His Seduction Game Plan (15 page)

Twins for the Texan

by Charlene Sands

One

B
rooke McKay had no clue where this deserted Texas road was taking her. Gazing past a dozen squished bugs on the rental car's windshield, she saw flatland stretching before her for miles and miles. After living in California near mountains and beaches, this kind of vast flatness was foreign to her.

Red warning lights blinked from the car's dashboard. She looked down at the indicator. Her gas tank was nearing empty. “Don't do it, don't do it.”

Decked out in her best black lace dress with all the necessary trimmings and red heels so high they'd put the balls of her feet to the test in the walking-to-the-next-gas-station department, Brooke pushed the car to its limit.

She spotted something lying in the middle of the road. “Oh!”

Roadkill.

Apparently someone had driven on this road recently. It was good news for her, but not for the poor possum.

As she drove on, she removed her sunglasses and squinted into the afternoon sun searching for a miracle. A gas station would be nice, with an attendant who knew where in heck she was.

The car sputtered, the engine wringing out its last breaths.

She sucked in oxygen, praying that her worst nightmare wasn't coming to life.

And then the car crawled to a stop.

She pumped the gas pedal, but there was no more wringing to be had.

Oh, boy. Not only wouldn't she make it to Heather's wedding on time, she might have to camp out here in the wilderness for heaven knew how long.

She stared at her cell phone lying beside her on the seat. She already knew
that
miracle wasn't happening. She had no cell service. She hadn't for the last ten miles. She knocked her head against the leather steering wheel a few times and decided it made a good pillow, a place to rest her head and close her eyes while she thought of a way out of this predicament. She didn't have many choices. She'd have to get out and start walking.

“Excuse me, miss,” came a deep voice from out of nowhere. “Are you okay?”

Her head popped up, and she looked into the bone-melting blue eyes of the man standing beside her driver-side door. Her heartbeat immediately picked up speed. There in the flesh was a dauntingly handsome, iron-jawed cowboy.

Her miracle.

“I, uh, I didn't hear anyone drive up.” She glanced in her rearview mirror and sure enough, a shiny black Cadillac SUV was parked behind her car. “Yes, yes. I'm okay.”

She took a closer look at him. Goodness, they grew them tall in Texas. Her miracle wore a black Western suit, a sterling silver belt buckle and one of those sexy string ties. “I th-think I took a wrong turn somewhere. Now I'm out of gas.”

He nodded and scrubbed at the dark blond facial hair on his jaw. “Not a good thing to do on this road. There isn't a gas station for at least ten miles or so. I'm Wyatt Brandt, by the way.” He stuck out his hand and she took it. It was a little awkward shaking hands through the car window, but his firm grip, beautiful eyes and rich Texas drawl put her at ease.

He could be a serial killer.

That thought flittered through her mind, but she dismissed it. The butterflies winging around in her stomach as he enveloped her hand, ever so briefly, told a different story. “I'm Brooke. I was heading to a friend's wedding, and now I'm afraid I'll never make it.”

“Nice meeting you, Brooke,” he said. “You wouldn't by any chance be heading to Blake and Heather's shindig, would you?”

Her eyebrows drew up. How did he know?
Serial killer
flashed in her mind again. Had he been stalking her? Her brother Dylan had almost lost his life to a stalker out to get revenge. Luckily, he'd survived the murder attempts and decided to get his wife away from the Hollywood scene for a while. Emma, Dylan and Brooke were all in Texas now, while Dylan was shooting a movie. She still had stalker on the brain but immediately dismissed the notion where Wyatt was concerned. How many stalkers drove Cadillacs and dressed like
GQ
models? No, Wyatt Brandt either was psychic or had been invited to the wedding, too. “Yes, that's the one. The GPS told me to take this road. I was running late, and this is supposed to be a shortcut to their wedding venue. Do you know them?”

“Sure do. I'm on my way to the nuptials, too. Blake's a friend of mine.”

She smiled. This miracle was getting better and better. “Heather and I went to college on the West Coast together. I've never met Blake.”

