The Cowboy and His Wayward Bride

Laurie had been heartsick ever since her manager had shown her the tabloid a week after that fateful night outside a Kansas concert hall. From that moment on she had prayed over and over that Harlan Patrick would never see it. Whether he recognized the baby as his or not, the picture was going to break his heart. She’d vowed the last time she’d seen him not to ever do anything to hurt him again. As it was, she’d broken his heart more times than she could count.

She’d tried to prepare for the possibility that her prayers wouldn’t be heard. She’d warned everyone in her agent’s office that her schedule was not to be given to anyone, no matter what name they gave, no matter what ruse they used. She had described Harlan Patrick to Nick’s secretary from his thick, sun-streaked hair, to his laser blue eyes and angled cheekbones.

“And you don’t want this man to find you?” the woman had said incredulously. “Are you nuts?”

“There are those who’d say I am,” she agreed. “And, Ruby, let me know the instant he shows up, okay? I need to know what kind of mood he’s in.”

“Fit to be tied would be my guess,” Ruby said bluntly. “Can’t say I blame him, either. It’s a hell of a way to find out you’re a daddy.”

“Ruby,” Laurie protested.

“Okay, okay, I’m just the hired help around here. You don’t want the man to find you, I’ll make sure the man doesn’t find you, at least not with any help from me. Just don’t forget, honey, you’re the kind of woman who tends to make news, especially in this business. Entertainment Tonight’s scheduled to shoot that club date in Montana. It’s way too late to back out. Nick would have a cow. He worked like crazy to get it set up.”

“It won’t matter. By the time it airs, I’ll be on the road again. With any sort of luck at all, Harlan Patrick will be one step behind me.”

“Maybe you ought to slow down and let him catch up,” Ruby suggested one more time. “Have it out and get it over with. Hiding’s no good, not in your profession. This was bound to happen sooner or later. And, forgive me for saying it, but that little girl of yours has a right to know her daddy. This plan of yours to keep ’em apart seems a tad selfish to me.”

Laurie winced. Ruby was young, but she had terrific common sense and a mile-wide streak of decency. A part of Laurie wanted to follow her advice, but another part wasn’t at all sure she could cope with one more battle with Harlan Patrick, not with the stakes as high as they were.

“I know,” Laurie conceded. “But I can’t deal with him yet. I just can’t. You’ll see what I mean if he shows up there. It’s like trying to talk sense with a bulldozer that’s rattling toward you in first gear.”

Of course, she consoled herself, there was always the outside chance that Harlan Patrick had never even seen the tabloid. Maybe he hadn’t been anywhere near a supermarket checkout stand. Maybe the entire shipment to Los Piños had been lost in transit. Maybe the delivery truck had caught fire. Maybe…

Dammit, she had to know. She had to find out if he’d seen it and what his reaction had been. She had to be prepared, in case he was coming after her. For all of her attempts to cover her tracks, she knew Ruby was right. If Harlan Patrick wanted to find her badly enough, he could. Ruby and Nick could only stall him for so long. Any private eye worth his license could pinpoint her location quicker than that photographer had snapped her picture. The only real question was whether Harlan Patrick was furious enough to come chasing after her or so hurt he’d written her off once and for all. If he’d recognized that baby as his, she was pretty sure which it would be. He’d be mowing down any obstacle in his path to get to her.

She could call her mother, but her mom almost never crossed paths with Harlan Patrick’s family. She could call Sharon Lynn, but after this last visit, Harlan Patrick’s protective older sister had all but written her off. Sharon Lynn had told her more than once that she was a selfish fool for running off and leaving the best man in the whole state of Texas pining after her. His parents had never echoed the same sentiments in so many words, but they clearly hadn’t been her biggest fans. When she’d come back this last time, they’d regarded her with suspicion at worst, caution at best. The attitude had hurt, because once they’d considered her another daughter.

