Hitched! Page 17

  His smiling glance met his wife’s with such intimate understanding that Rand had to clear his throat.

  “Whatever,” he said. “I’m willing to give Max credit. Thanks for lunch and…everything.”

  Boone rose. “Call if there’s anything we can do. The phone’s working, the refrigerator has been stocked and Lee’s expecting you.”

  “Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”

  “We tried to. I’m sure your folks mentioned this, but we’re all planning to descend on you for your birthday.”

  “They mentioned it. We’ll see you then if not before.”

  After the newlyweds were gone, Kit turned to Boone. “I like her,” she said. “I do think she’s good for him. They remind me of us, darling.”

  His laughter was incredulous. “I don’t see that.”

  “Then you didn’t look close enough. I saw a…a hunger in her eyes. I think it’s a hunger for home. It’s a hunger I felt the first time I saw the Rocking T.”

  “Kit…”

  She lifted her chin, determined not to give in to all the old emotions seeing Maxine had dredged up. “I think she’ll find that home at the Rocking T, with Randy.” She sighed. “But despite what I said before, I…I’m so terribly afraid you’re right about him. He intends to sell the ranch, just as you did once.”

  Boone leaned across the table, his gaze locked with hers. “But you convinced me I was wrong.”

  “Yes, but it was a close call. I hope and pray Randy will wake up in time. He hasn’t stopped to consider what that place means, not only to all of us but to him, too. And what it’s going to mean to Maxine, poor little thing.”

  “Maybe when he sees it again—”

  “Maybe. Oh, Boone, if only!” She closed her eyes and clenched her hands into fists, willing it to be so.

  “A piece of this puzzle is missing,” Boone mused. “It’s almost as if…Randy needs the money.”

  “No way,” she scoffed. “With the fortune he inherited from Meg’s grandfather?”

  “You’d think so. Nevertheless, I may just take the time to do a little checking of my own.”

  She shrugged. Boone was on the wrong track in this instance, but if he wanted to waste time and money digging into Randy’s life, let him.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TOPPING THE RISE above the Rocking T near Showdown, Texas, Rand pulled the rental car to the side of the narrow paved road and killed the engine. His hands shook and his whole body trembled as he stared down at the ranch headquarters.

  “My God,” he said. “I haven’t been here in years, but it looks exactly the way I remember it. I thought it would be…different.”

  “Different how?” Maxi pulled her gaze away from the neatly arrayed buildings and corrals and fences to face him. He was pale beneath the light tan.

  “Worse,” he admitted. “Run-down, or maybe deserted-looking.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Guess we might as well go and see what we’ve got ourselves into.”

  Maxi nodded, already liking what she saw. Take away the sports-utility vehicle parked near the barn and the tractor behind one of the outbuildings and they could be driving through time to another century.

  The sprawling two-story white house dominated its surroundings, but the big red barn also compelled attention. Everything was freshly painted and neat. A couple of horses peered curiously past the log corral beside the barn and long-horned cattle grazed peacefully on both sides of the road.

  Rand drove beneath a wooden arch with Rocking T burned into the dangling wooden sign. He parked next to the walkway leading to the house, then crawled out slowly, his head swiveling so he could take in a panoramic view. Maxi followed, feeling a strange excitement.

  She was a city girl and lacked any desire for country life, or so she’d believed. But she sensed a peacefulness and simplicity here, an air of self-reliance that she immediately attributed to Thom T. Taggart. A yearning to know that kind old gentleman pierced her with unexpected sweetness. She’d never even seen Thom T.’s photograph, but she already loved him.

  Rand was going to betray Thom T. and all the other Taggarts. A man who could do that wouldn’t find it hard to swindle an old friend and leave his lover to face the music. Straightening her shoulders, Maxi vowed not to allow herself to be swayed from her mission.

  At that moment, a man emerged from the house. Grinning, he came down the walk to meet them, his stride easy. In his late thirties, he wore no hat and his brown hair was thinning.

  “Randy.” He stuck out his hand. “Boone told me you were coming.”

