Runaway Lone Star Bride

Hart was instantly contrite. “I know—I’m sorry. I forgot to take the diaper bag with me and Henry’s toys were in there. And once Henry heard your voice...”

Maggie took a seat behind her desk and retorted, “You couldn’t have entertained him any other way?”

Smiling casually, Hart gave her a leisurely once-over. “Magnolia McCabe...are you accusing me of just wanting to commandeer your attention and spend time with you?”

Maggie flushed at his low, flirtatious tone.

With his smile widening and his son cradled tenderly against his chest, he inched closer. Maggie rocked back in her chair and tried to tamp down the immediate spark of excitement she felt. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to rise and join them both.

“Because it’s really not true,” Hart quipped. He sat on the edge of her desk, facing her. “It’s Henry here, who is completely and utterly crushing on you.” He indicated the winsome toddler. “Henry, whose heart you seemed to have captured.”

It was easy to see the staggering resemblance between Hart and his son. Both were incredibly handsome and engaging, in their own way. Maggie felt something catch in her heart. She knew her need for connection went soul-deep. But this was not the time or place to indulge that desire. Not when the child was so vulnerable.

She swallowed around the telltale tightness of her throat. “I know Henry likes me. I like him, too. But you can’t keep treating me like his nanny.”

Chapter Three

For a moment, Hart looked like he’d had his fair share of disappointments, too. He gave her a steely-eyed glare. “I’m not asking you to take responsibility for my son.”

Maggie forced herself to keep her guard up, resisting the urge to become even more involved in what was, she knew, a very emotionally charged situation. And where was the child’s mother, anyway? Who was she?

As if sensing the tension between the two adults, Henry squirmed unhappily in Hart’s arms.

He awkwardly attempted to make his son comfortable. Failed. “But with my parents not here, and me not knowing the first thing about taking care of a baby... Look, I just need you to show me what to do,” Hart said, serious now. “Help me fix him something for dinner, get him ready for bed.”

And then what? Maggie wondered. The three of them would be under the same roof, since her quarters were in the main house, too.

Not to mention the fact that with his parents away and the rest of the staff on hiatus at the moment, they were completely alone. And though Henry might work as an effective chaperone some of the time, he wasn’t always going to be awake.

She ignored the fluttering in her middle. “You don’t ask a lot.”

“It’s not for me.” Hart set Henry down on the floor. Happily distracted, the toddler immediately walked off, exploring. “It’s for him.”

Maggie followed Henry into the hallway to the door. She watched as the little guy stood on tiptoe, trying to work the doorknob.

This child was definitely going to be a handful.

Turning back to Hart, she folded her arms across her chest. “Shouldn’t you already know how to do all this?”

He slung the diaper bag over his shoulder. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” Maggie opened the door for Henry. He toddled out, onto the long covered breezeway that connected the Double Knot Wedding Ranch offices to the sprawling cedar and stone ranch house. In the opposite direction, on the other side of the main house, the breezeway led to a four-car garage.

Ten acres away from that, on the other side of a beautifully landscaped flower garden and lawn, there was a train station built in the style of the Old West. There were covered platforms where guests sat as they waited to board the old-fashioned steam engine that would take them to Nature’s Cathedral at the top of Sanders Mountain, a huge party barn where receptions were held and a large parking lot where wedding guests could park.

Maggie opened the back door to the house. “I mean, do your parents even know they are grandparents?” Maggie was pretty sure the intensely family-oriented Fiona and Frank would have mentioned it if they had.

Hart lifted up his son, and carried him across the threshold, before setting the little boy down again. “I just found out myself three days ago.” Sorrow colored his low tone.

Shock rendered Maggie momentarily still. “Seriously?”

Hart set the diaper bag down on the hall table. “My ex-fiancée never told me she was pregnant.” He shrugged, shook his head. “I might not have known at all if Alicia hadn’t died in a car crash a month ago.”

A silence fraught with heartache fell.

Maggie caught up with Henry, who was headed for the back stairs. She grabbed the little boy’s hand and turned him back in the direction of the ranch-house kitchen. “Where’s Henry been since?” Together, the three of them entered the spacious room.