“He's a great guy. Just so you know I'm not anyone you have to worry over. I own the Blue Horizon Ranch, about fifteen miles back that way.” He pointed behind them. “And yes, this is a shortcut, if you know the roads. I'd be happy to give you a lift. I was running a bit late, too, and if we hurry, we'll make it before the ceremony begins.”

“Gosh, that sounds great.”

He opened the door for her and she got out. Their size difference was immediately evident. Even wearing three-inch heels, the top of her head reached his chin. His very rugged, strong chin.

“What about your car?” he asked.

“It's a rental.” He closed the car door for her and she went on to explain, “I've been a little distracted lately, and forgot to fill the tank when I took off earlier. I'll lock it up and leave it here for now. I don't have much choice if I want to make the wedding.”

He nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Just let me get my bag.” She clicked a button and the trunk popped open. He followed behind and before she could reach for her bag, he stretched a long arm around her, grazing her waist, and grabbed her suitcase. Warm shivers cascaded down her body from the contact. It was ridiculous how instantly attracted she was to him. She knew nothing about him other than his left hand was bare of a wedding ring and he had incredible eyes and pretty great manners.

“Anything else?” Her pink Gucci bag looked tiny in his grasp.

She'd heard about Southern charm, but experiencing it firsthand was refreshing. The men in other parts of the country could take a lesson from Wyatt Brandt. “No, that's it. Thank you.”

“So you're staying overnight?” he asked as he guided her to his SUV.

“Yes. I figured the reception might go late, and I didn't think I'd be any good driving these roads at night. I'm not too great on them during the day either, apparently.”

Rich laughter rose from his chest. “Probably a smart move.” He opened the passenger-side door and she climbed into the seat.

Once she had settled in, she caught him gazing at her legs. A wave of heat passed through her as his eyes lingered just long enough not to be creepy.

After he put her suitcase in the back end, he took his seat behind the steering wheel and gave her a smile. “Do you have a last name?” he asked matter-of-factly as he started the engine. “Or are you just Brooke?”

Goodness, she didn't want to be Brooke McKay, not today, not with Wyatt. As soon as a guy got wind of who she really was, the sister of ultra-famous movie star Dylan McKay, he began treating her differently. She loved Dylan to pieces, but she'd had enough of that role, and it had caused her too much heartache with men who'd played her fast and loose just to get close to her famous brother.

Maybe it would be different in Texas than it had been in Los Angeles, where everyone it seemed, was trying to break into the movie business. But Brooke was too scarred now to test out that theory. “I'm Brooke
Johnson
.”

The fib fell easily from her lips. For just one day. Was that asking too much?

“Okay, Brooke Johnson. Are you ready?”

“I think I was born ready,” she said.

He laughed and they took off, leaving her little white Ford Escort in the dust.

* * *

Wyatt hadn't had a one-on-one conversation with a woman since his wife, Madelyn, had died some nine months ago. He wasn't including Henrietta in that, since his housekeeper was nearing retirement age, and besides, he was never really alone with her. Either Brett or Brianna or both of his eighteen-month-old twins were usually with them when they spoke, or rather when they tried to have a conversation. Raising twins was chaos in motion most of the time.

Yet Wyatt wasn't one for parties anymore. He preferred staying on the ranch, working long hours while trying to be a good father. But even he recognized his grief needed a swift kick in the ass, and his best friend Johnny Wilde had been the one to deliver it. “Go to that weddin', man. What you need is to get out and start livin' again.”

Now he was wearing a monkey suit and heading for Blake's wedding, making conversation with a dark-haired woman with a sultry voice, great legs, and dark chocolate eyes with lids heavily shadowed and rims outlined in black.

“You're not from Texas, are you?” he asked.

“What was your first clue?”

He'd gotten a load of clues: the raven hair curling wildly down her back, the red painted lips, the dark made-up eyes and the manner of her dress. Sexy as it was, no woman in Texas would wear a skintight black lace dress to a wedding. At least none of the weddings he'd ever attended. “Oh, I don't know. Just a hunch.”

“I'm from Los Angeles.”