That left his grandfather. Harlan Adams was a wise man, a fair man. He’d protect his family with his dying breath, but he also had the ability to see that there was more than one side to most stories. He’d always treated Laurie with kindness, and there’d been no judgment in his eyes when she’d left yet again, only sorrow. He would tell her what she needed to know and he wouldn’t pull any punches.

It took her most of the day to work up the courage to call White Pines. She told herself it was because she wasn’t likely to find Harlan Adams at home much before nightfall. Despite his age, he still worked the ranch as best he could. And when his aches kept him off a horse, he was busy meddling in everyone’s lives.

The truth, though, was that she was scared to hear whatever he had to say, even more afraid that this time he wouldn’t be so kind at all if he thought she had betrayed his grandson.

She shouldn’t have worried. Either he didn’t know about the baby or he’d taken it in stride. At any rate, he greeted her with his usual exuberance.

“Laurie, darlin’ girl, how are you? Pretty as ever, I know, because I see your picture in the paper and on TV all the time. You still singing up a storm?”

“I’m busier than ever,” she told him. “I’m right in the middle of a concert tour now. I won’t be back in Nashville for another month.” She figured it wouldn’t hurt to reiterate that, in case the conversation was repeated to Harlan Patrick. Maybe he’d stay away from Nashville if he knew she wouldn’t be there.

“And you enjoy all this wandering around, instead of taking the time to sit a spell in one place?” Harlan Adams asked.

“Most of the time,” she admitted. “It’s part of the job.”

“Tell me about the next album. You finished it yet?”

“No. I haven’t even started. This one’s only been out a couple of months now. I probably won’t get back into the studio until a few months after I get back to Nashville. It’s a good thing, too. I’ve been scribbling down a few things, but I still haven’t settled on the last two songs.”

“You still writing them all yourself?”

“Most of them.”

“You always had a way with words. I still remember that song you wrote and sang for me when I turned eighty. Not a dry eye in the place when you were done singing. I knew then you were going to be a superstar.”

“That’s more than I knew then.”

Silence fell, and it was Harlan who finally broke it when Laurie couldn’t find the words she needed.

“So, darlin’ girl, you just calling to say hi, or is something on your mind?” There was a sly, knowing tone to his voice.

Just say it, she instructed herself firmly, then swallowed hard. “Actually, well, I was wondering about Harlan Patrick. He’s been on my mind a lot lately.”

“I see.”

Clearly he didn’t intend to give away a thing without her asking a direct question. “How’s he doing?” she asked finally.

“Still misses you, if that’s what you’re asking. I suspect he always will. Never seen a man as lovesick as he was from the minute you left town.”

That wasn’t what she’d been asking, but in some tiny corner of her heart, she was glad to hear that he hadn’t forgotten her. Talk about conflicting emotions. Her life was riddled with them.

“You’ve seen him in the last couple of days?” she asked, broaching the subject of his whereabouts cautiously.

Harlan hesitated. “Now that you mention it, his daddy did say that the boy had taken off unexpectedly. Never did mention what it was all about, though. Business, I suppose. You want me to have him call you when he gets back?”

Laurie sighed heavily. She had a feeling there would be no need for that. The timing of his unexplained departure had to be more than coincidence. If she knew Harlan Patrick, she’d be seeing him any day now, as soon as he could get someone to give him her concert itinerary.

“That’s okay,” she said, then added quietly, “thank you.”

“Thanks for what?”

“For not hating me.”

“Oh, darlin’ girl, I could never hate you,” he said, his tone sympathetic. “There was a time when you were practically family. As far as I’m concerned, you’re as good as that now.”

“But I brought so much pain into Harlan Patrick’s life.”

“And so much joy, too,” he reminded her. “Don’t forget that. Sometimes the best you can hope for in life is that it all evens out in the end. You take good care of yourself and come see me next time you’re home. I’ll get the piano tuned, and we’ll have an old-fashioned sing-along. I can’t carry a tune worth a hoot, but it’ll be fun all the same.”

“I will,” she promised. “Give Janet my love, too, will you?”

