Have Honeymoon, Need Husband

Oh, boy. What was she—some kind of emotional masochist? It sounded like she’d come here to wallow in her misery. If so, she’d no doubt make the whole ranch miserable in the bargain.

He rubbed his jaw, trying to think of a way to dissuade her, then glanced down and realized a huge puddle was forming beneath her on the barn floor. She was soaking wet and probably freezing; there was no point in trying to reason with her while she was in this condition. He had no choice but to put her up for the night. Hopefully she’d change her mind tomorrow.

Luke pulled his hands out of his pockets and straightened. “Look, I’ll tell you what—you can sleep on it and we’ll see how you feel about things in the morning. The refund offer will still stand. In the meantime, I’m sure you’re anxious to get out of your wet clothes.”

She nodded, and the motion made the veil flop in her face again. He reached out and pushed it back, arranging the whole thing behind her shoulders.

“I’ll take you to your cabin. My pickup is just outside.” He motioned toward the door.

She turned in the direction he indicated, but the bottom of her dress didn’t turn with her. She stooped to unwind it from around her ankles and stumbled.

Luke’s hand shot out and caught her around the waist. He felt as though he’d just grabbed ahold of a live electrical wire. Her skin felt warm and supple and sexy as sin beneath the thin, wet fabric, and touching it sent shock waves pulsing up his arm.

Attraction, strong and unexpected, surged through him. He hadn’t felt anything this good in a long, long time. He swallowed hard. “Do you need some help with that thing?” he asked.

She looked up and nodded, and his fingers tightened involuntarily around her waist. Touching her like this made him notice things about her that had previously escaped his attention. How could he have failed to notice before now that her eyes were the exact color of a field of bluebonnets, or that she had an adorable upturned nose dusted with a faint sprinkling of freckles?

Giving himself a mental shake, he cleared his throat and tried to clear his mind. “What can I do?”

“Could you please lift up my skirt?”

The request conjured up an image that made Luke break into a sweat. His eyes skimmed over her, overlooking the mud and noting instead how the wet silk clung to her curves, outlining her high, round breasts and narrow waist. Holy mackerel; how could he have missed all this before now? That veil had been hiding more than he’d realized.

He couldn’t repress a wolfish grin. “Well, now…there’s a request I don’t hear every day.”

He liked the way she blushed, and he loved the way her smile lit up her face like a switched-on lightbulb. It had the same effect on him, making him feel unaccountably turned on.

“This thing must weigh a ton,” she explained, plucking at her sodden skirt. “And it’s wound so tightly around my feet I can’t bend down without falling over.”

Reluctantly he relinquished his hold on her and untangled the dress. “It’s heavy, all right.” He draped the train over the arm she held out to him. “I’ve got full-grown heifers that weigh less.”

Her laugh was soft and warm. A dimple flashed in her right cheek, and he found himself searching for another witty remark so he could see it again.

He’d be better off searching for a way to get her off the ranch, he warned himself. The lodge manager had walked off the job last month, and he had his hands full trying to run both the ranch and the lodge at the same time. The last thing he needed right now was an added distraction.

Especially a distraction exhibiting as many red flags as Josie. For starters, she was sure to be an emotional mess. He’d vowed he’d never get involved with another woman recovering from a recently broken romance, and it didn’t get any more recent than this. Tonight was supposed to be her wedding night, for Pete’s sake.

Besides, he had no intention of falling for a city slicker again. Next time around he was determined to find a good, solid, practical woman who’d been born and bred in the country and knew exactly what ranch life was like.

He was out of his mind to even be noticing things like the way her top lip had two luscious peaks that exactly mimicked the curves on her chest, and…

He abruptly realized he was staring. With an effort he forced his eyes away. He needed to stop thinking about her. She was clearly off-limits.

But the fact did nothing to stop another rush of electricity from charging through him when he took her arm. “I’ll help you to the truck, since you seem to have a hard time getting around in that thing.”

Her heart-shaped face grew worried. “I’ll get mud all over your seat.”

It was a practical consideration, and he was grateful she’d thought of it. He’d been too preoccupied gawking at her to think of it himself. “I have a tarp in the back. Wait here and I’ll throw it over the upholstery, then I’ll come back and get you.”

