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

  So many unanswered questions. She shoved away her curiosity. None of this was any of her business. She ran the rag over the frame one last time before placing it back on the dresser.

  His bedroom was the last room to be cleaned. She gave the place a final inspection, closed the windows and dropped the blinds. Sadness welled up in her as she pulled the door shut behind her. With both houses clean she needed to make plans to leave—especially after her total meltdown the day before.

  Even so, she’d come to love this house and ranch so much in such a short amount of time. She’d been able to relax here and be herself. If only she could get her life back on track—back to normal. Whatever that was. Then she’d be just as comfortable back in Albuquerque as she was here. Wouldn’t she?

  After putting away the cleaning supplies and grabbing a quick shower she realized it was five o’clock and she still hadn’t started dinner. With exhaustion settling in, she decided to go with an easy meal. Spaghetti marinara with a tossed salad.

  While the sauce simmered, Meghan took a moment to check if there’d been a response from the book editor. This time she made a point of avoiding any blogs or articles about herself. Her empty stomach quivered in anticipation as her fingers clicked over the keyboard.

  She opened her email account, finding a bunch of new messages. The third one down caught her attention. It was from Lillian Henry, the editor. Meg’s heart skipped a beat before her nerves kicked up a notch. Was Lillian still interested? Or had the bad press swayed her decision? Questions and doubts whirled through Meghan’s mind as her finger hovered over the open button.

  Taking a deep breath, she clicked on Lillian’s name and the email flashed up on the screen.

  To: JiffyCook@myemail.com

  From: Lillian.Henry@emailservice.com

  RE: Cookbook

  Hello, Meghan. I was surprised to get your email, considering everything that’s been happening in your life. I’m happy to hear you’re interested. Let me know when you’re available to discuss a theme for the book series. I’m looking forward to some sample recipes. Lillian

  Meghan jumped to her feet and did a happy dance around the kitchen island, laughing and squealing in delight. A series. Wow! Things were looking up for her at last. She couldn’t stop smiling.

  She’d need to rethink how to fit in enough time to work up additional recipes and figure out themes for these books. There was so much to plan—but then again, planning things was her forte. Now, with a baby to care for, a demanding television show and books to write, she’d definitely need a new strategy to make time for everything.

  She started for the door to tell Cash, but as her hand touched the doorknob she paused. Since she’d told him to leave her alone, he’d done just that. Other than a couple of inquiries about her well-being and the baby’s, no words had passed between them.

  Meghan’s excitement ebbed away.

  With no one to talk to, Meghan returned to the computer. She scrolled down through the list of unrecognizable names until she came across one from her producer at the TV studio.

  To: JiffyCook@myemail.com

  From: Darlene.Jansen@myemail.com

  RE: Urgent!

  Meghan, where are you? What happened? We need to talk right away. Call me. Darlene Jansen

  Guilt washed over Meghan. She’d been MIA longer than was appropriate, but her time at the Tumbling Weed had been so nice—so stress-free. Now it was all about to end.

  She grabbed the phone and dialed her producer. On the second ring she picked up.

  “Where have you been?” Darlene asked, cutting straight to the chase. “Do you know what has been going on around here? The suits upstairs were real unhappy when the television special about your wedding fell through. All the buildup and the money we spent on advertisements to pique viewer interest and we ended up having to air a rerun. Ratings plummeted.”

  A baseball-sized lump swelled at the back of Meghan’s throat. She swallowed hard and it thudded into her stomach. Television was a ratings game. Up until this point her ratings had been impressive—so impressive they’d been working on moving the Jiffy Cook to a larger audience.

  “I’m sorry, Darlene.” Now wasn’t the time to remind her producer that she had been opposed to promoting the wedding week after week. They’d covered everything from floral arrangements to choosing the right wedding dress. It’d just been too much.

  “Couldn’t you have gone through with the ceremony?” Darlene asked. “If you really didn’t want to be married, you could have had it annulled later.”

  Meghan’s mouth gaped. Was she serious? Sure, she might have been planning to marry Harold out of obligation to their child, but that was different than saying “I do” to impress the public while planning an annulment the next morning.

  Trying to smooth the waters, Meghan said, “Listen, I’ll be back in town tomorrow. How about we get together for lunch and discuss how you want to handle things for the next show?”

  Ignoring the lunch invitation, Darlene plowed on. “Why did you walk out on the ceremony when you knew it was being taped to air on the next show?”

  With her job on the line, Meghan decided it was time she came clean and let the broken pieces of her life fall as they may. Surely Darlene would sympathize with her after she’d heard the details.

  “I’d just found out I’m...I’m pregnant.”

  A swift intake of air filled the phone line, followed by an ominous silence. Not at all the reaction Meghan had been expecting. Darlene had always been friendly and supportive before. She obviously didn’t know her as well as she’d thought.

