Wife Most Wanted

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  Dana blinked. “Pardon me?”

  “I love you. I am deeply in love with you. I’m humbly asking you to be my wife, my other half, my partner. I’m asking you to live in this house and help me make it a warm, welcoming home. I’m asking you to have my babies and stay by my side until death parts us. Dana Bailey, will you marry me?”

  “I…I love you, too, Kurt,” she said, fresh tears threatening.

  Kurt smiled. “Then, hey, that settles it. You’ll marry me. Right?”

  “No. I can’t.”

  Kurt dropped his hands from Dana’s face and frowned. “Why not? We’re in love with each other. We’ve been through a rough ordeal together, and that love is still strong and steady. We can have it all, Dana, just like we talked about.”

  Dana got to her feet, wringing the handkerchief with restless hands. She turned to look at Kurt again.

  “Have it all?” she said. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “Like what? Give me a clue here.”

  “My career, Kurt. I’ve worked hard and long to become an attorney. It’s important to me, part of who I am. What would a corporate attorney do for clients in Whitehorn, Montana?”

  Kurt stood, his frown deepening. “You want the life, the world, you had in Chicago more than what we could share together here?”

  “That’s not fair,” she said, her voice rising. “You’re forcing me to choose one over the other. I’m the only one who would be making any sacrifices.”

  “Marrying me would be a sacrifice?” Kurt said, matching her volume. “Don’t knock yourself out.”

  “You’re not even trying to understand. What about compromise? Why do I have to walk away from a career that means so much to me in order to be your wife?”

  “Because your husband would happen to live in Whitehorn, Montana!”

  “You’re asking too much of me!” Dana yelled.

  Kurt stared at her for a long moment. His voice was ringing with pain when he spoke again.

  “No, I’m simply asking you to listen to the whispers of your heart,” he said. “You’ve done that, I guess. You’ve said that you love me, but I’m not enough. What I’m offering you isn’t enough. So be it, Ms. Bailey. After you testify at the trial, have a nice trip to Chicago.”

  “Kurt…”

  “I’m going for a walk. Do us both a favor and head for the motel before I get back. I had your car driven out here, and the keys are under the mat on the driver’s side.”

  “Kurt, please…” Dana said, tears spilling onto her cheeks.

  “Please what? Move to Chicago with you? Agree to have you live and work in Chicago and come home on the weekends? I can’t do either of those, Dana.”

  He started toward the door, then stopped with one hand splayed on the screen. He looked back at Dana over his shoulder.

  “You’re not wrong to want a career in Chicago. I’m not wrong to want you here with me in Whitehorn. We’re just wrong for each other. I…” He shook his head as emotions choked off his words. “Goodbye, Dana.” He left the house.

  “Oh, dear heaven, no,” Dana said, a sob catching in her throat. “Kurt, no.”

  We’re just wrong for each other.

  With the chilling truth of Kurt’s words ringing painfully in her ears, Dana stumbled down the hallway to collect her belongings from the bedroom. A short time later, she drove away.

  Kurt stood surrounded by vibrant wildflowers on the rise beyond the house and watched Dana leave, not moving until the last particle of dust on the road had settled, erasing all evidence that Dana Bailey had ever been there. Erasing all evidence except Kurt Noble’s broken heart and shattered dreams.

  Dana turned over the page on the calendar at the top of her desk at the office, then stared at the new number.

  It was the middle of June, she thought. She’d been back in Chicago a week, and it seemed like an eternity.

  She’d testified at the trial in Whitehorn, then waited to hear the guilty verdict at day’s end. An announcement had been made that a party was being held at the Hip Hop Café in Clem’s honor and everyone was invited. A cheer had gone up from the jubilant spectators.

  Dana had slipped through the crowd and driven away from Whitehorn, Montana, barely able to see the road through her tears. Kurt had been nowhere to be seen after giving his testimony.

  Dana sighed and leaned back in her chair.

  How long before the pain of missing Kurt began to dim? she wondered.

  How long before she could sleep at night, instead of tossing and turning, then dreaming of Kurt when she finally managed to doze?

  How long before tears weren’t always just a breath away from spilling over?

  How long would she feel the chill and emptiness of loneliness?

  “Get busy,” she said aloud, straightening in her chair.

  She pulled a file from the stack at the side of the desk and flipped it open, frowning as she scanned the first page.

  And that was another thing, she thought. Her caseload was dry and boring, dull as dishwater. Where had the challenge gone, the enthusiasm for her life’s work?

  Good grief, she was a wreck. She was a weepy, grumpy nothing-is-right-with-my-life wreck. She had to get her act together right now.

  She reached under the desk for the bag she’d brought from home. She removed the small shadow box she’d purchased in Whitehorn and set it next to the calendar. She was unwrapping the tissue from the china kittens when Todd Gunderson came into the office.

  “Good morning, Dana,” he said, smiling. “How’s my favorite attorney?”

  She was going to scream, Dana thought. Todd had said that same corny thing every morning since she’d been back. He’d been hovering around, acting as though he had proprietary rights over her because he’d supplied Pete Parker with the information about the video.