  “Good to see you, Laddy.”

  Startled, the man shook his head. “Nobody’s called me that in years. It’s ‘Lee’ now.”

  “Sorry. I haven’t seen you in years, so I didn’t know.” A smile lifted one corner of Rand’s mouth. “Nobody calls me ‘Randy’ anymore, either, at least until I get around the family.”

  “Okay,” Maxi said, “it’s Rand and Lee.” She smiled at the newcomer. “I’m Maxine.”

  “I know.” He took the hand she offered. “I’m real glad to meet you. C’mon in, folks. The books are all spread out for your inspection.” He led them back to the house. “Rachel must have told you that I’m an accountant in my other life.”

  “I think she mentioned it.” Rand guided Maxi before him, his hand warm on the small of her back.

  Lee opened the door and stepped aside. “Welcome home, folks.” He indicated that they should enter ahead of him. “Old Thom T. always knew you’d come back, Randy—Rand.”

  Rand’s fingers dug suddenly into Maxi’s back. She wanted to turn so she could see his face, but he was directing her inside. There, she stopped short.

  Victoriana surrounded her: dark wallpaper; rich, though threadbare, Oriental rugs, and heavy wooden furniture. But more than the components of the room made an impression; she was struck by the feeling that she, as much as Rand Taggart, had come home.

  She uttered a soft, “Ohhh.”

  Lee gave her a quick, approving grin and she realized he hadn’t seemed comfortable with Rand’s lack of reaction.

  “Great old place, isn’t it.” Lee crossed the room to a huge rolltop desk that dominated one wall. “The books are in there.” He nodded at one of two doors. “Bedrooms are upstairs, Maxine. The kitchen’s that way.” He pointed. “Kit stocked the refrigerator herself. No chance of you starving to death. I’ve given the men their orders, so you won’t have to worry about the stock or the day-to-day details of runnin’ this place. Unless there’s something else, I’m out of here.”

  Rand shook off his stupor. “You’re living in the foreman’s house?”

  “Yes, but that’s not where I’m headed. I’d scheduled a trip to Dallas a couple of weeks ago but put it off when I heard you’d be comin’.” He reached for a tan Stetson on a hat rack near the door. “I’ll be back in time for your birthday, though.”

  “But—”

  “Rand, this trip is pleasure, not business. I’ve got a gal in Dallas and I’m not as lucky as you are—she hasn’t said yes yet.” Holding the hat, he turned to Maxi. “Real glad to meet you,” he said in his Texas drawl. “You’ll be happy here.” He winked. “Thom T. said so.”

  He was gone.

  Maxi turned uncertainly toward Rand, wondering how he was taking all this. His expression was un-communicative.

  “Now what?” she wondered.

  He shrugged. “I suppose we should bring in our suitcases and get settled before we look around.”

  “All right.” She hesitated before adding, “Rand, you seem so…” She licked her lips. “Shaken.”

  He shrugged it off. “I’m fine,” he said brusquely. “C’mon, let’s get at it.”

  This time he led the way and she followed uncertainly.

  RAND HALTED before the door to the right of the stairway. “You take this room,” he said. “It was Thom T.’s.”

  Her eyes got that stubborn look. “No way. You’re the master of this house. Y
ou take it.”

  “No, you take it.” He didn’t want it; he really didn’t want it. This whole place vibrated with the spirit of the old rancher who’d inhabited it for so long. Rand didn’t need to sleep in his bed, as well. “I’ll take that room.” He pointed to the door at the opposite end of the hall.

  “I’ll take that one.”

  “Dammit, Max, that’s where I always slept when I was here. Don’t be such a pain.”

  “I’m not the one who’s a pain.” She snatched her suitcase from his grip before he knew what she intended. “I don’t care if you sleep in the barn, but I’m not sleeping in Thom T.’s room—coward!”

  She marched away from him, shoulders straight. He watched with jaw clenched. He could take one of the other bedrooms; there were three of them. But her final word rankled.

