The Rancher and the Redhead (5 page)

Sam's expression was suddenly full of worry and concern. He squatted down on his heels beside the rocker so that their eyes were on the same level. “Curly...”

“I want this child. You can't give her away, Sam. I won't let you.”

He groaned. “But we've got to think about what's right for Jessie.”

“How about what's right for you? For me?” Roni demanded.

Sam threw up his hands. “So what do you want me to do?”

Cheeks pale, Roni hesitated, then met his gaze. “The right thing. Marry me, Sam.”

W
hen Sam was seventeen, he'd been kicked in the head by a half-broken saddle bronc Kenny had dared him to ride. Roni's words produced the same stunning sensation, the impression of falling endlessly until you hit the ground—hard.

“What did you say?” The huskiness of his own voice startled him.

Rosy color flooded Roni's face, but she held his gaze unwaveringly. “I—I think I just proposed, Sam.”

“I'm not in the mood for your teasing, Curly.”

“I'm dead serious.”

Sam rose abruptly. Roni's warm brown eyes seemed huge in her pale face, and he was suddenly struck by how pretty she was, even disheveled with her dark hair curling about her shoulders, and how absolutely right she looked, cradling a baby to her bosom. Carefully he lifted Jessie from Roni's arms, then laid the sleeping child down in the middle of his king-size bed and propped pillows on either side of her. He knew that Roni had risen and was watching him closely.

“I should get busy assembling her baby bed.” The pieces of the white Jenny Lind bed he'd brought back from Alicia's apartment in Abilene still lay stacked in a heap in the front parlor among the other debris of Jessie's arrival.

“She might sleep better,” Roni agreed cautiously.

He knew they weren't really talking about baby beds. “Come on. I need a beer.”

With Roni trailing after him, he stalked into the kitchen, pulled open the refrigerator door and reached for a dark brown bottle. “Want one?”

She shook her head, moving about his kitchen with easy familiarity, automatically putting away the forgotten sacks of groceries. She set the kettle on the stove and opened a box of herbal tea.

“I'd rather have this.” Though she tried to keep her voice light, he could hear the strain in it. “And it's rather unflattering, you know, for you to be so flabbergasted. Hadn't you ever thought that you and I—that we...”

“No,” he said flatly, twisting open the beer bottle. “I hadn't.”

She threw a tea bag into a mug and turned to him with a belligerent tilt to her chin. “Well, how...how very
unchivalrous
of you. All the same, it makes perfect sense, if you'll just think.”

“Sense?” He snorted. “Curly, you've gone loco.”

Her cheeks brightened again, but she went on doggedly. “It's the solution you need for Jessie, Sam. We both adore her. Together we can make the kind of home she deserves, and frankly, there are worse ways to start off married life than by being good friends.”

“I don't know what to say.” He shook his head, dazed. “You'd do that for Jessie?”

“I'd do it for
me.
I'm sick of living alone.”

Sam heard the plaintiveness in her tone and realized he'd been too caught up in his own concerns to see that his ever-upbeat pal was struggling with her own brand of loneliness. Straddling a kitchen chair, he took a drink of his beer and stared down at the bottle. “I'll admit it's no picnic for me, either.”

“I've always wanted a home and a family, and I know you have, too. But things just haven't worked out as either of us planned.” Sighing, she leaned her trim hips against the kitchen counter and warmed her hands around her mug as though fighting off a chill. She was silent a long moment, gazing down into the steaming liquid. “I suppose in a way I'll always love Jackson, but he couldn't give me what I truly wanted and needed.”

“I know that.”

“But you can, Sam.” She lifted her eyes, and her words were earnest. “If Jessie is your second chance at that kind of life, she's my first and last chance. I want her, more than anything I've ever wanted. I know we could be the kind of parents she needs and bring her up right with love and security.”

“You wouldn't be getting much out of the deal.”

“That's where you're wrong. We'd be a family. That's more than enough.” Catching his skeptical glance, she set her mug aside and persisted. “Neither of us is getting any younger, Sam. Just think of it as a practical solution to the problem. We both work at home, with flexible schedules, so Jessie's needs could come first, without having to depend on housekeepers and day care. And you've been too damn proud to accept my offer to use my daddy's pastureland. Married, we can combine our assets and build something permanent together for Jessie on the Lazy Diamond. It's perfect. We'd all benefit.”