“I’ll need my luggage. It’s in the back seat of my car.”

He hadn’t thought of that, either. It was as if his mind had taken a vacation south. South of his belt buckle, that was. “I’ll get you settled in the truck, then I’ll go get it.”

He rapidly ducked outdoors, grateful for the excuse to get some fresh air and clear his head.

The rain had slowed to a drizzle. Too bad, he thought as he sloshed through the soggy leaves on the way to his pickup.

Because he sure could have used a cold shower.

Chapter Two

“How did you hear about the Lazy O?” Luke asked as he steered the pickup along the narrow gravel road that led from the barn to the lodge.

“My travel agent gave me a brochure,” Josie replied, gripping the seat as the truck bounced over the rough terrain. “Everything sounds wonderful!”

That was the problem with that blasted brochure, Luke thought glumly; his father had gone overboard on the descriptions, painting everything in glowing terms and flowery, romantic language.

Especially the honeymoon cabin, Luke thought as he braked the pickup to a jerky stop in front of it. He’d bet his best bull she’d be disappointed to discover it was nothing more than a ramshackle old log cabin fronted by a long, covered porch.

“Here we are,” Luke said, glancing over at Josie and bracing himself for a string of complaints.

She peered through the truck’s rain-streaked window. “Oh, it’s beautiful!” She looked up and flashed that dimple at him before turning back to the view. “So rustic and secluded. Just like the brochure describes.”

Stifling his surprise, Luke followed her gaze. He’d always thought the cabin was great, too, but it wasn’t everyone’s reaction. Nestled amid a backdrop of oaks and pines and illuminated by a lantern-shaped light shining on the porch, it looked like it belonged in another century.

“My father built it years ago as a guest house,” Luke explained. “He designed it after a cabin in the Rockies where he honeymooned with my mother. The main lodge is behind it, just past those trees.”

“You wouldn’t know there was anything around for miles.”

“In the good old days, there wasn’t.”

Josie couldn’t miss the tension in his voice. “You sound like you don’t much like the lodge.”

Luke’s shoulders tightened. How had they gotten off on this topic, anyway? He shrugged in a show of casualness. “I’m a rancher, not an innkeeper. Turning the Lazy O into a dude ranch was my father’s idea.”

He switched off the engine and reached for the door handle, wanting to forestall any more questions. “Stay put. I’ll come around and help you down so you don’t get tangled up in that dress again.”

She took his hands and stepped down, lurching against him as her feet hit the ground. He inhaled sharply at the contact of her soft breasts against his chest and caught a heady whiff of her scent—something soft and subtle, like baby powder and fresh flowers, mingled with a deep, earthy aroma that seemed somehow familiar.

Mud—that was what smelled familiar. And she was probably smearing it all over him. Boy, was he ever a sorry sack of hormones, getting all muddle headed and romantic over the scent of mud!

Scrunching his forehead into a frown, he pulled away.

The sudden motion made her lurch again. “Sorry,” she murmured. “This darn gown…”

Without thinking, he bent and swooped her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her back.

Her arm involuntarily flew around his neck. Her face was inches from his, her eyes wide with alarm. “What are you doing?”

Good question. He was as shocked to find her in his arms as she was to be there.

There was that scent again. Jiminy—he didn’t care if it was partly mud, it still smelled downright delicious. She felt that way, too. Even in her sodden gown she was no heavier than a newborn colt, but the wet silk made her as slippery as a greased pig.

He bounced her slightly in the air as he adjusted his grip, searching his mind for a way to explain his purely reflexive action. “That blasted dress is a hazard,” he muttered. “My insurance company would cancel my liability coverage if they knew we had guests running around outfitted like that.”

Carrying her as easily as he’d tote a bale of hay, he strode rapidly to the covered porch and set her down outside the door. No way was he going to carry her across the threshold; he was having a hard enough time keeping his thoughts about her under control without acting like a surrogate bridegroom.

The imprint of her warm, wet body burned against him long after he released her, and he had a physical reaction to it. Jeezem Pete, he responded like a teenage boy every time he touched her.