  Because he was a coward. Dammit, he was all shook up just being here again. Maybe he didn’t have the guts to sleep in the room of the man he was willing to betray.

  To hell with that. He kicked open the door and plunged into the room before he had time to lose his nerve. After dropping his suitcase just inside the door, he walked with reluctant steps to stand beside the old-fashioned four-poster.

  He’d been in this room before, of course, but he’d never realized how small the bed was. This couldn’t be any bigger than a modern double bed, much too tiny to share with any degree of comfort.

  Depending on the two people sharing it…

  Thom T. had shared it with his wife, universally known as Miss Agnes both before and after her marriage. She’d died long before Rand came on the scene, but he’d heard a lot about her and the way she’d tamed the wildest man in this part of Texas.

  Saved him from an early grave was how Thom T. himself recounted it to his wide-eyed great-grandson.

  Rand laid a hand on the heavy dark bedspread, imagining that he could feel Thom T.’s energy beneath it. Thom T. had been born in this bed and he’d died in this bed. Other Taggarts almost certainly had, too.

  Now I’m master of the Rocking T, as Max put it. At least for a little while….

  Rand let his head drop forward until his chin rested on his chest. He should have known that plans made in Chicago and Mexico and Boston wouldn’t hold much water when faced with Taggart reality.

  “Rand?”

  Her soft inquiry made him jump and pull his hand away from the bed guiltily. “What is it?” His voice was a croak.

  She took a few steps into the room.

  “Can I give you a hand, or shall I go on downstairs and…and…look around?”

  “I’ll go down with you,” he said. “I can unpack later. Are you hungry?” He followed her into the hall, glad to get out of the room.

  “I could use something to drink.” She gave him a quick, mischievous smile. “Knowing your family, there’s got to be a pitcher of tea in the kitchen.” Then she looked really confused, because of course she didn’t know his family on such short acquaintance.

  She was right about the tea, though. Over icy glasses of the stuff, Rand felt himself calming down, getting hold of himself again. While Max checked out the contents of refrigerator and cabinets, he stared out the window at the horses idling in the corral.

  Laddy—make that Lee—had thought of everything.

  “We’ve got enough food here to last at least six months,” Max declared, closing the last cupboard door.

  “It won’t go to waste,” he said. “Lee can always use what we don’t get to.”

  “Yes.” She no longer sounded excited and happy, just guarded. “How about steak with all the trimmings for dinner?”

  “I thought your specialty was baking cookies.”

  She drew her eyebrows together. “I’m a woman of many talents. As you very well know, I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth like some people I could name.”

  “Don’t get personal, Max. I’ve got enough problems without that.”

  “You certainly do.” She sighed. “What do you say we call a truce? I don’t mean to be a bitch, but…being here and knowing full well what you intend to do is making me a tad uneasy.”

  “Jeez, Max, I don’t intend to torch the place.”

  Her steady gaze never wavered. “You might as well…or plunge a knife into someone’s heart. It comes down to the same thing. Everybody’s hoping against hope—”

  “That’s enough. You’re in this as deep as I am, so don’t go all sanctimonious on me now.”

  She followed him into the parlor. “I’m not in as deep as you are, because I wasn’t born a Taggart.”

  He whirled to face her, armed only with his guilt. “You’re a Taggart now so back off.” He turned to the door. “I’m going out to look around. You coming?”

  “No, and you shouldn’t go either, not until you’ve checked out the books.”

  “There’s plenty of time for that. If you’re in such a hurry, do it yourself.”

  “I just might,” she hollered after him.

  He slammed the door.

  Not because he was mad at her; he wasn’t. She was right, and every word she said cut him to the quick. But she hadn’t changed his mind.

  He had responsibilities that required money in large amounts. He was doing what he had to do.

  Thom T. would surely understand that.

  RAND WAS USED to having Max around. That was the only reason he couldn’t get into his tour of the grounds. He wanted to see everything through her eyes, he finally admitted. This would all be new to her, while it was achingly familiar to him.

