Hitched! Read online

  Almost.

  The thought of making love to his wife was not a new one, but it was becoming more persistent with every passing day. She’d seemed so attuned to him tonight. Maybe she felt the same way he did. Maybe tonight would be the night.

  “…and I’ve got to leave tomorrow afternoon because I promised I’d go to that benefit concert Saturday, and there’s so much going on at work…”

  Rand groaned. “Clemmie, do you ever run down?” He pulled into the yard and killed the engine.

  “I think I just did.”

  He could hear the pout in her voice.

  Apparently so could Max, because she said, “Don’t pay any attention to him, Clemmie. He’s just jealous.”

  “Rand, jealous of me?” The very idea seemed to astonish his sister and she burst out laughing. “Now I’ve heard everything.”

  Not quite, Rand thought. Clemmie had no idea of his financial problems. If she did—

  If she did, she’d want to help him, and he wouldn’t accept anything from her. He’d made this mess all by himself and he’d get out the same way, with the exception of Max.

  Joe Bob had helped out, too, although he had no idea how welcome that cash was. When Rand loaned him ten thousand dollars more than a year ago, he hadn’t expected ever to collect—not because Joe Bob was a deadbeat but because he was glad to help a longtime family friend. When the man pulled those thousand-dollar bills out of his pocket earlier this evening, Rand had wanted to kiss him.

  Cheek only, of course.

  Gruffly he said, “You two women quit cuttin’ me down. I’m an innocent bystander here.”

  Max said coolly, “Do you realize how thick your Texas accent has become since we got here?”

  Clemmie said, “You can take the boy out of Texas, but you can’t take Texas out of the boy.”

  Rand said, “Well, hell,” and climbed out of the car.

  THE MOMENT they were alone in their bedroom, he reached for her.

  How could he want to kiss her when she was so furious with him? Maxi turned her head away and Rand’s mouth grazed her cheek. She hadn’t figured out any convincing reason for Joe Bob to be giving money to Rand Taggart that didn’t reflect ill on the younger man: extortion, bribery, graft of some kind. Both men had looked too guilty for the exchange to have been on the up-and-up.

  And now he wanted to kiss her?

  “What’s the matter?” he murmured, nuzzling her cheek, then her ear.

  His warm breath sent tremors through her. “Nothing,” she gasped. “I’m just not—not—” She intended to say in the mood, but couldn’t get the words out.

  He pressed his face into the curve of her shoulder. Standing in the darkness just inside the door to their suite, she couldn’t see anything beyond a shaft of moonlight from the open window.

  But she could feel…too much.

  “I don’t believe you.” He sighed. “Did Joe Bob say something to upset you?” His warm breath touched her ear and then he clamped his teeth lightly on the lobe.

  She nearly jumped out of her shoes. “He—he didn’t—” Gasping, she clung to his shoulders, completely off balance.

  “Did he tell you about the money? Is that what’s upset you?”

  “The money?” Only dimly did it enter her brain that Rand had actually brought up the topic she should have broached herself. “Yes, the money.”

  “I’m surprised he’d mention it. He’s gone to great lengths to make sure nobody knows, because Donna would kill him.” He ran his hands over her shoulders and down her arms to capture her wrists.

  “W-why doesn’t he want Donna to know?”

  “Because it makes him look like a jerk. No guy wants to look like a jerk to his wife.”

  She turned her head, brushing her lips across his in the process. “I think you’d better tell me all of it.”

  “I thought he did. I gave him the money to save his bacon. I suppose you’ll say I shouldn’t have done it, but hell, he hasn’t touched a card or a pair of dice since. I really didn’t expect the money back so soon, but he’s had a real good year, and under the circumstances—”

  “He shouldn’t lie to his wife.” She gave in and went fully into his arms, feeling an enormous sense of relief. He felt wonderful against her, so strong and capable.

  “You don’t think he knows that? He’s gone through hell trying to keep this quiet. He’s learned his lesson, Max. I’m sure he has.”

