Taming the Texas Playboy

by Crystal Green

  He’d acted as if she’d caught him in some kind of compromising position, but actually, as he’d stood at the bar with the notorious Bonnie Taylor, there’d been no flirtation going on between them at all. The irony was that Ally hadn’t walked in on him seducing another woman or anything tawdry like that.

  No, Jeremiah had seemed disturbed because Ally had noticed that he’d been having fun with the kids, though why that was a bad thing, Ally couldn’t understand.

  Could it be that Jeremiah didn’t want anyone to see that he was a decent guy? Was it easier for him to get through his family’s scandal by pretending that nothing and no one got to him?

  She’d even said something she had no business bringing up—the comment about his being a good husband and father. She didn’t know what she’d been doing, but when he’d shot her down for the very idea, she’d felt wounded just the same.

  Silly for thinking, even in a fantastical sense, that the playboy she was attracted to was really a lamb under the skin of a wolf.

  Even so, for the rest of the night, Ally pretty much stayed awake in her bed. It didn’t help knowing that Jeremiah was in bed, too…maybe even with another woman.

  Come morning, she rose early, telling herself she might be able to grab a nap before the grand Texas ball. But she had no trouble staying awake as she supervised the setup of the ballroom, going over instructions with the staff and making sure that the event would run smoothly, from the dinner to the band that would provide the music.

  It actually wasn’t until dinner that she even had a moment to dwell on Jeremiah again, and that was only because he wasn’t in his seat at the long table, which was filled with china, gleaming silverware and calligraphy-scrawled place cards. Twenty millionaire donors were in attendance—the people who had been staying on the property in the charity rooms. There would be far more in attendance tonight for the ball, though.

  Next to Ally, Aunt Jess, who was dressed like a siren in a scarlet silk halter gown and matching lipstick, folded her linen napkin over her lap.

  “I hear he took a horse from the stables early this morning and just got back a half hour ago,” she said amidst the murmurs from the other diners as they sipped the chilled summer squash soup that had just been served.

  Ally tore her gaze away from Jeremiah’s seat, which was only a few places down and across the table. “What are you talking about, Jess?”

  Her aunt rolled her big blue eyes. “Please. You’ve only been staring at that empty chair for the last ten minutes.” She took up a spoonful of the soup. “He’ll be here after he cleans up, I imagine.”

  She would have to shut this down right away. It was bad enough that Aunt Jess had questioned the idea of an adoption, but if she also thought Ally was silly enough to keep company with a scamp… Well, it just seemed to give Jess’s caution some credence.

  So Ally acted nonchalant about Jeremiah’s absence.

  That is, until he did arrive.

  He knew how to make an entrance, too, especially in a black tuxedo. And although he could’ve passed muster in a James Bond movie, his tousled, wheaten hair belied the cowboy beneath—the roguish gambler who populated every Western movie with his cocky smile and knowing eyes.

  It seemed as if no woman in the room could take her eyes off of him, but Ally finally managed. Not that it was easy, because even though she had her gaze on the soup, all she wanted to do was take another peek at him, just so she could feel her heart give an addictive leap, spurring her pulse to electric speed.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him take his chair. She’d seated him between Stef Howard, her cohostess, and a seventy-five-year-old widow, Mrs. Branford. Neither woman seemed to recall that she was married or too dang old to be flapping her eyelashes at a single man.

  “Well, look at you,” Mrs. Branford said, hormones practically blooming out of her like returning springtime.

  Stef Howard just sat there grinning at Jeremiah until her husband cleared his throat across the table. She winked at her hubby and turned to the guest on her other side, striking up a conversation.

  Somehow, Ally got through dinner, although she felt Jeremiah watching her during every bit of it. His gaze seemed to press on her skin, her chest, making her breath come short. In fact, it sounded as if she was breathing too loudly, that her scrambling heartbeat could be heard throughout the room.

  What was going on with her? Jeremiah Barron was handsome—she would give him that. But otherwise?