  Too late to turn back, so Meghan ventured forth. “Harold waited until we were at the altar to tell me he didn’t want...the baby.” She exhaled an uneven breath. “He didn’t want me. I...I couldn’t think about anything but getting away from him...from the church.”

  A tense silence ensued. Unsure what else she could say in her own defense, Meghan quietly waited.

  “This won’t help us,” Darlene said in a firm tone. “After you ran out on your wedding, the execs got the impression you’re fickle. They’re not going to pick up the show on a national basis.”

  “But they don’t know the circumstances. The wedding was personal, not business.”

  “None of that matters to them. They believe you’re spoiled and selfish. That you’ll balk at the first rough spot.”

  Meghan’s body tensed. “Who gave them that impression?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  She didn’t need confirmation. Her gut said it had been Harold. He could be a wonderful ally, but if he thought someone had crossed him he wouldn’t rest until he’d leveled his enemy. Apparently he truly believed she’d intentionally gotten pregnant and he’d done her out of her job. How could he be so vindictive?

  She paced back and forth, needing to keep her rising temper in check while she approached this conversation from a different direction. “But I’ve been working toward this point in my career since I took my first waitress job when I was sixteen. I’ve always worked in the food industry.”

  “Your work history is a long list of pitstops before you moved on to the next rung on the ladder. It doesn’t display any stability.”

  Meghan’s hand spread over her abdomen. “There has to be a way to renew my show in its former spot. Surely they’ll understand. I can bring the numbers back up.”

  “Your old time slot has been filled. You knew it was going to be a gamble when we put the show out there to be picked up on a larger platform.”

  Meghan’s mouth gaped and she sucked in a horrified gasp. She remembered the meetings about moving the Jiffy Cook from her half-hour spot for a small audience around Albuquerque to an hour-long broadcast for a national audience. She’d met with Darlene and the executives. And then she’d discussed it with Harold. Ev
eryone had been in agreement that with the rising ratings the sky was the limit. Now the sky was raining down all over Meghan, and there wasn’t an umbrella big enough to protect her.

  “You’ve been great to work with,” Darlene said in weary voice, “and I thought you had a bright future ahead of you. But the suits want what they were promised—a career-oriented woman. Now, with the ratings at an all-time low, I have to tell the execs that your priorities will soon be split between your career and being a single mom.”

  Meghan blinked away the sting at the back of her eyes. “I can manage a career and a family.”

  “They don’t care. All they care about is the bottom line. That’s why I’ve been trying to reach you. Word came down on Monday to shut down the show.”

  A sob caught in the back of her throat as her eyes burned with unshed tears. This couldn’t be happening. Her life kept spinning out of control and she didn’t know how to stop it.

  * * *

  Cash strode up to the house late that evening. He’d put off talking to Meg as long as possible. But a sandwich and chips just didn’t go far when you were spending the afternoon breaking in a horse. And not even the most stubborn stallion could erase his thoughts of Meg. In fact at one point he’d lost his hold when the horse had bucked and nearly landed on his injured shoulder. Another slip like that and he’d be back in the hospital—a place he hoped never to see again.

  A part of him knew he’d let himself begin to care about Meg more than he should, but this silent treatment was a bit of overkill. Maybe he should apologize...but for what?

  His temples began to throb. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong. Could he have overreacted when he found out about the baby? That had to be it. He’d apologize and they’d make peace.

  He hoped.

  Cash quietly let himself into the mudroom at the back of the house. His motions were slow after his rugged workout. His shoulder ached from the repeated abuse. He rubbed the tender area with his other hand.

  He pulled off his dirty boots and set them aside. In his stockinged feet, his footsteps were silent as he crossed to the entrance to the kitchen. He spotted Meg with her back to him. The soft glow of the stove light illuminated her curves. His immediate reaction was to go to her and wrap his arms around her before nuzzling her neck. But he held himself to the spot on the hardwood floor. He didn’t need to muddy the waters by sending her mixed signals.

  Cash took a closer look and noticed the way her head was bent and her shoulders slumped. Had she been lying when she’d told him she was okay after the fall? Was something wrong with the baby? Or maybe this was just one of those pregnancy hormone fluctuations?

  A sniffle caught his full attention. His chest tightened. If there was something wrong with her or the baby and he’d left her alone all day he’d never forgive himself.

  He strode over to her. “Are you okay?”

  Her spine straightened, but she kept her back to him. “I’m fine. Your dinner is ready.”

  He placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’m not interested in the food. It’s you I’m concerned about. Turn around and talk to me.”

  She didn’t budge. “Go wash up.”

  Alarm sliced through him. Please don’t let anything be wrong with the baby.

  The child might not have his DNA but he felt a connection to it. He knew what it was like to be rejected by your biological father. No child should ever go through that pain.

  The fact the baby was part of Meg had him conjuring up an image of a little girl. Cute as a button with red curls and green eyes just like her mother. But soon Meg was leaving, and he’d never get the chance to know the baby.

