Texas Baby

by Kathleen O’Brien

  “Not really, Sue. There’s nothing to tell, nothing important, anyhow. It was a momentary madness.”

  “But…if she…if you—”

  “Don’t let it upset you,” he said with a wry smile. “It might scare me a little—I honestly thought I was smarter than that. But there’s nothing about it that should scare you. It didn’t go very far.”

  “It didn’t?” She tried to return his smile. “Saved by the bell, so to speak?”

  “More or less.” He ran his hand through his hair. “All I can say is…please don’t let it worry you. She’s going home on Monday.”

  He looked miserable. He shouldn’t have let it come to this, and he would know that better than anyone. He’d hate it. He’d hate having to accept that he wasn’t perfect, that he wasn’t strong enough to do the right thing at all times.

  Oh, God, what a mess.

  Suddenly she remembered how sympathetic her friend Dina Waters had been to her tonight. Dina had teasingly asked Susannah if the minidress was the new romance strategy. “Gotta make sure Chase doesn’t fall for the pretty little friend from out of nowhere?”

  Susannah had found that amusing. How dumb Dina was, she’d thought. Anyone with half a brain knew that you couldn’t catch Chase with bait like miniskirts and S and M boots. He didn’t go all drooly and brain-dead at the sight of a half-naked woman.

  And why would she need to worry, anyhow? There was nothing between Chase and the pretty little friend from nowhere.

  What a fool she was! Just as big a fool as she’d always been. All those years ago, Susannah had been the last to know that Trent was cheating on her. And apparently she hadn’t learned a thing. She was still the last to know.

  She set the feather carefully down on the arm of the sofa. The real question was…now what?

  Here were the new facts. The new reality. Chase and Josie were in the middle of a serious chemistry attack. They had already reached the point of shedding feathers together on the couch.

  If Susannah hadn’t shown up when she did…

  Was he even telling her the full truth? Had she actually shown up in time? And did it really matter? So what if Chase had become Josie Whitford’s lover? Chase and Susannah were friends, no more than that. The marriage was a business deal. A favor. She might wish he wouldn’t embarrass her by sleeping around, but if he did, so be it.

  On the other hand, this tomcat behavior wasn’t like him. When he had casual relationships, they were always with women who knew the script. He never messed around with women too naive or too needy to understand exactly what he was offering.

  Josie Whitford was both of those things. To the max.

  So what if…what if Josie really meant something special to him? If that were true, did it mean Susannah had to bow out? Was she required to jump up, full of generosity and self-denial, and hand Chase over to Josie with a smile?

  Damn it, no. She might have liked to be a saint, a heroine who would conveniently die of consumption or get hit by a bus just when the hero needed to be released. But she wasn’t a saint. She was a worried, tired woman scrabbling hard to save her business, save her home and save her little sister.

  Chase’s promise to Susannah only lasted one year. Even if Josie had fallen deeply in love with her newfound hero, couldn’t she wait one measly year?

  Susannah heard how selfish that attitude was, but she couldn’t make herself care. She had to ensure that Chase understood Susannah’s situation was desperate. Just as dire as any foolish girl who’d gotten herself pregnant by a cad charading as Chase.

  “Chase…the reason I came.” She swallowed hard. “I got a message tonight, from Dean Pitcher.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Chase’s voice was somber. He knew that Susannah had been holding her breath, waiting to see if Pitcher, her primary buyer, was going to be able to honor his contracts for this year’s crops.

  “Yeah. He said he wanted to be the one to tell me. He’s going out of business. Apparently all the rumors were true.” She tried to give Chase a brave smile, but she was so tired, and the news had hit her so hard.

  “He said he was sorry. Which was very nice, of course, but it won’t…” She had to fight for a steady voice. “Won’t find a home for my peaches.”

  Finally, Chase came out from behind the bar and sat beside her on the couch. Finally, he took hold of her hand. It almost made her cry, because it was such a familiar comfort. And she had needed it so much.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll find another buyer. And when we sell off that west acreage, you’ll have a little cushion again. Things won’t seem so impossible.”

  She shook her head.

  He touched her chin. “You’ll make it, Sue. It won’t be long now.”

  Not long until their wedding, that was what he meant. She leaned her head into his shoulder, relieved that there was no trace of ambivalence on his face, or in his voice.

  But of course that was part of his code. He would never ask to be released from his promise. Directly or indirectly. She would never know what was in his heart. If he suffered, he would suffer in silence.

  And still, selfish bitch that she was, she couldn’t offer to set him free.

  “I’m so sorry, Chase,” she said. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But the truth is, I need your help now more than ever.”

  WHEN SUSANNAH FINALLY went home, Chase walked slowly upstairs, dragging his hand along the banister, weariness filling his legs with lead.

  He’d rather fall into his bed, fully dressed, and let sleep take him away. But this was something that had to be done.

  He knocked on the guest room door.

  Josie answered quickly. She was already in her nightgown. He’d bought her that nightgown—it seemed like so long ago. He’d bought it way back when he hadn’t even considered how the strap would slide off her too-thin shoulder, or how the linen would hint at the outline of her breasts.