  He wasn’t an option. She had always been well aware of the traps his kind of overindulgent lifestyle could bring, and now wasn’t any time to be giving in to that.

  And she kept telling herself this through dessert, then her retreat to the ballroom, where she saw to last-minute details and got ready to welcome the guests.

  Of course, Jeremiah was the final one inside, turning her nerves upside down as she waited for him to saunter over to her with that twinkle in his eyes.

  Like many of the male guests, he took her hand, bowed to her, raised it to his mouth.

  Heaven help her, but at the touch of his lips, a million shivers danced up and down every inch of her body.

  He raised his gaze, staying bowed over her hand, grinning.

  Unable to talk—if she did, she might fumble over each word—she nodded at him, smiling coolly.

  When he straightened up he didn’t let go of her hand. He even had the gumption to give her a slow look, from her silk pumps and up, over the fall of her coral-colored dress, over her waist, then the bodice that hugged her breasts.

  For a forbidden moment, she felt desirable, tempting enough to justify the full-blown blast of desire in his gaze. His obvious lust echoed in her, ricocheting around, leaving a jarring tweak of welcome damage wherever it hit.

  Then she realized where they were—in a roomful of people who all seemed to be staring.

  And she realized who she was.

  Who he was.

  As Ally removed her hand from his, she wished she hadn’t worn a gown that clung to her curves this way. One that didn’t bother to hide the modest attributes that creation had seen fit to give her.

  “I spent all day taking a horse out, walking the country,” he said, “trying to work you off my mind.”

  The words of a seducer. And if they hadn’t sounded so genuine, it would’ve been easy to walk away.

  Ally was saved by the sound of Stef Howard seizing the microphone and welcoming everyone to the ball. Relieved, she turned around to pay attention to their hostess, hopefully giving Jeremiah a clear signal that she wasn’t going to play these games with him.

  The strategy worked until the band swung into their first song, a rousing two-step.

  In Ally’s next breath, she felt her hand in Jeremiah’s again, his palm on her waist as he swung her into the country dance just as simply as he’d scooped her into that Jeep yesterday morning.

  She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have a man touching her waist, almost forgotten how big and strong those fingers felt, how the imprint of a hand could burn through material and straight through to the skin.

  But she’d never felt a burn like this, and it marked her even deeper, traveling like lightning to the center of her.

  Before she even realized it, Jeremiah had danced her out the open French doors and to the patio. The stars peeked over the tall maze hedges, and there seemed to be a rumble in the humid air, a trace of sulfur that hinted at a coming rainfall.

  She disengaged from Jeremiah. “You just don’t give up, do you?”

  “If you told me to get lost, I would.”

  A dare, and she should have laid it all out there to discourage him.

  But she couldn’t. Something in her—something she’d never tested before—fixed her feet to the tiles. Something curious. A part of her that had always wondered what it might be like to leave behind the good girl, just for a few minutes.

  Jeremiah’s grin only grew.

  “What’re you so happy about?” she a
sked. “Just thinking.”

  She hated to ask about what, but there was a fire crackling low in her, and it felt so good.

  But what if Aunt Jess or anyone else saw?

  Before she could leave, he loosened his tie, giving him an even more roguish air as he peered around them, no doubt noting the emptiness of the patio.

  “We never really wrapped up our discussion from yesterday,” he said. “You never did tell me what a man can do to impress you.”

  “I don’t dwell much on that,” she said. “Besides, if you’re trying to butter me up so that you’ll get that Galveston property for a sweet deal, don’t waste your time. You should talk to my managers.”

  But she knew from the intense look he was giving her that business might not be the only reason he had danced her out here.

  And he proved it when he said, “You should know what you deserve and you should damned well ask for it…in business or otherwise.”

  A shiver consumed her as he walked closer.

