Husband For Keeps

Carey was suddenly conscious of how her passengers held their breath for a second, waiting to see if she had saved them from skidding off the road.

She had. The truck bumped along in a straight path once more.

“Congratulations,” Luke said quietly.

“Thanks.” Carey wasn’t quite sure if he was congratulating her on her driving skills or her upcoming marriage, but she didn’t bother to ask.

He sat silently for a moment, then added, “Can I ask you what you’re doing riding around out here if you’re supposed to be getting married? High-tailing it from the poor groom?”

These last words were spoken lightly. But the underlying bitter note in his accusation was not lost on Carey. Not a man with a very high opinion of women, was he?

“Actually, it’s sort of the opposite,” Carey kept her eyes glued to the road, noticing that they were finally approaching the ranch. “So far, the groom is the no-show. I came out looking for him…and found you.”

She felt him looking at her, and she turned to meet his gaze. She couldn’t say he looked contrite or apologetic for assuming the worst about her, but a bit mollified, perhaps.

“Probably just stuck in the rain,” Luke offered.

“Probably,” Carey agreed. Though she knew Luke couldn’t imagine what this minor delay would cost her.

In most any other case, a delayed groom would be the cause of some inconvenience, some change in plans. But the show would go on. In her case, however, it was a pure and simple catastrophe.

But she didn’t need to explain that to Luke Redstone. Didn’t even want to try. Everything about him, from his worn, wide-brimmed hat to the scuffed toes of his black boots spoke of a practical man, a straightforward man, who would neither understand nor approve of her sham wedding plan. No, she thought, stealing a quick glance in his direction, he wouldn’t understand. Her plan was pure Hollywood, and he was clearly 100 percent all-American cowboy. The stuff legends were made of. And she had to admit that she herself wasn’t entirely proud of this plan: though not illegal, as her attorney assured her, it was certainly a willful misinterpretation of her father’s final wishes.

They drove on in silence, the wipers squeaking against the windshield and the truck’s thick tires making a muffled sound as they sped over the wet road.

She didn’t know why she should care what Luke Redstone thought of her. And quickly brushed the thought aside. She would take these two home, let them dry out and warm up, and as soon as they could get a tow truck out here, she’d never see them again.

Two

“Well, here we are. Almost,” Carey announced as she steered the swerving truck off the main road and into the turnoff that led to the ranch.

“This is where you live?” Luke asked her.

“Used to be my dad’s place. I grew up here but moved to California right after high school. Hardly been back since,” she added.

She glanced over at him, willingly answering his unspoken questions. A man like this, clearly private and guarded himself, would never be pushy about pulling out personal information. But she didn’t mind disclosing a few basic facts.

“Where’s your dad?” he asked. Did his tone imply that it seemed unlikely that a woman alone—especially one rushing around in a thunderstorm, dressed like a “fairy princess”—would be up to the task of running a ranch on her own?

“He passed on.” Carey replied without turning her head

“Sorry for your loss,” Luke replied politely.

Carey nodded. “Thanks.”

It had been over six months since her father’s death. But talking about it aloud was still hard for her.

The long months since Jonah Winslow had passed away had been filled with mixed feelings of regret and resentment. She and her father had never quite settled their differences. Or forgiven each other completely for past hurts. Always the stoic hale-and-hearty rancher, Jonah Winslow never once let on that his health was deteriorating so rapidly, his heart giving out like a burned-out old engine.

Heart failure, the doctors had called it. That was the information she’d finally received upon her return. Medication at that point was only delaying the inevitable and eventually wouldn’t have much effect. Nothing short of a complete transplant could help him, and he was too advanced in age and his body too weak to be a candidate.

She’d planned a visit home in the summer months, anyway, but it was a call from Ophelia that had finally alerted her to the dire situation.

And once Carey had returned home, she’d found a once-intimidating, giant of a man reduced to such a pitiful shell she’d hadn’t the heart or will to take up old grievances with him. Heavens, no. She’d been thankful enough to make it back in time to offer some comfort to him at the end.