  “Hi,” she said. Her voice was soft and slightly nervous. He wondered what she thought he had come for. He wondered if she’d been waiting for him.

  “I wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened. I have no excuses. I wanted you, and I didn’t even try very hard to stop myself.”

  “I know,” she said. “I—It was the same for me.”

  Her face was very pale. Just behind her, the moonlight was pooling on the white canopy bed. If he let himself imagine the way she would look, lying under him, with the ivory glow on her fair skin, he would go crazy.

  So he didn’t. He shut off the pictures. Turned off the tap that fed the fantasies.

  “It was a terrible mistake,” he said. “It wasn’t fair to you. And it caused me to hurt someone I love very much.”

  “Susannah?”

  “Yes. She trusted me. She always has. And I let her down.” He took a deep breath. “You know Susannah and I are getting married next month.”

  Josie nodded. “To save her ranch.”

  “Yes, to save her ranch. And I could jump on that technicality, and use it to write my ticket to freedom. Sue and I aren’t in love, Josie. We aren’t lovers, and the marriage won’t change that.”

  “I know.”

  “I suspect that, if I asked her, she would give me permission to take someone else into my bed. She doesn’t require fidelity of me. But, the problem is, I require it of myself.”

  Her eyes were very round and dark.

  He grabbed the door frame and held on tight, as if those eyes might draw him into her spell. Sometimes she was just a graceful, laughing girl who made his heart feel light.

  And sometimes, like now, she was the most haunting woman he’d ever met.

  “I want you, Josie. God knows, I want you so much I don’t know how I’m going to be able to sleep. But I’m not going to come in, even if you would let me.”

  She didn’t answer. He knew he should turn away and leave, but he wanted…more. Something he could hang on to. He wanted to hear her voice. He wanted to hear that she understood, that she wouldn’t hate him
the way he hated himself.

  “Josie?”

  She still didn’t say anything. He wondered if she was trying not to cry. But wait…damn it, that was pretty damn egotistical. More likely she was just trying to stop herself from slapping him.

  He wouldn’t blame her. He was being a first-class ass. Seesawing between this fake Prince Valiant purity and tossing her onto the sofa for a quick tumble.

  “Look, I’m not saying I’m perfect. I’ve been fighting myself almost every minute since I met you.” He rubbed his hand across his brows. “Does this make sense to you at all? Damn it, Josie. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinking,” she said, “that I wish the Chase Clayton I met had been even half the man you are.” She smiled sadly. “But most of all, I’m thinking I wish I’d met you first.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE DAY OF THE AUCTION preview was overcast and chilly, a marked contrast to the balmy spring days that preceded it. Josie borrowed one of Chase’s jackets, and when she put it on she got a poignant twist in her midsection. It smelled like him, and that was a smell she would always associate with unfulfilled longing.

  The preview was being held at a local auction house, and the field was crowded with sheds and tents, round pens for showing and arenas for riding. Consignors, buyers, staff, vets and food vendors bustled about, giving the whole thing a circus atmosphere.

  Chase and Josie ambled around the edges, stopping now and then to look at horses he liked, or to talk to owners he knew. He filled her in on interesting tidbits about the horses—who actually seemed a lot like people, she thought. Some were mean, some were sociable, some born to be great, and others spoiled by bad training. Some of them even had obsessive-compulsive disorders, brought about by stress or boredom.

  Chase seemed to know everyone. He couldn’t go ten feet without being stopped by a backslap or a howdy. Josie noticed that he made a point of introducing her to every male under forty. Every time, she’d catch his eye, and subtly shake her head.

  Sometimes she strolled behind him, just for the pleasure of watching him walk and talk and laugh with his friends. He was such a comfortable person, at home in his body and in his identity. He had only one manner—warm and down-to-earth. He treated rich, beautiful female owners exactly the same as he treated gap-toothed, wizened old horse handlers.

  And clearly everyone loved him.

  “I think I’ll get Doc Blaiser to look at the radiographs on White Tornado here,” he said after he’d spent about ten minutes with an impressive palomino. He pulled out his cell phone and began punching in numbers, obviously hoping to track down the vet. “It may take a while. Do you want to wait, or maybe just wander around a little?”

  “I guess I’ll look around.”

  “Good.” He smiled. “Let me know if you run into any old friends.”

  She waved goodbye, then took off on her own, forcing herself not to look back. It was hard, though, to give up even a minute of this, her last day with him.

  She knew she should be glad he’d come to his senses last night. She certainly hadn’t been capable of pulling back on her own. Thanks to his willpower, she’d been spared the humiliation of being bedded, then abandoned, by Chase Clayton not just once, but twice.

  But she wasn’t glad. She would have given almost anything to have even that one foolish night with him.

  As impossible as it sounded, she had fallen in love with this man.

  She’d fallen in love with his eyes, his voice, his gentle hands. With his natural leadership, unquestioned by anyone on his ranch, from the horses to the cowboys. With his indifference to his millions, and his joy in simple things, like windswept nights filled with the cry of owls.

  She’d fallen in love with his confidence, his laughter, his generosity. With his powerful, unstoppable instinct to safeguard the helpless.

  And of course, with his bone-melting sex appeal.

