Hand-Picked Husband

by Heather MacAllister

  She looked down at herself and plucked at the folds of her neckline. "It's not too plain, is it?"

  "No," he whispered, and shook his head in case she hadn't heard.

  What the heck kind of neckline was that anyway? It didn't stay in one place but moved when she did.

  And it didn't seem possible that those itty-bitty straps would hold up an entire dress.

  A steady stream of people flowed around them. Clay was very much aware that Autumn had drawn second looks from a number of his friends. Yeah, he couldn't believe it was Autumn, either.

  Barely trusting himself to touch her, he took her elbow and steered her toward the public telephones behind the coat check and next to the ladies' lounge.

  She looked behind them. "The ballroom is that way, isn't it?"

  "Yes, but you're going to have to fix your lipstick before we go in."

  "Is it smudged?"

  "Not yet."

  Her face softened as she understood.

  "Have I ever told you you're beautiful?" he asked.

  "Not in so many words."

  "You are." He exhaled. "You look beautiful to­night. But you're also beautiful to me when you're riding a horse and yelling at cattle, or pouring coffee during a rainstorm and your hair is all wet, but you smile anyway."

  "Clay." She touched his cheek. "You're going to make me cry."

  "I don't want to do that. I'd rather kiss you." Clay skimmed his hands down her back and settled them at her waist. Whatever material this dress was made of, it sure beat denim jeans and a cotton shirt.

  She looped her arms around his neck. "Then why don't you?"

  "Because something happens to me when I kiss you. I forget where I am and everything else."

  "I'll remind you," she said, and lifted her lips to his.

  Why he hadn't kissed Autumn years ago would probably remain one of the mysteries of his life. Maybe that's why it felt like he was making up for lost time.

  He tried to tell her so many things when he kissed her because it was the only time she listened to him. They belonged together. He knew it in his soul and he wanted her to acknowledge it, too. But she would have to realize it all by herself. If there was one thing he'd learned about Autumn, it was that she had a mind of her own.

  So now, even though she responded to his kisses, he knew it was far too soon to tell her his feelings— with words anyway. Autumn still got skittish when­ever anyone mentioned the future, so Clay knew he'd have to be patient a while longer.

  But in the meantime, he could enjoy kissing her, couldn't he?

  He remembered that cold night when they'd over­heard their fathers talking. He'd been mooning about Autumn for some time but hadn't found the right way to tell her he wanted to be more than pals.

  And so he'd talked to his father as they'd worked cattle. They'd always talked about the future of the Golden B, and Autumn had become a part of that future. It had worked out so neatly, too. Autumn's grandfather had bought the piece of land that was now Reese Ranch from the Golden B back when they were strapped for cash. Autumn didn't have any brothers or sisters, so if she and Clay married, even­tually Reese Ranch would return to the Golden B.

  Clay should have known his parents would talk to Autumn's parents. They were good friends. But it was unfortunate that he and Autumn happened to overhear that one conversation. He remembered the total astonishment on her face, and he'd known at once that she'd never thought of him as a boyfriend.

  Embarrassed, he hadn't said anything.

  Life might have been different if he'd kissed her.

  Thinking of what might have been, Clay pulled her closer to him now. Autumn's tongue met his and he flinched at the jolt to his senses. Moving his hand up her back, he encountered the bare skin above her dress.

  Autumn's skin, smooth and flowery smelling. Autumn.

  Cool air puffed on his heated skin. Another per­fume mingled with Autumn's sweet scent and over­powered it.

  "Well, look at you two!"

  They jerked apart. Clay struggled to remember where he was and tried to focus on the beaded ap­parition that had just exited the ladies' lounge.

  Sally wagged her finger. "Didn't your mothers ever tell you about PDA?"

  "PDA?" Autumn asked.

  She look, dazed herself, Clay noted with gratifi­cation.

  Sally opened her red satin purse. "Public display of affection." Taking a tissue from her purse, she proceeded to wipe Clay's mouth.

