Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Runaway Temptation

Runaway Temptation
Maureen Child


A tall, blue-eyed Texan temptation…When Shelby Arthur’s runs away from her wedding, sexy rancher Caleb Mackenzie offers his ranch as a hideaway while she gets her life under control…but soon their passion is out of control.







A getaway from the wrong groom leads to...

A tall, blue-eyed Texas temptation...

When Shelby Arthur’s mad dash from the altar ends in the arms of sexy rancher Caleb Mackenzie, she’s a goner. And then the handsome Texan offers his ranch as a hideaway while she gets her life under control...but soon their passion is out of control. Is Caleb the right guy at the wrong wedding, or will Shelby run again?


MAUREEN CHILD writes for the Mills & Boon Desire line and can’t imagine a better job. A seven-time finalist for a prestigious Romance Writers of America RITA® Award, Maureen is an author of more than one hundred romance novels. Her books regularly appear on bestseller lists and have won several awards, including a Prism Award, a National Readers’ Choice Award, a Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence and a Golden Quill Award. She is a native Californian but has recently moved to the mountains of Utah.


Also by Maureen Child (#ub9f92427-f13f-5a1b-9a5b-cf72d4aabe78)

The Baby Inheritance

Maid Under the Mistletoe

The Tycoon’s Secret Child

A Texas-Sized Secret

Little Secrets: His Unexpected Heri

Rich Rancher’s Redemption

Billionaire’s Bargain

Texas Cattleman’s Club: Bachelor Auction miniseries

Runaway Temptation

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


Runaway Temptation

Maureen Child






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07673-9

RUNAWAY TEMPTATION

© 2018 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To Carter and Cade. For the hugs. For the laughs.

For the love. For the future.


Contents

Cover (#ua952403c-207c-5de7-aefc-e71d88b75d61)

Back Cover Text (#u892815de-5767-51d1-b0be-9a32efe26634)

About the Author (#u11db148e-81a5-54d4-8d4d-07c0523a5610)

Booklist (#u9488389f-aa8d-52a1-a840-cf1c8ac20648)

Title Page (#u7899c600-96b9-52cd-a445-660cc922d066)

Copyright (#uf24080b2-dcaf-51c2-b6b0-489e221ed884)

Dedication (#u67f27850-a1fe-50b1-a7d7-b8836b6eacdd)

One (#u94c516ee-1c12-5565-8c45-a54abbf471ed)

Two (#ub5283374-9ed3-53c6-8f17-12fd9e52c5b8)

Three (#u1152573c-79d5-51d4-847d-1b8e7c73ead2)

Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


One (#ub9f92427-f13f-5a1b-9a5b-cf72d4aabe78)

“I hate weddings.” Caleb Mackenzie ran his index finger around the inside of his collar. But that didn’t do a thing to loosen the tie he wore, or to rid himself of the “wish I were anywhere but here” thoughts racing through his mind. “I feel like I’m overdressed for my own hanging.”

Caleb wasn’t real fond of suits. Sure, he had a wide selection of them since he needed them for meetings and business deals. But he was much more comfortable in jeans, a work shirt and his favorite boots, running his ranch, the Double M. Still, as the ranch grew, he found himself in the dreaded suits more and more often because expansion called for meeting bankers and investors on their turf.

Right now, though, he’d give plenty to be on a horse riding out across the open range. Caleb knew his ranch hands were getting the work done, but there were stock ponds to check on, a pregnant mare he was keeping an eye on and a hay field still to harvest and store.

Yet instead, here he stood, in the hot Texas sun, in an elegant suit and shining black boots. He tugged the brim of his gray Stetson down lower over his eyes and slanted a look at the mob of people slowly streaming into the Texas Cattleman’s Club for the ceremony and reception.

If he could, he’d slip out of town. But it was too late now.

“You’re preaching to the choir, man.”

Caleb nodded at his friend Nathan Battle. If he had to be there, at least he had company.

Nathan settled his cowboy hat more firmly on his head and sent a frown toward his pretty, very pregnant wife standing with a group of her friends. “I swear, I think Amanda really enjoys it when I have to wear a suit.”

“Women’ll kill you.” Caleb sighed and leaned back against his truck. As hot as he was, he was in no hurry to go inside and take a seat for the ceremony. Given a choice, he’d always choose to be outside under the sky. Even a hot and humid August day was preferable to being trapped inside.

“Maybe, but it’s not a bad way to go—” Nathan broke off and asked, “Why’re you here, anyway? Not like you’ve got a wife to make you do what you don’t want to do.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Nathan winced and said, “Sorry, man. Wasn’t thinking.”

“No problem.” Caleb gritted his teeth and swallowed the knot of humiliation that could still rise up and choke him from time to time. The thing about small towns was, not only did everyone know what everybody else was doing—nobody ever forgot a damn thing. Four years since the day his wedding hadn’t happened and everyone in Royal remembered.