  “Has anyone ever understood just what you wanted, Ally? I almost made the mistake of thinking that, maybe, you missed the high life—the champagne, the vacations on exclusive Caribbean islands, fancy limos. But there’s more to you than that.” Another step toward her. “I’d like to know just what it is that you want.”

  He was only a couple of heartbeats away now.

  It was time to leave. That would be the safest thing to do. But she’d never heard a man talk to her like this before. Not even Marco had understood that although he could give her all the trinkets in the world, all she wanted was simplicity: things like a home, a future…the chance to read bedtime stories to children and tuck them in at night.

  Yet no matter what Jeremiah was telling her right now, she couldn’t make the mistake of believing that he meant it. He knew how to use words, this man, and she wouldn’t mean anything to him in the end but another conquest.

  Another diversion in his march of confused days.

  That certain something in her—the sleeping bad girl—thought it might be nice to make him less confused. To reach out and take him in, giving him solace. To feed the fire in her until it scorched parts of her that had never been touched.

  What if…?

  Ally took a deep breath, realizing she’d been holding it. Good Lord, who did she think she was—the only woman in this world who had the power to change Don Juan?

  That was a path to disaster, and she knew better. She’d taken pride in being above those games, too, and when she did become a mother, her child would be the better for her fortitude.

  He had come to stand so near that his breath stirred the wisps of hair she’d left loose around her face. He smelled so good, like almonds, sweet but with an earthy twist.

  “Just think about it, Ally,” he whispered.

  Then, as the band played on, he went back into the ballroom, leaving her dizzy with all the good-girl-gone-astray possibilities twirling around in her head.

  The ball went on until the early hours of the morning, but Jeremiah found his way to bed before then.

  And he found it alone.

  But that didn’t matter, because Ally was one who would take slow, sweet time to persuade, and he was willing to wait…at least for a little longer.

  At dawn, he stood in front of his window, seeing the clouds outside, the scatter of rain. Last night, after he’d left Ally on the patio, he’d stayed at the ball for a time, visiting with the Howards and other business associates, even setting up the promise of a real estate deal or two. All the while, he’d watched Ally tending to her guests.

  Had he gotten all those crazy ideas she’d seemed to be entertaining about him out of her head? Those notions about how he might make a decent husband or father one day?

  Had he gotten her back to thinking about having an uncomplicated good time instead?

  Maybe so, because he’d seen a change in her eyes when he’d told her that he wished he knew what she wanted. He’d seen a craving that hadn’t been there before, and it wasn’t the same yearning he’d noticed when she’d been watching the kids that day. It burned hotter than that.

  He’d reset the stage for a simple wooing of Ally again, all right. Now, he would give her some time to think about what he’d said, checking back with her tonight.

  As Jeremiah lathered his face with shaving cream, he thought about how tonight was his last chance; after all, the charity function had come to its conclusion, and he knew she would be departing the ranch tomorrow morning, long after all her guests had gone.

  He took a razor to the stubble, but there was something dragging him down from the stimulation of seducing Ally Gale.

  Getting to the good girl. It should’ve sounded so appealing, yet it somehow seemed…tainted.

  Yeah, that was the perfect word for it. Ally wasn’t like the others who’d fallen to his attentions. Even in the afterglows, he’d always remembered why he’d been with them—to make him forget.

  But whenever he was with Ally, he could imagine that there was more to life than the problems that always waited for him outside the bubbles he created with the others. That there were ways to fix what ailed him, just as Ally fixed the problems of the world with her philanthropy.

  That she could maybe fix him, too.

  Tossing down his razor, he washed the cream from his face. There was no fixing him. He’d been born a player, inherited his personality from his father, and that was that.

  But what would his dad do if Jeremiah brought someone like Ally home?

  The rain on the roof paced his thoughts. Would being with someone of worth reflect on him in some way? And wouldn’t it be damned nice to ditch all this bull about competing with his dad in the pleasing-women department by showing everyone that he, Jeremiah Barron, had risen above all that?

