by Leanne Banks
“We are,” Marilou said, breathing a bit easier when Tate released her to take the mug Faith handed him.
“I can’t stand to be away from Marilou for more than a day or two,” he said, nodding.
“How do you manage when there’s a rodeo you need to compete in?” Faith asked, blowing on her cocoa to cool it.
“I fly in just before the event starts, then take the first flight back home as soon as it’s over,” he said, giving Marilou a look that curled her toes inside her sensible black flats.
“That’s so romantic,” Faith said, sighing.
Marilou stared at her sister. She’d been so nervous about facing the music, and the questions she would be asked, that she hadn’t noticed her sister’s contented expression. But Faith looked happier and more carefree than Marilou had seen her since she married that snake of an ex-husband, Earl Donner, ten years ago.
Before Marilou could comment on her sister’s obvious happiness, a tall, broad-shouldered man walked right in through the back door and over to where Faith stood. Shaking hands with Tate, he introduced himself. “I’m Gabriel Raines. And you must be Harlan Bridges.”
“That’s my alias,” Tate said, grinning. “My real name is Tate Carson.”
As he shook Marilou’s hand, Gabriel looked confused. “But I thought Faith said your name was—”
“I’ll explain later,” Faith said, kissing the man’s cheek. Turning back to Marilou and Tate, she smiled. “Gabriel and I are engaged to be married in February.”
Marilou experienced a momentary stab of envy. Why couldn’t she find the same kind of happiness? Was she destined to go through life searching for, but never meeting her Mr. Right?
As if sensing her emotions, Tate put his arm around her shoulders. “Congratulations to both of you.”
Her uncharacteristic feelings quickly passing, Marilou smiled as she rubbed her aching lower back. “I think it’s wonderful that you’ve found happiness together.”
Faith put her cup of cocoa on the well-worn counter. “We have a week to play catch-up. Right now, we need to get you settled in your room and off your feet.” She reached out to touch Marilou’s shoulder. “You look like you’re ready to drop, sweetie.”
Tate checked his watch. “I think I should probably be going. It’ll take me a good forty-five minutes to get on the other side of Mission Creek and out to the Circle C.”
Marilou caught the look that passed between Faith and Gabriel, and she had a good idea of what was running through their minds. But before she had a chance to divert their train of thought, Faith stepped forward and hugged first Marilou, then Tate.
“I know your mother passed away several years ago,” Faith said, her voice filled with compassion. “Do you have any plans for the holidays, Tate?”
He shook his head. “Nothing besides driving over here to see Marilou.”
“Well, you do now.” Faith grinned. “It’s Christmas Eve and there’s no reason for you to have to commute back and forth between here and your ranch in this nasty weather.”
Marilou swallowed hard and tried to salvage the situation. “There aren’t any extra rooms.”
“You can both stay in Marilou’s old bedroom.” Faith smiled. “There’s a double bed, and after all, you are engaged and expecting a baby together. It’s not like the two of you just met.”
“Tate?” Marilou hoped he was as quick with an excuse why he couldn’t stay as he’d been with his fabrication of why they’d kept her pregnancy a secret.
“I don’t want to impose,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll just—”
“Nonsense.” Faith looped one arm with Marilou’s and the other with Tate’s. “You said you couldn’t stand to be away from Marilou, and with her so close to having the baby you need to be with her.” Starting down the hall, she added, “Besides, you’re practically family now. You belong here with us for the holidays, Tate.”
Marilou looked helplessly over the top of her sister’s head at Tate. But all he did was give her a sheepish grin.
And just that quick, she knew that short of giving away their deception, she had no other choice but to spend the night in the same bed with Tate Carson.
When the bedroom door closed and he heard Faith start back downstairs, Tate turned his attention on Marilou. She looked fit to be tied as she rubbed the small of her back and slowly lowered herself to the side of the bed.
“Now what are we going to do?” she asked, looking at him expectantly.
He ran a hand around the back of his neck and tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make the situation worse. When nothing came to mind, he shrugged. “It looks like we’re going to have to play this out, or else come clean about the whole thing.”
“If you hadn’t laid it on so thick about hating to be away from me, we might not be in this predicament right now,” she said, shaking her head. “What on earth got into you down there in the kitchen?”
Walking over to the padded window seat, he sat down and propped his forearms on his knees. What had gotten into him? How could he explain something he didn’t understand himself? Hell, he was still trying to come to grips with how good she’d felt in his arms, and how easy it had been to say what he had about not wanting to be away from her.
“We’re supposed to be in love,” he finally answered. “If I hadn’t acted like I cared for you it would have raised a red flag the size of Rhode Island with your sister.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She tried to hide a huge yawn behind her delicate little hand. “Otherwise, she’d have seen right through our story.”
Noticing the shadows under her eyes, a protective feeling swept over him. He’d bet she hadn’t slept worth a damn last night from dreading the showdown with her sisters today.
“We’ll just take this one day at a time and deal with whatever happens, darlin’.”
She frowned. “What bothers me the most about all this is that the lie just keeps growing.”