“I think you're forgetting something.” Deliberately, he drained his beer, set the bottle down on the table, then rose and came to stand in front of her. “What about sex?”

She swallowed. “What about it?”

“Don't play dumb, Curly.” He cupped her shoulders and let his thumbs trace the delicate line of her collarbone. “You know what I mean.”

“Can't we cross that bridge when we come to it?”

Catching her around the waist, he jerked her up against him, bending to nuzzle the flower-fragrant crook of her neck. His unexpected touch evoked a shiver and a gasp from her, and he bared his teeth in a wolfish grin, muttering, “I think we just did.”

Her fingers grasped his forearms for balance. “You're not going to scare me off, if that's what you're trying to do.”

He drew back, giving her a hard look, then pressed himself suggestively against her middle in blatant mimicry of the act they were discussing. “A man wants a willing woman in his bed, Veronica Jean, not a martyr.”

Her breathing accelerated, and she hesitated, licking her lips. “I—I'm not unwilling.”

That set him aback. Sam admitted to himself that he'd crowded her to show her just how asinine this idea of hers was, that he was no sexless eunuch to be dismissed out of hand, but her response was forcing him to see her in a new light. Damn, he knew she was a beautiful, desirable woman, but he'd never allowed himself to think of her like that. Those had been the unspoken rules. She was just Curly, who'd always been there for him. Anything else felt strange and unnatural, didn't it?

Releasing her, he stepped back a pace, rubbing his hand over his nape in consternation. “We've never had those feelings toward each other, Curly.”

“Perhaps not. But we've got a lot more going for us than most couples—trust, dependability, a wealth of knowledge and history together. The other could evolve naturally, if we wanted it to.”

“And if it doesn't?” he challenged.

“Companionship and mutual respect are important, too.” She shrugged uncomfortably. “And we're both adults with no illusions about love left to shatter. As long as we're both discreet, outside, er—friendships shouldn't be a problem, if it came to that.”

He laughed harshly. “How very modern of you.”

She flushed again. “Look, making a stable family environment for Jessie is the prime consideration here, isn't it? What's to keep us from going on just as we've been doing the last few days?”

“You think keeping things platonic would work?”

“It has so far,” she pointed out with irrefutable logic. Then she smiled, a little tender, a little bemused, cajoling him into temptation. “Come on, Sam. Let's do it for Jessie. We're comfortable together, like a favorite pair of old boots. It wouldn't be that hard. In some ways, we're already like an old married couple.”

“You mean passion on the back burner, constant bickering and taking each other for granted?”

She chuckled. “Something like that.”

Sam's lips twitched in an answering grin.
She never fails to make me smile.

For an instant he resisted acknowledging a decision that he'd already made deep down inside. The alternative—giving up the baby girl who'd stolen his heart, and losing Roni's respect—was unthinkable. And a part of him yearned for the connection and continuity of a family just as fiercely as Roni did.

Hell, she knew what she was getting into. Knew him for the lunkheaded cowpuncher and struggling rancher he was, knew small-town life and all that came with it. She'd taken her knocks, too, and wouldn't expect rainbows and miracles every minute, nor would she light out at the first hint of rough going.

It might look a bit crazy to the outside world, but it was a logical plan that solved their present situation without a lot of sentimental fuss, which suited Sam right down to his boots. They could forge an honorable life together, for Jessie and for themselves. All it took was a little courage.

“Well,” he drawled, “that's not the greatest sales pitch I ever heard, but I suppose I can live with it.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean it?”

“I can't believe I'm saying this, but yes, ma'am, thank you kindly. I accept your proposal.” His words went a trifle ragged with an admission straight from his own heart. “Hell, Curly, I'm damned tired of being alone, too.”

“Oh, Sam!” She threw herself against his broad chest. Sam closed his arms around her, enjoying the warmth of her closeness.

“And you'll tell the Newtons that Jessie is ours?” she asked, her voice tremulous.

“Yes. Ours.” The very words made his throat tighten.

Roni relaxed against him and stood quietly in the circle of his arms, her cheek pressed over his heart. “We'll just take it day by day, okay?”

