The Rancher and the Redhead (6 page)

He tugged a lock of her hair. “Aw, Curly, it'll be all right.”

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered darkly.

“Look, you're going to be too busy to brood. I was thinking if I cleaned out the storeroom you could use it as your studio.”

“It does have that huge window,” she said thoughtfully. “I'd like that, if you don't mind.”

“Mind? We're going to be partners now, Curly. You'll have as much right to this house as I do. And that's not all. We've got to get the license and rings, make the wedding arrangements, and move the rest of your things over here, not forgetting that you've still got a deadline and I've got a thousand head of cattle to move to spring pastures.”

“Oh, golly.” She swallowed. “Rather a daunting lot, isn't it?”

“I'll say. So you go home and keep your mother and Jinks company until Saturday. Jessie and I'll manage.”

Roni frowned and shook her head. “No, she's just getting accustomed to both of us. I'll see her tucked in at bedtime and be back for breakfast. If I disappeared completely now, just like Alicia did, it might upset her all over again.”

Sam nodded. “I see your point. We'll just do a bit of juggling. No big deal.”

“And Mother is dying to meet her. I'm sure once she sets eyes on our little hellion, I won't be able to separate them.” Roni smiled wryly. “This is quite a bit to absorb for my mother, you know—her old-maid daughter married, a new son-in-law and a grandbaby. She's rather boggled, but that won't keep her from trying to run the show.”

“Nothing we can't handle, Curly, my girl.” Laughing, Sam gave her a friendly squeeze of encouragement. “Nothing we can't handle.”

* * *

Sam didn't know exactly when things got out of hand. But they had. Definitely.

On the finest Saturday afternoon April had ever produced in Flat Fork, Texas, he found himself in his Sunday best suit, his favorite boots polished to a high gloss, waiting to marry his best friend.

And not in the relative privacy of Judge Holt's office, either. No, sirree, Roni's mother had taken one look around and promptly moved the service to the rose garden behind the Methodist church. Between the bower of fresh green ferns and the natural profusion of early scarlet and pink blossoms, Sam had to admit the setting was very pretty. But whose idea had it been for Angel Morales's cousin to play “The Wedding March” on his twelve-string guitar? And where had all these people come from?

Sam swallowed hard and tried to appear calm before the crowd of expectant faces seated on rows of folding chairs, standing on the grass behind them and spilling onto the sidewalks beyond. What was to have been a quiet ceremony with a handful of guests had mushroomed as word spread. While it was gratifying that his and Roni's friends and neighbors would want to share in the happy occasion, Sam was more than a bit taken aback by this outpouring of goodwill. Or curiosity. He caught Reverend Burdett's eye and received a nod of encouragement just as Angel's cousin launched into a flamenco crescendo.

A chorus of “oohs” made him look up. Coming down the narrow paved path between the rows of chairs were Roni's two attendants, Krystal in a pale pink, midcalf sundress, pushing a stroller in which sat his little redhead, looking adorable in her own pink smock. Both wore dainty wreaths of fresh spring flowers and baby's breath in their hair, but Jessie's was already tilted at a rakish angle over one eye and she was doing her best to detach and demolish what she could reach of it.

Laughter rippled over the crowd, and Sam grinned, proud as any father at his newly acquired daughter's obvious charm and beauty. Jessie spotted him just as Krystal parked the stroller in place before the minister.

“Da!” she announced in delight, then offered Sam the aster crushed in her pudgy fist.

Carolyn beamed, and the other guests murmured approval as Sam bent and gravely accepted the gift. Then he caught sight of the vision at the other end of the path and totally forgot who he was, what he was doing and how to breathe.

My God, she's gorgeous.

Clutching her stepfather's arm, Roni came to him to the sultry beat of a Spanish guitar, her brown eyes wide, her rosy lips parted in a shy smile. She'd let her hair fly wild and loose for once, and the whiskey-dark locks curled and undulated in a vibrant halo around her face to her shoulders. Another simple flowery wreath crowned her head and ivory ribbons floated down her back.

