by Leanne Banks
While he held her, Tate ran his hand up and down her back in what he hoped was a consoling manner. Hell, what did he know about comforting a woman?
He’d been too young when his dad abandoned him and his mother to know the full extent of what she’d gone through. All he could remember for sure was that she’d looked sad and defeated when she’d explained that his father wouldn’t be coming home anymore. She’d assured him that they would be fine, and they had been. But he knew it hadn’t always been easy for her being a single mom with a daredevil son who took great delight in risking life and limb at everything he tried.
As he continued to hold Marilou, her heartbroken sobs made him feel sick inside. Knowing what his mom must have gone through, he had a soft spot for vulnerable women, and the one he held seemed about as defenseless as any he’d ever seen.
Stroking her silky, strawberry-blond hair, he tried to think of something encouraging to say. When nothing came to mind, Tate remained silent. There were times when it was better for a man to keep quiet and just be there for a woman. He figured this was one of those times.
“I-I’m sorry,” she finally said, pulling back. “I don’t know what came over me.” She wiped at the wet spot on his denim jacket with his handkerchief. “I-I’m afraid I got you wet.”
Tate shrugged. “It’ll dry.” He brushed a strand of her shoulder-length hair from her flushed cheek. “You want to tell me what the problem is? I’m a good listener and I might be able to help.”
He studied her pretty green eyes. It was obvious that she was trying to decide whether to unload on him, or decline his offer and tell him to buzz off.
“Come on, Marilou,” he coaxed. “You need to talk to someone about whatever this is that’s got you all tore up.” He purposely lowered his voice to add a gentleness that he rarely used with anyone. “Being this upset can’t be good for you or your baby, darlin’.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Her perfectly shaped lower lip trembled and he found himself wondering how it would feel beneath his.
Whoa, Carson! What the hell’s wrong with you? This was definitely not the time, the place or the woman to be having thoughts like that.
“I doubt there’s anything anyone can do,” she said uncertainly. She looked so darned vulnerable that it was all he could do to keep from pulling her back into his arms.
“Let’s go get that juice for you and a cup of coffee for me,” he said. Rising from the chair, he held out his hand to help her up. “You can tell me all about it.”
When she trustingly placed her soft palm on top of his calloused one, the same little charge of electric current he’d experienced when they’d shaken hands snaked up his arm and exploded somewhere in the vicinity of his solar plexus. Tate sucked in a sharp breath and did his best to ignore the sensation as he watched her awkwardly get to her feet.
“I feel like you could stamp Goodyear on my backside and replace one of the blimps with me,” she said, sounding a little winded.
“You look fine to me,” he said, meaning it.
Granted, Marilou was pregnant and carrying a few extra pounds, but he’d never been attracted to pencil-thin women. He was always afraid they’d snap in two if he hugged them too tight.
“How close is it to your time?” he asked, not exactly sure what women called the end of their gestation period. He knew all about pregnant cows and mares, but women were a whole different ball game.
“I’m not due until mid-January,” she said, smoothing the folds of her dark green dress over her rounded belly. She gave him the first genuine smile he’d seen from her since he walked through the bus station doors some thirty minutes ago. “But I’d be more than happy if the baby came a little early.”
Tate gave her a wan smile, but remained silent as he picked up their bags. He wasn’t about to tell Marilou Baker that he hoped like hell the baby held off until she was with whoever she was going to visit in Mission Creek, and he was at the Circle C spending Christmas the way he’d done every year since his mother died—watching college football on his big screen TV. Alone.
“Time to fess up, Marilou. What is it you think is so hopeless?”
Marilou eyed Tate as she took a sip of fruit juice through her straw. Tate Carson certainly didn’t beat around the bush. But staring into this handsome cowboy’s dark brown eyes, she could almost believe that he would be able to make things better. Almost.
“I told a little fib.”
He nodded and pushed the wide brim of his cowboy hat up with his thumb, then leaned back in his chair. “I think we’ve all done that at one time or another.” Taking a sip of his coffee, he grinned. “But let me guess. This little white lie came back to bite you in the butt. Am I right?”
It was her turn to nod. “I told my sisters I was engaged to the man I was living with.” She nervously fingered the straw wrapper lying on the chipped Formica tabletop. “And I really thought we would get married eventually.”
“What happened?”
Marilou sighed. “After I unexpectedly became pregnant, Harlan—my baby’s father—started putting in a lot of extra hours at the office where he worked.” She paused. “At least, that’s where he said he was.”
“He was with another woman?” Tate asked, his voice kind. When she nodded, he asked, “How did you find out he wasn’t where he said he was?”
“In the most humiliating way imaginable.” She glanced up to see him watching her. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment at the thought of how naive she’d been. “About three months ago, we were supposed to be on the Chanda Jordan talk show here in Corpus Christi. The segment spotlighted several couples expecting their first child.”
“Isn’t her show a lot like Oprah’s?” he asked.
“You watch programs like that?” She found it hard to believe that a rugged, rodeo cowboy like Tate would watch a television show primarily targeted toward women and their concerns.
