Hitched! Read online

  Rand Taggart yawned and stretched, the soft blue shirt stretching tight across his chest.

  “I’m whipped,” he sighed. “I don’t think I’ve had a decent minute’s rest since we left Chicago.”

  She just looked at him, thinking, Why are you telling me this?

  “You’re sitting on my bed,” he elaborated.

  She glanced at the pale-gray goose-down sofa on which she sat.

  He nodded. “I’m giving you the bedroom.”

  “You take it,” she decided. “I’m not ready to go to bed yet. I’ll sleep out here.”

  “Are you sure?” Another prodigious yawn overtook him.

  “I’m sure.”

  She watched him wander off toward the bedroom, footsteps dragging. Sighing, she settled back on the sofa with her champagne.

  This wasn’t even close to the way she’d dreamed of spending her wedding night, but at least the setting was right. This suite was fabulous, not new, but so classy and sophisticated with its green-and-white decor that she just wanted to sink into it and not come up. The champagne was right; the gentle breeze ruffling sheer balcony curtains was right.

  Everything else was wrong. Rand Taggart was not the man of her dreams, wouldn’t have been even if she didn’t know what she knew about him. When the time was right, she would set her sights on a sensible, hardworking, professional man: doctor, lawyer, merchant chief, something along those lines.

  Meanwhile she’d turned her attention to earning a living, leaving little time for romance. Strike that, she corrected herself. Rising, she walked outside onto the balcony, wanting to see what he’d seen. In her type of work, guys didn’t romance her—they hit on her. Just because they could view her whenever they wanted to in her underwear—make that Violet’s Advantage lingerie—they seemed to think she owed them something.

  At least Rand hadn’t come on to her, which both pleased and annoyed her. She didn’t want him to see through her deception, but she didn’t enjoy being overlooked like some wallflower, either. She’d fallen into modeling without ever expecting it to last, since, as her mother had always taught her, “Pretty is as pretty does.”

  But that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy occasional male appreciation. How would Rand react if she did masterful things with hair and makeup, put on something clingy and revealing—

  Forget it. Finishing the last drops of champagne, she leaned her elbows on the iron railing with a sigh. She was an honest person involved in a dishonest undertaking. She was in over her head, but she had no choice but to go forward.

  She owed her sister too much to take the easy way out.

  MAXINE LOOKED different in her sleep.

  Softer. Prettier. Sweeter. Somehow almost…desirable.

  Rand shook his head in amazement. He was seeing things that weren’t there. This was Maxine Rafferty—make that Taggart, Maxine Taggart—not some sex kitten.

  A soft knock brought him swinging toward the door. He’d phoned for coffee and breakfast from the bedroom and didn’t want the waiter to awaken her. Too late. She sat up abruptly, obviously groggy, and shoved a hand through her tousled hair.

  She had slept fully dressed. What the hell?

  “What is it?” She glanced around in drowsy confusion.

  “Breakfast.”

  “Oh, Lord, don’t open that door until I get out of here!” Leaping from the bed, she fled toward the second bathroom, where she’d undoubtedly stashed her things.

  Feeling like a jerk for sleeping so well and so long in the bed while she struggled with the couch, he tipped the waiter and pulled the cart inside himself. By the time she reappeared, he had everything set up and waiting on the balcony.

  He gestured. “Desayuno,” he said grandly.

  She laughed. With her hair combed back and her glasses firmly in place, she resembled her sensible self again. “You really should learn a little more Spanish.”

  “Why, when I have you to translate?” He held a chair for her.

  She sat down and reached for the coffeepot. “Mmm, this smells heavenly. A lot of my friends are tea drinkers but nothing beats a good cup of coffee in the morning.”

  “That’s how all us Taggarts feel. You’ll fit right in.” He took his own place. “Thom T. used to say tea drinkers were a bunch of sissies.”

  “Your great-grandpa sounds like quite a man.”

