Kathleen threw her arms around her father, box of dirty supplies and all, and hugged him. For the first time since she was eight it felt as if she had her father back and she started to cry. He had disappeared shortly after her mother’s death and with every girlfriend or wife or drink he’d chosen to help him forget he had moved farther away from her.
He could be right. This latest stint at sobriety would likely be short-lived. But while he was sober she would enjoy their time together and forget about anything else.
“You didn’t have to hide your sobriety. Grandfather and I would have done anything to help you — ”
He squeezed her with his free arm. “That’s the point, sweetheart, no one could help me but me. And I think this time it will be different. I’ll fix this thing with Jackson, too, if you’ll let me.”
“There’s nothing for you to fix,” she said, stepping back. “The marriage was never for real and now he’s gone back to his real life and I’m getting on with mine. It was all just a stupid, meaningless plan that never had to happen at all.”
“Are you sure about that?” He asked, wiping a tear from her cheek.
Kathleen nodded but the tears kept coming.
• • •
Jackson smacked the side of the photo enlarger, knowing that it wouldn’t help. The picture was perfect. A perfect model wearing the perfect bikini with a perfect ocean in the background. He had processed out the circles under her eyes and the slight bulge of fat at her hips. All the public would see was the perfect body. Perfect face.
It was his vision that was flawed because every face in every picture he took during the sports magazine suit became Kathleen. Kathleen standing on a dock. Kathleen sitting on the beach. Kathleen cavorting in the water.
All he could think about was Kathleen. It had been more than a week and still all he could think about was her.
He clipped the photo to the line and went to the next image.
Same perfect model, different suit. Kathleen’s face superimposed on the model’s features.
It was time to take a break.
He sat at the desk, waited for his computer to boot up, and opened the file of digital images from San Antonio. Skipped over the pictures from the city and focused instead on pictures of the ranch.
Kathleen working Jester. In the pool with Trio. Watching the horses in the field, her back to him. Smiling about something. What did she see that he didn’t? And why did he keep opening these stupid files when he had real work to do?
He ignored the phone when it rang and only half-listened to his assistant leave a frantic message about the magazine deadline and some problem with a shoot scheduled in Maine the next week. He didn’t care. The editor would have the images the next day and all of this last minute drama with the Maine shoot would be forgotten by Monday when new problems arose.
He poured a cup of coffee and sat at the window watching the crowded streets below while he sipped. His favorite seat. His favorite pastime, at least it had been before Texas. Now he didn’t see the potential pictures in the crowd. He saw just the harried crowd hurrying to appointments that didn’t matter.
His life. Exactly the way he wanted it.
Liar.
He picked up the envelope on his coffee table. Re-read the note from his investigator. Picked up another lead, this time in Corpus Christi. How to proceed?
How to proceed, indeed.
Jackson hadn’t lied about one thing the day he left Kathleen and Texas behind: he was no longer under the illusion that finding Maria would answer the questions burning in his gut. No explanation would satisfy the fact that she left a seven year old child, in the dark and with very little food, alone. San Antonio showed him that he wasn’t that small, scared kid any longer.
He still cared that Maria abandoned him that way but he no longer wondered about her reasons incessantly. He no longer needed the half-hearted explanation that he knew she would give. He’d traded one obsession for another. Obsession over his childhood for obsession over what his life might have been like if he’d stayed.
If he’d given their fake marriage the chance to become real.
Maybe he didn’t have the perfect family background. That didn’t preclude him from creating a family with Kathleen on the ranch. He deserved a life, damn it, a life with more in it than pretty models, overly dramatic fashion designers, and harried magazine editors.
In the hot New York studio Jackson wasn’t fooling himself. He did have feelings for Kathleen. Feelings that scared him. Feelings that made him feel as if he could fly.
Feelings that weren’t so different from the connection he told her he most definitely did not want. Not in this lifetime.
So it was just as well that he was working here rather than wandering around Texas searching for a reason to be there. Watching her with the horses, with the other trainer. With her family.
Mail dropped through the slot in his door and he slowly got to his feet to see what credit card company wanted him as their next customer today. A small envelope caught his attention, postmarked Lockhardt, Texas.
Inside was a picture of him, holding Kathleen on the Malecon. Looking at her as if she were the only person on earth who mattered. Where had this come from? He turned the print over and saw Mitchum’s scrawl.
You may not have planned to fall in love in Puerto Vallarta. That doesn’t mean you didn’t.
So the old man had Kathleen followed in Mexico. Somehow Jackson wasn’t surprised. Mitchum loved Kathleen and was counting on her to keep the ranch growing until the next generation. He was just annoyed that he hadn’t noticed the man following them.
And maybe embarrassed, too, when he thought of all the things he and Kathleen had done in bed. And out of it. Was Mitchum’s investigator on duty all day, every day?
