Taming Angelina: The Temptation Saga: Book Four

by Hardt, Helen;

  “Me too,” she joked. “I make great JELL-O.”

  “Well, you’ll learn.”

  Learn to cook? Why should he care? Unless… She needed to talk to him. Explain her little problem.

  Her cell phone buzzed. She fumbled on the nightstand where she’d left it.

  Harper.

  “Excuse me for a sec,” she said to Rafe as he set a plate of eggs in front of her. “Hey, Harp. What’s up?”

  “Good news. We got you a date.”

  “Date for what?”

  “For meeting a husband, silly. You don’t think we’re going to let our ranch go to that idiot uncle who emerged from a crack in hell, do you?”

  Her throat constricted. “Uh, I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Tonight Frank Longhorn’s coming over.”

  Frank Longhorn? Seriously? He had his own damn ranch. What did he need with hers? And his ears stuck out.

  “He’s been mooning over you for years,” Harper continued.

  “Not interested.”

  He laughed. “We figured you’d say that. That’s why Joe Bradley and Beau Stevens are also coming.”

  “The mechanic and the chef?”

  “Yep. Just think—you’ll either get free car fixing for life or free gourmet food for life.”

  “Harper, I’m not interested.”

  “Look, Angie, no one says you have to stay married. We just need to comply with the will till Uncle Asshole is out of the way.”

  “I’ll find my own husband, thank you very much.”

  Rafe’s eyes turned into dinner plates. Shit! What a big mouth she had.

  “I’ve got to go, Harp. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Be at Ma’s at seven sharp.”

  “God. Whatever. I’ve got to go.”

  She clicked the phone off and turned to Rafe. “That’s not what it sounded like.”

  “Yeah?” He fumbled with his fork. “It sounded like you’re looking for a husband.”

  “No, I’m not. That is, I’d rather not be.”

  “Sorry. I’m not following.”

  “Oh, Rafe, it’s a huge mess.” She pushed her plate of eggs away. “And it’s a long sordid story.”

  “I don’t have anywhere to be. Do you?”

  Just right here. Forever. “No.”

  “Then tell me if you want to. I’ll try to help.”

  Thing was, he could help her. But would he? Slowly, with some tears she tried to hide unsuccessfully, she poured out the story of Uncle Jefferson Bay and Great-Grandpa’s will.

  “So if I don’t get married in the next two months, I can’t inherit my share of the western slope ranch.” She sighed. “Simple as that.”

  Rafe’s dark eyes glazed over. What was he thinking? She had no idea, but he didn’t look happy.

  “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

  “Well”—she cleared her throat—“there is, actually.”

  He lowered his gaze. Why wouldn’t he look at her?

  “I guess it’s clear from this story that I need to get married if I want my inheritance. I’m sorry if you think it’s part of me being a spoiled brat, but I do want my inheritance. I have no other income.” Crap, this didn’t make her sound too good. “Don’t get me wrong. I have an education in health sciences. I could probably get a job somewhere. I’m not completely useless.”

  You’re babbling, Angie.

  He still wasn’t looking at her.

  “Anyway, my daddy was insistent that I learn to ride well, as you know. And he also wanted me to learn about ranching to prepare me for the inheritance. Of course he didn’t know about this thing in his grandpa’s will. Otherwise I’m sure he’d have made sure I was married by now. I don’t know how, but Daddy would have taken care of everything.”

  Still babbling.

  “Anyway, I guess I need a husband, and I was thinking, you seem to like me a little.” She gave what she hoped was a teasing smile.

  Still no response. She took a deep breath. Might as well finish up.

  “So would you consider it? Marrying me, that is?”

  He still studied the sheets.

  “Would you at least look at me?”

  He looked up, and sadness laced his beautiful dark eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Angie, but I can’t marry you.”

