Heather Graham (12 page)

To add credence to his words, he stalked quickly after her and lifted her onto the huge buckskin. “Make tracks!” he said teasingly.

She nodded, still smiling ridiculously and thinking that he was, beyond a doubt, the most striking man in the world. Tall and lean with an air of assurance that was as alluring as it was implacable.

He did have a temper, she reminded herself, shivering a little. He was still an enigma. No matter what he said, she still didn’t know much about him.

But she knew she couldn’t let him go. She couldn’t hop off the roller coaster, not now, no matter what highs or lows the ride might be careening toward.

“Are you going to tell Bill what we’re doing?” she asked curiously, smiling slightly at the demon’s gleam of mischief that touched his eyes.

“Uh-uh. We’ll make it a complete surprise.”

She laughed. “And they will be surprised, Mr. Montgomery. In company you’ve been entirely circumspect. I don’t think any of them suspect that you—that we’ve—”

“Been sleeping together?” he said. “Don’t count on that, Ms. Galway. You’ve had a nice, contented sparkle in your eyes lately.”

“Have I?” Martine retorted. “And you consider yourself responsible. Arrogant as always!”

“Not arrogant, Martine. Aware, that’s all. Now get going!”

“Don’t think you’re going to spend a lifetime ordering me around!” she told him, but she wasn’t sure he heard the entire warning. He had given Cheyenne a good smack on the rump, and the buckskin had responded to him just as quickly as she was prone to do. Cheyenne even seemed to know exactly where they were going; he galloped eagerly toward the barn.

It was where he was fed, she reminded herself. Most horses were eager to head back to their stalls and pasture. …But she still couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Kane could even will the buckskin to do his bidding.

In the house she tried to make herself pause and consider what she was about to do. But even as she tried to force practicality into her thoughts, she quickly showered. Then she pulled out her newest dress, a watery green sleeveless silk with a mandarin collar and a skirt that was hemmed just above her knees and swirled with a pleasant rhythm when she walked.

She pushed the bathroom door closed to stare into the full-length mirror attached to it and surveyed herself critically.

The silk was such a soft color that the green did not clash with the vibrant streaks of red in her hair, which she left free, the ends curling just over her shoulders. The simple hairstyle went well with the mandarin collar. She thought she looked just a little too thin and a little too pale. But the soft green did pick up the bright color of her eyes; enhanced by the gown, they seemed a deep kelly shade, almost as dark as a forest.

She looked frightened, she decided, and lightly slapped her cheeks to bring some color to them. She still looked frightened. Not frightened—nervous. Brides were supposed to be nervous, weren’t they?

She heard a long, low whistle behind her and raised her eyes slightly, catching Kane’s in the mirror. He smiled at her, and her heart fluttered.

“I’ll change quickly,” he said, turning away to head down the hall.

Martine raced to the doorway after him. “Kane!”

He paused, gazing at her with a curious smile.

“Are we really doing this?”

A grin split across his features, forming a myriad of tiny lines about his eyes.

“
Really
,” he told her, and turned again.

Martine threw things haphazardly into a suitcase, then paced the living room as she waited for him, feeling as if she were suffering the effects of some kind of drug.

But ten minutes later, when he came for her, she stood still, staring at him. He was in an expertly tailored three-piece navy suit, a vested garment that accentuated the breadth of his shoulder and leanness of his hips. His hair was damp, as dark as ebony, and his eyes were gleaming devilishly once more. He came up to her to reach for her hands, and she noted the spattering of dark hair on the broad backs of his hands. He dipped his head down to kiss her, and she inhaled the shower freshness of him and felt dizzy all over again.

“Let’s go.”

The truck took them as far as the airport; they were flying straight to Las Vegas. On the plane Kane suggested dryly that she might want to order a drink. Martine shook her head.

“If I’m going to do something this insane,” she murmured, “I’m going to do it completely sober!”

By four o’clock they were filling out their license application. Martine started laughing nervously, and Kane demanded to know why.

“It’s true. I finally know something about you.” She indicated the paper he was filling out. “You’re only thirty-three?”