Belatedly, Sam realized how rarely he'd seen her in a dress, much less such a purely feminine creation. The lines of the ivory lace gown decreed an earlier fashion age, but it could have been created especially to showcase Roni's beauty, from its scalloped neckline to the fitted bodice that lovingly cupped her full breasts to the graceful drape of the calf-length skirt that revealed the seductive flare of her hips. She was regal and romantic, a fairy queen out of a man's most dangerous dream, a mischievous and beguiling Titania.

And he didn't know her at all. Fear bolted through him.
What am I doing?

Jinks Robinson, graying and affable, briefly bussed Roni's cheek, then handed her over to Sam and went to sit with his wife. Bemused, Sam wordlessly offered Roni the crushed aster that Jessie had given him. She hesitated only momentarily, taking it and tucking it into the bouquet of white roses he'd given her while a collective sigh rose from the wedding guests.

Who is this man?
Roni fumbled in the bouquet with trembling fingers, utterly shocked by the tall, solemn stranger at her side. Was this her Sam, this man with shoulders broad enough to block out the sun? Rays of golden light trickled through the treetops and gleamed on his fair hair, brushed ruthlessly into an unfamiliar and alarming orderliness. He was archangel and conqueror, warrior and master, and masculinity radiated from him in powerful waves, tempting and frightening and foreign.

Panic clawed at Roni's throat.
Oh, God, what am I doing here?

A burble of baby giggles broke the spell. Chortling, cheerfully shredding her headdress, Jessie babbled up at Sam and Roni, demanding conversation. As one, they bent and murmured to her. Then they caught each other's eye. Recognition was instantaneous, and all constraint melted, for the purpose behind their union was clear again—a tiny redheaded girl who needed them both. Relieved, Sam took Roni's hand firmly in his own and received an answering squeeze that made the corner of his mouth tilt upward.

“Ready, Curly?” he murmured.

Smiling, she nodded, and they took their places before the minister.

“Dearly beloved...”

I, Veronica Jean, take you, Samuel...

...to have and to hold...

...for better, for worse...

...with this ring, I thee wed...

And then it was almost over, the unfamiliar weight of gold bands binding their lives together, and they bowed their heads as the guitarist's voice lifted in the liquid melody of a beloved prayer.

“What are all these people doing here?” Roni asked in a whisper.

Sam's reply was equally low. “Came for the best show in Flat Fork today, I guess.”

“But there's so
many.
”

“Yeah.” He grinned and gave her a wink. “Hope there's enough cake.”

That provoked a flurry of giggles that Roni had a hard time constraining. Luckily, the soloist had finished his last “Amen.” Reverend Burdett's smiled was indulgent, for he'd seen many euphoric couples in his time, and this next part was his personal favorite of all his duties.

“Now, Sam, you may kiss your bride.”

Two pairs of sparkling eyes met. Two hearts flipped over. Two reasonably competent adults mentally kicked themselves for not remembering, for not even
once
practicing this most important symbol. And a sea of curious, expectant onlookers was watching to see what would happen next.

Gamely, Sam took Roni's shoulders, bending his head for a quick and courteous peck, but then a devilish gleam sparked his blue eyes.

“Aw, hell, Curly,” he growled. “Let's give ‘em their money's worth.”

Sliding one arm around her waist, he gathered her close and buried his other hand in the curls at her nape. Holding her still, he slanted his head and covered her mouth, catching her startled gasp with his lips, inhaling the sweetness of her breath in an intoxicating rush. And then his intention changed, for her lips quivered and parted, and forgetfulness overcame him as pure sensation plunged him into oblivion.

I didn't know...sweet, so hot and sweet...Curly!

Her hands came up to loop about his neck, pulling him closer, and the bouquet she held enveloped them in a cloud of perfume. A deep trembling struck her soul with wonder.
Sam, what are you doing to me?
Whatever it was, she couldn't get enough, and she strained against him, opening for him without conscious choice, following an instinct as old as the ages.

Boldly he tasted her, wild honey and thyme, spice and sweetness, more addictive and exciting than anything he'd ever known. When the tip of her tongue met his, both aggressive exploration and tender enticement, he groaned and she shivered.

“Amen.”

The minister's good-natured reminder of the proper place for such things broke them apart, blushing and red-faced amid the teasing laughter of the onlookers. The guitarist began a celebratory song, and the guests rose and congratulated the happy couple in an impromptu receiving line.