He rose from the window seat and walked over to kneel down in front of her. Taking her cold hands in his, he tried to reassure her. “If it’s any consolation, I think it’s about as big as it’s going to get.”
“Let’s hope,” she said tiredly.
When she yawned again, he smiled. “You’ve had a pretty tough day, Marilou. Why don’t you take a nap and forget about everything for a while?”
“But—”
“No ‘buts’ about it,” he said firmly. “You need to rest.”
“I am pretty tired,” she finally admitted.
Brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, Tate smiled. “Just stretch out and relax. As long as we keep playing the happy couple, there shouldn’t be any more questions.”
“When do you plan on getting married?” Faith asked, handing Marilou a bowl of mashed potatoes to be carried to the table.
Marilou was relieved that her sister had already turned back to the counter to pick up a platter of fried chicken and hadn’t seen her reaction. She’d almost dropped the bowl of potatoes, and she was sure there wasn’t a bit of color left in her cheeks. So much for Tate’s theory that there shouldn’t be any more questions.
“We thought we’d wait until spring,” she answered, quickly. She tried not to think of how much bigger her little white lie had become in the past few hours, or that her sisters would never forgive her if they discovered the deception.
Faith looked uncertain. “I don’t mean to pry, but why are you waiting?”
Fortunately, Marilou had an easy and truthful answer to that question. “I’ve always wanted to have an outdoor spring wedding in the Mission Creek Inn’s gazebo.”
Her sister grinned. “The one in the garden behind the inn?”
Marilou nodded. “From the time I was a little girl, I’ve dreamed of being married there.”
“It is beautiful,” Faith said wistfully as they carried the rest of the food to the table. “Especially when the bougainvillea are in bloom.”
Relieved that her
sister had accepted her explanation, Marilou put the bowl she held on Aunt Beth’s sideboard and went in search of Tate. She had to tell him about the excuse she’d given for their not getting married right away, just in case someone mentioned it during dinner.
She found him watching television with Faith’s children, Becky and Jason. When she and Tate arrived, they’d been in the attic playroom that Uncle Lloyd had built for Marilou and her sisters after they came to live with him and Aunt Beth.
“Oh my goodness, look how much you’ve grown,” Marilou said, completely forgetting the reason she’d walked into the living room. She hadn’t seen her niece and nephew in three years—not since Becky was six and Jason was three. “I can’t believe how much you’ve changed.”
“Aunt Marilou!” Becky cried, jumping up from where she’d been sitting on the sofa. Rushing over to her, Becky took Marilou’s hands in hers, then stood back and surveyed her aunt’s rounded belly. “Are you planning on having the doctor induce your labor?”
Marilou’s jaw dropped. “Becky, how on earth do you know what being induced is?”
Behind the wire-rimmed frames of her glasses, an intellect far beyond her nine years sparkled in the little girl’s brown eyes. “I read all about it in Cosmo. Some career women arrange the birth of their babies so that it fits into their schedules.”
“Your mother lets you read magazines like that?” Marilou asked, astounded. “Isn’t that a bit advanced for you?”
“Yes, it’s much too advanced for her,” Faith said, walking up to stand next to them. “Becky got hold of one at the library a few weeks back and that’s all she talks about lately.” She reached out to lovingly stroke her daughter’s long, curly brown hair. “But we talked about it and agreed that she won’t be reading any more women’s magazines until she’s older. Right, sweetie?”
Nodding, Becky shrugged. “I’ll wait until I meet a major hunk and need advice on relationships before I read it again.”
“I think she’s twenty-something disguised in a child’s body,” Marilou said, laughing.
Faith groaned. “I have a feeling I’m going to have white hair before I turn thirty.”
When Jason got up from where he’d been sitting on the carpet in front of the television to walk over to his mother, Faith put her arm around him. “Do you remember Aunt Marilou, Jason?”
The little boy nodded shyly. “She’s the lady in the picture with me and Becky when we were little.”
Marilou smiled at her nephew. “You’ve grown a lot since that photo was taken. I wouldn’t have recognized you, Jason.”
“I know who he is,” Jason said, giving her an angelic smile and pointing toward the armchair Tate was sitting in. “He’s Tate Carson. I watch him ride bulls and horses on TV.”
Not wanting to intrude, Tate had silently watched the exchange between Marilou and her family. But when Jason mentioned his name, Tate stood up to join them. “Do you like to watch rodeo, Jason?”
Jason nodded so vigorously his curly blond hair bounced on his forehead. “My new daddy says he’ll take me to a rodeo sometime. He’s gonna take me fishin’ down at the creek, too.”
Tate knelt down to bring himself to eye level with the little boy. “How about I get tickets for your whole family and take you behind the chutes before the rodeo starts?”
“Wow! That would be cool,” Jason said, his big brown eyes lighting up with excitement. “I can’t wait to tell my daddy.”
“Where is Gabriel?” Marilou asked. “Isn’t he joining us for dinner?”
“Gabe will be here as soon as he can,” Faith said, her eyes brightening at the mention of her fiancé. “He’s having some problems with a leaky roof on the building he’s renovating for his new restaurant in Mission Creek and doing some last minute Christmas shopping.”
“Dinner’s getting cold,” Becky reminded.
