Texas Rose

by Marie Ferrarella

  She didn’t sound very happy about it, Haley thought. “Business or pleasure?”

  “A little bit of both.” She laughed softly to herself. “A little of neither.”

  Haley saw her boss pass by the entrance to the lounge and nodded in his direction. Not twenty minutes ago he’d unwittingly enabled her to gather more information by asking her to tend bar for a big private party on Thursday night. The more she unobtrusively circulated, the more information the wire she wore would pick up. With any luck, the ordeal she was enduring would be over soon.

  Haley felt rather bad that Rose’s privacy was being invaded this way, but it couldn’t be helped. The young woman did look as if she needed to talk. “So, what’s your pleasure? The usual?”

  Rose shook her head. “No. I’ll just have a ginger ale.”

  The last two times she’d seen Rose, the older Wainwright daughter had ordered a white wine. Haley’s brow arched. “That’s even tamer than usual. Sure you don’t want any wine?”

  Rose shook her head. “I need a clear head.”

  Haley reached behind her on the bar, extracting a bottle of ginger ale. Twisting off the top, she poured the contents into a glass. “I’ve never seen you imbibe too much.”

  “Well, I’ve turned over a new leaf,” Rose replied.

  Haley set down the near-empty bottle. “New York and ginger ale. Any other new things?”

  Rose pressed her lips together, seeming to be deep in thought.

  “No, that’s it for now.” Rose wrapped her hand around the chunky glass that Daisy had placed in front of her on the counter.

  “You don’t look very happy about going.”

  She waved a hand. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

  This wasn’t the kind of thing the FBI was hoping for when they wired Haley. None of what this unhappy young woman had to say would help her reach her own goal, that of reclaiming her life. But the sadness in Rose’s eyes spoke to her.

  She leaned forward, placing a hand on top of Rose’s. “Honey, if you ever need someone to just listen, you know where to find me.”

  Rose smiled, obviously touched by the offer. “Thanks, but like I said, I’m going to New York.”

  “They’ve these newfangled things they call telephones. People talk into them and people on the other end can hear every word. Imagine that.”

  Rose laughed.

  Haley smiled, her eyes crinkling. At least she’d done one good deed today. “That’s better.”

  Matt finally understood the old, trite saying. He understood what it meant to be at wit’s end, because he was at the end of his.

  He had no idea what to do.

  After deciding that Flynt was right, that he should take the bull by the horns before he allowed it to ram right through him, he’d gone to see Rose.

  But she was gone.

  She wasn’t at the library, wasn’t anywhere in town. And when he’d finally broken down and called her house, the woman who had answered the telephone informed him that Rose wasn’t available. No details, nothing. Impatient, he’d asked when she would be back. The only answer he got was that information was unavailable at this time. Then the phone had gone dead.

  He’d slammed down the receiver. What kind of garbage was that?

  Unavailable.

  That was the whole problem. Rose was supposed to be unavailable to him because he was a Carson. But she hadn’t been. She’d been like fireflies and light. Magic. Pure magic in his arms, in his bed. The memory of making love with her into the wee hours of the morning clung to him tenaciously, coloring every moment of his day and night.

  He couldn’t go on this way.

  Damn it, a man should be able to shake off anything, but he couldn’t seem to shake off the effect she’d had on him. He needed to tell her that. To find her and talk to her face-to-face.

  It couldn’t just end like this, as if it hadn’t meant anything.

  It wasn’t his ego that was at stake, it was his heart. Why couldn’t she see that? She’d been so bright, so insightful about everything else, how could she not know what her leaving would do to him?

  He’d tried to talk himself into believing that this had been just a fling, an affair. But it was a lie and he knew it from the start.

  He needed a drink. A tall, stiff one.

  Matt stormed into the Lone Star Country Club Men’s Grill and planted himself on a stool at the bar. Because of the bomb that had gone off months earlier, the Men’s Grill was under construction, forcing the patrons into temporary quarters.

  He scowled into the mirror.

