Harlequin Romance July 2013 Bundle: A Cowboy To Come Home ToHow to Melt a Frozen HeartThe Cattleman's Ready-Made FamilyRancher to the Rescue

by Donna Alward

  He couldn’t believe he was letting her get to him. He thought he’d become immune to feminine charms. Take them or leave them had been his motto. And the way this little redhead could distract him with her shapely curves and heart-stopping smile were sure signs he should leave her alone.

  “Remember what we talked about,” he said.

  “I’m not a child. You don’t have to keep reminding me—like I’d ever be so rude.”

  “Good.”

  He followed her up the steps to the porch. He wanted to believe Meg, but he’d been lied to by his straight-faced ex-girlfriend. In his experience, when women wanted something badly enough they could be sneaky and deceptive. Now he preferred to err on the side of caution.

  After all, Gram had been preparing for this meal ever since they’d returned from town. It’d only take one wrong look or word from the Jiffy Cook, his grandmother’s favorite television celebrity, and Gram would be crushed.

  Cash rapped his knuckles on the door of the modest four-room house before opening it and stepping inside. “Gram, we’re here. And, boy, does something smell good.”

  His grandmother came rushing out of the kitchen wearing a stained apron, wiping her hands on a towel. “Good. I threw together a new dish. I hope you both like it.”

  “I’m starved,” Meg said.

  “Okay, you two go wash up. Cash can show you to the bathroom.”

  He nodded, then led the way. In silence, they lathered up. Even standing next to her, doing the most mundane thing, he couldn’t relax. Every time he glanced her way he started mentally undressing her until she had nothing on but that sheer white underwear. His throat tightened and he struggled to swallow.

  What was wrong with him? He barely even knew her, and he had absolutely no intention of starting up anything. His focus needed to be on rebuilding this ranch, not daydreaming about a brief fling with the tempting redhead next to him.

  Back in the kitchen, Gram said, “I’ll warn you—dinner’s nothing special.”

  Cash held back a chuckle at his grandmother’s attempt to downplay this meal. He wished she’d made one of her tried-and-true dishes instead of taking a chance on something new to impress their guest. But no matter what it tasted like he would smile and shovel it in.

  “What did you make?” Meg asked.

  “I tried something a little different. I was hoping for your opinion.”

  “My opinion?” Meg pressed a hand to her chest and the light glittered off the rock on her ring finger. The wedding dress might be gone, but the impressive engagement ring remained. Obviously she wasn’t quite through with what’s-his-name.

  “You’re the expert.”

  Remembering his manners, he pulled out a chair for Meg. Having absolutely nothing to add to this conversation, he quietly took his usual seat.

  “I’m no expert.” Sincerity rang out in Meg’s voice. “I just cook and I hope other people will like the same things as me.”

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Gram said, leaning her head toward Meg. “I watch your show every day and I jot down the recipes I think Cash will like.”

  Meg leaned toward Gram and lowered her voice. “And does he like them?”

  Cash wasn’t so sure he liked these two women putting their heads together to discuss him. “You two do remember that I’m in the room, right?”

  “Of course we do.” Gram sent him a playful look. “Yes, he likes them.”

  So now he understood why he’d been eating some strange dishes for the past year—Gram had been imitating Meg. Interesting. But he still preferred Gram’s traditional recipes, such as homemade vegetable barley soup and her hearty beef stew.

  “Dinner isn’t quite ready,” Gram said. “The shopping today put me a little behind. I have some fresh bread in the oven, and I have to add the tortellini to the soup.”

  “Anything I can help with?” Cash offered, as he did at each meal.

  Usually she waved him off, but today she said, “Yes, you could get us some drinks.”

  “Drinks?” Their standard fare normally consisted of some tap water. On really hot, miserable days they added ice for something special.

  “Yes. I picked up some soda and juice at the store.” Gram turned to Meg. “I’m sure you’re probably used to something fancy with your meals, like champagne or wine, but I’m afraid we’re rather plain around here. If you want something we don’t have I’ll have Cash pick it up for you the next time he’s in town.”

  “That won’t be necessary. You’ve already been too generous with the clothes. Thank you for being so thoughtful.”

  “I didn’t know what you would wear, and Cash wasn’t much help.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to go through them.” Pink tinged her cheeks. “I slept longer this afternoon than I’d planned...well, I hadn’t planned to go to sleep at all.”

  “I’m sure you were worn out after such a terrible day. You poor child.”

  “You can help yourself to drinks,” Cash said, trying to offset his grandmother’s mollycoddling.

  “Oh, no, she can’t. She’s our guest. You can serve her.”

  Cash swallowed down his irritation. The last thing in the world he’d wanted to do was upset his grandmother.

  Gram and Meg discussed the Jiffy Cook’s show while he kept himself busy. He opened the cabinet and sorted through a stack of deep bowls, trying to find ones that weren’t chipped on the edges. He’d never noticed their worn condition before today. A sense of guilt settled over him like a dense fog. He’d been too focused on the rodeo circuit and hadn’t paid enough attention to the small things at home. He made a mental note to get his grandmother some new dishes.