  “Meg, you aren’t listening to me. I don’t want dinner. I want you to face me and tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing. Just leave it alone.” The pitch of her voice was too high.

  “I’m not moving until you start giving me some answers.”

  Not about to continue talking to her back, he tightened his hand on her shoulder as he pivoted her around to face him. Her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks tearstained. He didn’t take time to consider his next action. He merely reached out and pulled her into his embrace.

  Her lush curves pressed against his hard length. He was surprised when she willingly leaned into him. Her arms draped around his midsection while her head drooped against his chest. She fit so perfectly against him—as though she’d been made for him.

  Her emotions bubbled over and he let her cry it out of her system. He pressed his lips to her hair and breathed in her intoxicating scent. His hand moved to the length of red curls trailing down her back. For so long he’d ached to run his fingers through the silky mass and at last he caved in to his desire. Nothing should feel so soft or smell so good. He took a deep breath, inhaling the faint floral scent. It teased his senses, making him want more of this woman.

  His body grew tense as he resisted the urge to turn this intimate moment into something much more—a chance to caress her body and chase away those unsettling tears. He knew it was wrong—she was pregnant, and a local celebrity, totally out of this broken-down cowboy’s league. But that didn’t douse his longing to protect and comfort her. Nor did it diminish the mounting need to love away her worries.

  When her tears stopped, he mustered up all his self-restraint and moved so that he was holding her at arm’s length—a much safer distance. What she needed now was a friend, not a lover. If only his libido would listen to his mind.

  “Meg, if it’s not the baby, what has you so upset? Let me help you.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CASH REFUSED TO give up. Meg needed him, and he intended to find a way to make things better for her. “If this is about me overreacting about the baby, I’m sorry.”

  She pulled back to look up at him. “It doesn’t have anything to do with that.”

  Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears and her face was blotchy. Her pouty lips beckoned to him. If only a kiss could make her worries disappear he’d be more than willing to ride to her rescue. He gave himself a mental jerk. A kiss would only complicate matters.

  “Will dinner be okay for a little bit?” he asked, wanting to get her off her feet.

  She nodded. “I turned the burners off.”

  “Come with me.” He led her to the family room, where they sat side by side on the couch. “Now, tell me what has you so worked up.”

  When a fresh tear splashed onto her cheek, his body tensed. Not sure what to do, he grabbed a handful of tissues from the end table and stuffed them in her hand. His gaze strayed from her to the door. He stifled the urge to make a beeline back to the stables. Out there, he knew what to do. In here, he didn’t have the foggiest idea if he should hold her again or sit by patiently until she stopped sniffling and started talking.

  “Did someone die?” he asked, needing to know the severity of the situation.

  She hiccupped and shook her head. “It’s nothing like that. I think the pregnancy hormones have me overreacting.”

  He let out a pent-up breath and squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. You just worried me.”

  Long seconds passed as Meg dashed away tears with a tissue and blew her red nose. “I heard back from the book editor.”

  Oh, no, had the editor changed her mind? The woman had to be crazy, because Meg made the most delicious dishes. He should know—his waistline was increasing from the second and third helpings he had regularly at each dinner.

  “What did she say?” he asked, already searching for words of support.

  “She wants to get together and discuss the idea of writing a series of cookbooks.”

  Confused, he said, “Sounds like good news to me.”

  “You think so?”

  “Of course I do. Otherwise I wouldn’t ha
ve encouraged you to contact her.”

  “That’s one of the things I like about you—your straightforward answers.”

  One of the things she liked about him implied there were more. A warm sensation filled his chest and made his heart pound. He wanted to know what other things she liked, but resisted the urge to ask.

  He was having trouble figuring out her problem, but he didn’t want to say too much and get the waterworks flowing again. He was certain if he waited she’d tell him more. Women liked to talk about what bothered them—wasn’t that what his grandmother had told him?

  Meg balled up the tissue in her hand. “While I was checking my email I came across one from my television producer.” The color drained from her cheeks. “She needed to talk to me so I called her. She...she told me the deal to move my show to a bigger platform had fallen through.”

  Ah—now he understood. “I’m sorry.” His sympathy did nothing to ease the pain etched on her face. He should say something else—something to calm her worries and give her hope. “Maybe if your show keeps doing well they’ll make the change next year?”

  She shook her head. “You don’t understand...there’s no show. The Jiffy Cook has been cancelled. I was worried this might happen if we went ahead with plans to move to a larger platform, but Darlene assured me with the ratings the show was generating it’d be a sure thing. And I believed her. I thought she was my friend. I thought wrong. I’ve been so wrong about so many people in my life.”

  Cash sat back on the couch, resisting the urge to pull her back in his arms and kiss her until she forgot her problems. He didn’t want to end up being another person who let her down. And leading her on when they had nowhere to go would certainly qualify.

  “What am I going to do?” She threw herself back against the couch and hugged her arms over her chest. “I need those health benefits.”