  Rand smiled. “He was. The old guy was doing his damnedest to reach a hundred, but he missed it by ten days. I couldn’t believe it.” He shook his head at the memory of his father’s phone call. He’d never heard Jesse Taggart so broken up. “I thought he’d live forever,” he added softly.

  “I wish I’d known him.”

  The sincerity in her tone earned her a sharp glance. That had sounded almost…wifely. “You won’t be able to meet him, but you’ll get to see him in action.”

  Her eyebrows rose above the glasses. “Are we talking séance?” She lifted the silver lid from her plate and looked down with approval at a steaming plate of shredded beef with chopped onions, peppers and tomatoes mixed with scrambled eggs and topped with melting cheese and a red sauce.

  “We’re talking film,” he said. “Thom T. videotaped his will. I’ve never seen it myself, but maybe I’m ready to do that now. Enough years have passed…” He trailed off. It had been cowardly of him to skip the “reading” of Thom T.’s will, but at the time, he didn’t think he could have handled it.

  “I see.” She plucked a hot tortilla from the basket. “So what’s our next move?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve decided to do this the easy way, if there is such a thing.”

  “Meaning?”

  “As much as I hate to, I’ve got to trot you and the marriage license out for inspection. We’ll start with my uncle Trey and aunt Rachel. They’ll be infinitely easier to convince than my parents or Uncle Boone and Aunt Kit.”

  “You have funny names in your family.” She tore off a piece of tortilla. “Jesse, Boone—”

  “Funnier than you realize. My dad’s full name is Jesse James Taggart and his brother is Daniel Boone Taggart. Thom T. used to get all bent out of shape when people called attention to their names. Said they were all named for grand-uncles and great-great-grandpas and who knows who all.”

  “You believe that? Sounds to me like someone just had a sense of humor.”

  “Could be.” He picked up his fork. “But I believed him.”

  “How about this uncle Trey? Someone in your family was named ‘three’?”

  He grinned. “You’re close. Trey represents a long-lost branch of the family. His full name is Thomas Trenton Taggart Smith—three Ts, get it? He grew up in foster homes and on the streets and didn’t even know he was a Taggart until Thom T. hunted him down and dragged him kicking and screaming to Texas.”

  “I sense a story there.”

  “Quite a story. Trey was a movie stuntman back then. Today he’s a second-unit director in Hollywood, and handles action sequences for some really big flicks. He’s led a different kind of life and he’s a lot more laid-back than my dad or Boone.”

  “What about his wife?”

  “Aunt Rachel was the Showdown town librarian—Showdown’s a little old Texas burg near the Rocking T Ranch. She already had a son when Trey came to town. Now they’ve got sixteen-year-old twin boys, too.”

  Maxine groaned. “How will I ever keep everyone straight?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he advised. “When you meet them, it’ll all straighten out for you.”

  “Do Uncle Trey and Aunt Rachel live in Hollywood?”

  “In the Valley. We’ll fly to L.A. and rent a car.”

  “Today?” She looked almost frightened, as if this were all happening too fast.

  Which, of course, it was. “If we can get out,” he said. “We’ll drive to the Tijuana airport and see what it takes to get past the authorities.” He made a face. “Nobody was too crazy about us taking this little side trip instead of flying out yester
day with everybody else.”

  Her forehead creased in a disapproving frown. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t want to worry you. Who cares whether they approve of our plans or not. It’s none of their damn business what we do.”

  She didn’t look convinced but let the subject drop. “I need to do some shopping.”

  “I assumed you would.”

  She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re a woman. Women always need to do some shopping. I learned that at my mother’s knee.”

  “If that’s how you feel about it—”

  “Maxine, lighten up!” He leaned forward to pat her arm, which she quickly pulled away. She was tense, way too tense. “This is never going to work if we examine every word we say in case some offense was intended. We’ll stop on our way out of town, okay?”

  “Okay.” She had the good grace to look ashamed of herself.