  Amid a barful of customers, Haley saw him. Flynt Carson’s younger brother. Flynt had been one of her brother Ricky’s best friends before life had conspired against them and sent them in separate directions.

  She made her way over to Matt, she on her side of the bar, he on his.

  “Hi, handsome. A smile will really dress up that pretty face of yours.”

  Without asking, the bartender set a whiskey neat down in front of him.

  Matt accepted the drink with a slight nod of his head. “Thanks, Daisy. But I don’t have anything to smile about.” Throwing back the contents of the shot glass, he set it down empty on the counter a moment later. “Hit me again.”

  Daisy reached for the bottle and poured. “Hey, go slow on that. Don’t want to make extra work for the sheriff now, do we? What’s the problem?”

  He raised his eyes to hers. Suddenly he missed Rose’s eyes. He cursed her soul to hell for what she’d done to him. “Nothing,” he muttered moodily. “Everything.”

  “That about covers it.” Haley watched him down the second drink and held off offering the third. At this pace, Matt Carson was working himself up for one powerful hangover.

  “Yeah.” He laughed without any humor. “I thought I had all the bases covered, too.” He stared down at the empty glass—empty, like the way he felt. “But she fooled me.”

  “She?”

  Matt nodded, hating this impotent way he felt. Where the hell was she? He leaned in over the counter, his voice low. The bartender was forced to lean forward to hear him.

  “She’s gone. I can’t find her anywhere.”

  Haley thought back to the woman who had been in the Grill two days prior. With the same troubled look in her eyes. It didn’t take a genius to make the connection.

  “She?” Daisy asked. “That wouldn’t be Rose Wainwright, now, would it?”

  Matt looked at her sharply, then glanced around to see if anyone had overheard. Not likely, not in this din. “How did you—?”

  Daisy’s mouth curved in a comforting smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to anyone. I know all about that family feud of yours. Big waste of time if you ask me. But no one’s asking me.”

  The hell with the feud, the hell with everything else except the woman who’d twisted his gut up so bad, it felt like a pretzel. “I’m asking you about Rose. Was she here? When? What did she say?”

  The bartender nodded. “Day before yesterday. And she said she was leaving.”

  “Leaving?” Then he was right, she had gone. “Where did she say she was going?”

  “New York.”

  “‘New York’?” he echoed.

  His first inclination was to say she had to be mistaken. New York wasn’t the kind of place someone like Rose would go. But then he remembered. She had an aunt who lived in Manhattan. Beth Wainwright, that was her name.

  Relief swept over him like a giant wave. Rose hadn’t just disappeared into thin air. He knew where she was. And he was going to get her back. Grateful for the help, Matt leaned over the counter, took hold of Daisy’s shoulders and kissed her soundly on the mouth.

  “Thanks.”

  She pretended to fan herself. “Don’t mention it.” And then she winked. “Pleasant though that was, that doesn’t take the place of a tip, you know.”

  Standing up, Matt pulled a twenty out of his wallet and tossed it onto the counter. “Keep the change,” he told her.
“And thanks.”

  For the first time in two days he knew where he was going.

  The doorbell pealed incessantly, intruding into the mood that was enshrouding Rose.

  Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to shake loose of it. It hung about her like a coat of heavy iron malle. Her aunt had been nothing short of wonderful, insisting on taking her “fun” places, as she called them, and determined to make her smile. Rose tried her best not to show the older woman how deeply unhappy she was, but she had a feeling she wasn’t fooling her.

  She supposed that eventually the raging battle would die down to an occasional minor skirmish and Matt Carson would entirely cease to matter. In about a million years or so.

  “Would you get that, darling? I have my hands full of caviar,” Beth called from the kitchen.

  Rose didn’t even stop to ask. Her aunt’s eccentricities were becoming normal.

  Though she didn’t feel like talking to anyone, she couldn’t very well return Beth’s kindness with surliness.

  “Of course.”

  She supposed, she thought as she turned the lock and pulled on the doorknob, that she should welcome any distraction.