  Her heart sank. He didn’t love her. The pain wasn’t a sharp lance like she thought it would be. It was more like a dull ache, like she’d been punched in the stomach. Still, maybe he didn’t understand. After all, she hadn’t yet confessed her love to him.

  “You don’t have to love me, Rafe.” Though I wish you did. “I just need a husband within two months. This thing with my great-granddaddy’s will…it’s—” She sighed. “It doesn’t say I need to find a husband who loves me. We don’t have to stay married. I mean, we should for a while, I guess. For show.” And to give you enough time to fall head over heels in love with me. “I could help you. The ranch has money. I could help you get that place for your father in Arizona. He could leave here and be healthy again. And—”

  He gently placed his fingers over her lips, silencing her.

  “I understand, and I wish I could help. But I can’t marry you, baby.”

  “I told you that you don’t have to love me. It’s a business arrangement.”

  He shook his head. “Whether I love you isn’t the issue.” He looked down at the sheets again and then returned his gaze to her.

  Were those tears misting in the corner of his eyes?

  “Why then? Why can’t you marry me?”

  His black eyes pierced her own. “Because I’m already married.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Could her life get any more screwed up?

  Angie rushed to downtown Bakersville and headed to Deb’s Boutique. She’d hurriedly put her riding clothes back on, run a brush through her snarled hair, and left, barreling through Rafe’s hold as he tried to stop her. Nope, she didn’t listen. Didn’t want to hear about his so-called wife. So she escaped his grasp and ran. She had no car, no way to get home. Her car was still at Chad and Catie’s where she’d left it to go riding yesterday afternoon.

  Thankfully, Rafe lived right in town and she could make it to Deb’s. She needed shopping. If she’d had her car, she’d have headed straight for Denver where the big department stores were. Yep, she needed that kind of shopping. But she’d have to settle for Deb’s.

  “Angie.” Deb eyed her up and down. “Uh…how are you?”

  “Is that little redheaded bitch working today?”

  “Lori’s off today, and I’ll thank you—”

  “Oh, Deb, spare me the hurt bunny look when I insult your employee. I need a shopping spree.”

  “Angie, I was so sorry to hear about your father.”

  “Spare me the feigning sympathy look too, please.”

  Deb threw her hands up. “Fine. You’re the customer. Though why you’re wandering around town in wrinkled riding clothes is beyond me. You never allow yourself to look less than perfect.”

  “There’s a first time for everything. What do you have new?”

  “Some gorgeous evening wear just came in.”

  She hadn’t been to a good party in months. But why not stock up for her next invite? “Show me something in black. And red. And silver. Short please. I want to show my legs.”

  “Be right back.”

  Deb whooshed away while Angie situated herself in the dressing room. More party dresses. Just what she needed.

  What was wrong with her? Not only was the man she loved married to someone else, here she was shopping…when she was broke. She wouldn’t get her inheritance. How did she expect to pay for these new clothes?

  She launched the problem from her mind. She’d worry about that later.

  “Here’s the first batch,” Deb said.

  Angie opened the door to the dressing room and grabbed the dresses.

  The black one fit like a glove. She’d take it.
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br />   The red one was a little too ruffly, but it had a certain girlish look that appealed to her.

  She’d take it.

  The silver one wasn’t quite short enough, but would be gorgeous with strappy sandals in the same color.

  She’d take it.

  “I’ll take these three,” she said when Deb come with another armful.

  “You’ll be happy to know that your friend Lori picked all of those from the last catalogue. I told you she knew about fashion.”

  Right. The twit knew nothing. The red number was way too frilly. So why was she buying it again?

  Didn’t matter. Her daddy always saw that she got what she wanted. But Daddy no longer existed. No one was here to see that she got her ranch.

  No one was here to see that she got the man she wanted.

  The next dress was all wrong for her.

  She’d take it.

  “I’m tired of dresses, Deb. I’m coming out. I want shoes to go with these four.”

  She tried and discarded the first five pairs Deb showed her and then changed her mind. “I’ll take these, but now find me something that really screams feet.”