  “We’ll ask at the desk if there’s a place—”

  “I know a place,” she said. At his incredulous glance, she added, “Well, I do. I’ve been to Rosarito before on a sort of…a working vacation, I guess you could call it.”

  “Maybe someday you’ll come back just for the fun of it,” he said. “I’ve been to Cancún and Acapulco, but I’ve got to say, this place appeals to me more. It’s quieter and more…real.”

  She nodded. “The funny thing is, when I came here before, I thought what a wonderful place this would be for a honeymoon. I never dreamed that someday…”

  Their glances met and something clicked, some unspoken acknowledgment that life really was what happened while you were busy making other plans.

  “YOU’RE NOT GOING to get that one.”

  Maxi continued to admire the white cotton nightie frosted with lace at the high neckline and the wrists. “I certainly am. I love it.”

  “It looks like something a nun would wear.” Rand held out a long, tiered and brightly embroidered dress. “I like this one.”

  “To sleep in?” Maxi carried her choice to the cash register at one end of the overflowing counter.

  “Of course not, but—”

  “I need a nightgown, Rand.” Desperately. She’d slept in her clothing last night because the nightgown in her bag had come from Violet’s collection and left absolutely nothing to the imagination. She might not be Rand’s type, but that nightgown sure would be.

  “You need this, too.” He tossed the dress on top of her selections and smiled broadly at the curious dark-eyed teenager waiting for their money. “You take Visa, I hope?”

  “Sí, señor.”

  “I can pay—” Maxi stopped short. He should pay for these things, of course. She added a belated, “Thank you.”

  “And this.” Rand held out a small silver circle. “I’m sorry it’s not diamonds, but under the circumstances…”

  Her heart gave a funny little lurch when she heard that cliché about diamonds. Glancing up, she caught an almost tender expression on his face. “I don’t need a ring,” she said, her voice husky.

  “Of course you do. We should have had it for the ceremony, but better late than never. Put out your hand so we can see if it fits.”

  She could hardly bring herself to comply with his very reasonable request. So far this all seemed like a dream, but a ring, even a cheap little silver band from a hole-in-the-wall shop in Mexico, carried with it a certain reality she couldn’t ignore.

  “Please, Maxine.”

  Holding her breath, she extended her left hand slowly. He slipped the ring over the third finger, halting at the knuckle. “With this ring,” he murmured, then slid it into place.

  She’d been blindsided. What an awful thing to say! He had no right to joke about something as important as marriage and its symbols. For two cents, she’d give him a tongue-lashing he wouldn’t soon forget—

  If he hadn’t already turned back to the counter to offer his credit card. She was stuck with this ring. She glared down at it, such a perfect fit that it might have been made for her.

  She pressed her lips together. Someday she’d have the pleasure of snatching this ring off and flinging it in his face.

  But not today. Today they had a lot of territory to cover.

  Unfortunately they hit a snag at Tijuana International Airport. As the last passengers from the ill-fated Alar Airlines plane to leave Mexico, they had “a lot of ’splainin’ to do,” as the scowling policeman pointed out. Although their stories never varied, he still didn’t seem convinced until Maxine burst into tears and declared herself mortified to be spending her first full day of married life in an airport being grilled by the policía.

  “That was a stroke of genius,” Rand commended her fifteen minutes later while he buckled himself into his seat for the short flight north.

  She grinned. “Since it worked, I agree. Once he saw our marriage license he was a different man.”

  “You hang on to that license,” he ordered. “We’ll have to show it around a lot in the next couple of weeks.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “Wise guy.” But he gave her a friendly smile, gratified that she was smart enough to see a loophole and grab it. Leaning back in his seat, he sighed. “We’re getting out of Mexico a lot later than I expected. We’d better spend the night in a hotel in Los Angeles and call Trey and Rachel in the morning.”

  “All right.” She looked thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking about what you mentioned earlier today. They really sound like the odd couple.”

  “How so?”

  “You said he was a movie stuntman and she was a librarian. If that’s not odd, I don’t know what is.”