But then, it wasn’t like he’d forgotten, either.

Amazing, really. In the last few years, this town had seen tornadoes, killer storms, blackmailers and even a man coming back from the dead. But somehow, the memory of Caleb’s botched wedding day hadn’t been lost in the tidal wave of events.

Nathan shifted position, his discomfort apparent. Caleb couldn’t help him with that. Hell, he was uncomfortable, too. But to dispel the tension, Caleb said lightly, “You should have worn your uniform.”

As town sheriff, Nathan was rarely dressed in civilian clothes. The man was most comfortable in his khaki uniform, complete with badge, walking the town, talking to everyone and keeping an eye on things. He snorted. “Yeah, that wouldn’t fly with Amanda.”

A soft smile curved his friend’s mouth and just for a second or two, Caleb envied the other man. “When’s the new baby due again?”

“Next month.”

And, though he knew the answer already, Caleb asked, “How many will that make now?”

Nathan grinned and shot him a wink. “This one makes four.”

A set of four-year-old twin boys, a two-year-old girl and now another one. “How many are you planning, anyway?”

Nathan shrugged. “Who says there’s a plan? Mandy loves babies, and I have to say I do enjoy making them.”

Marriage. Family. All of that slipped by him four years ago. And now that Nathan had reminded him, Caleb idly wondered how many kids he and Meg might have had by now if things had gone the way he’d expected. But the night before their wedding, Meg had run off with Caleb’s brother, Mitch. Now the two of them lived on the family ranch with their set of twins. Three years old, the boy and girl ran wild around the ranch and Caleb put whatever he might have felt for kids of his own into those two.

There might still be tension between him and his brother, Mitch, not to mention Meg. But he loved those kids more than he would have thought possible.

“Mitch and Meg still out of town?” Nathan asked, glancing around as if half expecting to see them walking up.

“Yeah. Visiting Meg’s family.” And Caleb had been enjoying the respite.

“That’s one way to get out of going to a summer wedding.”

“Amen.” Caleb loosened his tie a little. Felt like he was beginning to melt out here in the sun. He spared a glance at the sky and watched a few lazy white clouds drifting along. “Who plans a wedding in August, anyway? Hotter than the halls of hell out here.”

“You know how the Goodmans are,” Nathan answered. “The old man figures he knows everything and the rest of them—except Brooke—just fall in line. Probably his idea to hold it in high summer. No doubt he was aiming for it to be the talk of the town.”

That sounded like Simon Goodman. Though the man was Caleb’s lawyer, that was more from inertia than anything else. Goodman had been Caleb’s father’s lawyer and when the elder Mackenzie died, Caleb just never bothered to change the situation. So his own inaction had brought him here. Truth be told, Caleb usually avoided attending any weddings since it inevitably brought up old memories that he’d just as soon bury.

“Anyway,” Nathan said, pushing past the uncomfortable pause in the conversation, “I’m the town sheriff. I’m sort of forced to be at these society things. Why the hell did you come?”

Caleb snorted. “Normally, I wouldn’t have. But Simon Goodman’s still the ranch attorney. So it’s business to be at his son Jared’s wedding.” And he made a mental note to do something about that real soon. He shrugged. “If Mitch and Meg had been in town I’d have forced my brother to go instead of me. But since they’re gone, I’m stuck.”

Served him right, Caleb told himself, for letting things slide. He never should have kept Simon on. He and Caleb’s father had been great friends so that didn’t speak well of the man.

He’d let the lawyer relationship stand mainly because it was easier than taking time away from work to find someone new. Between running the ranch and expanding the oil-rich field discovered only twenty years before, Caleb had been too damn busy to worry about a lawyer he only had to deal with a few times a year.

Looking for a change of subject, Caleb said, “Since you’re here, that means the new deputy’s in charge, right?”

Nathan winced. “Yeah. Jeff’s doing fine.”

Caleb laughed. “Sure, I can hear the confidence in your voice.”

Sighing, Nathan pushed one hand through his hair and shook his head. “With Jack retired, I needed a deputy and Jeff Baker’s working out. But he’s from Houston so it’s taking him some time to get used to small town living.”

Caleb had heard about it. Jeff was about thirty and a little too strict on the law and order thing for Royal. The new deputy had handed out more speeding tickets in the last six months than Nathan had in years. Folks in Royal hit an empty road and they just naturally picked up speed. Jeff Baker wasn’t making many friends.

“Hell,” Caleb said, “I’ve lived here my whole life and I’m still not used to it.”

“I hear that,” Nathan replied, shifting his gaze to where his wife stood with a group of friends. “But I’ve been getting a lot of complaints about the tickets Jeff’s handing out.”

Caleb laughed. “He’s not going to slow anybody down.”

“Maybe not,” Nathan agreed with a nod. “But he’s going to keep trying.”

“I expect so,” Caleb mused, then glanced over at Nathan’s wife who was smiling and waving one hand. “I think Amanda wants you.”