Maggie left Hart to keep track of his son, while she opened up the large, stainless steel fridge and got out the makings for the little boy’s dinner.

“Foster care in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Apparently, my name was on Henry’s Texas birth certificate, but between the bureaucracies of the two states, it took them a while to track me down.”

Maggie set a skillet on the six-burner Viking stove and turned the heat to medium. “Poor kid.” She buttered two pieces of bread and put a slice of American cheese between them.

Hart’s forehead creased. “He was well cared for. At least he seemed somewhat happy, if pretty confused, when I went to pick him up. I thought it would be easier to fly to San Antonio, and then rent a car for the remainder of the trip.” Hart scooped up his son before he could exit the kitchen at top speed. The two of them watched as Maggie spooned applesauce into a dish.

Maggie lifted the spoon to Henry’s lips. “Since it’s only a little over an hour from the city to the Double Knot.” The child paused, thinking, then cautiously took a bite.

“Right. Unfortunately, while en route, we had to change planes in Dallas. Our flight was running late, and we barely made the connection. Henry didn’t take well to the confusion and he absolutely hated takeoff and landing.”

Maggie set the dish on the counter next to Hart and handed him the spoon so he could do the honors. “Probably his ears.”

Hart shifted Henry to his left arm and picked up the spoon with his right hand. “What?”

A little too aware of how cozy and domestic this all felt, Maggie poured milk into a cup. “The change in air pressure is hard on their little ears.”

A corner of his mouth took on a downward slant. “Makes sense. Anyway, he was really miserable and really ticked off. He wouldn’t stay in his safety seat next to me, and he was worse on my lap. He cried the entire time.”

Maggie’s heart went out to both of them. They couldn’t have had a worse start to their trip or their relationship.

“And he was even madder when we picked up the rental,” Hart mused as he continued feeding his son the last of the applesauce. “Fortunately, he fell asleep about forty minutes into the drive and was still snoozing when we got here.”

Noting the sandwich was done, Maggie slid it onto a plate and began slicing it into small kid-sized squares. “So you put him in his stroller.”

Hart nodded while they waited for the grilled cheese bites to cool. “And wheeled him into the house, thinking my mom and dad would be here.”

Only to find me instead, Maggie thought.

She dampened a paper towel and used the edge of it to clean the applesauce from around Henry’s mouth. “This is why you were hoping to surprise your parents.” The little boy lurched toward Maggie. She caught him in her arms.

“I figured it would be better to tell them in person.”

A tenuous silence fell. “Are you still going to wait for that? Or let them know now?”

Hart hesitated. “I hate to disrupt their trip, knowing how long they have wanted to see that part of the world and how seldom they treat themselves to a vacation, but I really need them to help me get Henry settled. So, looks like I’ll be emailing them the news tonight.”

Maggie pulled a chair up to the table, put the sandwich in front of her and sat down with Henry on her lap. She offered him a bite. “How do you think they’ll react?”

For a second, Maggie didn’t think Hart was going to answer. Sorrow came and went in his eyes. Finally, he pulled up a chair next to them and allowed, “I’m sure they’ll be surprised and happy to find out they have a grandson. However, they won’t be as happy about my part in the snafu.”

If there was one thing Maggie understood all too well, it was not meeting parental expectations. Compassion welled within her. “You think they’ll blame you, for not knowing?”

“Hard to say,” Hart said quietly, offering his son another bite of grilled cheese. “What I do know is that my mom and dad had reservations about my engagement to Alicia from the get-go.”

His romantic past was more complicated than she realized. That gave them something in common in that respect, too. “Frank and Fiona didn’t like Alicia?”

Hart caught Maggie’s confused look. “They thought I might not be right for her.”

“Why not?” she asked, shifting Henry onto Hart’s lap and going to get the little boy a drink.

“Alicia was a small-town Texas girl and she wanted stability.”

Maggie washed out the baby bottle from the diaper bag and filled it with milk. She paused to give it to Hart, then stood opposite him, her back to the marble counter. “And you couldn’t give that to her.”

Hart’s lips compressed grimly. “I tried. It’s why we got formally engaged when I still had a year and a half left to go on my tour. Because she needed to know I was serious, that I intended to marry her when my military commitment was up.”