  It wasn’t anything she could explain or defend. She would be ashamed even to say the words out loud, considering how foolish she’d been just three months ago, falling for the impostor.

  But logic had no power over her. She loved him. And, as she moved into this scary, uncertain future, she would have cherished the memory of that one night.

  Instead, she would have to make do with this one last, rainy, politely distant day at the auction.

  She stopped to look at a dapple gray, partly because its markings were so lovely, and partly because its shed seemed to be crowded with people. She scanned each face covertly, while she pretended to look at the distinctive green hats and key chains offered as giveaways by the sponsoring farm.

  No one looked familiar. She started to elbow her way out, but one of the green-shirted staff stopped her, urging her to take a key chain. She clearly wasn’t going to escape until she did. So she pocketed one, thanking the man, and made her way back out to the open arena.

  She glanced back toward the palomino’s shed, but Chase was already gone. She wondered how long it would take to look at the X-rays. Would he buy that beautiful horse? Or would the radiographs reveal a defect, a bone spur, maybe, or a cyst?

  The secret flaw hiding inside the otherwise perfect animal.

  And, however much he might have liked the horse, Chase would walk away. He would have no choice.

  She wandered aimlessly for at least twenty minutes, looking at a dozen horses, before she encountered a section of vendors showing off their bits and halters, saddles, supplements and stable supplies. Some tables invited you to join riding clubs. Others offered dressage lessons, pony rides for birthday parties, Western wear or silver belt buckles the size of dinner plates.

  One table advertised a rodeo. Out of habit, she picked up their brochure, which was thick with color photos of bucking broncs and cowboys with their arms in the air and their hats flying out behind them.

  She flipped through it perfunctorily. She had looked at so many cowboy faces in the past two weeks. They were all beginning to look the same.

  And then, on the second page, it happened.

  She saw him.

  She paused, wondering if she was hallucinating. Then she squinted, holding the picture up closer, wondering if she was wrong.

  It was hard to be sure. Objectively, his face was just a button-sized collection of grainy pixels rather poorly reproduced. He looked a little like Alexander Clayton, and a little like Chase himself. Heck, he even looked a little like the cowboy manning the rodeo table right now. Young, blond, male…

  Objectively, it wasn’t possible to be sure.

  But her body knew. Her heart began to beat faster, and her hand began to shake.

  She turned blindly. She had to find Chase. She squeezed the brochure so hard it bent in her hand, and she began to run.

  She spotted him only ten feet from the palomino’s tent. He saw her coming, and instinctively he frowned. He began to lope toward her.

  “What’s wrong?” He grabbed her arm. “Is it the baby?”

  “No,” she said. She held out the brochure. “It’s Chase.”

  WHILE CHASE MADE CALLS, Josie waited in the kitchen of the Double C. She sat at the large table in the breakfast alcove, holding on to a large mug of hot tea.

  Imogene had made it for her, to help her settle her nerves. For the first few minutes, the housekeeper had hovered a bit, offering sandwiches and sweaters, and the occasional gentle “It’ll be fine, darling. Things always turn out fine in the end.”

  But finally she’d seemed to sense that Josie would rather be alone.

  “I guess I’ll do the living room flowers,” she’d said reluctantly. “But if you need me, just holler. I’ll be back in a flash.”

  When she was gone, Josie stared out the bay window, where the horses were playing tag and the gardeners were planting something bold and red. Someone was delivering large brown boxes to the ranch manager’s office, just on the other side of the paddock.

  She liked watching the routine of the Double C plod on. It was strange
ly comforting to see how little impact her personal drama had on the rest of the world.

  No matter what Chase learned about the cowboy in the brochure, none of this clockwork efficiency would stop. The ranch would go on. It would thrive.

  And so, somehow, would she.

  She touched her stomach tentatively. She could feel a change there, a slight roundness. It felt solid, firm to the touch—which was somehow reassuring. It made the baby feel less fragile. Less dependent on its mother, who had no idea how to take care of it yet.

  It gave her hope that, in the end, she could do this without screwing up. No matter how confused her head and heart might be, her body knew what to do. It was already preparing a safe cocoon in which the baby could grow.

  She let her hand relax, resting over the bump. She cupped her palm across the curve, and massaged it slightly with her fingers.

  “I’m here,” she whispered. “I don’t know about Daddy, but I will always be here.”

  A few minutes later, she heard Chase coming down the hall. She gave her belly one last, encouraging touch, and then she straightened her back and turned to face the door.

  She knew just by looking at his face. They had found him.

  “His name is Anthony Maguire,” he said without preamble. “I know him. I fired him two years ago, for mistreating one of my horses.”

  She squeezed her hands together in her lap. Her heart was beating too fast, and she needed somehow to slow it down.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. We talked to the rodeo company. He hasn’t worked for them in quite a while. This picture is from a year ago. But they have the photo release form he signed at the time.”

  He tossed the brochure onto the table. Then he sat in the chair next to her and took her hands. “It has to be him, Josie. Do you have any idea what kind of coincidence it would take for you to ID one random rodeo cowboy picture out of the thousands floating around this county, only to find out this one used to work for me?”