So stop touching her, O’Dell, he chided himself sarcastically.

He fumbled in his pocket for a master key, then unlocked the door. It swung open. He reached in and flipped on a light. “Here you are. I’ll get your bags.”

She was still standing on the porch when he returned from the truck. He plopped the bags down by the door and eyed her warily. “You ought to get out of those wet clothes and into a hot shower before you catch pneumonia.” The last thing he wanted was to have her laid up convalescing, needing to be waited on hand and foot.

“I don’t want to track mud inside. I think I should take off the dress out here.”

The thought did strange things to his pulse rate. He cleared his throat and turned to go. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

“Wait!”

Now what? He swiveled around.

“I…I can’t undo the buttons myself.”

She turned and pointed over her shoulder. A long row of tiny buttons ran from the neck of the gown to below her waist—dozens of buttons, each about the size of a raisin, each fastened with tiny loops of thread.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake…”

“I’m sorry to be such a bother.” Her voice had a suspicious warble in it.

Oh, criminy; she wasn’t going to cry again, was she?

“I realize it’s beyond the call of duty, but I’m freezing, and…”

“I’ll call the housekeeper to help you.”

He strode into the cabin, picked up the phone and punched out Consuela’s number. No answer. No answer in the lodge kitchen, either.

Great, just great. He’d have to deal with this himself.

The screen door banged behind him as he rejoined Josie on the porch. “Turn around and stand still.” The words came out more harshly than he’d intended.

She presented her slender back to him. He stepped forward, pushed her veil out of the way and tackled the top button. It sat at the nape of her neck, covered by damp tendrils of shoulder-length dark hair. He brushed the wet strands aside, his fingers feeling huge and awkward, and tried to ignore the rush of arousal that tightened his body.

The woman was wreaking havoc with his libido. Maybe it was because this was supposed to be her wedding night— a night when her skin was supposed to be touched, her lips were meant to be tasted, those enticing curves were to be explored and caressed…

By another man, O’Dell. For heaven’s sake, get a grip.

His fingers fumbled, and the button tore off in his hands. “Sorry,” he muttered, moving on to the next one.

It had evidently been too long since he’d been around a woman. He hadn’t dated much since his divorce, and that had been five years ago. Judging from the way he was reacting now, it was time he got back in the saddle and started socializing again.

The button popped free. His fingers edged down to attack the next one. Josie shifted and sighed, and he struggled to rein in his thoughts.

This wasn’t the time to be thinking about dating, he reminded himself. Ever since he’d come back to the ranch, he’d had his hands full, trying to take care of everything his father had neglected when he’d opened that damn lodge. And without a lodge manager, he had that to worry about, too. He had a full plate in front of him without taking on something as time-consuming as trying to meet and get to know a woman.

Besides, he hated all the things dating involved—getting dressed up, making small talk, trying to figure out what was real and what was pretense, trying to keep from getting dragged down a wedding aisle.

Standing in front of him was a perfect example of what he most wanted to avoid and what was often so hard to detect—a marriage-minded woman with a lot of emotional baggage, still carrying a torch for another guy. At least with this one he knew what he was dealing with.

Another button came off in his hand. “I’m afraid I’m pulling off as many buttons as I’m unfastening,” he told her.

“That’s okay.” Her voice was muffled by the veil. “The dress is a loss, anyway. If it’s easier, you can just yank them all off.”

The thought of ripping off her dress had undeniable appeal—so much so that he deliberately resisted the urge, furrowing his brow in concentration and meticulously undoing the buttons one at a time.

“There,” he muttered when he’d finally unfastened the last one.

The fabric gapped to reveal something lacy and sheer underneath the dress. His imagination running wild, he swallowed hard and stepped back as she turned around.

She was shivering, he realized with a start. He’d attributed the trembling he’d felt as he’d unbuttoned her dress to his own shaking hands. “You need to get inside,” he told her. “Do you want me to carry in your bags?”

She rubbed her arms, her teeth chattering. “What I really want is to get thawed out as soon as possible. Would you turn around for a moment?”

Luke complied. Fabric rustled, the cabin door creaked and soft footsteps thudded on the wooden floor.

“You can turn around now,” she called from inside the cabin.