“Of course I will. You take good care of yourself, Laurie. Don’t forget all the folks back here who love you.”

As if I could, she thought, but didn’t say. “Goodbye, Grandpa Harlan. I miss you.”

Only after she’d hung up did she realize there were tears streaming down her cheeks. For the first time in more than six years, she realized just how much she missed home. And when she thought of it, she didn’t remember the little house in which she’d grown up, didn’t even think of her mother, though she loved her dearly. No, she remembered White Pines and the close-knit Adamses, who back then had been more than willing to accept her as one of their own.

And she remembered Amy Lynn’s daddy and the way she’d always loved him.

* * *

He might as well have been traveling in a foreign country, Harlan Patrick thought on his first day in Nashville. He’d taken off without thinking, without the slightest clue of how to go about tracing a woman who didn’t want to be found.

On the flight, which he’d piloted himself, he’d had plenty of time to try to formulate a plan, but images of Laurie and that baby had pretty much wiped out logic. All he’d been able to feel was some sort of blind rage. Aside from a friendly tussle or two with his cousins growing up, he wasn’t prone to violence, but for the first time in his life he felt himself capable of it. Not that he’d have laid a hand on Laurie, but he couldn’t swear that her furniture would be safe. Smashing a few vases and chairs might improve his mood considerably.

Then again, it probably wouldn’t. Satisfaction probably couldn’t be had that easily.

After landing, he rented a car and drove into downtown. He found a hotel smack in the center of things and dragged out a phone book. It was then that he realized just how little he really knew about Laurie’s life in the past few years. An awful lot of it had been played out in public, of course, but that wasn’t the part that would help him now.

“Well, damn,” he muttered staring at the Yellow Pages and trying to figure out which talent representative or which recording studio to call. He couldn’t even remember which record label produced her albums, even though he had CDs of every single one of them. It was hard enough listening to her songs without learning every little detail of the life that had stolen her from him.

He plucked a scrap of paper out of his pocket and glanced at the number, then dialed her house first, though he recognized it was a long shot. She was on the road and she’d told him that she’d never gotten around to hiring a housekeeper because she wasn’t comfortable with somebody else doing cleaning and cooking she was perfectly capable of doing for herself.

When no one answered at the house, he searched his memory for some offhand reference she’d made to the new people in her life. Unfortunately, though, the few days they’d had together just over a year ago hadn’t been spent doing a lot of talking, at least not about the things that hadn’t mattered. That baby was living evidence that they’d spent most of the time in bed, remembering just how good it felt to be in each other’s arms.

“Okay, Harlan Patrick, think,” he muttered under his breath.

For all of its skyscrapers and new construction, Nashville was still a small Southern town in some ways. Surely the music industry was tight-knit enough that everyone would know everybody else’s business. He picked a talent agency at random and dialed.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said to the drawling woman who answered. There was enough sugary sweetness in her voice to make him feel right at home with a little flirting. He had her laughing in a matter of seconds.

“You are sooo bad,” she said in response to his teasing. “Now, tell me what I can do for you.”

“Actually I’ve got some business to do with Laurie Jensen. Any idea how I can get in touch with her?”

“Laurie Jensen?” she repeated, her voice a degree or two cooler. “I’m sorry. We don’t represent Miss Jensen.”

“Could you tell me who does?”

“What kind of business did you say you were in?” she asked. This time her tone was downright chilly.

“I didn’t, darlin’, but it’s an ad campaign. We were hoping to get her to do the spots for us.”

“I see,” she said. “Well, maybe you ought to have your ad agency contact her people. That’s the way it works.”

Harlan Patrick tried to hold on to his patience. “Don’t you see, sugar, that’s the problem. I don’t know her people.”

“Any reputable ad agency will,” she said, and hung up in his ear.

Harlan Patrick stared at the phone, stunned. Then he sighed ruefully. Obviously he wasn’t the first person to try a ruse to get to a Nashville superstar. He resigned himself to an afternoon spent working his way through the phone listings.