“Good lord, no! Those are chick shows.”
Under normal circumstances, Marilou might have laughed at the horrified expression on Tate Carson’s handsome face. But at the moment, she couldn’t find humor in much of anything.
Shrugging one shoulder, she tore the straw paper in two. “I thought it might bring us closer together and increase his excitement about the baby. But he didn’t bother to show up. I ended up being the only single mother on that stage.”
Tate’s large hand immediately covered hers. “I’m sorry, Marilou. That must have been awfully embarrassing for you.”
“To say the least.” She took a deep breath. “But the biggest humiliation came when I arrived home with a bag full of sample baby products to show him, only to discover that Harlan had moved out.”
“You mean this jerk didn’t even have the balls to tell you to your face that he was leaving?” Tate straightened in his chair. “He’s not much of a man.”
She wasn’t going to argue in Harlan’s favor on that count. “He left a note on the refrigerator that he was moving in with his girlfriend, Charlene.”
“Do you still love him?” Tate asked, gently squeezing her hand.
“No,” she answered honestly. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I’m not sure I ever really did. I told myself I loved him, but I think I was more in love with the idea of being in love. If that makes sense.” She shook her head. “But what really hurt was that Charlene is about as big around as a toothpick and openly brags that she’d never ruin her figure by having a baby.” Glancing down at her rounded stomach, Marilou sighed. “Even before I got pregnant, I was never what you’d call thin and willowy. But now—”
“You look just fine, darlin’.” Tate snorted. “It sounds to me like old Harlan and Charlene deserve each other.”
Marilou hadn’t thought about it that way, but she had to agree. “I think you’re probably right. It would be a toss-up as to which one of them is more shallow.”
“So if you’re okay with him being out of the picture, it’s facing your sisters that’s u
psetting you?” he asked, sounding genuinely interested.
She nodded and once again felt the heavy weight of guilt press against her chest. “I’m the youngest and…I feel like I’ve let them down. They’ve always been so protective of me, I’m afraid they’ll be terribly disappointed over the mess I’ve made of my life.”
“They expect you to come home with a fiancé, don’t they?” he asked, looking thoughtful.
“Yes.” She took a deep breath, in order to tell him the rest of it. “And then there’s the little matter of them not even knowing that I’m pregnant.”
He whistled low as he gazed at her over the top of his coffee cup. “That’s going to be kind of hard to hide.”
“Thank you for telling me,” she said, dryly. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
They sat in silence for several minutes before he slowly set his coffee cup on the table. “The way I see it, you have two choices,” he said calmly. “You can go home and face your sisters alone, or you can go home on the arm of a fiancé.”
“Yeah, sure. Like fiancés grow on trees.” She shook her head. “I told you it was hopeless.”
“Hey, I know I’m no prize, but—”
“You mean…” She had to stop to clear her suddenly dry throat. “…you’re offering to pose as my fiancé?”
He grinned. “Unless, you have some other guy in mind.”
Marilou’s heart skipped a beat. Tate Carson was one of the best-looking men she’d ever seen, and as it turned out, one of the nicest. But they’d barely met. How could they convince Ann Elise and Faith that they were in love, engaged and expecting a child together? And what would they say when they found out he was a Carson?
“We don’t know each other well enough,” Marilou said, slowly. “What if they asked me things about you that I can’t answer? Things like how you take your morning coffee, and what your favorite food is.”
He grinned. “That’s easy, darlin’. I’m a Texan, born and bred. I like my coffee black, and my steak burnt. As for the rest, we’ve got…” He checked his watch. “…an hour before the bus leaves, then another couple of hours’ ride to get to Mission Creek. I figure I can fill you in on the basics.” His grin widened. “You can wing the rest.”
“This is insane,” she said, rubbing her suddenly throbbing temples with her fingertips. “It has disaster written all over it, and I would just be supporting one lie with another.”
He sat forward and took both of her suddenly cold hands in his. “I’ve already called my ranch foreman and told him to leave my truck at the bus station so I’ll have a way to get home. All I’ll have to do is take you by your sister’s place, make an appearance as your intended, then come up with an excuse about needing to check on things at my ranch and leave.”
“It sounds pretty simple,” she said slowly. She wondered if she might be losing her mind, but she was actually considering his offer. “But won’t they wonder why we aren’t spending Christmas Day together?”
“I can call tomorrow morning and tell you that I have a cold or something and that I don’t want to expose you to it because of the baby.”
He made it all sound so logical, as if it was the perfect solution to her problem. “You really think we can pull this off?”
“Trust me,” he said, grinning. “It’ll work like a charm.”
Chapter 2
“This is never going to work,” Marilou said as she and Tate hurried through the pouring rain from his truck to the big wraparound porch at the front of the Baker ranch house.
“Yes, it will,” he said, sounding so darned confident she felt like screaming. He helped her up the steps. “What’s my favorite color?”
“Blue?”
He shook his head. “Red.”
“What do I do for a living?” she asked.
“You’re a banker?”
“No, I’m a CPA,” she said, feeling more apprehensive by the second. “Do you see what I’m talking about? We can’t even remember the easy things about each other.”