“Sure. After all, what we're doing is nobody's business but our own. Let the world draw its own conclusions.”

“Agreed. You won't be sorry, I promise.”

He gave a mock groan. “Oh, I'm sure I will be, trying to keep up with two women in my life. And I know you'll have your own share of regrets—”

“Oh, no.”

“—but we'll make it together, God willing.”

“Yes,” she breathed, “God willing.”

“Now are you scared?”

Roni toyed with the pearl snap on his shirt, and he felt her tremble. “Maybe just a little.” Raising her head, she looked up into his face with a smile so brilliant, it took his breath. “But I'm more than content with what I'm getting out of this bargain. Know why?”

Dazzled, his answer was monosyllabic. “Uh—”

“Because I'm getting a husband who cooks, that's why. Now, Mr. Preston, about those steaks...”

* * *

“No, indeed, you are most certainly
not
getting married in the judge's chambers. That's barbaric!”

“But, Mother—”

“Put Sam on the line.”

Helplessly, Roni held out the receiver of the kitchen phone. “She wants to talk to you.”

“Uh-oh.” Sam traded the wrench he'd used to assemble Jessie's baby bed for the phone, his blue eyes sparkling. The dishes from their steak supper lay soaking in the sink, and Jessie still slept, unaware that she was in the process of acquiring parents. “I guess I'm in big trouble, huh?”

“Be serious, Sam,” Roni pleaded. “She's talking about a real wedding.”

Cupping a hand over the receiver, he cocked one sandy eyebrow. “Well, that's what it's going to be, isn't it?”

Exasperated, she blew a dark curl off her forehead. “You know what I mean—a church, ushers, a cake with a
fountain,
for gosh sakes. Tell her we insist on a quiet ceremony. This Saturday. In Judge Holt's chambers as we planned.”

Nodding, Sam raised the receiver to his mouth. “Hello, Miss Carolyn. Yes, well, thank you, I think so. I—yes, ma'am.”

Roni chewed her lip anxiously, but a dozen or more “Yes, ma'am's” was the limit to Sam's conversation with her mother. Before she knew it, he hung up, turning to her with an apologetic shrug. “She's so excited about our news that she and Jinks are driving in tonight. To get things organized. She says she's bringing you her wedding dress.”

Roni buried her face in her hands with a groan. “I knew we should have eloped.”

“Miss Carolyn knew I wouldn't deprive her of the pleasure of seeing her only child properly married off.” Sam came up behind Roni and began to massage her tense shoulders. “What could I say?”

“
Nein.
Uh-uh. No way, José.” She gave a sigh of pleasure as Sam's deft fingers unkinked the knots in her neck, then suddenly straightened with a gasp of realization. “Oh, God! I'll have to go home. Mother wouldn't understand the situation here. That is—”

“Relax, Curly.” Sam gently drew her back against himself, still working on her shoulders. His voice was low in her ear, and his warm breath tickled her skin. “I'm not going to do anything that will embarrass you, including giving your mother reason to believe we've been sleeping together without benefit of clergy.”

Roni gulped, and her face flamed. “Uh, at our ages, she's liable to draw her own conclusions anyway.”

“Exactly. On the other hand, we can hardly declare we're both pure as the driven snow in that department without provoking a lot of nosy questions. The circumstances of our marriage are nobody's business but our own, but propriety demands certain conventions. I've got no objections to keeping up appearances and going through the rituals.” Turning her to face him, he lifted her chin with his thumb and met her gaze. “It's the least I can do for the woman who's to be my wife.”

Roni caught her breath. The rugged face above her was as dear and familiar to her as her own, but until this moment she had never truly appreciated the depth of the decency and respect with which Sam lived his life. The contrast between his and Jackson Dial's philosophy could not have been greater. And now she was to be an integral part of Sam's life, the recipient of his caring concern and commitment. It was a prospect that boded well for her future contentment and produced a betraying surge of emotion.

“Now you just stop that, Sam Preston,” she murmured. “You're going to make me cry.”

“Lord, don't do that again.” His expression was faintly alarmed. “I couldn't handle that twice in one day.”

She chuckled softly. “You've got a lot to learn about women, then. And if my mother gets too bossy about this wedding, you're liable to get worse than a few tears from me.”