Her lips puckered as if she expected him to make some comment about her appearance. He wouldn't disrespect her that way. She was different from Madelyn, who'd been the epitome of Texas style and grace with sweet features, rosy cheeks and soft blond hair. Brooke certainly had her own style, but he wouldn't say she was unattractive. Quite the opposite, and he wished to hell he wasn't constantly noticing.

“So, you've come all this way for the wedding?” he asked.

“Yes, and for a little vacation. It just sort of worked out that I'd be able to attend Heather's wedding. I haven't seen her in years, but we've kept in touch. I'll be here for the rest of the summer.”

“Where are you staying?”

“With a friend just outside of Beckon.”

He nodded. “Nice.”

“Yeah, it would be, but I co-own a business and I've put it in the hands of a new manager while I'm gone. It's a little nerve-racking.”

“What kind of business?”

“It's called Parties-to-Go. We do all sorts of party and event planning. My partner is pregnant and well, it's a little complicated, but we both decided we needed a break. So we're here, enjoying the muggy end of the summer.”

And he was enjoying her.

“What do you do, Wyatt? If you don't mind me asking? You said you owned Blue Horizon Ranch? Does that mean cattle?”

“Sure does. I've been raising cattle nearly all of my life. When my granddaddy started the ranch back in the forties, it was a small operation. My daddy built it up some, and then I took over when my folks moved to the East Coast. Blue Horizon's success had always been a dream of mine.”

That and living to a ripe old age with his high school sweetheart, Madelyn.

“And now you're seeing it through.”

“I am. The ranch does well, but I tinker in other things, too.”

“Ah, you're an entrepreneur?”

“I suppose some might call me that.”

He took pride in the investments he'd made in other companies that had paid off well. He'd made his first million before his twenty-seventh birthday, and he'd worked hard ever since to ensure a comfortable future for his family. Now he had all the money he'd ever need. Without Madelyn to share in his success, all of his hard work would've seemed pointless, but for his twins.

That was what getting off the ranch this weekend was about, him trying to move on with his life.

Start livin' again.

He glanced at Brooke, her red-lipped mouth in a pout as she tried to catch some cell service by waving her phone up in the air, putting it out the window for a few seconds. He couldn't seem to keep his eyes off her. She was a breath of fresh air and that alone stirred his juices. She was different and, he supposed, a lot of fun if he'd ever let himself find out.

“Nothing?” he asked once she gave up with her phone.

“Nope, not a blasted thing.”

“We'll be at the hotel soon,” he said.

The Inn at Sweetwater was known for lush gardens and scenic bridges along a natural lake. It was the destination spot for lovers and known as the ultimate venue for a romantic wedding. It was like the cherry topping on a hot fudge sundae for a bride and groom to speak their vows there. And it was why he'd resisted coming to this wedding.

Not on this day, of all days. It was Madelyn's birthday.

Hell, it was the exact reason Johnny insisted on his getting off the ranch. Wyatt needed the distraction, the time away. Wyatt had been restless and pensive and even Henrietta, bless her soul, had insisted he needed time to clear his head and gain some perspective. He'd be leaving his kids in her care overnight. Something he'd never done before, so with Johnny on his back and Henrietta pushing him, he'd accepted the invitation.

“What's wrong?” Brooke asked.

He turned to look into her pretty brown eyes. “Why do you think something's wrong?”

“Because I know you so well,” she replied, grinning.

He laughed. “Sorry, just deep in thought.”

“No apologies necessary. Aha! Finally, I'm getting bars on my cell. We must be nearing civilization. Excuse me while I call a tow service for my car.”

“No problem.” Wyatt listened to the deep, sensual lilt of her voice and tried to keep his eyes focused on the highway—not on Brooke Johnson, the engaging woman he'd picked up along the road.

* * *

As they drove through the intricate wrought iron gates of the venue, they entered a vibrant world of golf-course-green grass and tall swaying willows shading the lane leading up to the hotel. The Inn at Sweetwater was a plantation-style structure with palatial columns and snow-white shutters on every window. The gardens were ablaze with purple azaleas, pink peonies and stargazer lilies, and bluebonnets were interwoven among the stepping-stones. The paths all led to picturesque bridges arching over placid ponds. Off to the right fifty yards away, Sweetwater Lake sparkled in the late-afternoon sun.