by Robin Wells
Then Josie had come along with her warmth and laughter and understanding, and had knocked holes in all his defenses. Was he going to stay in his self-made prison even though the door was wide open? Or was he going to step outside and build a life with the woman he loved?
The woman he loved. A sense of amazement filled his chest, quickly followed by a sense of purpose.
The woman he loved That’s what Josie was, all right. And if the quilt in his hands meant what he hoped it meant, she loved him, too. Together they had a chance at the kind of happiness his own parents had known, the kind Consuela and Manuel had together. Without her, he had no chance at all.
Consuela was right. Josie was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He’d be a fool to let her get away just because he feared she might someday leave. She was leaving now, for heaven’s sake.
He had to stop her. Then he had to do whatever it took to make her stay for the rest of her life.
He gave Consuela a sudden, hard kiss on the cheek. “You’re a nosy old busybody, and I love you for it.”
Her broad face creased into a smile, her many chins quivering in delight. “Save the sweet talk for Josie,” she said.
But Luke was already on his way out the door.
“Dadblast it!” Josie banged her hands on the steering wheel in frustration, accidentally hitting the horn.
Her car was stuck in the mud…again. In her hurry to get away from the ranch, she’d taken the shortcut by the barn, and now she could just kick herself. Why, oh why hadn’t she remembered what rain did to this road?
Maybe she could get some traction by placing cardboard under the tires. Heaven only knew she had enough of it with her—the interior of her car was stacked with boxes from the floorboards to the roof. She twisted around in the seat and ripped the lids off several of them.
Clutching the box tops, she stared out the windshield and hesitated. It was a downpour, nearly as bad as when she’d first arrived here.
“A little water never hurt anyone,” she muttered. She couldn’t hurt any worse than she already did, anyway. Besides, she couldn’t afford to wait out the storm. The afternoon light was rapidly fading, and she was determined to get away from this place tonight if it killed her.
It was already killing her. Her heart felt like it had been cut from her chest with a pair of pinking shears.
She pulled up the hood of her windbreaker and yanked open the door. Cold, driving rain slashed at her face like icicles, making it nearly impossible to see. Holding on to her car, she groped her way to the back and bent down to place the box tops under the tires. It looked like she’d gotten wet for nothing, she realized with a heavy heart; the cardboard was rapidly disintegrating in the rain. She straightened just as a pair of bright headlights rounded the barn.
Luke’s truck. Her heart lurched and sank still farther in her chest. Great, just great, she inwardly moaned. The only thing that could make this awful situation worse was another encounter with Luke, and it looked like that was just about to happen.
She watched him climb out and bound toward her, hating the way her mouth went dry at the sight of him. He wore a yellow rain slicker and a cowboy hat, and the rain ran off it in rivulets.
“Josie…thank God I caught up with you. We’ve got to talk.” His voice was rough and urgent, and he spoke loudly to be heard over the rain.
Josie shook her head and tried to turn away. “There’s nothing left to say.”
“There’s a lot to say, but I’d rather say it someplace dry. Come on. We can talk in the barn.”
She could tell from the set of his jaw that he wasn’t going to give up. Unless she wanted to stand here and shout at him in the downpour, she didn’t have any choice. With a nod of resignation, she slogged beside him toward the large building.
The barn was dark and quiet and dry, filled with the rich smell of hay and horses. It reminded her of the first time she’d met him, and the memory wrenched her heart.
Luke unfastened his slicker, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to her.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, wiping her rain-streaked face.
“We’ve got to quit meeting like this,” he said with a crooked grin, pulling off his hat.
He was breaking her heart all over again, being so warm and kind and charming. It only reminded her of all the reasons that she loved him and the fact he was incapable of loving her back.
He tossed his hat onto an old bench by the wall and took a step toward her. “Consuela showed me the quilt you were making.”
Josie’s face burned, and she died a thousand deaths. It was bad enough that she was trapped in a one-sided love affair; now she had to suffer the humiliation of having him know exactly how far gone she actually was. “It was just something to fill my evenings,” she mumbled.
“Is that a fact?” He stepped still nearer, his mouth curved in a smile that struck her as downright dangerous. “Well, I’ve got better ways to fill your evenings than that.”
Oh, mercy—she could take anything but this. What was he doing? Taunting her? Mocking her? Deliberately trying to drive her crazy?
He placed his hands on her arms, and his touch made her tremble. She tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t let her. “Josie, honey, I’ve been such a fool. I thought if I didn’t let you get close, if I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t get hurt when you left. I tried my darnedest to keep my distance from you, but I fell for you like a ton of bricks the first time I saw you. And the more I got to know you, the deeper in love I fell.”
Her breath froze in her lungs. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t move. All she could do was stare. “What did you just say?” she finally managed to whisper.
He edged closer, his arms moving to her back. “I said I love you, Josie. And I want to do whatever it takes to make you stay.”
Josie gazed at him, her heart in her throat. She knew what it cost him to say this, what a huge step he was taking. She knew how hard it was for him to trust, for him to risk his heart.
It had been just as hard for her to trust her own. But he’d just confirmed that she’d been right to do so—that her judgment was sound and solid, that her heart’s compass was true and on target.
Her heart took flight, soaring to the rafters of the barn.
“What can I do to make you stay?” he repeated, his voice a whisper, his eyes searching hers.
“Well…” Josie’s grin wobbled a little. “You might try asking me.”
The look in Luke’s eyes mirrored the way she felt. “If I’m going to ask you a question, I might as well make it one that counts.”
“Shoot for the stars, I always say,” Josie whispered.
“All right. I will.” He abruptly dropped down to one knee on the hay-strewn floor, clasped both her hands and gazed up at her, his heart in his eyes. “I love you, Josie, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want you to have my children, to share my days and nights, to grow old and gray with me. I can’t promise you the moon and the stars, but I can promise you we’ll aim for them together. Josie, will you marry me?”
She gazed at him, her heart full and overflowing. “Yes. Oh, I love you so, Luke. Yes. Yes. Yes!”
The next thing she knew, he was on his feet and she was in his arms.
Outside, the rain continued to fall. And somewhere above the clouds, a shooting star streaked across the sky.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed
HAVE HONEYMOON, NEED HUSBAND,
be sure to pick up Robin Wells’ next novel,
PLAIN JANE GETS HER MAN,
coming November 1997 from Silhouette Romance.
eISBN 978-14592-7300-9
HAVE HONEYMOON, NEED HUSBAND
Copyright © 1997 by Robin Rouse Wells
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, p
hotocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office. Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
Printed in U.S.A.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Excerpt
Dear Reader
Title Page
Dedication
Books by Robin Wells
About the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Copyright