  He took the tissue from her and finished the job.

  "Autumn, honey—" Sally lowered her voice, which for her meant she was speaking in normal tones "—you might want to go touch up your lip­stick."

  Nodding, Autumn disappeared into the ladies' lounge.

  Sally watched her, looking puzzled. "Her dress doesn't have a single bead on it."

  "I like it," Clay said.

  "That's because you're sweet." Sally patted his arm. "And I want you to know that I'm aware I intimidated you, but you're not to feel the slightest bit awkward."

  "Intimidated?"

  "Yes. You hardly said a word when you were with me. But I understand. It takes a certain kind of man to be a rodeo queen's escort."

  Autumn stared at herself in the mirror.

  She didn't look any different. But her whole life had changed. Or had it?

  How could she have spent all this time trying to get away from Clay only to find out he was what she'd been searching for all along?

  And what about Clay? What did he feel? He cer­tainly didn't kiss like a man who was going through the motions to please his parents—not that she in­tended to discount those motions in any way.

  Was she in love with him?

  Was he in love with her?

  Why had everyone, including a computer, seen what they couldn't?

  And what about the little speech he'd given at the Yellow Rose? How could she have known him so well, yet not known him at all?

  Autumn was so confused—except about one thing. If she didn't stop staring at herself in the mirror and get back out there, Sally would waltz off with Clay.

  Autumn pushed open the door to the lounge in time to see Sally wiggle her fingers and walk away in a flash of red and silver. A familiar red and silver. An identical red and silver.

  Autumn's other dress. She hadn't noticed it before.

  The realization that she'd almost appeared at the ball dressed identically to Sally made Autumn's knees wobbly. Or it could have been the residual effect of Clay's kiss. In any event, it gave her a good excuse to cling to him and he didn't seem to mind.

  They walked down the hallway toward the grand ballroom. Autumn prepared herself for people's re­actions when they saw her with Clay, but no one appeared to be the least bit surprised.

  They entered the room, which was decorated with a profusion of pink, black and white balloons and pink carnations. Anchoring the area off the dance floor was a huge pig ice sculpture and a display of trophies with the names of past purchasers of rodeo livestock grand champions.

  The whole idea was to wine and dine the buyers to keep them happy in hopes that they would return this year and bid against each other for the grand champion. Though this ball was sponsored by the Swine Auction Committee, other balls were held for chickens, lambs, cattle and other animals. In addition to the grand champion buyers, all buyers of individ­ual breed champions were also invited.

  By virtue of their fund-raising, Autumn and Clay were invited tonight. Autumn had no idea how Sally had wangled an invitation.

  The Croonin' Cowboys Orchestra was already playing to an enthusiastic crowd of dancers. Clay tugged her toward the dance floor. "Dance with me before we get something to eat?"

  Autumn melted into his arms. ' 'We haven't danced together since high school."

  "There're quite a few things we've missed out on."

  Silently, Autumn agreed.

  Clay steered her around the room with a rhythmic confidence that she was coming to associate with him. Clay only
asserted himself when necessary— not because he had something to prove.

  The realization gave Autumn a lot to think about.

  As they moved around the room, Autumn noticed something attracting the dancers' attention, then heard a loud "Whoop!" In the center of the floor, shimmying in tight silver leather, was Jackie Dutton. With her was Garth.

  He'd added a black jacket to his usual all-black ensemble, but the belt buckle shone brightly.

  Autumn and Clay looked at each other and laughed.

  When the band took a break, they headed for the pig ice sculpture, took glass plates, filled them with cheese cubes, crackers, tiny egg rolls and quesadillas, then looked for a place to sit down. Clay chose the far corner, away from the music amplifiers.

  Good, because Autumn felt they needed to talk. "Clay?" she began when they were seated.

  "Hmm?"

  "Did you...I mean, after we've spent the past two weeks dating other people, didn't you think there would be more of a reaction to our being back to­gether?"