  “I hope so. And Rand…I’m glad you helped him.” She wouldn’t think about all those he hadn’t helped, not right now. Not while she was in his embrace and he was lowering his head, not while his mouth was capturing hers in a kiss that seared its way straight to her heart.

  Wrapped in his arms, pressed against him from shoulder to knee, she surrendered to passion at last. She wanted this man and she had to face that fact. And he wanted her, plain-Jane Maxine Rafferty—

  He curved one hand around her bottom and hauled her up higher and tighter against his hips, so she couldn’t avoid evidence of his desire. They could kiss their way across the floor and into the bedroom, where they could stretch out on that big bed and—

  “Stop!” She pushed away with her last ounce of strength. She dared not make love with him. If she did, she’d never find the strength to do what she had to do. He might be generous toward a friend, but he was ruthless toward a love-struck woman like Helen.

  “What the hell?”

  He switched on the light and they blinked at each other.

  She licked her lips. “You promised you wouldn’t do that.”

  “Kiss you?”

  “You intended to do considerably more than kiss me.”

  “And you were ready to let me,” he retorted. “What happened, Max? Don’t you believe what I said about Joe Bob?”

  “I believe you.”

  “Did you think…hell, I don’t know, did you think I was holding out on you? It’s true, I probably wouldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t seen the exchange of money. But that would have been to protect Joe Bob, not to deceive you.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She edged toward the bedroom door.

  He followed. “If it doesn’t matter, then what does? Obviously something happened to make you—”

  “I’ll tell you what happened!” She faced him, blocking the door with her body. “I came to my senses. Rand Taggart, you’re not an easy guy to resist. I could very easily sleep with you, but what then? I don’t want to want you. I don’t want to get…to get emotionally involved with you. And I especially don’t want to be sorry when this is over and we go our separate ways.”

  He looked at her for a moment, the passion slowly fading from his expression. Then he said, “You’re right, of course, but the thing is…I really like you, Max. Excuse me for wanting more of you than you’re willing to share.”

  He reached down and fumbled at the button of his knit shirt. “That being the case, I’ll just say good-night and…” His eyes narrowed. “Pleasant dreams.”

  As if.

  CLEMENTINE LEFT her parents’ ranch the next day more confused than ever by her brother’s marriage. At the barbecue, she’d thought Rand and Maxine were just what they were supposed to be: happy newlyweds. This morning they’d been cool to each other, and by the time she drove away, they were treating each other like casual strangers.

  Most of the time. When they realized anyone was watching, they warmed up considerably.

  And why wasn’t Maxine interested in looking as good as she could? She was deliberately playing down her attractiveness; Clemmie was sure of it. But what sense did that make?

  By the time she hit city traffic, she was no nearer to an answer. Even after she’d parked her car and ridden up to her apartment in the elevator, she didn’t have a clue.

  She picked up mail strewn in her entryway via the slot in the door and carried it into the living room. Idly she flipped through the stack…bill, bill, flyer, catalog—

  A copy of Violet’s Advantage stopped
her cold and she did a double take. Tossing everything else aside, she carried the glossy publication to the sliding doors opening onto a balcony and walked outside.

  There, in the clear light of day, she confirmed what she could hardly believe was true, even now: the model on the cover of the brand-new Violet’s Advantage was none other than Maxi Rafferty, currently known as Maxine Taggart.

  What in the world was going on? And what was Clemmie going to do about it?

  CLEMENTINE’S MOTHER faced a similar dilemma, but with regard to Rand. It started with a call from one of Meg’s oldest and dearest friends in Boston.

  Felicity Holliwell never phoned without a reason, but she always took a while to get around to it. She finally did, and said, “I drove past your grandfather’s town house the other day. Imagine my surprise when I realized a very attractive young woman and two small children are living there.”

  Meg frowned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Felicity.”

  “Really? I naturally assumed you’d know. Is Randy up to something, Meg?”

  “Of course not. You obviously misunderstood. The woman you saw—she could have been a visitor or…or an employee.”