He gave her a slightly evil glare. “Are you saying I’m aging badly?”

She laughed. “No, not really. You just have—”

“I suggest you say I have an air of maturity,” he said dryly. “That way we can at least save the first squabble for after the ceremony!”

“Okay, it’s an air of maturity,” she said agreeably.

Kane paced while they waited for the processing of the license; Martine wondered if he was getting his own case of the jitters.

“You can always back out,” she told him softly.

He stopped and stared at her. “What?”

“I said you can always back out of this.”

He laughed. “Are you crazy? I want them to hurry—before
you
think too much and decide you want to back out.” He took a seat beside her, cupped her cheek gently, and studied her eyes. “Rich and lush and verdent like an endless field,” he murmured. Then he brushed her lips with a kiss and grinned. “I couldn’t get you pliably tipsy on the plane, so I have to take my chances with your rational mind.”

She returned his stare, hoping with all her heart that the tenderness she read in his warm golden gaze was real.

“I have no rational mind when I’m with you,” she said honestly.

He started to put his arms around her, but just then the clerk called them, and they had the license in their hands.

Before Martine knew it, she was out on the street, being dragged along. “Where are we going?”

“The first place I can find!” He laughed.

And it wasn’t ten minutes later that they were standing before a justice of the peace. A sudden and very serious case of shivers suddenly overwhelmed her; she was among total strangers, making the most important commitment of her life.

Kane stated his vows strongly and with no hesitancy. Martine tried to say, “I do,” and nothing came out. She had to wet her lips and try again, and the vow came out very weakly.

She had no ring for him, and in the middle of the service she wondered when he had gotten a ring for her. But he had. It was a wide etched gold band, and it slid a little too easily onto her finger. While the service continued she stupidly stood there thinking that she would have to get the ring sized.

And then Kane was kissing her. She realized that it was over, that they were married.

The justice who had married them was asking for her signature; his witness was smiling and passing them token glasses of champagne. Plastic glasses, Martine thought a little hysterically. She drank the champagne in one swallow.

Kane paid the justice, and then they were out on the street again. Dusk was just starting to fall.

“Hello, Mrs. Montgomery,” Kane said a little huskily. “Are you with us?”

She nodded. “I—I just don’t believe it. I think I’m still in shock. I’m supposed to be at dinner at a neighbor’s, and I just got married instead. I did it entirely of my own volition—and I still don’t believe I did it.”

He laughed, and his voice lowered against her ear. “I’m very, very real, Mrs. Montgomery. Want me to prove it?”

She looked up at him, but his gaze was already on the street. He was hailing a taxi.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

He chuckled. “To consummate the marriage, of course.”

“It was consummated before the fact!” Martine protested quietly, very aware of the cabdriver.

He pulled her close to him in the cab, gave the driver the name of their hotel, and whispered, “I’ve never, ever made love to my wife before.”

But at the hotel there was little choice except to wait. Their room wasn’t quite ready. The concierge was very apologetic, explaining that they’d been given very short notice. Kane accepted the news with a shrug.

He took her to one of the dining rooms, a quiet place with no stage show, only very soft piano music. The lighting was subdued, and they were led to a booth with comfortable leather seats. They faced each other for the meal, and when Kane ordered a very expensive bottle of champagne to start, Martine was careful not to lift a brow.

She waited until they were served. She’d crossed her legs beneath the table and discreetly tossed off a sandal so she could run her stockinged toes along his ankle. She swirled her champagne in the glass, watching him above its rim. He was smiling slightly, as if he were expecting a third degree.

“Okay, Mr. Montgomery,” she drawled softly. “Where did you get your money?”

His lashes fell slightly, and his lips twisted with amusement. “I earned it, Mrs. Montgomery. And invested it wisely.”

“On loans like mine?” she asked skeptically.

“Don’t ever knock the small businessman—”

“Woman,” she interjected politely, “I’m a businesswoman.”

“Don’t knock them, either sex,” he told her. “Yes, I’ve made a lot of loans. A lot like yours. Except you can rip up that paper now, you know.”