  Despite his lack of pleasure in what he saw, he was impressed. Lee was doing a helluva job. Standing next to a corral holding two fat and sassy quarter horses, Rand found himself hoping that Lee would be able to keep his job when the new owners took over.

  Hay and grain filled the barn; saddles and bridles gleamed from sawhorses and hooks in the tack room. Tools hung neatly on walls, and stalls had been recently mucked out.

  Rand lingered by the corral, until finally the bay gelding wandered up for a closer look-see. Absently he stroked the animal’s head, thinking that perhaps he should turn the horses into the pasture but then deciding against it. He and Max might want to go for a ride; hell, they’d have to do something to pass the days until his birthday.

  He gritted his teeth. He knew how he would like to spend those days: stretched out on that too-narrow bed with her beside him. That was something else to which he’d grown accustomed: her presence in his bed. But that was agony, as well—agony that would only be appeased by possession of the body he’d merely glimpsed.

  His stomach rumbled and he straightened. She hadn’t joined him, so perhaps she’d started dinner. He could sure use a nice rare steak washed down by a bottle of cold beer.

  He turned and made his way across the quiet yard to enter the house. He saw her at once, hunched over the rolltop desk. At his entrance, she glanced up, excitement breaking free.

  “Rand, come take a look at this!”

  His heart sank. “Don’t tell me something’s wrong with the books. Dammit, I don’t want to have to tell Rachel—”

  “No, no, you don’t understand. The books are in perfect order.” She smoothed her hand over the page.

  “Then what—?”

  “Lee’s done a fabulous job running this place. It’s worth double what it was when Thom T. died.”

  “It is?” Frowning, he leaned over to see the numbers she indicated.

  She nodded. “The longhorns are doing great and the buffalo—”

  “Buffalo? What buffalo?”

  She laughed. “You didn’t know you raised buffalo?” she teased. “Well, you do, and very profitably at that. You sell them mostly to meat-specialty shops and exclusive restaurants.”

  “No kiddin’!”

  “You also breed and raise quarter horses. They’re doing well, too, especially the ones your father takes on for training.”

  He felt suddenly light-headed. “I’m in business with my father?”

>   “You sure are.” She pointed to a figure at the bottom of the column. “That’s what the Rocking T is worth,” she announced. “That’s what you were ready to throw away until—”

  Something came over her then. Her eyes widened and she drew a quick breath. Slamming the book closed on his finger, she stood up. “I’ll go start dinner,” she said, voice tight.

  “Not so fast.” Extricating his finger, he followed her. “When I told you to check the books yourself, I didn’t think you’d really do it.”

  “Why not? Because women aren’t supposed to know one number from another?”

  “Well…no, not exactly. Maybe sort of.”

  She stopped short and faced him. Following too close, he bumped into her; automatically he grasped her upper arms to keep her from stumbling.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, not sure if he was referring to what was patently an insult or for running into her.

  “No, you’re not.” She shook off his grasp. “As it happens, I’m very good with numbers. And as it also happens, you’re not.”

  “How do you know I’m not?”

  “Didn’t you tell me?”

  “Did I?”

  “I hate it when people answer questions with questions.” She planted her hands on her hips.

  “Do you?” Natural good humor had surfaced. Trading quips made him feel better than he had since setting foot on this place. When she started to berate him, he caught her chin with his fingers and planted a quick kiss on her mouth.

  His lips tingled; his fingers tingled. He wanted to tingle all over. “Sorry,” he said in a husky voice. “I couldn’t resist.” And realized that once again, he’d made an open-ended comment: couldn’t resist kissing her or answering a question with a question.

  She looked too rattled to continue sparring. “Whatever,” she said, turning away. “I’ll get those steaks started.”

  Now who’s the coward? he wondered.

  DINNER WAS A SUCCESS, if she did say so herself. The steaks were perfectly broiled, with baked potatoes and a green salad to round out the meal. Maxi enjoyed being in a kitchen again and found herself humming as she worked.

  Even more, she enjoyed watching Rand consume the meal. He was free with his compliments to the point of producing blushes.