Kidnapped at Christmas

by Barb Han

  That her tone had intensified, saying that they needed to meet got his curiosity going. They’d spent time together and—according to his memory—had one helluva good time before she’d ditched him. She’d cut off communication a few months after their smoking-hot affair started, leaving him scratching his head at what he’d done wrong.

  Granted, he wasn’t the relationship type by a long shot and he’d been up-front about it with her. He was always honest. And he knew deep down that one of them was bound to walk away first sooner or later. Normally he hit the door, not the other way around, and that was most likely the reason she was still on his mind a year later. He could make that concession.

  He’d been clear about his intentions, and although he’d enjoyed her company—he could further admit that enjoyed put it lightly—they hadn’t been together long enough for real heartbreak. And yet there’d been an uncomfortable feeling in his chest that felt a lot like a hole ever since she’d walked away.

  Wyatt flipped the radio channel to his favorite country-and-western station. The breakup song playing reminded him of how he’d felt when Meg cut off communication. Now he was a bad cliché, and that just worsened his mood.

  And even though Christmas was coming, he was most definitely not a ho-ho-ho type. Kris Kringle had never been more than a fat man in a silly suit. Wyatt tried to convince himself one more time that he didn’t care what Meg had to tell him. He was doing her a favor by showing up to hear her out and he needed to be in town anyway, so he might as well see what she wanted.

  He parked at the Home Grown Foods Restaurant and ignored the fact that his pulse kick-started with each forward step toward the door. What was he—a teenager again? That ship had sailed long ago, and Wyatt didn’t appreciate the blast from the past making his collar feel stifling and his palms warm and sweaty.

  The restaurant, located in the center of Main Street, had all of seven patrons. Traffic alone should’ve dictated a full house, although he remembered spotting a sign on his way in with details about a tree lighting at the park. He’d only been half paying attention.

  Meg was hard to miss in her spot at the four-top table dead center in the room, and it was more than just her beauty that drew him toward her, although she looked even better than he remembered. She gave him one of those awkward morning-after smiles, the nervous kind with thin lips and scarcely any teeth showing. Even so, she was stunning and his heart reacted to seeing her by ratcheting up a few notches.

  Acknowledging her with a nod, he removed his Stetson and closed the distance between them.

  “Thanks for coming.” She motioned toward the chair and quickly pulled her hand back like an alligator might bite it. “Please, take a seat.”

  The muscles on her forehead were pinched, which did nothing to dull her beauty as she sat on the edge of her seat. All hope this was going to be fun-filled day of reunion sex after a quick greeting and a decent meal died.

  “You said this was important.” He took the chair opposite her, reminding himself not to get too comfortable. He leaned back, crossed his legs and touched his fingertips together, forming a steeple. The most beautiful pair of sky-blue eyes framed by thick dark eyelashes stared back at him. Her eyes were the color of summer.

  “It is.” Blond locks spilled down her back. Was she this stunning before? Damn. She was and more.

  Seeing her again awakened cells he thought were beyond resuscitation. Too bad she wanted something from him. And then he thought about it. News must be out that he was a Butler. A small town like Cattle Barge would have trouble keeping anything secret for long. Was she making a play for his inheritance? His heart argued against the idea even as the thought made him frown. Besides, he had no plans to claim anything about being a Butler, so she’d be out of luck.

  A waitress brought over a menu. She was short, maybe five-feet-three inches, and had mousy brown hair. Her name tag read Hailey. The woman was the complete opposite of Meg, who had those long legs and shiny blond locks.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” Hailey asked.

  “No. Thank you, Hailey.” He didn’t figure this conversation was going to take long enough to stick around. Meg would make her demand. He’d say no. Problem solved.

  Ignoring the tug at his heart, he said, “I’m not staying.”

  Meg let out a little grunt.

  “You sure about that?” Hailey asked with a smile and a wink.

  “Never been more certain of anything in my life.” Out of respect for his companion, he didn’t flirt back.

  “Let me know if you change your mind,” Hailey said with a pout.

  There was another emotion radiating off Meg—impatience. Or it could be jealousy, but that was most likely wishful thinking on his part. Sue him. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, and another pang of something—remorse?—hit as he acknowledged to himself she didn’t seem to want to be there any more than he did. At least he was trying to make the best out of a bad situation. What was her excuse?

  Her arms were crossed and her gaze laser focused.

  “Might as well go ahead and spit it out.” He didn’t bother hiding his impatience. “What do you want from me?”

  A sound ripped from her throat and she made a move toward her purse.

  “Do us both a favor.” She looked him square in the eyes. “Forget I called.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said without conviction as he stood.

  Wyatt turned around and walked right out the door.

  Chapter Two

  With every step the handsome cowboy took toward the parking lot, Meg’s pulse climbed another notch. Let him leave and it was all over. She couldn’t imagine finding the courage to contact him again, and even if she did he wouldn’t take her calls.