Jackson looked at the picture again and decided not to hold a grudge against Mitchum.On a small slip of paper inside the envelope was a date, time, and the words “black tie optional.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jackson swerved around a slow-moving sedan driving in the far left lane and swore. A two-hour delay in Kansas City pushed him to the limit. His flight arrived in San Antonio a few minutes before six and he hadn’t had time to change into his tux before hitting the rental car stand. Now he was nearly to the Lockhardt turn but traffic had slowed him even more.
He wouldn’t make it to the ranch until Kathleen’s party was well underway. Wouldn’t have the chance to talk to her about the past.
The future.
Forget his plans of talking with Kathleen before the guests arrived, at this rate he might miss the entire party. She would never forgive that. He would never forgive that. Jackson pressed his foot harder against the gas pedal and the compact car shot forward.
There was so much he needed to explain. Some of it wouldn’t make sense to her, but he till had to try. And maybe, if he wasn’t too late, she would want to try their marriage deal for real this time.
Hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, he took the turn to Lockhardt without slowing down, causing the car to fishtail. He righted it and jammed the gas pedal against the floorboard.
He had to get there in time.
• • •
Kathleen clasped her mother’s pearls around her neck and studied her reflection. Shadowed eyes, but the crowd gathering downstairs probably wouldn’t notice. Her complexion was good from days spent in the sun. A little bit thinner than she had been three weeks ago. Definitely not pregnant. She swallowed.
The night she had been dreaming of for months would start as soon as she opened her bedroom door. She remained seated before the mirror. This wasn’t what she wanted, or at least it wasn’t all that she wanted.
Monica crashed through the door, chattering about the crowd of well-wishers. Nearly everyone from Lockhardt and most of the not
able families in San Antonio would attend her birthday celebration. Several of her competing trainers would be there.
Everyone except Jackson.
She should have gone to New York, made him listen to her. She should have done something besides get on with her life because life as she knew it was over without him.
Monica sat beside her on the small dressing table bench. Hugged her.
“I can’t believe your birthday is here already. Seems like we should be celebrating Cinco de Mayo or something.” She fiddled with the powder brush, sweeping it lightly from temple to jaw.
“I’m glad you made it in. After your call I didn’t think you would.”
“Are you kidding?” Monica clucked. “And miss Lady Vanessa biting her tongue when Grandfather signs the ranch over to you? I love our sister but watching her quietly combust is going to be the highlight of my year.” She finished with the brush and set it aside. “You’ll be the center of attention. Are you ready for it?”
The night before Monica became Kathleen’s confidante. Unable to keep her feelings inside a moment longer and tired of turning to her horses for moral support, she’d collapsed. Told Monica everything including her stupid crush and that wretched proposal on the beach.
She was surprised when Monica hugged her and let her cry it all out. Monica surprised her again when she asked if there was anything she could do to help. Monica, as self-centered as Vanessa prior to this visit, was fast becoming Kathleen’s best friend in addition to being a sister. She even hated her for a second when Monica made her defend Jackson’s choices.
For the first time in her life Kathleen wondered what she had missed by focusing her attention on the horses rather than the people at the ranch. Wondered if things might have been different with Jackson if she’d had more than horses in her life when she ran away to Puerto Vallarta.
She took Monica’s hand now and squeezed. “When did you become the big sister?”
“I like to think I’ve always been the big sister, at least when it comes to the important things like bigger allowances and better hair and the cutest boyfriends.” The women giggled like school girls for a moment. “But no one is going to hold a candle to you tonight. Are you ready to become the center of the horse universe?”
Kathleen took a final look in the mirror and nodded. “As long as my moment in the sun lasts until exactly midnight and tomorrow morning everyone lets me get back to work.” She paused. “Mon, I’ve been crying on your shoulder for twenty-four hours. Isn’t it about time you tell me why you’re only just now home for the summer?”
“Not even close.” She chewed her bottom lip, reminding Kathleen of Nathaniel’s bad habit. Just one more person she should have been paying attention to along the way. Finally, Monica continued. “My problems, such as they are, can wait until after your birthday. This is your night and I’m not going to horn in on the attention.” She executed a stiff curtsy and said mockingly, “We peasants will ensure that your pumpkin is saddled and ready at midnight, Fair Lady.”
Kathleen pushed thoughts of Jackson from her mind, determined to enjoy the evening. If nothing else, the night would be good for business. Knowing that Kathleen was completely in charge of the horse operations now might make some of the more reluctant owners take a second look at what would soon be the Witte Training and Rehabilitation Stables. After showing Jester Six at the Worlds, even more owners, investors, and breeders would look at her stables. She needed to be ready.
She took a deep breath and squeezed Monica’s hand once more. Together they joined the party downstairs.
• • •
Her feet hurt. Kathleen shifted her weight from one of Monica’s to-die-for high heels to the other and wished for the millionth time that she had chosen shoes from her own closet. Sure, the shoes would have been serviceable sandals or boots but at least her feet wouldn’t be in this agony. She tried to alleviate some of the pressure by flexing her toes but that only made the killer heels seem tighter.
She didn’t even know who she was listening to; the man lost her ten minutes before when he started rambling about pirates and the French and Indian War. How the two were related she still had no idea. His name was a distant memory, as were her comfortable, not clenched in agony feet.