Her father had died peacefully in his sleep, less than two weeks after her return. It was a few days after the funeral, while Carey still coped with the first wave of shock and grief, that she learned of the unfortunate—no, make that ridiculous, archaic, moronic—stipulations in her father’s will.

At no small cost she had hired lawyers to break the will, and the document was contested for months. But to no avail. Only a few weeks ago, Carey learned that the court upheld her father’s will and that his requirement for her inheritance would remain as he had decreed.

Just thinking about it made her blood simmer. The gentler, kinder feelings she’d developed for her father during his last days were shadowed by the knowledge that even after death, he would insist on controlling her, forcing her to conform to his standards, his plans for her life.

They drove beneath the arch that bore the words Whispering Oaks and Carey noticed Luke sit and up take notice.

“This is your place?”

“That’s right.” She turned to him, wondering why the news had inspired that look on his face.

He glanced down at his watch and smiled. “Then it looks like I won’t be that late for my interview after all.”

“Your interview?” Now it was Carey’s turn to be surprised. “Here?”

“I have an appointment with a fellow by the name of—” Luke reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper “—here it is, Willie Jackson. I heard you were in need of a foreman, and I called from town this morning. He told me to come right over. In fact, I was on my way when my truck broke down. Some coincidence, huh?”

Carey had to agree. “Yeah, a doozy.”

So maybe these two lost souls weren’t going to disappear as quickly as she had expected after all. The thought of Luke Redstone taking up residence on the ranch as her foreman flashed through her mind—both exciting and frightening at the same time.

If he passed Willie’s interrogation, the final decision would be left up to her, of course. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to hire him. Though a man traveling in search of work with a small boy in tow was hard to turn away without a substantial reason.

She wasn’t sure why this man was so unsettling to her. She rarely met a man who managed to make any real impression, to penetrate her “force field.”

But this one—this one jammed her radar with a glance.

She liked it. And then again she didn’t.

She gave herself a mental shake. Living in Hollywood, she had been around some good-looking men. Some remarkably good-looking men. She believed she’d become if not numb, then certainly distant and carefully delayed her reactions, preferring instead to find out what was under all the attractive wrapping before she allowed herself to walk out of the store with the package.

But for some strange reason this man was in a different league altogether. His looks, not typically handsome at all, certainly not movie-star smooth or polished, were totally arresting.

His straight, thick, black hair, damp with rain and slicked back from his brow, emphasized strong features—wide cheekbones, a hard, square jaw and a straight blade of nose, set above a firm, sensuously wide mouth. And those eyes, nearly black in color and bottomless. She’d never seen eyes so dark, she thought.

Dark and deep enough for a woman to easily lose herself in them. But not this woman, she promised herself.

“Are we there yet?” Tyler murmured groggily.

Tyler. The boy had been sitting through the ride so quietly she’d nearly forgotten about him. As Carey glanced down, she could see that he was more than half-asleep, lulled by the stuffy warmth of the cab and the slow, steady beat of the wipers.

His small body was nestled cozily against Luke’s side, with Luke’s arm draped around his shoulders.

Luke roughed up Tyler’s hair with one large hand. “Almost there, pal. See, there’s the house up ahead.”

The ranch house had finally come into view, and Carey headed straight for it, thankful they’d arrived. Tyler sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“Good,” he mumbled. “I really need to use the bathroom.”

Carey couldn’t help but laugh, and heard Luke’s deep chuckle, as well. They shared a quick glance over the top of the boy’s head, and she felt that peculiar ping in her chest when his gaze met her own.

She quickly looked away, steering the truck around the front yard and parking as close to the front door as she was able.

She spotted Judge Kendall’s car and was thankful that he had waited. Carey guessed she had Ophelia to thank for that small miracle. Carey imagined that the judge was now working his way through the last tasty rounds of a five-course lunch.

Luke hopped out of the truck, then stretched out his arms to catch Tyler. “Let’s get in there and find the facilities,” she heard him whisper in a fatherly fashion.

“I’m okay,” Tyler balked.

Though Luke offered to carry him to the porch, the boy insisted on walking himself, one hand grasping Luke’s as his feet slipped and slid on through the puddle-covered path. Carey noticed then that the child was wearing only sneakers, not boots or heavy outdoor footwear.