Observing the two sisters side-by-side, Tate had to admit they were both very pretty. But there was a softness about Marilou that seemed to set her apart—something that appealed to him in a way that he couldn’t quite explain. Come to think of it, he was probably better off not knowing.
“I’m starved and something sure smells good,” he said, in an effort to get his mind off of his pretend fiancée.
As they crossed the foyer to the dining room, Becky stopped. “Aunt Marilou, you walked right under the mistletoe.” The little girl giggled and pointed toward the ceiling. “You know what that means.”
“Becky’s right,” Faith said, nodding. “You have to kiss. Centuries ago, a lot of European countries recognized it as a promise to marry.”
“Th-that’s just folklore,” Marilou sputtered, her cheeks turning the prettiest shade of pink Tate had ever seen.
“It’s tradition,” Faith added, her smile wide.
He wished he could take a picture of Marilou at that very moment. Her green eyes were about as wide as a pair of half dollars and her perfectly shaped mouth opened and closed like she wasn’t quite sure what to say. Damned if she wasn’t about the cutest thing he’d ever seen.
Grinning, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as close as her swollen belly would allow. “Faith’s right. It is tradition. And you know me, darlin’. I’m a real traditional kind of guy.”
Chapter 3
Marilou couldn’t believe that Tate was actually going to give into her family’s chiding. After all, they were little more than strangers and only playing the part of a happy couple. But as his arms tightened around her and his firm, warm lips touched hers, she stopped thinking about the fact that they barely knew each other and brought her hands up to rest on his wide shoulders.
At first soft and tender, he nibbled and teased, then gradually increased the pressure, demanding that she respond. Without thinking, she parted her lips and as he slipped his tongue inside to taste and explore her sensitive inner recesses, Marilou could have sworn she felt the earth move and fireworks ignite within her soul.
Until that moment, she’d been so concerned with the front they presented, she hadn’t had time to think about how sexy Tate Carson was, or that his touch made her tingle from head to toe. But as he kissed her like she’d never been kissed before, it all came rushing forward like an ocean wave crashing onto a rocky shore.
As his tongue stroked hers, her knees began to wobble and she had to clench the fabric of his chambray shirt to keep from melting into a puddle at his big-booted feet. His hands splayed across her back, warmed her through her brushed cotton jumper and had her wondering what it would feel like to have his calloused palms caressing her bare skin.
Lost in the warmth of his kiss and the sensual feel of being held in his strong arms, Marilou forgot all about their audience, or that the show she and Tate were putting on was for their benefit. But as the sound of her family’s applause penetrated her addled brain, Marilou’s cheeks heated and she quickly pulled back.
Glancing up at Tate, she found that he looked as startled as she felt. It was little consolation, all things considered. Even though it was obvious he was experiencing the same physical reaction to her that she was having for him, this just wasn’t a good time in her life to be tingling over anyone.
“I think…that fulfilled…the traditional kiss under the mistletoe,” she finally said, cringing at the breathless sound of her own voice.
“I’d say that more than met the requirement,” Faith said dryly. “I was beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t ask Becky and Jason to leave the room.”
“I’m hungry,” Jason complained. “Can we eat now? Or are we gonna have to watch more mushy stuff?”
“No, honey, you don’t have to watch any more ‘mushy stuff,’” Faith said, laughing. “We’re going to sit down at the table right now.”
When Marilou started to follow the others into the dining room, Tate took hold of her arm to hold her back. “Marilou, I—”
Shaking her head, she lightly touched her index finger to his mouth in order to stop him. “We’ll talk later.”
His stomach full of the best-tasting food he’d had since his mother passed away almost ten years ago, Tate helped the Baker sisters clear the table, then wandered back into the living room to watch the evening news. But as the meteorologist predicted a break in the weather and a clearing trend for the weekend, Tate tuned out the drone of the man’s nasal twang and allowed himself to think about the kiss he’d shared with Marilou under the mistletoe.
What would he have said to her if she hadn’t shut him up?
He stared blindly at the Christmas tree in the corner, the striking contrast between the dark green of the Douglas fir and the twinkling colored lights lost on him. Thinking back on it, he’d come close to telling her that in all of his twenty-eight years he’d never experienced anything like the kiss they’d shared. All that would have accomplished was to convince her that she’d brought some kind of nutcase home to play the part of her intended.
He grunted. She’d probably have pitched his sorry butt out in the rain faster than that big brindle bull had thrown him during the fourth round at the National Finals.
Come to think of it though, maybe he did have one or two screws loose. He had suffered a few concussions during his thirteen years of rodeoing. It was the only thing he could think of that would explain his uncharacteristic reaction to Marilou, and why he’d volunteered to act as her fiancé.
Hell, from the moment he’d laid eyes on her in the Corpus Christi bus station, all he’d wanted to do was take her into his arms. But what he was feeling went beyond wanting to hold and kiss her. For some reason, he felt a deep need to take care of her and to make sure that nothing made her cry ever again.
That’s what had him questioning his sanity more than anything else. How could he be this attracted to a woman he’d just met? A woman who was about to give birth to another man’s baby?