She sipped her champagne and appreciated the very smooth tickle that touched her nose and cooled her throat. “I want to repay the loan. Loans, actually. I want to prove that the ranch can do it.”

He shrugged without arguing, but she knew he had no intention of keeping business separate.

Martine felt she should argue the question now. But then she decided not to. She had married him, and she had been the one to say that she didn’t believe in prenuptial agreements. If she was going to marry a man, she was going to do it all the way.

“No strings attached,” she murmured.

“What?” he asked, arching a brow and gazing at her in a way that subtly declared she was a little crazy.

“Nothing. Now—”

“Now?”

“Let’s back up a little bit. You made most of your money from investments—”

“And bank robbery, of course.”

“Kane!”

He sighed, amused, exasperated. “Stocks, for one. Land, for another. All legit.”

“What are your brother’s names?”

He laughed. “Michael Pierson Montgomery and Evan Taylor Montgomery. Michael is the oldest; Evan, the baby. But don’t tell him that—he’s twenty-six and heartily resents any such terminology. Neither of them is a bank robber either.”

“Your father?”

“No, Dad isn’t a bank robber either.”

“What’s his name?” Martie asked, refusing to smile.

“Michael Peter. My mother’s name is Catherine. Catherine Mary. She was a Taylor. That’s where Evan got his middle name.”

“Do you all get along?”

“Quite well. We spent a few years tearing one another’s hair out, as I hear siblings are prone to do, but we’re rather supportive these days.”

“School?”

“Yes, ma’am. I went.” He was teasing her. Her eyes narrowed, and he rattled off his high school and his Arizona college. Then he told her, “If this is twenty questions, you’re running out.”

She laughed. “Oh, no! You promised—”

“I did.” He sighed. “Go on.”

“Your family is well-off?”

“Quite comfortable.”

“And your parents—”

“Are very nice people. You’ll meet them soon.”

“When?”

“When we’ve had a little time alone.”

She opened her mouth again, and he laughed. “What? What? We’re going to be married a lifetime, you know. You don’t have to ask every single question tonight.”

Martine shook her head. She was suddenly longing to reach out and touch the fabric of his jacket and then to stroke his cheek. He looked so wonderful in his suit. And then she was also thinking that he looked wonderful without any outfit and that she had married him! It was her absolute right to want to touch him, and it was a feeling that made her smile with satisfaction.

He caught her hand across the table. “What’s that smirk for?”

“All good things,” she told him lightly.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mmm …” She leaned over the table slightly, bringing her head closer to his. “I was just thinking that I’ve seen half a dozen women stripping you with their eyes tonight, and I was feeling ridiculously pleased because I’m the only one who gets to do it in the flesh.”

“I do like that,” he told her huskily. Then he laughed. “It makes me feel a little primitive, though. I’ve seen several men looking at you the same way, and it makes me feel like I’d like to flatten them if they took a step too close.”

“Possessive, eh?” she asked teasingly.

He sipped his champagne, watching her. “I warned you about that from the very beginning.” He smiled. “Want to order?”

They both decided on the chef’s specialty, a fillet of fish cooked with herbs. Their conversation became very light, with Kane giving her a wild discourse on his life, telling her his preference of player’s piece for the game Monopoly, that he loved water, dogs, and horses, hated tennis, and loved golf.

“What about your parents?” Martie asked. “Won’t they be a little shocked to learn they have a daughter-in-law?”

He merely shrugged. “Nothing I do ever shocks them. My mother will be thrilled to death—trust me. She’s been after me for at least ten years now to settle down.”

Martine felt light—light and free and happier and dizzier than she had ever been in her life. They followed the meal with Sambuca and rum cake, then idly wandered into one of the casinos. The one-armed bandits caught her attention, and Kane, in an incredibly amiable mood, smiled and left her for a moment, only to return with a handful of silver dollars.

The money had a touch of the unreal, of the magical, just like the night. She could do no wrong with it. Kane’s hand was lightly on her back as she played the machine, laughing almost hysterically when she hit two jackpots in a row.