Luke had introduced himself as the boy’s uncle. But it appeared to Carey that the boy was in his care. And maybe Luke didn’t have the money to buy more expensive shoes right now, she thought. She guessed he really needed this job.

Luke and Tyler waited politely at the door until Carey had made her way up to the covered porch. She opened the front door and ushered them in, showed them where to leave their wet jackets and shoes, then pointed out the closest bathroom.

“Just come back to the kitchen when you’re ready. You both most be starved,” Carey said as she headed toward the kitchen herself. “Ophelia will make you some lunch. Ophelia?”

Carey swung open the kitchen door and was greeted by the expectant look on her housekeeper’s face. Ophelia waved a note at Carey and proceeded to relate the message before handing it over. “Your fellow, Kyle, called a few minutes ago,” Ophelia told her immediately. “He’s stuck in the storm. But I didn’t tell the judge,” she added in a whisper. “He’s just finishing up his lunch.”

She tilted her head in the direction of the dining room where Carey could see the judge sitting comfortably at the long table. He appeared to be quite content and in no hurry to leave, a plate of layer cake and cup of coffee set before him while he worked a newspaper crossword puzzle.

Carey carefully closed the door between the dining room and kitchen. She took the note Ophelia handed her, and even though she already knew the message, she gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, stamping her booted feet as she vented her frustration.

“Damn it! Damn, damn, damn. Damn!”

When she opened her eyes, Luke Redstone stood watching her, Tyler by his side. The corner of his mouth turned up and he almost smiled. Then suddenly he looked down at the floor and coughed into his hand.

“Bad news from the groom?”

“Very bad,” Carey replied, her heartfelt despair underlying her tone. When she met Luke’s gaze, he looked as if he wanted to ask more, offer his help.

“So, who are these two fellows you brought back with you?” Ophelia’s question startled Carey. The older woman stared at Luke and Tyler.

“Mr. Redstone’s truck broke down. I stopped to help out.”

“Luke Redstone, ma’am. This is my nephew, Tyler.” Luke stepped forward and politely offered his hand to Ophelia. She shook it, and Carey could tell that even Ophelia was not unaffected by the man’s dark good looks and heart-stopping smile.

Carey sat down in a kitchen chair and began tugging off her boots. Tyler came over and, without Carey asking, helped her.

“Stuck on the road? In this weather? Lucky Carey came along and found you.” Ophelia bustled over to Tyler and took his small hands into her own. “Your hands are like ice, child. We’ve got to get you warmed up before you catch a chill.”

She led him to the table and sat him down. Having raised five children and now the proud grandmother of eleven, Ophelia had a way with kids, Carey knew. And with adults, too, come to think about it. And if Tyler had mistaken Carey for some kind of storybook princess, he was now gazing up at Ophelia as if he’d finally met his long-lost fairy godmother, Carey noticed.

“Now let me get you boys something to eat.” Ophelia turned back to the stove. “I’ve got some roast beef sandwiches and some nice vegetable soup. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds great. If it’s not too much trouble,” Luke replied.

“No trouble at all.” Ophelia took soup bowls and plates from the cabinets, and Luke carried them to the table.

“How about you, Carey? Will you have something?” she asked.

“No, thanks.” Carey sat staring down at the kitchen floor, wiggling her near-frozen toes as she contemplated the truth of her situation.

Kyle was not coming.

The airport in Denver had been closed, all flights going in or out, canceled. His plane had been diverted, turned around, forced to land in Wyoming.

There would be no wedding by midnight.

No marriage and no inheritance.

The ranch and all her father’s savings and investments, except for a very small gift, would go to her cousin, Roger Burkett. A spiteful bully as a boy, who had grown into an even more malicious adult, Roger had been sniffing around ever since her father’s passing, counting down the hours until the ranch would be his if Carey failed to marry.

Well, maybe that’s the way her father had wanted it anyway. The marriage deadline codicil had merely been another way to reprimand her. Her father had always wanted a son to carry on the family name and run the ranch. And for years Roger had tried his insufferable, phony best to fit himself into Jonah’s lost dream.