“What happened?”

“She was frustrated because I didn’t know what I wanted to do when I got out of the service—except not come back here to live. And I didn’t want to set our wedding date until I knew what I was going to be doing, where we were going to live.” Frustration glimmered in his dark brown eyes. “So she called it off. Said I was too restless to ever settle down in one place, and that was all she’d ever wanted.”

Finding his steady regard a little unnerving, Maggie set the skillet in the sink, squirted dishwashing liquid into the center of it and got to work. “Did you have any qualms about leaving the military?”

Hart shook his head. “No. When I’m ready to move on, I move on. I don’t spend a lot of time looking back. And although I enjoyed my time in the armed forces and felt good about serving my country, I was ready to try something else.”

Maggie understood that, too. It was why she had gone from business analyst to wedding planner. Because—even though this wasn’t something she planned to do permanently—she had needed a change.

Another silence fell. Henry having finished his dinner, Hart brought him over to the sink and Maggie helped him wash the child’s face and hands. Then Hart set him down on the floor, in front of the bay window in the breakfast nook. Henry stood, his hands pressed against the glass, looking outside.

Hart stood next to his son, tenderly standing guard. Watching them together, Maggie could already feel the love flowing from father to son.

She shook her head. “I don’t understand why Alicia wouldn’t have told you about the baby.”

“I don’t understand it, either. Unless it was because she wanted to keep Henry all to herself.” He paused. “She had to have known that I wouldn’t have just walked away. I would have insisted on shared custody.”

Maggie moved closer. “I’m sorry she didn’t tell you. It was wrong of her to keep him from you.”

Hart reached out and squeezed Maggie’s hand. “Thanks for saying that.”

It wasn’t just a platitude. It bothered her that he thought it might be. “I mean it, Hart. You were dealt a raw hand. You didn’t deserve it.”

Another moment passed. They exchanged fragile smiles while Maggie considered the irony that Hart had helped her out in the midst of the worst crisis of her life, to date. Now, she was helping him out, in the midst of his.

“In the meantime,” Hart drew a deep breath, considering. “I’ve got to figure out where Henry’s going to sleep tonight.”

He was watching her curiously, as if trying to read her mind while she worked to keep her emotions out of it. “Do you have a crib?”

Hart scrubbed a palm across the day’s growth of beard on his chin. “Not sure.” He frowned again. “There used to be one—mine, actually—in the attic. Would you mind looking after Henry while I go check it out?”

“Not at all.” In her view, the sooner they got the little one down for the night, the better. And to that end...maybe she should speed things along, too.

“So what do you think, little fella?” Maggie asked, lifting Henry into her arms after Hart disappeared. The boy smiled and cuddled against her while Maggie ran her fingers through his cracker-and-juice-encrusted hair. Knowing his dad’s chore was going to take a while, given the jumbled state of the contents of the attic, she asked, “You up for a bath tonight? Because to be honest, sport, you really need one.”

Henry flashed a toothy grin.

“I’ll take that for a yes,” Maggie said. She retrieved the diaper bag, Henry still snuggled safely in her arms, and went up the stairs.

* * *

HART HEARD THE wild giggles the moment he hit the second floor. He followed the sound to the guest-room bath. Henry was in the tub, splashing happily. Maggie was kneeling in front of it, one hand tucked securely around Henry’s tummy while Henry dropped a set of toy keys into the bubbles. Chortling happily, he picked them up and promptly dropped them again.

She certainly had the touch with kids, Hart thought. And she was still damned beautiful, too—even in disarray. In deference to the potentially messy task of bathing his son, she’d swept her thick espresso curls up into a loose knot on the back of her head. Her legs and feet were bare, her skirt pulled tight across her delectable derriere and hiked partway up her even more sensational thighs. The front of her blouse was damp and covered with bubbles. She looked as happy and relaxed as the toddler in front of her.

Was this the same child he had picked up at foster care that morning? Hart could hardly believe it.

Catching sight of him in the mirror, Maggie shifted slightly to look at him. As she moved, the neckline of her blouse gaped, showing a hint of lace and soft womanly curves. There was a light in her eyes that made his pulse race all the more.