  Was that an eye roll? Not the way to treat a customer.

  Deb came back with a pair of strappy black numbers. “I’m sure you’ll find that these are real screamers.”

  Angie tried them on. The stiletto heel was too high and horribly uncomfortable.

  “I’ll take them. I want to look at fashion boots next.”

  She chose a pair of black thigh highs in leather with another stiletto and a pair of sleek silver snakeskin ankle boots.

  “Anything else?” Deb asked.

  “Yes. Scarves. One to go with each dress I chose. You pick them out.”

  “Very well.” Deb sighed.

  Angie put her riding boots back on and wondered how in hell she’d get home. “Put all of this on my bill,” she said.

  She stood and stared out the window. As luck would have it, Chad and Catie walked out of Rena’s Coffee Shop at that instant.

  “Hey!” She walked out the door of the boutique. “Catie!”

  Catie turned. “Oh, hi, Ang. How are you doing?”

  That question was unanswerable at the moment. “Could you guys give me a lift?”

  “What?”

  They walked toward her. “What’s going on?” Chad asked.

  “I’m stuck here. My car’s out at your place. I took Belle on a ride yesterday afternoon after our meeting with Jeff, and—”

  “You left your car at our place?”

  “Yeah, it’s a long story.”

  Catie sighed and turned to Chad. “She’s had it rough. Let’s get her home.”

  “Sure enough, sugar,” Chad said. “Come on, Angie, our car’s out back of Rena’s.”

  “I’ll be right there. Just let me get the stuff I bought.”

  Her packages in tow, she ambled behind the storefronts and found Chad and Catie.

  “What on earth did you buy?” Catie asked.

  “Just some dresses and shoes. And scarves.”

  “To go with the closet full of dresses and shoes you already own, I presume?” Chad said.

  Catie punched him in the arm. “Leave her alone. She was the closest to Daddy, and now this idiot uncle of ours shows up and threatens everything she has.”

  “Sorry, sugar. Just tryin’ to lighten things up a little.”

  No one spoke the rest of the drive. Angie transferred her purchases to her own car and drove home. She shed the dirty riding clothes and threw them in the trash.

  She headed for the shower.

  Pelting water soothed her body, but did nothing for her heart and soul. She forced her mind to go numb. She’d think about it tomorrow.

  Tomorrow was another day.

  She shook her head. Yeah, right. At least Scarlett O’Hara’s man hadn’t been married to someone else.

  Who was she? Why didn’t they live together? Were they separated? What was the deal? And why in God’s name had he not told her he was married?

  Love was crap. She’d marry one of the morons her mother had invited to dinner tonight. Didn’t matter.

  She got out, dried off, and put on a short silk robe. She went out to the living room to grab her bags when a knock on the door startled her.

  Standing behind her door was none other than Rafe Grayhawk.

  Her heart lurched, and her nipples tightened against the soft fabric. Even now, he affected her. She should ignore him, but she couldn’t.

  She opened the door but did not invite him in. “What is it?”

  “Hey, baby.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “I want to explain.”

  “Explain what? That you’ve been fucking me while you’re married to someone else? I already got that, thanks.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Seems to me that’s exactly how it is.”

  “I mean there are circumstances. If I could just come in—”

  “No.”

  “Please.”

  “I said no.” She started to shut the door, but he lodged his foot in it.

  “I’m going to talk to you, Angie.” He edged her out of the way, entered the room, and looked around. “Been shopping?”

  “None of your business.”

  He shook his head. “Thought you’d been disinherited.”

  “That’s a minor setback. I’ll take care of it. My mother’s lining up husband candidates for me as we speak.”

  “Husband candidates?”

  “Did I not make myself clear earlier? I need to get married or I lose everything.”

  He pursed his lips. “You mean you’re going to marry someone else?”

  “Of course I’m going to marry someone else. I’ve got to.”