  Except this one.

  Rose’s mouth fell open.

  Matt Carson was standing in her aunt’s doorway.

  Three

  Matt’s was the last face Rose had expected to see in New York. For a split second she thought she was hallucinating. Her head and heart were so full of him that she thought she was just projecting his likeness onto someone else.

  But he was real.

  And he was here.

  It took several beats to get her flustered heart under control. She willed herself to remain calm. “What are you doing here?”

  The entire trip from Texas he’d rehearsed what he’d say to her, editing, augmenting, changing words up until the very last moment. Now that he was standing in front of her, his mind went blank and he said the first thing that came to him. The truth.

  “Looking for you.”

  She wasn’t going to fall into his arms, she wasn’t. That would only set her back. She’d gone through this once, said goodbye and ended it. She wasn’t up to dancing the same slow dance again.

  “Well, you found me.” She gripped the doorknob tightly, ready to swing the door closed. “Now go away.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. He felt his anger, his hurt, flare up dangerously high. “I am not going to go away. Hell, woman, I’ve come over a thousand miles to talk to you.”

  He was standing there, looking better than any man had a right to. All she wanted to do was to throw her arms around him and tell him she was carrying his baby. Their baby.

  Somehow, she found the strength not to.

  “Then you wasted your time and your money because there’s nothing to talk about.” She squared her shoulders, doing her best to sound cold, but hating the way the words tasted in her mouth. Telling herself that it was all for the best was wearing very thin. “I said it all back in Mission Creek.”

  Matt’s eyes narrowed. He struggled not to push his way in. He hadn’t come all this way to frighten her, but he hadn’t made the journey just to turn around and go home again, either.

  “You might have said it all back there, but I didn’t. I—”

  He stopped as a petite, buxomy, dark-haired woman dressed in a black caftan with royal-blue dragons across it came to the door. Her heart-shaped face lit up as she looked at him, a twinkle shining in both dark eyes. “Is there a problem, dear?”

  Her words were addressed to Rose, but her eyes never left him. Matt felt as if he were being literally, smilingly dissected, inch by inch.

  “My, my, my, who is this handsome devil?” The woman laughed softly, leaning forward, her hand on his arm. “If you’re selling subscriptions, sign me up for a half dozen magazines. Better yet, why don’t you come in and try to convince me to buy more?”

  Oh God, no, Rose thought frantically, that was the last thing she wanted. “Aunt Beth, this is—” Rose stopped, feeling shaky inside.

  It had to be the pregnancy, she thought in desperation, praying she wouldn’t do something dumb like faint until after Matt was gone. Her head was spinning and she was struggling to keep the world in focus.

  “I know who he is, dear,” Beth said, managing to come off serene and flirtatious at the same time. She winked at Matt.

  She’d had the complete story out of her niece within less than an hour of her arrival two days ago. Beth prided herself on getting people to talk to her, even when they were reluctant to do so. Especially when they were reluctant to do so. She firmly believed that secrets were best borne when they were shared. That went double for disturbing ones and she knew that this unplanned pregnancy had disturbed Rose’s life greatly.

  “With those beautiful blue eyes and that handsome, rugged face, he could only be one of Ford Carson’s boys. Judging your age…” Beth cocked her head, pretending to scrutinize him, knowing that Rose would hate to have her divulge that she’d told her all about Matt and her delicate condition, a condition Beth knew he was completely unaware of. “I’d say you must be Matt.”

  Matt stared at the flamboyantly dressed woman at Rose’s elbow. She looked to be exactly as Rose had once described her to be: one of those ageless women who had been everywhere, done everything. He knew that she was Archy Wainwright’s older sister, which had to put her somewhere in her early sixties at the very least, but she wore her age well and almost seamlessly so. He could detect no wrinkles and only a few lines around her mouth, which Rose had once said Beth called laugh lines.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Well, don’t just stand out there in the cold hallway, honey.” Beth took a step toward him to pull him into the vast six-room Central Park West apartment. “Come on in and make yourself at home.”