  "It's old news."

  "Not to me."

  He laughed. "I don't know about your mother, but mine's been faxing the entire world—probably with instructions to ignore us."

  It figured. "I wonder what they've been saying."

  "Who knows?" He stood. "How about a milk punch?"

  Autumn nodded. "With nutmeg."

  Clay frowned. "Can't stand the stuff."

  "Then how come the computer said you were one hundred percent compatible with me?" she teased.

  He grinned. "You were only ninety-nine with me. Must be the nutmeg."

  Still smiling, he strode toward the bar.

  Autumn watched him, deliberately thinking about what it would be like to spend the rest of her life with him. For the first time, the thought didn't evoke the trapped feeling she usually got, but this wasn't surprising after the kisses they'd shared.

  However, she reflected as he stopped and spoke to Jackie Dutton, it wasn't just her decision. Autumn was suddenly very much aware that Clay had made no references to a future life together. Was she the one making all the assumptions? Clay hadn't acted the slightest bit territorial where she was concerned.

  Uncertain of him for the first time, she watched his progress toward the bar, watched him chat to the people around him as he waited, then watched as he made his way back. She could object to nothing about his behavior. He wasn't smothering her as Garth had, ignoring her as George had or making assumptions as Morgan had.

  So what was her problem?

  Clay put the glasses on the table and took a seat. "What's that look on your face?"

  Autumn had a feeling it was uncertainty, but she wasn't going to tell him that. "I've been thinking about the way we were matched by the Yellow Rose."

  "Pretty slick, huh?"

  She stared at the nutmeg floating on top of her milk punch. "I always thought we wanted different things out of life."

  Clay settled in his chair. "Well, Autumn, you know what I want, but I've never been sure about you."

  She met his steady gaze. "I haven't been sure about me, either," she confessed. "I guess what I've always wanted was the freedom to explore what's out in the world and to make my own choices about them."

  He raised his glass to her. "And so you have."

  "Not really. The choices I've made so far have been so I could get away from here."

  "I see." A bleakness settled over his features.

  "No, you don't." She leaned forward. "I did it so you'd have a choice, too."

  He looked solemnly at her. "I had a choice, but I made it a while ago."

  "Did you?"

  "Yeah." He downed the rest of his drink. "I chose the ranch and I don't want to live there with somebody who feels like she was forced into some­thing."

  "You don't want to live with somebody foisted off on you, either."

  "Is that what you think? That you're some kind of charity case that I have to take in?"

  Not charity, but he had the general gist, so Autumn nodded.

  A corner of his mouth crept upward. "Am I going to have to kiss you again to convince you that no­body's forcing me to do anything I don't want to do?"

  Her own mouth twitched. "Only if you think it will help."

  "It'll help me." The look he gave her made her blush, and he laughed.

  Honestly, she should be way past the blushing stage with Clay. Maybe it was because her feelings were still new to her.

  She was both relieved and disappointed when Clay dropped the subject and started talking about movies, of all things. She'd never talked about movies with him before. He was also interested in hearing about her law studies as they pertained to ranches. "The firm where I'm working part-time now has told me they'll take me on after I graduate. I don't know if I want to go with them, though."

  "Why not?"

  "They're not big enough." She grinned. "I've got plans."

  A shadow crossed his face. "Plans that will take you out of San Antonio?"

  ‘‘There’s more than one law firm in San Antonio," she answered, aware that she hadn't fully answered his question. But maybe that was because she didn't fully know the answer.

  She knew one thing, though. She was a hair's breadth away from falling in love with him. Maybe she always had been.

  There was a fanfare from the Croonin' Cowboys, and Fred Chapman's voice sounded through the ball­room. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your at­tention, please!"

  They turned their chairs around to find Fred at the microphone. Standing next to him, coordinating ti­ara-crowned hat firmly in place, was Sally.

  "We are privileged to have as our guest tonight Miss Sally Mclntyre, 1994 Queen of the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo and third runner-up for the 1995 National Rodeo Queen!"