Monica wasn’t the good sister. She was the sadistic sister. She was just better at hiding her sadistic streak than Vanessa, who was currently standing in a corner nursing a glass of champagne. She should go and talk to her.
Kathleen excused herself, leaving the older gentleman to regale some other poor sap with his stories of French and Indian War Pirates. She nodded to several neighbors and acquaintances from San Antonio before finally arriving in Vanessa’s corner.
“Come to gloat?” her sister asked. Her hand shook.
Kathleen followed Vanessa’s gaze across the crowded room and saw Paul, Vanessa’s recently exed husband, chatting up a pretty young girl wearing Armani.
“Go ahead,” her voice shook, too. “My life certainly can’t get any worse.”
“I’m not here to gloat, Van. I just wanted to say…that I’m glad you came back for the party.” Kathleen glanced over her shoulder to find Paul staring daggers at Vanessa. She stepped between the two, shielding her sister from him. “Do you need anything?”
Vanessa straightened her shoulders. “Not from you,” she said and turned away from the room. Kathleen was left in the corner, alone.
Get used to the feeling, said the ugly voice in her head. Alone is going to be your calling card from here on out.
The band started up outside but she couldn’t bear the happy sounds and turned away from the window.
And straight into Paul’s chest.
“Leave her alone, Paul, you’ve done enough already.” The words were out before Kathleen could consider why she was defending the sister who would like to see her fall flat on her face. She supposed it was one of those family things that Jackson pretended not to understand.
He jaw clenched and he pushed past her. “I haven’t done nearly enough.” Before she could react to Paul’s anger a strong hand was pulling the angry man away from her and around the corner of the room into the hallway. Kathleen followed, her heart in her throat.
“The next time you touch my wife — ”
Paul threw a punch that caught Jackson’s jaw. “I wasn’t ‘touching’ your wife, friend, I was trying to get to m — ”
“She’s not your anything,” Jackson managed before throwing a punch of his own.
Kathleen could only watch, wide-eyed, as the two men fought over absolutely nothing. Jackson pushed Paul against the wall, knocking a Rembrandt painting to the floor. The noise jolted Kathleen from her inaction. She turned to the overflowing room, relieved to see most of the guests had no clue what was happening in the hall. Thank goodness for the noisy band. A waiter stepped into the hall, made a fast about-face, and hurried into the kitchen in the opposite direction. Fat lot of help the party employees were going to be. Kathleen caught Monica’s attention and waved her over.
Paul escaped Jackson’s hold and swung a hard right hand toward Jackson’s nose.
Jackson dodged at the last minute and the punch whiffed by his face into the air. Monica pushed Kathleen farther into the hall, pulled the pocket doors closed, and pulled the flowers from a vase on the table. She elbowed Kathleen.
“Either hold the flowers or douse the kiddies. Your choice.”
“Douse,” she said without giving herself time to think hard about the decision.
Jackson shoved Paul against the wall as Kathleen aimed the vase filled with water in their direction, lost her grip on the cool clay, and sent the whole thing crashing into the men.
Water splashed against their shins as the vase bounced from Jacksons shoulder to Paul’s elbow and then landed with a crash on the hardwood floor. They each turned to look
at her.
“Idiots,” Monica said, rolling her eyes. She grabbed Paul’s arm, leading him down the hall in the opposite direction. Jackson eyed Kathleen warily.
“In case you’re wondering I don’t have another vase at the ready so you’re in the clear as far as another dousing.”
“He put his hands on you.”
She nodded. “He’s done that several times.” A thrill of delight stabbed her heart at the murderous look in Jackson’s eyes. “I’ve known Paul since we were about two years old. And I was a bridesmaid when he married Vanessa. And I’m not pregnant so you just got into a fight over two great, big nothings.”
“Oh.” A chagrined expression stole over his face.
“Hmmm. Yeah. He wasn’t manhandling me, he was trying to get past me to Van, but I felt one of those family connections you hate and gave her a little space to escape. I think she needs to think about things a little longer.”
Jackson didn’t reply for a long moment. He ran his right hand through his hair, ending with a squeeze at his neck.
“You can leave now. I’m not pregnant, in case one of Paul’s jabs killed your hearing. You don’t have to worry about making family connections.”
“It’s not that I hate all family connections,” he began. “I’ve just never had any.”
They were still at this stupid impasse? Kathleen’s joy at seeing Jackson and her stupor at watching him fight with Paul evaporated in a haze of anger. How dare he come back here without figuring out any of the issues separating them? What did he want from her? More tears? Another night in bed? She’d told him — twice now — she wasn’t pregnant.
Not that she was innocent but she was dealing with her Keep It Together tendencies and learning to let some things go.
His issues, on the other hand, seemed to be exactly where they were three weeks ago. He’d run off to New York in a haze of I-Don’t-Want-Commitment and now he was back with the same old story? Why had he come back at all?
Texas Wishes: The Complete Series Page 15