  “I never thought of it that way,” he admitted. “They’ve just always been part of my family. I was about six or seven when they got married, so I never questioned it. Still…”

  She perked up. “Still what?”

  “Mom told me once that Trey and Rachel had a hard time getting together. Rachel thought he was a conniving con man, and fought tooth and nail to keep Thom T. away from him and vice versa.”

  Maxine smiled. “I’ll bet Trey figured Rachel was a small-town prude.”

  “Lucky guess.” He returned her dazzling smile.

  “They say opposites attract. In their case, opposites fell in love and it lasted.”

  “Lucky them,” Rand said, but he was thinking Go figure and eyeing Maxine with considerable doubt about the “opposites attract” theory.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MAXI THOUGHT they would never get away from LAX. Once they did—in an extravagant red convertible instead of the cheap compact she’d have chosen—she sighed and leaned back against the soft leather upholstery. A million stars glittered and gleamed overhead.

  Maybe a convertible wasn’t such a bad idea after all. It was his money—or Coconutty’s, as the case might be.

  He hit the freeway as if he’d been driving one all his life. “Where’ll we stay?” he asked. It was obviously a courtesy question. “I know of several nice hotels. They’re a little out of our way, but—”

  “How about the nearest Motel Six?”

  His laughter was incredulous. “You’re kidding, right?”

  She should be. “Wrong. Look, it’s already late and all we’re going to do is sleep,” she pointed out. “Why pay a fortune for some fancy hotel when we’ll only be in it for a few hours? Just stop at the first decent place you see.”

  “Maxine Taggart, you’re cheap!” he accused.

  “I’m thrifty. There’s a difference.” She hoped.

  “I told my mother she’d love you. If she finds out you’re trying to put me on a budget, she’ll worship you.”

  “I hope not. I won’t be around long enough for her to get attached to me.” Or vice versa. She must keep her distance from these people he was trotting her around to meet. They must like her, but she mustn’t like them…not too much, anyway.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked suddenly. “It’s kind of late to
find anything but fast food, I’m afraid.”

  “I could handle a hamburger.” She sat up suddenly, alerted by neon on the frontage road paralleling the freeway. “Get off at the next ramp and circle back! There’re a bunch of fast-food places and several motels.”

  “I really thought you were joking,” he said. “You want to stay in some sleazy motel instead of a nice four- or five-star hotel?”

  “Not sleazy,” she said firmly. “Inexpensive. There’s a difference.”

  “If you say so.” He maneuvered off the freeway and onto the frontage road leading to the cluster of restaurants and motels. “But remember, this is your idea.”

  AND NOT A BAD ONE, as it turned out. Even Rand had to admit the room was clean and neat, with two double beds to simplify their sleeping arrangements. While Maxine showered and prepared for bed, he flipped through the television channels and wondered why he suddenly felt very married indeed.

  He had the name, but he sure didn’t have the game.

  He grinned, remembering how mention of a convertible and fancy hotels had horrified her. Something had happened to her along the line, something he couldn’t as yet comprehend. Idly he watched a man demonstrate a knife that could apparently slash through anything, up to and including a truck tire.

  Sometimes Rand felt as if he was on the verge of slashing through her defenses and finding the real Maxine. But the feeling quickly dissipated. She played everything too close to the vest, remaining incredibly self-contained and lacking in spontaneity.

  He leaned back on one of the beds, hands cupping his head on the pillow. Tomorrow would be a real test for both him and her. He would be trying to convince a very savvy man and an equally intelligent woman that not only was he married, he was in love.

  With a woman named Maxine?

  Not very damned likely! When she walked out of the bathroom covered from chin to toe in virginal white, he said, “Maxine, there’s something we have to get straight.”

  She looked startled. “This sounds ominous.”

  “Not really. It’s…your name.”

  She frowned and reached for a hairbrush. “What’s wrong with it?”

  Besides the fact that it was butt ugly? He couldn’t say that.