  Applause broke out—polite among the women, more enthusiastic among the men. Clay was some­where in between, Autumn was pleased to note.

  "Sally will be presenting the trophy to last year's buyer of the Grand Champion Barrow, which you'll recall was a duroc shown by Christy Fletcher from La Grange. Put your hands together for Mr. and Mrs. Sid Schwertner!"

  There were similar presentations for the Reserve Champion Buyer, and the buyers of the individual breed champions. In each one, Sally presented the trophy, then posed for a picture.

  Fred stood off to one side, a besotted smile on his face.

  "It takes a certain kind of man to be a rodeo queen's escort," Clay said. "And I'm not that man."

  "In that case, remind me to cancel my tiara or­der."

  "You can cancel my buckle order at the same time," he shot back.

  They grinned at each other.

  Once the trophy presentations were over, the Croonin' Cowboys began another set.

  Dancing with Clay was different this time and the evening turned magical for Autumn. He gazed at her with just enough possessiveness to send a signal to any men who might want to cut in but not so much that it annoyed her.

  In fact, she liked it. She liked it a lot.

  They left before the last dance, wordlessly holding hands all the way out to the car.

  Clay had driven her in his parents' Cadillac this evening, and the luxury car insulated them from road noise as they drove home, preserving the magic of the evening for Autumn.

  They talked as they'd never talked before. Clay had a philosophical streak Autumn hadn't known about and she surprised him with her ideas for laws that could help preserve the smaller family-owned ranches like hers.

  "Thank you for convincing me that we should pay attention to the Yellow Rose computer," she said when they arrived at her home and Clay was walking her to the front door.

  "It was my pleasure," he murmured. "I'll call you tomorrow." He caressed her cheek. "We've got a lot of years to make up for."

  "Yeah," Autumn agreed, leaning toward him.

  The light was on in the den, and Autumn had no doubt that her mother was waiting up for her. Clay must have suspected it, as well, be
cause his good­night Kiss was all too brief.

  Thorough, but brief.

  But he more than made up for it with his parting words. He took her hands. "Autumn, I know you've got a lot to think about." He shook his head slightly, then corrected himself, "Several choices to make. But while you're making them, I want you to re­member that I love you. I always have and I always will."

  CHAPTER TEN

  FACSIMILE

  To: Debra Reese, Reese Ranch

  From: Fred Chapman, Chapman Industries

  Far as I can tell, Autumn and Clay got along just fine last night. They went off into a corner for part of the time but looked like they were just talking.

  I must say, though, that little gal of yours has sure grown up.

  All the best, Fred

  FAX

  To: Debra Reese

  From: Jackie Dutton

  Dear Ms. Reese,

  Thanks ever so for giving me the contact number for Garth Rivers. Autumn didn't act like she minded. In fact, she probably didn't even notice. She and Clay are DEFINITELY back together.

  Love, Jackie Dutton

  FAX

  To: Debra, Reese Ranch

  From: Margaret Schwertner, Rocking S Ranch

  Dear Debra,

  I'll expect an engagement announcement momentar­ily! Yes! You should have been there. Autumn has stars in her eyes where Clay is concerned and he obviously adores her. I swear, it brought tears to my eyes. They are perfect for each other.

  All my love, Maggie

  FAX

  To: Debra Reese, Reese Ranch From: Nellie Barnett, Golden B Debra, the reports so far are all fab­ulous ! How are things at your end?

  N.

  FACSIMILE

  To: Nellie

  From: Debra

  They're still asleep at my end!

  Anxiously, Debra

  The incessant beeping of the fax machine finally dragged Autumn from her bed. The ringing she'd ignored, but now the stupid thing was out of paper.

  She squinted at the clock. It wasn't terribly early, but her mother was probably still outside doing chores. Sighing, Autumn stuffed her arms into her robe and shuffled down the hall to the spare bedroom that served as the ranch office.