  “Wearing a robe to pick up the newspaper? And the children ran out the front door in their pajamas.” Felicity tsk-tsked. “No, I checked into this, Meg. They’re definitely living there.”

  “Checked how?”

  “My butler, Sams, has a friend with the agency that takes care of Rand’s house when he’s traveling. He inquired, and this young woman and two children have definitely moved in. Sams speculated that—”

  “I don’t want to hear your butler’s speculations,” Meg said tightly. “Randy will tell me anything I need to know.”

  “I’ve upset you. I’m so sorry, but I thought—”

  “I know what you thought, and I’m not upset. Please don’t give it further consideration.”

  Hanging up, Meg stood there with her heart banging. What was going on with Rand? And how was she going to find out before he and Maxine left for Showdown today?

  “I’M SORRY, Mom, I don’t have time to talk now.”

  “But, Randy, this is important.”

  “Rand,” Max said, “if your mother wants to talk to you—”

  “All right, Mom, spill it. What have I done this time?”

  Meg looked from her son to his wife. She couldn’t blurt out her question and risk causing problems in the marriage, assuming it was a marriage. “I—” She couldn’t go on. She couldn’t say, Why is a strange woman and two children living in your Boston town house? What is this woman to you? Are those children yours?

  Afraid of what his answers might be, she gave in. “You’re right,” she said. “This isn’t the time.”

  Jesse, who’d been watching with shuttered eyes, let out a disbelieving grunt. “What’s going on, Meg?”

  “Nothing,” she said, suddenly realizing that she should speak to her husband about this, anyway, before confronting her son. “Drive carefully. Remember, we’ll all be there at the Rocking T on Sunday, the thirtieth, to consider the inheritance.”

  “You mean everyone’s coming?”

  “Of course—Trey and Rachel, your father and me, and naturally Boone and Kit will already be there.”

  “The Supreme Court, huh.”

  Jesse gave a short laugh. “You got that right, kid.”

  Meg said quickly, “We’ll talk then, Randy. We have lots of things that need clarifying.”

  “Care to give me a hint?”

  “No, dear. We’ll talk when I see you again.”

  “Whatever you say.” Rand looked annoyed. “You’re holding all the cards.” He kissed Meg’s cheek, a cold peck. “I’ll see you next weekend, Mom.” He shook hands with his father. “Sir.”

  Not Daddy, not even Dad: sir.

  Meg’s heart constricted with pain. How was she going to tell Jesse about the Boston town house? How was she going to tell the son she loved that she couldn’t, in good conscience, support his bid for his inheritance?

  “WELL, MAX,” Rand said, “it’s just you and me, kid. Here we go, off to the last stop on our ‘we’re in love’ tour. And a miserable failure it’s been to date, if I do say so myself.”

  Maxi sighed. “What was your mother trying so hard not to say?” she wondered aloud.

  “I don’t have a clue.” He pulled into a combination gasoline station and convenience store at one end of the main street of Hells Bells.

  Maxi lowered the window while he fumbled with the gasoline pump. “It was something specific, like she’d…like she’d heard something or learned something but didn’t want to talk in front of me.”

  “Or in front of Dad. He’s not exactly understanding where—”

  “Hey, Randy!”

  Both Rand and Maxi looked toward the speaker, a short blocky man in the tan uniform of a law enforcement officer. The man loped up, one hand on the leather holster on his hip. He was smiling.

  Rand made the introductions. “Max, this is Mike Anderson, the town marshal. Mike, my wife, Maxine.”

  “Howdy.” Mike tipped his Smoky the Bear hat. “Heard you was hitched. Congratulations.” His jovial air disappeared and he added, “Randy, I thought you’d want to know somebody’s been asking questions about you.”

  “Me?” Rand’s eyes narrowed fractionally. “What kind of questions.”

  “Oh, the usual—if you’ve ever been in any trouble, how local folks feel about you in particular and the Taggarts in general…what your plans are.”

  Maxi, who by now was starting to know Rand, saw a dark tide of color rise into his face.