He didn’t waste time trying to wrangle information from unwilling receptionists. The minute he discovered the agency didn’t represent Laurie, he moved on to the next. It was after six when he finally struck paydirt—or thought he had.

“Nick Sanducci’s office.”

“Yes. I’m trying to arrange a booking for Laurie Jensen. Can you help me?”

“Who are you with, sir?”

“Does Mr. Sanducci represent Ms. Jensen?”

“He does, but—”

“Thank you.” He hung up and grabbed his hat. Clutching the page from the phone book and scribbled directions from the hotel desk clerk, he drove to a quiet street that looked more residential than commercial. A block or so from the address for Sanducci’s office, he noted the discreet signs on the lawns of modest-sized homes that appeared to have been built around the turn of the century. Law offices, talent agencies, even a recording studio had been tucked away here before skyscrapers had lured most of the business into downtown.

Harlan Patrick pulled into a circular driveway just as a fancy sports car shot out the other side. One car remained in front of the house, a minivan with a child’s seat in the back and toys scattered on the floor. He doubted it belonged to Mr. Nick Sanducci.

He strolled through the front door and wandered into a reception room that had obviously once been the house’s living room. The walls were decorated with gold records and photos of a half dozen of the hottest names in country music, including a blowup of Laurie that could make a man’s knees weak. That wall of photos and records was the only testament to the nature of Mr. Sanducci’s business, however.

Harlan Patrick had to admit the man had excellent taste. The place was crammed with exquisite, expensive antiques. There were some just as valuable up in Grandpa Harlan’s attic, where they’d been stored after Janet had gone through and turned White Pines from a hands-off showplace into a home.

The reception desk was neat as a pin and, with no one seated at the chair behind it, more temptation than he could resist. He edged a little closer, noting that the desk belonged to one Ruby Steel, according to the nameplate that was half-buried in a stack of papers.

He surveyed the rest of the desk with interest. That big old Rolodex probably had phone numbers on it that could do him a whole lot of good. And that bulging desk calendar probably contained all sorts of concert dates, including Laurie’s.

He was about to make a grab for it when a lazy, sultry voice inquired with just a touch of frost, “Can I help you?”

He turned slowly and offered the sort of grin that had gotten him out of many a scrape over the years, at least if there was a female involved. Ruby was young enough to look susceptible, but her frown never wavered. Obviously a woman who took her last name—Steel—to heart.

“Hey, darlin’, I was just wondering where you’d gone off to.”

“And you thought you’d find me under the desk?” She gave him a thorough once-over that could have served her well at a police lineup. “Let me guess. You’re the one who called wanting to book Laurie Jensen.”

He could have lied, probably should have, but something told him the truth would get him what he needed a whole lot faster.

“You’ve got a good ear for voices, sugar.”

“And I’ve got the good sense not to go giving out information to strangers,” she said in a tone that warned him not to waste his time trying to wheedle anything out of her.

Harlan Patrick was undaunted. He pretended he hadn’t been close enough to discover the nameplate and asked, “What’s your name, sugar?”

“My name’s Ruby, cowboy, and there’s no need telling me yours, because it doesn’t matter. I can’t help you.”

His gaze narrowed at that. Something told him that Laurie had given this woman very clear and specific instructions where he was concerned.

“Now, why is that? Aren’t you in the business of getting work for your clients?”

“Nick is. My job is protecting them.”

“Then maybe I ought to talk to Nick.”

“You can’t. He’s gone.”

The fancy sports car, Harlan Patrick concluded. “When will he be back?”

“Hard to say. Nick’s unpredictable.”

“Tonight?”

“I doubt it.”

“Tomorrow morning?”

“Possibly. Then again, he could get a call from one of his clients and have to take off in the middle of the night.”

Harlan Patrick hid a grin. Ruby was tough, all right. “How often does that happen?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to go out for a drink?”

She waved her left hand under his nose. A wedding ring and diamond flashed past. “I don’t think so, cowboy. And you could get me drunk as a skunk and I still wouldn’t tell you how to find Laurie.”