“How did it go?” Her silky voice caressed his skin.

He kept his eyes on hers and Hart answered her smile with one of his own. “I found the crib. Unfortunately, it was covered with layers of dust.”

“Did you bring it down?”

Hart edged nearer and caught a whiff of her perfume. Hyacinth. He repressed a sigh of pure lust. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. Too long. “I took it outside and hosed it off,” he replied, trying in vain to get his libido under control and his mind back on track. “I was hoping that a simple rinse would do it, but it looks like it’s going to need soap, too.”

“I think there’s some wood-oil soap under the kitchen sink.”

Was it his imagination, or was it getting hot in here? “Thanks. I’ll look.” She seemed very much in her element with his child, amazingly so. “Are you okay here with Henry—if I go off to finish the job?”

Maggie nodded. “None of us will get any shut-eye tonight unless Henry has a place to sleep. So go for it.”

“Thanks. I owe you.”

She laughed and waggled her brows facetiously. “I’ll remember that.”

Hart took another last, lingering look at the two of them, then went off to finish the chore. By the time he returned, Maggie was in the living-room rocking chair, Henry on her lap. The baby had a bottle of milk clutched in his hands, and he was drinking it drowsily. The two looked like mother and son, and Hart couldn’t help but smile at them. Maggie smiled back, then stiffened abruptly. Her contentment fading, she seemed more than ready to relinquish his son to him. “All set?” she asked.

Hiding his regret to see her so eager to leave, Hart nodded. “Bed’s made and everything.”

Maggie rose, Henry still in her arms. “Where’d you put it?”

“My old room.”

“Ah, yes.” Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “The one with all the trophies and awards.”

A little embarrassed his parents insisted on keeping the room like a museum of his accomplishments, Hart dipped his head in droll acknowledgment. “That would be the one.”

“You know, it might be a good idea to take the rocking chair up there.”

Hart had been thinking the same thing. Wordlessly, he handed Henry back to Maggie. Then picked up the rocker and headed up the stairs. Maggie and Henry followed along behind him.

When they reached his old bedroom, Maggie looked approvingly at the crib set up right next to the extra-long twin bed of his youth. A bedside lamp was glowing. Once again, she relinquished command of her young charge. “Ten more minutes of rocking and he ought to be out like a light.”

Hart nodded his understanding. Trying not to think how quickly he had come to rely on her, he sat down with Henry in his arms and got to it.

* * *

HALF AN HOUR LATER, Maggie was in the kitchen making tortilla soup and a salad for her own dinner when Hart walked in. He had changed into a pair of nice-fitting jeans and a denim shirt, and for the first time since he had arrived, he looked completely relaxed and at ease.

She couldn’t help but light up at the sight of him.

He was just so damned sexy.

And she could not afford to be noticing!

Maggie tabled the loneliness that made her so susceptible and brought her thoughts back to the situation at hand. “Henry asleep?”

Hart breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah.” His smile grew tender. “He fought it as hard as he could, but the poor little guy just couldn’t keep his eyes open. I put him in his crib about ten minutes ago, and he ought to be good for a while. In the meantime, I rigged up a makeshift baby monitor by calling the house phone with my cell and leaving the phone receiver in Henry’s room. I hope that’s okay,” he said.

Impressed he had figured out what to do until they could get a real baby monitor for him to use, Maggie nodded her approval. “If anyone really needs me, they’ll call my cell phone.” She paused. “I’m glad he’s finally asleep, though.”

Except...it would mean they’d have the rest of the night without distraction. And the two of them needed the commotion Henry supplied to keep them safely at arm’s length.

Hart strode closer. He’d shaved since she had seen him last. A mixture of mint and spicy aftershave lotion clung to his handsome jaw. She felt a tingle of awareness deep inside her.

He smiled. “But just in case—would you mind keeping an ear out for him while I bring in the stuff from the rental car?”

“No problem.” It would give her a moment to calm her jumping nerves.

“Thanks.” Hart flashed a confident smile, promising, “It should just take a couple of minutes.”