  “Who’s been asking these questions?”

  “I got no idea. He called and talked to Pearl—she’s girl Friday at the station. She swears she didn’t tell him a thing, but knowing Pearl…” He shook his head regretfully. “She got the impression he was a fed—or wanted her to think so.”

  “That’s it?” Rand sounded incredulous.

  “I’ve told you all I know,” Mike said defensively. “I’d want to find out, if it was me. And, Randy—”

  “Yeah?”

  “You might want to walk real careful. Someone’s watchin’ and you don’t know why.”

  Mike walked away. Rand glanced at Maxi, who was holding her breath. None of this made any sense to her unless…unless the police had realized their error in suspecting Helen and her boss and were now on the trail of Rand Taggart.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  AFTER THEY HAD DRIVEN a good ten miles, Rand said, “Damn!” as if it had just occurred to him.

  Maxi, brooding in the passenger seat, started. “What?”

  “Why would anybody be asking questions about me?”

  She felt a stab of uneasiness, which she ignored. She, too, wondered about that. “I have no idea,” she said.

  “Suppose it has anything to do with the hijacking?”

  “Seems unlikely.” She cast him an oblique glance. “Is there anything else you’re interested in keeping quiet?” She held her breath, waiting for his response.

  Did he look guilty, sound secretive when he answered, “Not a thing. My life is an open book”?

  “Hardly. If it was, you wouldn’t be trying to fool your family about our…deal.”

  “You got me there. I guess my life isn’t an open book.”

  “The fact that you’d suggest it makes me wonder if there’s anything else I should know.” Tell me now, she silently willed him. Explain everything. I might even believe you.

  He considered. “No,” he said finally. “There’s nothing. You’re my only secret.”

  “Okay,” she said, disappointed but not surprised. “I don’t think we’re fooling anyone about our so-called marriage, though.”

  “Maybe not, but if there’s a shadow of a doubt they’ll give it to me. I know them. They want to believe. It’s our job to make it possible for them to do that with a clear conscience.”

  “In which case, I’ll take
off, never to be heard from again, and you’ll sell the old family homestead right out from under them. Nice, Rand. Their conscience might be clear, but how will yours feel?”

  “Jeez, Max.” He gave her an annoyed glance. “Whose side are you on anyway?”

  “I’m starting to wonder,” she admitted, thinking about the welcome she’d received from Trey and Rachel, the affection she’d recognized between Rand and his mother, the friction with his father, the friendly acceptance from his sister.

  With any luck, Boone and Kit would be grouches with chips on their shoulders. She needed someone in this family to reveal feet of clay and an attitude.

  She could see she’d annoyed Rand, so she changed the subject. “Tell me about this final aunt and uncle we’re trying to deceive.”

  He eyed her resentfully. “Boone’s my father’s younger brother. He was an attorney on the fast track, with offices in New York and London. Mom used to call him the man who had everything—before Kit got hold of him, of course.”

  “And did what?”

  “Kept him from selling the old home place, for one. Thom T. was getting on and Boone wanted him to sell the ranch and move to New York City with him. Which, now that I think of it, means I’m not the first member of the family with that idea.”

  “But Boone didn’t do it. Why?”

  “It was Aunt Kit’s doing. Her aunt was Thom T.’s housekeeper and Kit grew up on the ranch. She was as determined to save the Rocking T as Boone was to sell it.” A sudden grin lightened the tension in his face. “You can see who came out ahead on that one.”

  “Apparently she came out ahead on everything, since they’re living in Texas instead of New York.”

  “Yes, but life hasn’t exactly been kind to Kit. They lost their first child to SIDS—sudden infant death syndrome. That would be tough for anyone to get through.”

  “Oh, God, how awful.”

  “Yes, but Boone and Kit faced it together. A thing like that sometimes pulls a couple apart, but it seemed to make those two even stronger. Later Boone was elected to the United States Senate, but he resigned in the middle of his second term because Kit had breast cancer. He was with her every step of the way and she made a miraculous recovery.”