Her dress lay in a heap on the porch…along with two muddy, crumpled stockings. A trail of muddy footprints led inside the cabin to the closed bathroom door. He heard a rush of water from the shower.

Luke exhaled harshly and eyed the stockings again, wondering how she’d held them up. His tantalizing conjectures about her undergarments were cut short when his gaze fell again on the crumpled wedding gown.

It was a pitiful sight, all that lace and silk puddled in a muddy mess on the porch, and it sent a wave of sympathy surging through him. What had once been a beautiful dress was rumpled and ruined, and her dreams were no doubt in the same condition. What was supposed to have been the happiest day of her life had ended in heartbreak.

He wondered why the wedding had been canceled. Had she called it off, or had the groom? Obviously someone had—and at the very last minute, judging from the way she was dressed.

One thing was for certain: she was sure to be feeling awful. He should have been looking for ways to comfort her instead of leering at her like a cowboy Casanova.

A stab of guilt shot through him. No matter how much he disliked it, as long as the Lazy O was operated as a guest ranch, he had an obligation to care for his guests in a manner worthy of the O’Dell name.

The least he could do was take her luggage inside. And while he was at it, he might as well start a fire in the fireplace, too.

Wrapped in a large white towel, with another wound turban-style around her hair, Josie opened the bathroom door fifteen minutes later to find Luke squatting before the fireplace, laying logs on a blaze of kindling.

The tight ache in her chest loosened a little at the sight of him. She was glad he was still there; the idea of solitude had begun to lose its appeal. In fact, as she’d stood under the shower and castigated herself for ever getting involved with Robert in the first place, she’d dreaded spending the evening alone with her thoughts.

How could she have allowed herself to be pushed and persuaded into nearly marrying a man she apparently didn’t even know? All of the anger that had propelled her into action was fizzling into painfully familiar self-doubt.

Luke glanced up at her. She saw his Adam’s apple bob before he abruptly turned away and picked up another piece of wood. “I thought you might like a fire,” he said gruffly.

“Thanks.” Her face burning, Josie wrapped the towel more tightly above her breasts and angled her body against the door so that only her head poked out. The towel covered more of her than some of her summer dresses did, but she was acutely aware of the fact she wore nothing under it. Something in the way his gaze swept over her told her he was aware of it, too.

She saw her suitcases near the door, but didn’t want to parade across the room to get them. Her fingers tightened on the terry cloth. “Would you mind handing me the blue suitcase? I’ll throw on some clothes and be right out.”

Luke complied, and Josie ducked behind the door to rapidly pull on a sweatshirt, jeans and a pair of thick socks. Still toweling her damp hair, she stepped back into the living room.

The fire crackled and hissed, throwing a delicious warmth into the room. She walked up to it and gave a contented sigh. “This feels wonderful. Thanks.”

Luke jammed his hands in his pockets. “No problem. I brought in some extra firewood for you. When you turn in for the night, just be sure the screen is in place.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“There’s a path to the lodge on the right side of the cabin. Breakfast is served from seven until ten in the lodge dining room. There’s a map of the ranch and some other information beside the phone.”

“Great.”

Luke watched her sling the towel over a chair and stretch out her hands to the fire. Man, she was pretty. Her hair fell in damp ringlets to her shoulders. Without the veil, he could see that it was the dark, rich color of a chocolate velvet cake.

He needed to get out of here. The sight of her in that towel had just about done him in. “Well, if you’ve got everything you need, I’ll—”

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting his words. He strode across the room and opened it.

“Consuela.” He pushed the door wider and stepped back, making room for a large, smiling woman who bustled in with an enormous tray.

“Manuel saw the lights on and told me our honeymoon couple had arrived,” the woman announced in a lilting Spanish accent. “So I brought the candlelight dinner over.” She gave Josie a sly grin as she set the huge tray on the pine plank dining table, then extended a plump hand. “Hello. I’m Consuela Perez.”

Josie shook Consuela’s hand. “I’m Josie Randall.”

The older woman looked around the room. “Where’s the lucky bridegroom?”

“I don’t—” Josie faltered for words. Silence hung awkwardly in the room.