  Todd was as dull as dishwater, too. There had been a time she thought he was attractive, intelligent and interesting. He was an up-and-coming attorney who would no doubt be made a partner in the firm in the next year or so. But unless he was talking about corporate this or that, he had absolutely nothing to say.

  “I’m fine, Todd,” Dana said, spreading out the tissue paper.

  Todd picked up the shadow box. “What’s this?”

  “A special little box to hold this figurine of these kittens.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “What?”

  “Dana, come on. This is a cheap, tacky box made of plywood, and that figurine isn’t exactly Dresden china. It looks out of place in this office, like it doesn’t belong here. You’re trying to make it into something it can’t possibly be.”

  Dana’s heart began to beat a wild tempo. She got to her feet slowly and reached over to remove the shadow box from Todd’s hand.

  “You’re right,” she said, staring at the little box. She picked up the kittens. “You’re absolutely right. When something is out of place, is obviously where it doesn’t belong, is attempting to be what it can’t possible be, it shouldn’t be here.”

  “Right. So, ditch the junk you’re holding there.”

  “Oh, no, Todd, I’m not talking about the shadow box and my precious kittens. I’m referring to me. I don’t belong here anymore.”

  “Dana, calm down,” Todd said. “You’ve been through a stressful ordeal, you know. Why don’t you and I take a little trip, get away for a few days? It will do you a world of good.”

  “No, Todd, you don’t understand. I’m leaving Chicago. I’m going home. I’m going to Whitehorn…”

  “Montana,” a deep voice said.

  Dana looked toward the doorway, and a gasp escaped from her lips.

  “Kurt,” she said, then remembered to take a much-needed breath of air.

  “Dana.” He nodded and started forward, no readable expression on his face. He carried a file folder in one hand, and was wearing jeans and a western shirt.

  “Do you have an appointment, sir?” Todd said.

  “Do you ha
ve a life?” Kurt answered.

  “Where did you park your horse?” Todd said with disdain, his gaze sweeping over Kurt’s attire.

  “Stop it, both of you,” Dana said. “Todd, please leave my office. I have an appointment with Detective Noble.”

  “Fine,” Todd said, “but what’s this nonsense about your not belonging here, about Whitefield—”

  Kurt interrupted him. “Whitehorn. Montana. Whitehorn, Montana. Do you know where Montana is, Todd?”

  “I’ll speak with you later, Dana,” Todd said. He left the office, closing the door none too quietly behind him.

  “He’s a nerd,” Kurt said.

  “I know,” Dana said, unable to tear her gaze from Kurt’s face. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to take you home.”

  Dana’s trembling legs refused to hold her for another second, and she sank into her chair. Kurt settled into the chair opposite her desk and propped one ankle on the other knee.

  “Take…” Dana cleared her throat and tried again. “Take me home?”

  “To Whitehorn,” Kurt said, looking directly into her eyes. “To the house you helped make into a home. To the cats on the porch, who will always be welcome now, because they delivered a message to me that I needed to know. To the wildflowers on the hill, and the ones we fly to when we make love.”

  “Oh, Kurt,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “I came to take you home…with me, as my wife. Did you mean what I heard you say? Were you leaving here, coming to me on your own?”

  “Yes. I love you so much. I’ve missed you beyond measure, Kurt. I don’t know what the answer is as far as what I’ll do with my training, my love of the law, but…”

  “Whoa,” he said, holding up one hand. “I’ve been working on that. I held a meeting at the Hip Hop. I said, ‘Friends and neighbors of Whitehorn, I’m in love with Dana Bailey. But, folks,’ I said, ‘my Dana is an attorney and needs to keep her fingers in that pie to be truly fulfilled. I want to marry that woman and bring her home to Whitehorn. Are you going to help me out here, or not?’ That’s what I said.”

  “You did not,” Dana said. “You did? At the Hip Hop? In front of everyone?”

  “Yep. Hey, I’m a desperate, lonely man, who wants his lady by his side.” He shrugged. “The people in Whitehorn thought the whole thing was perfectly reasonable.”

  “Dear heaven,” Dana said, blushing a pretty pink.

  “Anyway,” Kurt said, flipping open the file, “you’ve got lots of lawyer-type work waiting for you in Whitehorn. Let’s see now. Judd and Tracy, Melissa and Wyatt, and Kate and Ethan, all need wills drawn up. Winona wants a legal document listing everything she has at the Stop ‘N’ Swap in case she’s ever robbed. Travis and Lori feel they should name guardians for their kids. Clint and Dakota…”

  “I love you, Kurt Noble,” Dana said, smiling as tears spilled onto her cheeks.

  She got to her feet and came around the desk. Kurt tossed the file on the desk and rose to meet her with open arms.

  The kiss they shared was long and loving, erasing the hurt and loneliness of the past and making a commitment to the future.

  “Will you marry me, Dana Bailey?” Kurt said, when he finally raised his head.

  “Oh, yes, Kurt Noble,” she said, her big blue eyes glistening with tears, “I will.”

  “Then, Dana?” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “Let’s go home.

  Special thanks and acknowledgment to Joan Elliott Pickart for her contribution to the Montana Mavericks series.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-5364-7

  WIFE MOST WANTED

  Copyright © 1998 by Harlequin Books S.A.

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