  “He was just going,” Rose insisted, looking at Matt for corroboration. She wished from the bottom of her heart that he hadn’t come.

  Was she really that eager to get rid of him? Was he just a poor, lovesick idiot wearing his heart on his sleeve for the first time? He had nothing to go by, no ruler to measure any of this with. He’d never felt for any other woman what he did for Rose. But it seemed to be one-sided, after all.

  “Oh, but he can’t go,” Beth informed her sweetly. “He’s only just now come.” Calling an end to the discussion, Beth threaded her arms through Matt’s, two heavy bejeweled hands crossing over each other to hold him in place. “Now come inside and take a load off those dusty boots of yours.”

  His arm held prisoner, Matt had no choice but to allow himself to be drawn into the apartment.

  As he crossed the threshold, Matt looked around, slightly dazed. He had no idea that anything like this could exist in a city as crowded and noisy as the one he’d just walked through and left twenty floors below. The tremendous living room with its vaulted ceilings had modern furniture and an incredibly white rug that ran the expanse of the room. On the walls were framed photographs of Beth with celebrities and an assortment of husbands and several publicity shots from her acting career. He could feel the woman’s vitality fairly leaping from every one.

  Mindful of his boots, Matt looked down at the rug. It was as pristine as an untouched beach. “How do you keep it so white?”

  The wink Beth gave him was nothing short of outrageous. He had a feeling the woman had been dynamite in her younger years, and probably still was a force to be reckoned with.

  “You can manage anything with enough money, honey.”

  He didn’t know about that. Money certainly wouldn’t win him the woman he loved.

  “Come.” Beth coaxed him over to the ice-blue Italian leather sofa. “Sit.”

  Rose knew that Beth meant well, but this was getting severely out of hand. She looked pointedly at her aunt. “Aunt Beth, can I please see you?”

  Making herself comfortable beside Matt, Beth looked up at her niece. “You see me now, dear.”

  Rose nodded toward the hallway
beyond the living room. “In another room.”

  Matt inclined his head toward Beth. “I think she means without me.”

  Beth nodded. “I think so, too, dear. Always been a stubborn girl. But take it from me, she’s worth waiting for.” Rising, she patted his hand and then turned toward Rose, her caftan sweeping majestically. There was a patient look on her face. “All right, dear, I’m all yours. What room would you like to go to?”

  “The den,” Rose told her. The den, at least, had a door she could close. She didn’t want her words being overheard by Matt.

  Damn it, she was here as much to get over him as to spare her family any embarrassment because of her condition. Why did he have to show up and send her back to square one?

  Who are you kidding? a small voice mocked Rose as she led the way to her aunt’s den. You’re not anywhere near even started getting over him.

  She knew it was the truth. She hadn’t really begun getting over him. But she didn’t have a prayer of getting started while he was still here. To get rid of him, she had to get her aunt to stop trying to make him so comfortable.

  Walking into the den, she waited for her aunt to cross the threshold before closing the door firmly behind her.

  Beth turned around and looked at her niece patiently. In a gesture that was reminiscent of her theatrical days, she spread her arms wide. “All right, dear, here I am. What is it you want to say to me?”

  Not for the world did she want to hurt her aunt’s feelings. But Beth had to be made to understand. “I don’t want you encouraging him to stay.”

  Beth laughed and shook her head. “He doesn’t need my encouragement, dear. He’s come all this way on his own.” She sighed the way she did when she read the last page of a good romance novel. “Just to see you.”

  Agitated, frustrated, Rose began to pace. “But I don’t want to see him.”

  Beth gave her a funny little look, becoming serious. Her voice was soft, almost hypnotic in its sincerity. “Yes, you do.”

  This was hard enough on her without having to argue about it. “Aunt Beth.”

  Beth had no children of her own, aside from a grown stepson by one of her late husbands. Gregory was in Chile on an oil rigger. She’d never had an opportunity to mother him, so she focused all that untapped motherly instinct on Rose.