  Seeing him again, all bronzed hair and steel-gray eyes with thick lashes, had thrown her off. The restaurant should’ve been full over the lunch hour but she’d forgotten about the midday tree-lighting ceremony in the park. The place must be bustling about now, and she figured that was half the reason she hadn’t heard from Stephanie yet.

  Meg pushed off the chair and followed Wyatt. A young guy held the door open for her, but their feet collided and she had to take a couple of steps to recover her balance.

  She acknowledged his mumbled apology with a nod. Her gaze was locked onto Wyatt’s back side as she ignored the sensual shivers running through her.

  The fact that he’d been clear about flying solo had been the exact reason she’d ended their fling last year and walked away before her emotions got involved.

  “Wait,” she said to his back, a strong one at that. Birds fluttered in her chest. When he didn’t stop, she added, “Please.”

  Wyatt slowed his pace, which allowed her to catch up to his long strides without breaking into a run.

  “I’m sorry about before...” Now at his side, she could see him smirking. Meg stopped. “I have something serious to say, but if this is just a game to you then forget it.”

  Wyatt turned to face her and put all signs of his playboy swagger in check.

  Wow. Meg had been nervous before, but she had totally underestimated how much harder this was going to be in person while staring into his eyes. Her legs threatened to give.

  “Last year, I stopped returning your calls—”

  He brought his hand up to stop her.

  “If that’s why you called me here, save it. It was a long time ago and I don’t need an explanation. We had fun. You moved on. End of story.” Was there a momentary flicker of...hurt?...in his eyes? Meg must be crazy and seeing imaginary things. What was next? Unicorns? She’d been reading too many fairy tales to her daughter because her mind was flirting with believing them.

  He made a move to walk away again, and the pressure mounted...

  “We had more than fun. We had a baby,” she blurted out, her pulse pounding wildly in part beca
use of what she’d just shared and in part because of the strong virile male standing two feet in front of her.

  He looked her up and down like he was evaluating her for a trip to the psych ward. His eyes grazed a hot trail as they lingered on the curve of her hips and then the fullness of her breasts. An unwelcome sensation of warmth slid along her belly and heated her inner thighs despite the frigid December temperatures.

  “How do you know it’s mine?” That question was the equivalent of a bucket of ice water dumped over her head.

  “You were the only possibility.” She brought her fisted hand to rest on her hip and her body shivered to stave off the cold.

  Wyatt glanced around. “I don’t exactly see a baby, so...”

  “She’s at the park.” Meg fumbled inside her purse for her cell, willing her shaky hands to calm down. After his accusation, they were trembling with anger. She needed to check her texts to see if Stephanie had tried to reach her. “She’s eight weeks old and I haven’t slept since she was born, so excuse me if I’m a little rattled.” She threw one of her hands up in the air.

  “If you’re after the Butler fortune you’re going about it the wrong way.” The words knifed her chest. She’d expected him to be surprised but not condemn her as money-grubbing crackpot, but hold on a minute. Had she heard him right?

  “What does my daughter have to do with the Butlers? Your last name is Jackson.” Now it was Meg’s turn to look at him like he’d lost his mind. Although, she shouldn’t be surprised at the news. Maverick Mike Butler had fathered at least one other child that no one knew about.

  Wyatt stared at her, same as before, with a raised brow and unbelievable expression.

  “No, I’m not in need of psychiatric care.” She located her cell and white-knuckled it. “And I do have a baby.”

  Meg entered her screensaver password and noticed there was still no text from Stephanie. An uneasy feeling gripped her as she stuck her phone out at Wyatt. A picture of Aubrey was her wallpaper and, therefore, proof. “See.”

  He nodded as he scrutinized the image.

  “You still haven’t answered my question. What does Aubrey have to do with the Butlers?” Her patience was running thin and she really was starting to get worried about Stephanie.

  Wyatt looked at a loss for words.

  “Never mind. Excuse me for a second while I make a call. My friend took my—” she flashed eyes at him “—our daughter for a walk around the park. She was supposed to text me in case things went sour...” Meg ran her finger along Stephanie’s name. She didn’t dare turn her back on Wyatt for fear he’d disappear even though she wanted to make this call in private. The cell ran straight into voice mail and her pulse shot up a couple more notches. “Stephanie, give me a call as soon as you get this. Hope everything is okay.”

  Wyatt, who had been quiet until now, said, “I’m sure everything’s all right.”

  “It’s not like her not to do something if she says she’s going to.” Meg started to pace, torn between walking away from him—and possibly never seeing him again—and checking on her daughter.

  “Do you trust your friend?” he asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then you have to believe that she wouldn’t do anything to put your daughter in harm’s way. That’s really what you’re worried about, right? Something bad happening to...” He seemed to be searching for the name so she supplied it.

  “Aubrey.”

  His jaw muscle ticked. “Right. You said something about a tree-lighting ceremony and that’s probably what the traffic I drove in to get here was for. Thus, the reason I was late. They could be playing holiday music. She most likely can’t hear her cell.”

  “Wouldn’t we hear if it was that loud?” she asked.