  Roughly, he wiped his face with a towel, then pulled on another pair of jeans and a casual T-shirt. He went downstairs for breakfast, which was usually laid out buffet-style in the dining room.

  Except for Ally’s aunt Jessica, no one was up and about.

  “Hi,” she said, leaning back in her chair as she munched on a slice of bacon.

  She had her hair in a high ponytail and was dressed in an oversize Longhorns sweatshirt and jeans. She didn’t look a day over twenty-nine, even though Jeremiah knew that she was older than his own thirty-two years.

  “Mornin’,” he said, going for the banquet. “Where is everyone?”

  “Who ‘everyone’? Do you mean Ally?”

  She lifted an eyebrow at him, and he merely went about grabbing a plate and filling it with some scrambled eggs.

  “Everyone everyone,” he said.

  After a pause, she shrugged. “They’re sleeping in, I expect. The guests are scheduled to leave today, and I’m sure they’ll be taking off early because the rain has put the big kibosh on any riding or fishing they wanted to get in.”

  And the house would be relatively empty, leaving Ally with no pressing tasks.

  Leaving her nearly alone with him.

  Jeremiah shoveled some hash browns onto his plate. Then, sitting a few seats down from Jessica, he dug into his food.

  “So,” he asked casually, “what’s on the schedule for you and your niece today?”

  “I’m heading out later, after I explore the antiques they have in this joint. It’ll almost be like shopping.” She shot him a long gaze. “And as far as Ally goes, I believe she’ll be playing hostess until the last guest leaves, then getting in some alone time.”

  Jessica clearly emphasized that one particular word.

  She added, “Ally said something about sitting in the nook of one of the big bay windows around here and being a bookworm. There’s something about rainy days and reading that she just loves.”

  Jeremiah smiled at the image of her getting cozy with a novel, happy and content, and he didn’t even realize he’d reacted until he found Jessica staring at him.

  He finished up his meal in a few more bites, then rose from the table.
“Travel safe, then. It was good seeing you.”

  As he walked out of the room, he couldn’t help thinking that Ally’s aunt was still staring at him, wondering why he’d gotten that goofy smile on his face when she’d mentioned Ally curled up with a book.

  Hell, he didn’t know, either.

  He spent the rest of the day in his room, waiting out the hours, using his laptop to catch up on business emails and checking in on the phone with the office. By the time he was done, it was late afternoon, but there was still one more matter to see to.

  He called the family ranch to ask how his dad was doing.

  “He’s up in his room,” said Millie, who was in charge of the household staff. “I looked in on him an hour ago, but he’s been sleeping most of the day.”

  Jeremiah thanked her and disconnected, and sat in his chair a moment longer. Then, stifling a curse, he launched an internet search, reading about Alcoholics Anonymous and forwarding the links to Tyler’s and Chet’s email addresses.

  He shut down the computer, and it even seemed as if he was stowing away all the problems for now. Then he ventured out of his room. Surely guests would’ve left to get home in time for dinner; there’d been a long lull between the last batch of rain and now, as the drops began to tap against the windows again, so the weather would’ve provided some good traveling time.

  He wandered, checking out those bay windows where Jessica had said Ally might be and, indeed, he found her sitting on the velvet cushions on one of them, nose deep in a hardbound leather book, her calico-skirted legs stretched out in front of her. Behind her, the rain trickled down the window, and she had a chenille blanket wrapped around her shoulders, thick cotton socks on her feet, comfy as could be.

  Instinct told him not to press her on the personal front, so once again he turned to the subject of business.

  He spoke softly, so as not to startle her.

  “I’m going soon, Ally, and I don’t want to leave without giving the subject of your Galveston property my best shot.”

  When she looked up, her eyes were wide, her lips parted.

  Forget business.

  He ached to bend down and kiss her until she moaned and clutched at him, showing him more than goosebumps on her arms. He wanted this woman more than he had any other, and it unnerved him that he didn’t even know why.