While he was gone, Maggie got out two bowls, a bag of chips and some grated cheddar. She didn’t really want to eat dinner with Hart—it somehow felt a little too intimate—but she also knew he had to be hungry. Good manners dictated she share what she had, at least for that evening. The fact she’d felt something for him, when they were talking, had nothing to do with it. Nor did the fact she found him as tempting as ever.

Hart came back in, loaded down with a big suitcase prominently bearing Henry’s name, an expensive leather duffel with his initials and a laptop bag.

He grinned when he saw the double place-setting at the kitchen island. “Expecting company or is that for me?”

“It’s for us,” she corrected wearily, then aware of the potential implications of that, quickly wished she hadn’t. “And you are ‘company’ to me, in the strictest sense of the word.”

She meant to reassure him. Put the mood back in the platonic-to-a-fault category. Instead, to her frustration, her words had the opposite effect. His dark brown eyes lit up the same way they had when she’d mentioned Dr. Ruth instead of Dr. Phil. He invaded her space, wrapping both hands around her spine. “Sure about that?”

He pressed lightly, bringing her all the way against him. Now she was the one on fire with desire. Her pulse pounding, Maggie worked to get air into her lungs. “Hart...”

“Can’t help it, Maggie,” he said huskily, guiding her closer still. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the first time I saw you. And damned if I’m not going to do just that.”

Chapter Four

Hart had been telling himself that the memories of that day, long ago, were greatly exaggerated. That it had just been the excessively emotional nature of the encounter that had him thinking about her again and again and again.

That theory was soon proved completely wrong when instead of resisting, she went up on tiptoe, more than meeting him halfway. Her arms wreathed his neck, the soft warmth of her breasts pressed against his chest and she let out a whisper of a moan as their lips met. The sweet taste of her rocked him to his core. He cupped one hand beneath her jaw and slid his other through the thick silk of her hair until he had tilted her head just so. Until she was kissing him back with all the heat and passion he had expected her to have. Making him want. Need. Yearn to have her beneath him.

And it was then, when he was pulling her up against him, sliding his palms down her spine to the small of her back, letting her warmth wash over him, that she kissed him all the deeper.

Maggie knew she shouldn’t have gone so willingly into his embrace, and she certainly shouldn’t be kissing Hart like this. But there was something about him that had her drowning in his eyes and feeling so damned alive.

Perhaps it was the way he looked at her. As if there was nothing more important than the here and now. As if he wanted to know as much about her as she yearned to know about him, even as his lips moved against hers, testing, discovering, until she gasped in sheer pleasure. Until kissing was an act in itself that could lead to so much more.

And that, Maggie knew, neither of them was ready for.

Calling on every ounce of self-preservation she possessed, she broke off the kiss and pushed him away. “We can’t do this.”

He mocked her with a glance even as he refused to budge. “Kiss?”

So, for him, it wasn’t that big a deal. Another big warning sign. “Start something when you’re in as much a state of crisis as I was the last time we met.”

He cocked his head, regarding her with disbelief.

Maggie pulled herself together and rushed on, “I mean, I can be there for you as a friend. But beyond that, you can see how foolish it is to have a relationship that is anything but platonic.”

* * *

PLATONIC, HART REPEATED to himself. Oh, man, could his week get any better? He let his gaze drift over her soft, damp, kiss-swollen lips. The pretty color in her cheeks. And the evasion in her blue eyes. “I see how foolish you think it is.”

Her gaze met his, clear now. “You’ve got too much on your plate right now,” she insisted.

Hart knew what would make him feel better. And it wasn’t keeping his distance from the most compelling woman he’d ever come across in his entire life. “Or not enough, as the saying goes,” he murmured, tempting her with a wicked smile.

Because now he saw, whether she realized it or not, that she needed to move on with her life—or risk being stuck in this rut forever. He cared about her too much to see that option materialize.

As if reading his mind, she blew out an aggravated breath, letting him know with a glance she wasn’t the kind of woman who could handle sex with no strings. “Hart—”

Raising his hands in surrender, he backed up, reluctantly all Texas gentleman again. If he wanted her—and he did—two things were going to have to happen. One, it was going to have to mean something. And two, he was going to have to be patient. “Okay. Point taken.” He laid a hand across his heart. “I promise I won’t kiss you any more today.”