“Because she told you not to,” he guessed aloud.

Ruby hesitated for just an instant, then nodded. “Because she told me not to and because I protect the privacy of all our clients. I value their trust.”

“What if I told you I was her old childhood sweetheart?”

“I’d ask how come she left you behind if you were all that special.”

The barb hit its mark. “Now, darlin’, that is the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.” He regarded her thoughtfully. “You know, don’t you?”

For the first time, little Miss Ruby squirmed. “Know what?”

“That I’m the daddy of that baby of hers.”

“I don’t know any such thing,” she retorted, but there was a telltale flush in her cheeks.

He kept right on. “And you don’t believe that a daddy should be separated from his child, do you, Ruby?” He recalled the baby seat in the van outside. “You’re a mama yourself. You disapprove of what Laurie’s done to me. I could see it in the way the corners of your mouth turned down when I mentioned that baby.”

She ducked her head. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“Because your duty’s to Laurie.”

Her chin came up, and she shot a defiant look straight at him. “Exactly.”

They stood there, facing each other, neither of them saying a word, until finally Harlan Patrick sighed.

“Would it matter if I told you I love her?”

Her expression softened. “It might to me, but I’m not the one who needs convincing, am I?”

He grinned. “No, but you are the one who stands between me and her.”

She grinned back. “You are a sneaky, persistent devil—I’ll give you that.”

Harlan Patrick felt a faint stirring of hope. “Will you help me, Ruby?”

Still smiling, she looked him straight in the eye and said, “No. Now, scoot along out of here, cowboy. I’m closing for the day.”

“I’ll be back in the morning,” he promised, taking the defeat with good grace. Ranting and raving wouldn’t work with a woman like Ruby, but he had a hunch that he could wear her down with charm and a few more reminiscences about the old days he’d shared with Laurie.

“Suit yourself, but the answer won’t be one bit different tomorrow.”

“We’ll see,” he said, and tipped his hat. “It’s been my pleasure, darlin’.”

She gave him a stern, no-nonsense look. “I can’t imagine why. You look like a man who’s all too used to getting his own way.”

He winked. “I am. That’s why it’s fascinating to run into a worthy challenge every now and again.”

He slipped out the door before she could respond to that. He drove down the block and parked around the corner. He didn’t doubt for an instant that Ruby would be on the phone to Laurie the moment he was out of sight.

And the moment Ruby was gone for the night, he intended to sneak back into the office, punch Redial and discover for himself exactly where Laurie Jensen was holed up with his baby girl.

Chapter Three

Going back into Nick Sanducci’s office and checking the phone had been a good idea. Maybe even a great idea, Harlan Patrick thought ruefully. Unfortunately Ruby was either on to him and hadn’t used the office phone to call Laurie or had simply made another call after that. He’d managed to slip back into the building easily enough—the locks were downright pitiful—but when he’d pressed the Redial button, a very cranky man had growled hello, then slammed the phone down when Harlan Patrick had been too stunned and disappointed to speak.

His reaction proved what a lousy detective he’d make. Only afterward had he considered all the possible explanations for who that man might have been. It could have been someone answering for Laurie herself. Or it could have been her agent, Nick Sanducci, he concluded belatedly, regretting his silence. But even if it was the illustrious, high-powered agent, he was clearly in no mood to indulge Harlan Patrick’s request for information about Laurie. He resigned himself to waiting for morning and another round with Ruby.

Back in his hotel room after a steak dinner that had tasted like sawdust, he was able to think rationally. He recognized that he ought to be grateful for the delay. In her own way Laurie was every bit as stubborn as he was—to say nothing of unpredictable. She had the financial wherewithal nowadays to simply disappear, taking his daughter with her. Obviously, confronting her when he was ready to commit mayhem was no way to get what he wanted.

Whatever that was, he amended with a sigh. It occurred to him that he ought to figure that much out at least before coming face-to-face with the woman who generally rendered him tongue-tied and weak-kneed.