Luke stepped forward. “Miss Randall’s wedding was canceled. She’s here alone.”

“Oh!” Consuela’s hands flew up, her face wrinkling with concern. “Oh, ¡Pobrecita! You poor darling. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Josie gave a self-conscious smile. “Thank you, but no.”

“Do you want to talk? I’ve got a good shoulder to cry on.”

“I’m fine.”

“It always helps to talk these things out. We can stay here, or you can come home with me—”

“That’s very sweet of you, but I’m fine.”

Consuela searched her face, her brown eyes large with concern. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“It’s not good to be alone at a time like this,” Consuela worried.

Luke watched the exchange, knowing Consuela would persist until Josie gave in or he baled her out. Consuela had the biggest heart in the world, but she was no respecter of privacy, and she was about as subtle as a gale-force wind. Her warm, mothering nature wouldn’t allow her to take no for an answer if she was convinced someone needed nurturing.

He decided to try to change the subject. “Consuela is the lodge’s head cook and housekeeper, Josie. She’s the person who keeps the place running. We couldn’t make it without her.”

Josie smiled at her. “I’m sure that’s true. I used to work in a hotel, and I know how important both positions are. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Consuela.”

Consuela preened, her stubby fingers smoothing her neat coil of gray-streaked black hair. “The pleasure is mine.” She motioned toward the tray. “Look—I’ve brought you a nice dinner.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much appetite,” Josie admitted.

Consuela clucked like a worried hen. “But you must eat! The worst thing for a broken heart is an empty stomach, too.”

Josie managed a smile. “All right…I’ll try. Thank you.”

“How about you?” Consuela turned to Luke. “You haven’t eaten, either.”

“I’ll grab something later at the house.”

Consuela rolled her eyes. “A can of cold spaghetti is not a meal.” She glanced at Josie. “He lives alone and doesn’t take care of himself. His animals eat better than he does.”

“Why don’t you join me?” Josie offered. “After all, it’s a dinner for two. It’s a shame for it to go to waste.”

Consuela nodded approvingly. “That’s a wonderful idea! Then neither of you will eat alone.”

Luke suppressed a groan as Consuela -bustled around, uncovering fragrant dishes and setting the table with the ranch’s best china. He knew the housekeeper had set him up, but he couldn’t think of a decent excuse to get out of it.

Consuela leaned her hefty frame across the table and lit a candle. “There!” she proclaimed, clasping her hands over her ample bosom. “All set.”

She pulled out a chair and motioned to Josie, then handed Luke a bottle of champagne. “You can open this.”

Luke looked hesitantly at Josie. “Under the circumstances, Consuela, I don’t think—”

“I’d love some champagne,” Josie said decisively.

Consuela nodded approvingly. “Wine is good for a broken heart.”

“My heart isn’t exactly broken—”

The large woman patted Josie’s back consolingly. “There, there, dear. You don’t have to explain. But you come and find Consuela if you want to chew the cat, okay?”

Josie blinked. “Pardon me?”

“She means chew the fat.” Luke grinned.

Consuela shrugged. “Cat—fat—it makes no sense either way. But you come to me if you want to talk, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Enjoy. ¡Buenos Noches!” The large woman let herself out the door with a wave of her hand.

The room seemed suddenly very still and quiet. Luke awkwardly settled his large frame in the chair across from Josie.

“It all looks delicious,” she remarked, surveying the spread of Caesar salad, prime beef, scalloped potatoes and baby carrots.

“Consuela’s a wonderful cook. She and her husband have been with my family for over twenty-five years.” Luke gave a wry grin. “She takes a lot of liberties with the English language—and with poking her nose in other people’s business.”

“She seems very kind.”

Luke inclined his head. “She is. My mother died when I was twelve, and she practically raised me afterward.” He set the bottle of champagne on the table. “She’s right about being a good listener. If you get lonely and want to talk, you should take her up on her offer.” He regarded Josie in the flickering candlelight. Her profile was delicate, almost fragile. Looking at it, he felt another stab of guilt at the way he’d exploded at her in the barn. It couldn’t hurt for him to take a hint from Consuela and show a little sympathy. “For that matter, I can be a pretty good listener, too.”