Tears burned her eyes, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Carey knew she was not a materialistic person. If so, she would have succumbed to the many bribes her father had waggled under nose over the years, trying to tempt her to give up acting and return to the ranch. But she had held on to her independence, living a meager existence most of the time without complaint.

Her heartbreak at losing the ranch, though, was not about money, she’d come to realize over the past few months. It was about her father, who had given her so little love and approval as a child. And now Carey felt entitled to the one thing he could give her, a sign that she was indeed loved by him—the gift of Whispering Oaks.

“Carey? Are you okay, hon?” Carey felt Ophelia’s hand on her shoulder. A steaming bowl of soup appeared on the table before her. “Here, have something to eat. Can’t think clear on an empty stomach. You’ve got some time to figure this out. Why, you’ve got hours yet to skin this cat,” Ophelia added optimistically.

Carey lifted her head and sniffed. Luke was politely gazing down at his soup, while at the far end of the table Tyler sat staring at her with wide-open brown eyes.

“Why is Carey crying?” Carey heard the boy whisper to Luke. “Did something bad happen?”

“I guess so. I guess she’s sad about something,” Luke answered him. “But that’s none of our business. Now be quiet and eat your lunch,” Luke instructed as he took his own advice. “This soup is delicious,” Luke said to Ophelia.

“Thanks. There’s chocolate cake for dessert. If the judge didn’t eat the whole thing by himself,” she added in a softer tone.

The judge. Holy Hannah. Carey had forgotten all about him. It was time to send him back to town, she supposed, but she felt utterly deflated. Her lethargic body wouldn’t budge.

Carey sighed. “Guess I’d better tell the judge that the wedding’s been rained out.”

“I suppose,” Ophelia agreed with a reluctant sigh.

Carey looked up at Ophelia’s sympathetic expression. Then she saw a flash in the familiar, blue eyes. A flash that sent off warning bells within. She watched as Ophelia’s thoughtful gaze traveled to Luke and a mischievous smile softened the older woman’s careworn features. Carey could suddenly read Ophelia’s mind. And she didn’t like it one bit.

But couldn’t stop her in time.

“Say, I’ve got a brainstorm,” Ophelia said, happily waving her hands in the air as she practically skipped across the kitchen toward Carey. “Maybe Mr. Redstone here will marry you!”

“Ophelia, please—” Carey shook her head and rubbed her forehead with her hand.

“Well, you don’t know unless you ask him,” Ophelia insisted. “You ought to just tell Luke what the deal is. See if he’s interested. You were going to give that no-show Kyle a wagonload of money, and a lot men wouldn’t mind—”

“Ophelia!” Carey interrupted her..

“All right. Whatever.” Ophelia stepped back, raising her hands in a sign of surrender. “Sorry for butting in. Fry your own bacon, missy, if you want. But I can smell something burning,” Ophelia mumbled under her breath and shook her head. “I’d better check on the judge.”

As Ophelia retreated, Carey dared to cast a slow glance in Luke’s direction. She watched as he carefully wiped his mouth with a napkin, pushed his empty bowl to one side and sat back from the table. She didn’t know what it was about this man—why even his simplest motion fascinated her. Made her lose her train of thought. Completely….

He stared straight back at her, and she felt her cheeks grow warm.

“So…what is the deal here?” he asked point-blank.

Three

“Well…umm…” Carey wasn’t sure where to begin.

Wasn’t sure if she should begin. His dark gaze froze her, fixed her, like a butterfly stuck on a pin. Damn it all. Why did he have to be so darn good-looking? she silently lamented.

“Sleeping like a baby,” Ophelia announced as she returned from peeking into the dining room. “Listen…” She paused theatrically and cupped her ear. “He’s snoring to beat the band. Must be his afternoon siesta.”

Carey heard the judge’s resonant snores and thanked her lucky stars.

“Hey, Tyler, want to help me feed a bunch of puppies?” Ophelia’s enticing invitation suddenly cut through the silence.

“Puppies? Where?” The little boy leapt up out of his chair and eagerly took Ophelia’s hand. Then, turning to Luke, he added, “Can I?”

“Sure thing,” Luke said, waving his hand in approval.