  When Gram turned her back to check on the bread in the oven Meg held out her hands for the bowls. Cash handed them over. No need to stand on ceremony. It wasn’t as if she was an invited guest or anything. He had no idea why Gram was treating the woman like some sort of royalty—even if her burnt-orange curls, the splattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and the intense green eyes were fit for a princess.

  He gathered the various items they’d need for dinner and laid them on the edge of the table. When he turned around he found Meg had set everything out accordingly. Maybe she wasn’t as spoiled as he’d imagined.

  Again the light caught the diamond on her hand and it sparkled, serving as a reminder of how much she liked nice things—expensive things. And, more importantly, that she was a woman who didn’t take off her engagement ring after calling off the wedding—a woman with lingering feelings for her intended groom.

  Cash’s jaw tightened. Best not get used to having her around. After dinner he’d drive her wherever she needed to go.

  Gram stirred the pot and set aside the spoon. “These are a couple of recipes that I pulled from one of my new cookbooks. Don’t know how they’ll turn out. If nothing else, the bread is tried and true. Cash can attest to how good it is.”

  “You bet. Gram makes the best fresh-baked bread in the entire county. With a dab of fresh-churned butter it practically melts in your mouth.”

  “You don’t have to sell me on it.” A smile lit up Meg’s eyes. “I had a whiff of it when she opened the oven. I can’t wait to eat.”

  “Well, if you’re hungry we can start with the salad.” Gram hustled over to the fridge and removed three bowls with baby greens, halved grape tomatoes and rings of red onion. “This is the first time I’ve made blue cheese and bacon dressing from scratch.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Meg said. “But you know you didn’t have to make anything special. Your usual recipes would have been fine.”

  “But those dishes aren’t good enough for a professional chef.”

  “I’m not a chef. Just a cook—like you. And I’m sure your salad will be delicious.”

  Gram t
urned back to the fridge and pulled out a plastic-wrapped measuring cup. She moved it to the table before retrieving the whisk from the counter. In an instant she had the dressing unwrapped and was stirring the creamy mixture. Cash’s mouth began to water. Okay, so maybe Gram didn’t have to go to all this trouble, but he had to admit some of her experiments turned out real well, and this dinner was slated to get star ratings.

  Cash passed the first bowl to Meg. He noticed how the smile slid from her face. And her eyes were huge as she stared at the salad. He wanted to tell her to drown it in black pepper—anything so she would eat it. With his grandmother by his side, he was limited to an imploring stare.

  For some reason he hadn’t thought a chef—or, as she called herself, a cook—would be opposed to blue cheese. Was it his grandmother’s recipe? Had Gram made some big cooking blunder?

  “Eat up, everyone.” Gram smiled and sat across the table from him. “There’s more if anyone wants seconds.”

  He immediately filled his fork and shoveled it in his mouth. The dressing was bold, just the way he liked it. But his impression wasn’t the one that counted tonight. He cast Meg a worried glance. He couldn’t let this meal fall apart. He moved his foot under the table and poked Meg’s leg.

  “Ouch!” Gram said. “Cash, what are you doing? Sit still.”

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. “This is really good.”

  “Thank you.” Gram’s face lit up.

  It was Meg’s turn to chime in, but she didn’t. Her fork hovered over the bowl. Eat a bite, he willed her. Just take a bite and praise my grandmother.

  “Excuse me.” Meg’s chair scraped over the wood floor and like a shot she was out of the room.

  Cash inwardly groaned as he watched her run away. He turned back to find disappointment glinting in his grandmother’s eyes. It didn’t matter what he said now, the meal was ruined. Meg had gone and broken her word to him.

  His fingers tightened around the fork. He should have listened to the little voice in his head that said not to trust a spoiled celebrity—one who hadn’t even seen fit to stick around for her own wedding.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A SPLASH OF cold water soothed Meghan’s flushed cheeks but did nothing to ease her embarrassment. She was utterly mortified about her mad dash from the dinner table. One minute she’d felt fine, but after the stern warning from Cash to enjoy the dinner and his constant stares her stomach had twisted into a gigantic knot. The whiff of blue cheese had been her final undoing.

  “Thank you for being so understanding,” Meghan said, accepting a towel from Cash’s grandmother.

  “I’ve been there, child. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I was sick as a dog when I was carrying Cash’s father.”

  “But I’m not—”

  Martha silenced her with a knowing look. “Honey, there’s no point trying to close the gate when the horse is obviously out of the corral.”

  There was no sense carrying on the charade. Meghan sank down on the edge of the large clawfoot tub. “I wanted to keep the news to myself for now. It’s the main reason I’m here. The thought of being a single mother scares me, and I need a plan before I go home.”

  Martha patted her hand. “I won’t say a word to anyone. And you can stay here as long as you need.”

  “But Cash—”

  “Don’t worry about him. He’s gruff on the outside but he’s a softy on the inside.”

  “I don’t know... He already thinks I’m spoiled and self-centered. I can’t tell him about the baby and have him thinking I’m irresponsible too.”

  “Give my grandson another chance. He can be extremely generous and thoughtful.”

  To those he loves, Meghan silently added. She admired the way he looked after his grandmother. Everyone should have someone in their life who cared that much.

