a public telephone, dropped change into the slot and pressed the buttons of her number at the apartment, ignoring the visible trembling of her hand. The telephone was answered on the second ring.

  “Wentworth res
idence.”

  “Gertie? This is Josie. May I speak with Max, please, if he’s awake?”

  “Of course, Ms. Wentworth. Max is reading a novel while sitting in his favorite place in front of the windows. He does enjoy that spectacular view.”

  “Yes, he does,” Josie said. And she would envision him there long after he’d returned to the Single C, long after he’d left her—forever. “Wold you give him the portable phone, please?”

  “Certainly,” Gertie said.

  One second, two, then three went by, with Josie’s heartbeat increasing with each one.

  “Josie?”

  “Hi, Max,” she said, forcing a lightness to her voice. “Listen, I won’t be home for dinner. In fact, it may be quite late before I get back.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No, no, not really. I bumped into the woman who took over the volunteer project I was in charge of. She stepped in for me when I attempted to find your cousin Sabrina.

  “Anyway, as the new chairperson, she’s running into difficulties with some of the details. I’m going to sit down with her and go over everything. It’s the least I can do, considering I dumped the whole business on her with no notice. I really feel I should come to her rescue a bit here.

  “So you see, I don’t know what time I’ll be home. I don’t want you to be concerned. I mean, I have a reputation for bumping my head, getting amnesia and disappearing without a trace.”

  “So you do. I appreciate the call, Josie. I would’ve been worried when you didn’t show up for dinner.”

  “There. I knew it. So I called. Yes, I certainly did. Well, I must go. I’ll talk to you... whenever. Okay? Bye.”

  Josie replaced the receiver quickly and drew a much-needed breath.

  She was such a lousy liar, she thought with self-disgust. She always chattered like a magpie when she wasn’t telling the truth. Well, Max hadn’t known she’d been fibbing. He’d accepted her excuse without question.

  Max didn’t realize that she’d lied.

  Josie was lying, Max thought, staring at the portable telephone, a frown knitting his dark brows. She’d been talking so fast it was a wonder she hadn’t passed out from lack of oxygen.

  What in the hell was going on? What was Josie really up to? She hadn’t sounded upset, but how could he have determined if she actually was since she’d babbled in his ear?

  “Damn it,” Max said, glaring at the bulky cast on his leg.

  He was helpless, had no choice but to sit there in his fancy wheelchair and wait.

  Wait for Josie to come home.

  To him.

  Max swept his troubled gaze over the spacious, white-carpeted living room.

  Home, he mentally repeated. It was amazing that he’d become so comfortable in a place so foreign to what he was accustomed to, just as Josie had at the Single C. Well, he’d made up his mind that he could do it, and he had.

  But...

  Was he relaxed and at peace in a plush penthouse apartment due to his own determination to “go with the flow”? Or was it because the days spent here were with Josie?

  Good question, he thought dryly, but he didn’t know the answer. Besides, the issue at hand was Josie, and why she was out there somewhere, staying away from the apartment, from him.

  Max turned to stare out the window.

  What’s wrong, Josie? What’s going on in that beautiful, complicated, fascinating mind of yours? Please, Josie, come home and talk to me.

  What Josie is doing is none of your business, Carter, a little voice rasped in his brain.

  He had a hard-line stand on not invading another’s privacy, had hollered that at Josie when she’d first arrived at the ranch in search of Sabrina.

  He’d held fast to that principle, refusing to share any of his history, his past, with Josie, keeping all conversations skimming on the surface, allowing no depth, no real sharing of his inner secrets, hopes or dreams.

  But now? Damn, the tables had been turned on him. Josie was out there somewhere, dealing with personal and private things, had kept him at arm’s length by lying about where she was going and why.

  And it hurt.

  There was an actual, physical pain slicing through his gut, slamming against his heart.

  Tit for tat.

  Josie was dishing out exactly what he’d been serving up to her since the very first day they’d met. She was suddenly operating by his etched-in-stone code of conduct.

  He felt isolated and lonely, shut out, cut off from a part of Josie she was now refusing to share with him.

  Max drew a deep, shuddering breath, then let it out slowly.

  He was a simple man, a rancher, a rough-edged, earthy cowboy in sweaty, dirty clothes, the result of honest labor on the land he loved.

  He worked, ate, slept, then started all over again the next day with the same program. That was who he was, who he’d been all of his adult life.