“Tyler and I have some chores to do,” Ophelia said over her shoulder as she led the boy from the room. “You two just sit and get acquainted. There’s more coffee on the stove.”

Before Carey could protest, the incorrigible matchmaker was out the door with Tyler in tow. Luke cleared his throat with a low rumbling sound, drawing Carey’s attention from her swirling thoughts.

“You were saying?” he prompted.

“Actually, I was not saying,” she replied firmly, then added, “Listen, you don’t have to get involved in this. I— It was a ridiculous idea to begin with.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” He stood up from his chair and walked over to the stove with his coffee cup.

Until now, Carey hadn’t taken a really good, long look at Luke with his denim jacket off, and she suddenly couldn’t take her eyes off him. A clean but worn tan work shirt strained over powerful shoulders, and the muscles of his impressive physique were the type developed from long hours of outdoor work, not brief workouts in an air-conditioned gym. The faded jeans that covered his long legs hung from his slim hips like a magazine ad for masculine allure.

She watched as he poured his coffee, then added a splash of milk from the creamer on the counter. His movements were smooth, economical, unhurried. And somehow deeply disturbing to her peace of mind.

“I just want to get it all straight. You need someone to marry you,” he said, returning to the table and sitting down directly across from her. “You’re willing to pay that person money.” His tone was objective and nonjudgmental. “Do I have it right so far?”

“Um—well, yes.” Carey nodded nervously, then tucked a straggling curl behind her ear. She could feel her cheeks growing redder by the second. It all sounded so pathetic. So downright desperate and humiliating when he said it. He must think she had something wrong with her.

“Well, there’s this will. My father’s will,” she explained. “You see, my father had very traditional ideas about women. He hated the idea that I was out in the world, working, having a career….”

“Whereabouts in the world were you?”

“California. Los Angeles, mostly. I was an actress.”

“Was? Meaning you’ve given that up to stay out here?”

“I’ve given up on acting. But not to stay out here,” she replied with a light, incredulous laugh. “Eventually I guess I’ll return to California and take some courses. Figure out something useful to do with my life.”

The line of his generous lips tightened almost imperceptibly at the news, Carey noticed. Clearly, he wasn’t pleased to learn she didn’t care for the rugged ranching life. Well, it was best that he knew from the start this was only a temporary arrangement.

“Go on,” he coaxed her. “You were telling me about your father?”

“My father firmly believed that I should be married. He believed it so much that his will states I cannot inherit this ranch and other assets, unless I’m married by time I’m thirty years old.”

She then explained how she had arranged for her friend Kyle to marry her for the period of time it would take to fix up the ranch and sell it. In exchange for Kyle’s help, she told Luke, she had agreed to give him a substantial sum, a down payment at the time of the marriage and the remainder to be collected when the ranch was sold.

When she named the actual figure, Luke’s eyebrows rose, and he emitted a soft whistle.

“But now Kyle is stuck in an airport in Wyoming, or maybe even on his way back to California,” she added, “and the whole scheme has been ruined.”

She’d noticed that his brow had been creased in concentration as he’d listened.

“Well, how old are you now, if I may ask?”

“Twenty-nine,” she replied, anticipating the question that would come next.

“And when’s your birthday?”

She took a deep breath and sat very tall in her seat before answering. “Tomorrow.”

A dazzling white smile flashed across his face. A deep dimple creased one cheek. She hadn’t noticed that before. “You’re kidding, right?”

She shook her head in reply. Curly strands of her golden-brown hair fell across her face, and she carelessly swiped them back with her hand.

“And what happens if you don’t get married by tomorrow?”

She shrugged with a nonchalance she didn’t feel.

“I lose it all. Everything goes to my cousin, Roger Burkett.”

“Oh.” The seriousness of her situation seemed to overtake Luke again. “You are stuck between a rock and a hard place, aren’t you, then?”

Carey started to answer, but her throat felt thick. His sympathetic tone and soft gaze were her undoing.

She nodded, feeling tears well up in her eyes again as she felt Luke watching her. She stared down at her hands, clasped together on the table so tightly that her knuckles were white, and willed herself not to cry.