  “What about us?”

  Was he serious? “What about us? You’re married. There is no us. There never was.”

  “I want to explain about that.”

  “Not interested.”

  “Damn it.” He grabbed her arm. “If you’d stuck around this morning we could have cleared this all up.”

  “Let go of me,” she said through clenched teeth.

  He let her go, and she began pulling clothes and shoes out of the bags. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to decide on an outfit for tonight. Got to look my best, you know.” She held up the strappy stilettos. “These ought to get a few of them interested, don’t you think?”

  Rafe shook his head. “Baby—”

  “I’m not your baby, hand. You’re not good enough for me anyway. You never were. You were nothing but a dalliance. Now get on out of here. Go home to your own wife.”

  Rafe’s dark eyes clouded. Well, served him right. He turned and left her home.

  She’d told him where to get off. Nothing less than he deserved for keeping such an important fact from her. She’d done the right thing.

  So why did she like she’d been hit by a truck?

  * * *

  Frank Longhorn was as boring as he’d been in high school when he’d nursed a major crush on Angie. And his ears still stuck out like Dumbo’s. He was short too. She towered over him in her stilettos.

  Joe Bradley did clean up well. His dark blond hair was pulled back in a low ponytail—the same way Rafe wore his. Yes, he was attractive, but he was no Rafe.

  None of them were.

  She cornered her mother in the kitchen. “I can’t do this, Mama.”

  “Angie, you have no choice.”

  “Yes, I do. I’ll be disinherited, I guess. I can still live here with you, right?”

  “Of course you can. As long as I have a home, you will always have one.”

  “Thank God.”

  “But give these men a chance, Angie. They’re clearly all smitten with you.”

  “The only one smitten with me is Frank. The others could not care less, and they’re probably wondering why they’re here.” Her nerves skittered. “God, you didn’t tell them, did you?”
r />   “No, of course not. I would never violate your privacy like that.”

  “I almost wish Harper hadn’t found the codicil. Then I’d be disinherited and that would be that. Now I have to go through this ‘try to find a husband in two months’ routine. It’s humiliating.”

  “I know, honey. I’m so sorry. I hope you know that your father had absolutely no knowledge of that provision in his grandpa’s will. You know he’d never do this to you.”

  She shook her head, her hands on her hips. “He was about to disinherit me himself.” Then she softened. “I’m sorry, Mama. I know he never meant it. He told me on his deathbed. He never would have gone through with it.”

  “No, he wouldn’t have,” her mother said. “You were his pride and joy, Angelina. His mother’s namesake. He couldn’t have loved you more if—”

  Why did she stop? “If what, Mama?”

  Maria smiled and shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” She urged Angie back out to the living room. “You mustn’t be a poor hostess. Go out there and shine.”

  Shine? These shoes hurt like hell, and the dress that had fit like a glove in the store was now too tight. But shine she would. She pasted a smile on her face and returned to the sea of men.

  * * *

  “Annie, I owe you one,” Rafe said at the door of Annie and Dallas McCray’s ranch house.

  “You and Tom are great tenants and friends,” the pretty curly-haired woman said. “Dallas is happy to help.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Just a little queasy and hot-flashy, same as last time. The doc says that means everything’s good. Come on in. Dallas is in the kitchen.”

  Rafe followed Annie through the living area to the large kitchen in the back.

  “Dallas, you know Rafe.”

  Dallas stood and stretched out his hand. “Of course. Chad speaks highly of you. I hear you’re teaching Angelina Bay how to ride.”

  No longer. She’d find another instructor. Maybe an instructor who could be her husband. The thought haunted him.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your Sunday morning.”

  “No problem. The girls are on a day trip to the zoo with their aunt and uncle, so it’s just Annie and me today. She tells me you have a legal problem.”

  “Yes.”

  “You should know I’m not a practicing attorney. I’m licensed and I know a little, but my work is here on the ranch.”