  But it wasn’t enough, not now. Not since Josie had entered his narrow existence and filled it to overflowing. He wanted more. Dear Lord, he needed more.

  He needed Josie.

  “Man, oh, man,” Max said, dragging his hands down his face.

  He had changed so much, been given a glimpse of a whole new, wonderful world since the day Josie had arrived at the ranch and he’d stood so arrogantly in charge, in control, delivering his sermons to her on the subject of personal privacy.

  He’d come to anticipate entering his shabby little house at day’s end, because he knew that Josie would be there, smiling, welcoming him into her soft, feminine embrace, having prepared an endearingly, hardly edible dinner for them.

  He’d learned to really listen to what Josie said to him as they chatted through the evening hours. He savored the sound of her voice, her delicate wind-chime laughter, felt heated desire zing through him when she smiled at him, saw mirrored in her captivating eyes the building passion that was being fanned once more from glowing embers into licking flames.

  Desire. Never fully quelled, it simmered, waiting for the moment when he and Josie would again mesh their bodies, become one entity, while sharing lovemaking so exquisitely beautiful it was beyond description.

  His bed, with its saggy mattress and faded, worn sheets, was no longer just a platform to drop onto in total exhaustion from pushing his stamina to the maximum and more, as he tended to the never-ending chores on the ranch.

  That bed was now a haven of awe and wonder, encased in a mystical haze of sensual beauty and fulfillment.

  That bed was going to be so damn big and empty when he returned to the Single C. When he went back where he belonged. Alone. Without Josie. Forever.

  “No,” Max said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

  He would not—could not—face a future without Josie. A future so empty, cold and lonely.

  No, that wasn’t acceptable, and it was not going to happen because...

  Max stiffened in the wheelchair, every muscle in his body tensing to the point that a searing pain shot through his injured leg.

  Because he...ah, damn it, he was in love with Josie Wentworth.

  “Carter, you idiot,” he said, slamming a fist on the arm of the chair. “You stupid fool.”

  He’d done it, he thought with self-directed fury. He’d actually gone and fallen in love with Josie. Ms. Josie Wentworth, of the Wentworth Oil Works family. The rich and powerful Wentworths. Josie, who lived in a penthouse apartment with white carpeting.

  I’ll be the paperwork manager of the Single C and you can punch the cows.

  Order out of your terrible chaos, sir.

  I’ll rest easier now that I know that, ma’am.

  “Yeah, right,” Max said, a bitter edge to his voice.

  Those words had been spoken during a conversation of silly playfulness. Josie wasn’t about to take up a career of ranch management.

  To manage a ranch—his ranch—Josie would have to live there, be his partner in business, his soul mate in life.

  His wife.

>   The mother of his children.

  Josie would have to walk away from a world of wealth, social status, a place where the mere announcement of her last name brought people to saluting attention, eager to do her bidding.

  She would have to be so in love with him, land-poor Max Carter, that she’d be willing to turn her back on a life-style he could never match, never offer her. A life-style that was rightfully hers to have.

  And that just wasn’t going to happen. None of it. Not ever.

  The only saving grace to the whole scenario was that at least he would leave here, return to where he belonged with his pride intact, with Josie having no clue as to his true emotions.

  He continued to stare out the window, no longer seeing the awe-inspiring view displayed before him.

  He saw only a bleak and empty future stretching into the lonely eternity that would be the remainder of his days—and nights.

  He saw only a world of dark clouds and shadows, because his moonlight and sunshine angel would be not be standing by his side.

  Time lost meaning as Max sat in the wheelchair in the huge quiet room, sinking deeper into a black pit of despair.

  He simply sat there, waiting for Josie to come home.

  Josie ordered a dinner she didn’t want in a small, cozy restaurant. She forced herself to blank her mind, to take a mental reprieve from thoughts of the tangled mess of her life.

  She ate every morsel of food on her plate, having to nearly choke it down, knowing she was consuming the nutritious meal for the precious baby, the miracle, tucked deep within her.

  After leaving the restaurant, she drove to a mall that had a movie theater, bought a ticket and dropped into a seat in the back row.

  She was still postponing going home, she knew. She just didn’t want to see Max, talk to Max, not yet.

  The movie started with a blast of noise and vivid colors, but Josie tuned it out, turning inward to the essence of herself, reaching for the strength and courage she would need in the days, weeks and years to come.

  And slowly it came, filling her, bringing with it a modicum of peace that helped soothe the pain that came with the realization that she was in love with a man who didn’t love her, a man whose baby she was carrying.