“We’ll do fine.” At the sound of someone in the house approaching the front door, he put his arm around her shoulders. “Just act like you couldn’t be happier, and the rest will take care of itself.”
“That’s what you think,” she muttered. “You don’t know my sisters. This is going to be like a CIA interrogation.”
When the door opened and she caught a glimpse of her sister, Faith, for the first time in three years, Marilou forgot all about their deception and reached out to hug her.
“Marilou, you look absolutely radiant…” Faith’s voice trailed off when the baby inside of Marilou’s swollen stomach chose that moment to kick. Stepping back, Faith’s eyes grew round as she stared at where Marilou’s waist used to be. “…and pregnant.”
Before Marilou could say a word, Faith eyed her, then glanced at Tate. “Is this Harlan?” She’d no sooner gotten the words out than she turned pale and gasped. “Good heavens, you’re Tate Carson!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tate removed his arm from around Marilou’s shoulders to extend his hand to Faith. “And you must be…”
Faith shook his hand. “I’m Faith Donner.”
Marilou could see the shock and confusion in her sister’s eyes. She was going to want answers, and as soon as possible.
“Would you mind if we take this reunion inside?” Tate asked. “I’d like to get Marilou out of this damp air. We don’t want her catching a cold this close to having the baby.”
“Oh, of course,” Faith said, ushering them into the foyer. They all stood staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity before Faith finally cleared her throat. “While I make hot cocoa, why don’t you two slip off your coats and make yourselves at home?”
“That’s not necessary,” Marilou said as Tate helped her take off her all-weather coat, then removed his denim jacket and cowboy hat.
“Yes, it is,” Faith said firmly. “You need to warm up and a steaming cup of cocoa should do the trick.”
When her sister was out of earshot, Marilou sighed heavily. She knew exactly what was running through Faith’s mind. She was going to review what Marilou had told her about her fiancé, then decide on the best way to find out what was going on without being overly obvious.
“That went pretty well,” Tate said, sounding quite pleased as he hung their coats on a row of wooden pegs beside the door.
“It’s not over yet.” She stared down the hall toward the kitchen. “Right now Faith is trying to decide on the best way to discover what’s going on without coming right out and asking.”
“Is that so?” He ran a hand through his thick, dark brown hair as if pondering the information, then smiling, placed his hand to the small of her back to urge her forward. “We’ll just have to see what we can do about that.”
Marilou stopped short. “What do you have in mind?”
His smile caused her heart to skip several beats. “Sometimes, the best defense is a good offense, darlin’.” Taking her hand in his, he started down the hall. “We’re going to answer her questions before she has a chance to ask them.”
“This is never going to work.”
“Sure it will,” he whispered close to her ear. “You just have to think positive, darlin’.”
A shiver streaked up her spine and she wasn’t sure if it was caused by Tate’s warm breath on her sensitive skin, or the trepidation she felt about telling her sister another falsehood.
As Faith took mugs down from the cupboard, Tate placed his hand on her rounded stomach about the same time the baby kicked.
Marilou nodded. “I’m nervous, but otherwise—”
“I mean physically,” he said, looking concerned. “That kick was pretty damned hard. Did it hurt?”
His obvious concern was touching, but standing in her sister’s kitchen talking to Tate Carson about how it felt to have her baby move inside of her was more than a little disconcerting. “I’m fine. Really.”
When Faith turned to face them, Tate c
leared his throat and stepped behind her. Reaching around, he clasped his hands over her swollen stomach. “Marilou and I know you’re pretty shocked about all this. But we weren’t exactly sure how to tell you about the baby, or about our being together.”
Marilou almost jumped out of her own skin at the feel of his large hands resting just below her breasts. He was taking this loving couple thing a little further than she’d anticipated.
But she didn’t have time to dwell on it when Faith turned her I want straight answers, and I want them now look on both of them. “The last I heard, Marilou was engaged to some man named Harlan Bridges.”
Thinking fast, Marilou nodded. “I made up that name because I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about Tate. You know Aunt Beth always warned us never to trust a Carson. I was afraid you’d be upset when you found out.”
“You know, that’s something I’ve never understood,” Faith said, placing a dollop of marshmallow cream on top of the steaming mugs of hot cocoa. “The disagreement between the Wainwrights and Carsons happened almost a hundred years ago. Does anyone even remember what it was about?”
Marilou shook her head. “I don’t think I ever heard Aunt Beth say.” She turned to Tate. “Do you know what the dispute was over?”
“Nope.” He nuzzled her hair with his lean cheek, sending a wave of goose bumps shimmering over her skin. “And as far as we’re concerned, it has nothing to do with us. Right, darlin’?”
“R-r-right,” Marilou stammered. Tate really seemed to be getting into the role of loving fiancé, and it was making her a nervous wreck.
Smiling warmly, Faith handed a mug to Marilou. “I think he’s right. We’re not Wainwrights by blood, and I don’t think we should be expected to carry on something that should have been forgotten a long time ago. As long as you’re both happy, and committed to each other and the baby, that’s all that matters.”