“Darling!” Carolyn enveloped her daughter in a warm hug. “Every blessing. You've made me so happy. I always knew the two of you were just meant for each other.”

Still dazed by the onslaught of unexpected sensations Sam's passionate kiss had stirred, Roni accepted her mother's hugs and salutations with a glazed look and blazing cheeks. Meant for each other? Is that what people thought? But somehow, something elemental had changed in the blink of an eye and the touching of lips, and now Roni didn't know even what she thought herself. Her heart still pounded, and a heady taste, the essence of Sam himself, lingered on her lips, branding her, unnerving her, making her wish that they hadn't been interrupted.

Which was shameful, for hadn't they agreed this wasn't something they needed or wanted right now? Dear God, how had things gotten so out of control so quickly? she groaned inwardly. He'd meant it as a joke, hadn't he?

Jinks hugged Roni, then passed her on to Krystal, who was holding Jessie. “I knew you were holding out on me.” Krystal laughed her teasing accusation. “Immune to Sam's charms, my eye. You lucky dog.”

“Krystal, please!” Roni's cheeks were scarlet. To hide her embarrassment, she took Jessie and hastily tried to straighten what was left of her headdress.

Her friend gave her a sassy wink. “Enjoy, I say.”

Meanwhile, Jinks had moved on to shake Sam's hand, his booming voice carrying clearly. “Congratulations, my boy! That's quite a gal you've caught yourself. You be darned good to her, you hear?”

Roni barely stifled a groan. Was all this gushing by her relatives necessary?

“Yes, sir. That's a promise,” Sam was saying. He caught her eye then, and though his words were for Jinks, the amusement in his look was shared with Roni. Somewhat reassured, Roni turned away to greet another well-wisher.

With an effort, Sam tore his gaze from his bride and tried to douse the flame that had stirred within him by putting on his affable cowboy grin, the one that had hidden his true feelings from rambunctious steers and drunken bullies and demanding females for so long and so well. He hoped it worked equally well on curious wedding guests, for he sure as hell had no explanations—for himself or for anyone else—for the conflagration that had nearly gotten out of hand between him and Roni at the altar.

Holy Jehoshaphat! What a danged fool he was. His lusty reactions were likely to scare off the girl before they even got a good start on this thing.

Shaking the hands of innumerable well-wishers, Sam's gaze kept going back to the woman laughing and accepting congratulations nearby. They milled through the crowd, visiting and showing off Jessie, conscious in a way like never before of each other's every movement. Whenever she caught his eye, her color rose and her gaze slid swiftly away again. Sam inwardly cursed the streak of cussedness that had made him pull such a damn-fool stunt.

But it was odd that, until the moment he'd kissed her, he'd never really noticed her mouth, the soft shape of it, the lush lower lip that hinted of latent sensuality. Now he couldn't stop looking at it, nor thinking about the way she tasted. The way she chewed at the corner of it when she was worried drove him crazy. And her smile... There couldn't be a more perfect mouth with a more perfect smile in all the universe. Just made for a man to explore...

Sam reined his galloping thoughts to a reluctant halt.
Preston, you're crazy. Cut it out.

I must be going crazy,
Roni thought. Though she carried on perfectly sensible conversations, she had no notion of what she said. But when Sam spared her the merest look, she knew it instantly and felt a flush all the way to her core. And when his gaze fell to her mouth, her lips tingled in remembered ecstasy and longing.

This sensitivity was as unexpected as it was unwelcome, she told herself sternly. What if this sudden awareness was all on her part? How humiliating. Sam hadn't bargained for that. No, she'd simply have to get control of these surging emotions. They were no doubt due to the strains of the day, not anything more than a passing physical awareness that would soon die back down where it belonged when things returned to normal. After all, they'd agreed. And Sam was a man of his word.

You're a man who stands by his word, Preston. Forget it. Forget how good Roni tasted, or you're liable to drive her away.
Sam's mouth went dry with fear at the thought, and inexplicably stayed that way, even through the toasting with the champagne Jinks had brought, through the cake tasting and the bouquet throwing.