  “It’s two blocks away from the restaurant. I doubt it.” He was making sense, being rational, while her over-the-top protective instinct was waging war on her insides. The two had driven separate vehicles because Stephanie had errands to run later.

  “I have a bad feeling.” She couldn’t shake it no matter how hard she tried.

  “You and every mother I’ve ever known.” Wyatt’s steel gaze intensified.

  She looked at him, shocked.

  “What?” He lifted a shoulder.

  “How many like me have there been?” Astonishment flushed her cheeks.

  “Like you?” He shot a look. “None.”

  “Then how do you... Oh, right, you had a mother.” She didn’t figure him the type to notice the little things. “Everyone does. Even someone like—”

  “You really don’t like me very much, do you?” he said with half a smirk and that infuriating twinkle in his eye that had been so good at seducing her.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just ever since my—” she glanced up at him “—our daughter was born I’ve been on high alert, afraid something could happen to her. She’s so tiny and fragile except when she cries. Then I know there’s a tiger in there waiting to come out. But the rest of the time she’s just this little thing who’s totally dependent on me and I’m trying my best not to mess everything up.” Had all that really just come out? Wow. Meg was on the verge of a meltdown. She was normally more of the quiet type.

  Wyatt seemed too stunned to speak.

  “None of which is your problem.” She glanced at the time. More than half an hour had passed and still no word from Stephanie.

  “We can head down there to the park, to see for ourselves.” He was extending an olive branch and she would take it.

  “Thank you. I’d like that a lot actually.” Meg started toward the park, remembering that although he might have the swagger of a playboy and was all alpha male, she’d been drawn to his kindness in the first place. There wasn’t anything sexier than a strong man who wasn’t afraid to show he had a beating heart in his chest.

  “I’m not claiming responsibility for her,” he clarified, and it was so cold outside she could see his breath. So much for the warmth.

  * * *

  WYATT STARED AT the woman who was walking so fast he had to hustle to keep pace. His judgment with people and especially women was normally spot-on, and he hadn’t pegged Meg Anderson as unstable or a gold digger.

  In fact, she’d seemed like the most grounded, intelligent woman he’d been with in a long time, possibly ever. Her sharp mind was what he’d missed most about her. Since their tryst he’d compared every date to her and no one seemed to measure up. Even sex had been lacking, but that was a whole other story that made him think he might be losing his edge. So, he was even more shocked by her whipping out the baby card. Was there even a child? His child? This whole conversation left him scratching his head and an unsettled feeling gnawed at his gut.

  He took off his coat and placed it around her arms, realizing she didn’t have any covering on her shoulders. She must’ve left her jacket on the chair back where he’d last seen it.

  He didn’t have the heart to walk away while she was so distraught. Even though she’d shown him the pic of the cute infant on her phone, he couldn’t ignore the possibility that she’d jumped off the deep end. Maybe she’d been on mood-regulating drugs when they’d spent time together. Maybe she’d stopped taking them and this was the real her.

  His logical mind wrestled against the possibility, but that could just be his pride unable to accept that he’d made such a wide turn with his judgment before. Wyatt had always considered himself more intelligent than that. As they said, the proof was in the pudding and this “pudding” was starting to unravel in front of his eyes.

  When he really looked at her, he couldn’t ignore the changes in her body. Her hips had more pronounced curves, which were even sexier now. There were definite changes in her breasts. They’d been full before but not quite this generous.

  Even tired, she was still one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He told himself the on
ly reason he was noticing any of the changes in her was because he was trying to determine if she needed to be driven to Kruger Belton Mental facility for evaluation and not because he cared or was still attracted to her. His heart had fisted a little bit when he’d first seen her. He did care, generally speaking.

  The park was crowded. Holiday music filled the air. Families walked in clumps, smiling and singing along with Christmas carols. It was something out of a Norman Rockwell painting and definitely not Wyatt’s scene.

  “They aren’t here.” Meg stopped and looked at him, clearly flustered. She had that panicked-mother look even though he wouldn’t know from personal experience. His had been too exhausted working to keep food on the table to get too emotional. He’d known his mother loved him and the fact he’d grown up in poverty was all the more reason to be proud of the successful taco franchise he’d built from a food truck.

  Meg dug in her purse and pulled out a baby’s cloth with little owls on it.

  “Was she supposed to bring the baby to the restaurant?” He had no idea of the protocol in dealing with a nearly hysterical woman, but he could see from the way she twisted the baby’s cloth in her hands that she was working herself up. Experience with women had taught him that this was not the time to tell her to calm down.

  “Stephanie was supposed to text first.” Meg worked the cloth in her hands.

  “Her battery could’ve died.” She winced at that last word.

  “I guess.” That cloth in her hands was about to become pulp.

  Wyatt reached out to touch her shoulder in an attempt to reassure her but was left with a sizzle on his fingertips. He almost pulled his hand back but decided to ignore the frissons of heat.

  Hot or not, this one was off-limits, and especially with the bomb she’d dropped on him earlier.

  Still, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. The child, real or imagined, was obviously very important to her. So much so that she was trembling.