  Where she was concerned he wasn’t so generous. She was an outsider. Although she had to admit he had willingly opened his home to her, and for that she was grateful.

  Feeling better, Meghan agreed to try a little of the soup. Martha looked pleased with the idea and rushed off to dish some up for her.

  Meghan moved to the mirror and inspected her blotchy complexion. She looked awful and she didn’t feel much better. No one had ever warned her being pregnant would feel like having a bad case of the flu. She groaned. Or was it a case of overwrought nerves? The pressure and warning looks from Cash had made her entire body tense.

  She shrugged and turned away. Either way, she’d gone back on her word to him and ruined the dinner. How in the world would she make it up to him?

  She eased out of the bathroom and found him pacing in the living room. “I’m really sorry about that.”

  His brows drew together and he gave her a once-over. “You feeling better?”

  She nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

  “Good. But you should have told me you still didn’t feel well. I wouldn’t have dragged you to dinner. I would have explained it to my grandmother.”

  Meghan eyed him. Was this the cowboy’s way of apologizing for those death stares at the dinner table? The tension in her stomach eased. Something told her apologies, even awkward ones, didn’t come easily to him.

  “Apology accepted. But I was feeling fine and then it just hit me at once. I told Martha I would try a little broth and bread. Have you finished eating?”

  “No.”

  “Sorry for disturbing everyone’s dinner. If you want, we can try again.”

  On her way back to the kitchen her gaze roamed over the house, admiring all the old pieces of oak furnishing. Everything was in its place, but a layer of dust was growing thick. Definitely not the perfect home appearance her mother had instilled in Meghan. Her mother had insisted that the perfect house led to the perfect life and the perfect future. This motto had been drilled into her as a child. If only life was that easy.

  She worried about how she’d scar her own child. How in the world would she instill confidence in them? Especially when she struggled daily with the confidence to follow her own dreams?

  “You sure you’re okay?” Cash asked just outside the kitchen.

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  She really should level with him about her pregnancy, but she couldn’t bring herself to broach the subject. She didn’t want him to look down at her—a single woman, dumped at the altar by her baby’s daddy as if he was tossing out a carton of sour milk.

  Definitely not up for defending herself, she stuck with her decision to keep her condition to herself. Besides, it was none of his business. Soon she’d be gone and their paths most likely would never cross again.

  With Cash acting friendly, Meghan relaxed and savored every drop of the delicious broth. She even finished every morsel of the thick slice of buttered bread. “That was delicious. I’d love to have more, but I don’t think I should push my luck.”

  “Still not feeling a hundred percent?” Cash asked, concern reflected in his eyes.

  The fact he genuinely seemed worried about her came as a surprise. “Not exactly. Would you believe I’m ready to go back to sleep again?”

  He didn’t say a word. Instead he kept his head lowered, as though it took all his concentration to slather butter on a slice of bread.

  Martha reached out and patted her hand. “Cash can run you back to the house so you can rest.”

  His head immediately lifted. Deep frown lines bracketed his eyes and lips.

  “I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” Meghan said. She wasn’t sure what alternatives she had, but she’d come up with something. “If you could just give me a lift to the closest town.”

  Was that a flicker of relief that she saw reflected in his eyes? She’d thought they’d made peace with each other, but perhaps she’d been mistaken.

  As though oblivious to the undercu
rrent of tension, his grandmother continued. “Nonsense. You barely made it through dinner. You’re in no condition to go home and face those reporters. Cash knows all about how merciless they can be. Isn’t that right, Cash?”

  His blank stare shifted between his grandmother and herself. He merely nodded before dunking his bread in the remaining soup in his bowl.

  Meghan couldn’t stay where she wasn’t wanted. If Cash wouldn’t set his grandmother straight she’d have to do it herself. “But I can’t...”

  Martha’s steady gaze caught hers. The woman quietly shook her head and silenced her protest. Maybe the woman had a point. Stress definitely exacerbated the unease in her stomach. But if Cash didn’t want her, where would she spend the night? She’d already eyed up Martha’s small couch with its uneven cushions. Her back hurt just from looking at it.

  “So how long can you stay?” Martha asked.

  “I do have two weeks of vacation time planned. It was supposed to be for my honeymoon.”

  “Well, there you have it. Plenty of time to rest up. We’ll make your stay here as pleasant as possible.” Martha got to her feet. “Cash can drive you back to his place.”

  Cash looked none too happy with his grandmother’s meddling. “I will as soon as the kitchen is straightened up.”

  This wasn’t right. She didn’t want them going out of their way for her. “I’ll stay on one condition.”

  His brow arched. “And what would that be?”

  “I refuse to be waited on. I want to do my share—starting with cleaning the dinner dishes.”

  He shrugged. “Fine by me. I don’t have time to wait on you with a ranch to run.”

  She nodded, understanding that he had his hands full. “I think your grandmother should go in the living room and put up her feet after she’s slaved away all afternoon making this fantastic meal.”

  The older woman’s gaze moved back and forth between her and her grandson. Meghan braced herself for an argument. She might be down and out right now, but that didn’t mean she was utterly pathetic and in need of being waited on hand and foot.