Straightening up, Nathan gave a heartfelt sigh. “That’s it, then. I’ll see you after. At the reception?”

“I don’t think so. Soon as I’m clear, I’m headed back to the ranch.”

Another sigh. “Lucky bastard.”

Caleb grinned and watched his friend head toward the Texas Cattleman’s Club building. The place was a one-story, rambling sort, made of dark wood and stone, boasting a tall slate roof. It was a part of Royal and had been for generations. Celebrations of all kinds had been held there and today, it was a wedding. One he’d have to attend in just a few minutes.

* * *

Shelby Arthur stared at her own reflection and hardly recognized herself. She supposed all brides felt like that on their wedding day, but for her, the effect was terrifying.

Her long, dark auburn curls were pulled back from her face to hang down to the center of her back. Her veil poofed out around her head and her green eyes narrowed at the gown she hated. A ridiculous number of yards of white tulle made Shelby look like a giant marshmallow caught in netting. The dress was her about-to-be-mother-in-law’s doing. She’d insisted that the Goodmans had a reputation to maintain in Royal and the simple off-the-shoulder gown Shelby had chosen wouldn’t do the trick.

So instead, she was looking at a stranger wearing an old-fashioned gown with long, lacy sleeves, a cinched waist and full skirt, and a neckline that was so high she felt as if she were choking.

“Thank God for air-conditioning,” she muttered, otherwise in the sweltering Texas heat, she’d be little more than a tulle-covered puddle on the floor. She half turned to get a look at the back of the dress and finally sighed. She looked like one of those crocheted dolls her grandmother used to make to cover up spare toilet paper rolls.

Shelby was about to get married in a dress she hated, a veil she didn’t want, to a man she wasn’t sure she liked, much less loved. How did she get to this point?

“Oh, God. What am I doing?” The whisper was strained but heartfelt.

She’d left her home in Chicago to marry Jared Goodman. But now that he was home in Texas, under his awful father’s thumb, Jared was someone she didn’t even know. Her whirlwind romance had morphed into a nightmare and now she was trapped.

She took a breath, blew it out and asked her reflection, “What are you doing?”

“Good question.”

Shelby jumped, startled by the sudden appearance of Jared’s mother. The woman was there, behind her in the mirror, bustling into the room. Margaret Goodman was tall and painfully thin. Her face was all sharp angles and her blue eyes were small and judgmental. Her graying blond hair was scraped back from her face into a bun that incongruously sported a circlet of yellow rosebuds. The beige suit she wore was elegant if boring and was so close to the color of her hair and skin the woman simply disappeared into her clothes.

If only, Shelby thought.

“Your veil should be down over your face,” Margaret chastised, hurrying over to do just that.

As the veil fell across her vision, Shelby had a momentary panic attack and felt as though she couldn’t breathe through that all-encompassing tulle curtain, so she whipped it back again. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

“You will.” Margaret stepped back, took a look, then moved to tug at the skirt of the wedding gown. “We’re going for a very traditional, chaste look here. It’s unseemly that this wedding is happening so quickly. The town will be gossiping for months, watching for a swollen belly.”

Shelby sucked in a gulp of air. “I’ve told you already, I’m not pregnant.”

“We’ll soon see, won’t we?” One blond eyebrow lifted over pale blue eyes. “The Goodman family has a reputation in this town and I expect you to do nothing to besmirch it.”

“Besmirch?” Who even talked like that, Shelby thought wildly. It was as if she’d dropped into a completely different universe. Suddenly, she missed Chicago—her friends, her life, so much she ached with it.

Moving to Texas with a handsome, well-connected cowboy who had swept her off her feet had seemed like an adventure at the time. Now she was caught up in a web that seemed inescapable. Her fiancé was a stranger, his mother a blatant enemy and his brother had a way of looking at Shelby that had her wishing she’d paid more attention in self-defense class.

Jared’s father, Simon, was no better, making innuendoes that he probably thought were clever but gave Shelby the outright creeps. The only bright spot in the Goodman family was Jared’s sister, Brooke, and she couldn’t help Shelby with what was about to happen.

Somehow, she had completely lost control of her own life and now she stood there in a mountain of tulle trying to find enough scraps of who she was to cling to.

“Once the ceremony is finished, we’ll all go straightaway to the reception,” Margaret was saying.

Oh, God.

“You and Jared will, of course, be in the receiving line until every guest has been welcomed personally. The photographer can then indulge in the necessary photos for precisely fifteen minutes, after which you and Jared will reenter the reception for the ceremonial first toast.” Margaret paused long enough to glance into the mirror herself and smooth hair that wouldn’t dare fall out of place. “Mr. Goodman is an important man and as his family we will do all we can to support him. Is that understood?” Her gaze, hard and cold, shot to Shelby’s. “When you’ve returned from your honeymoon...”

Her stomach sank even further. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see it simply drop out of her body and fall splat onto the floor. Her day was scheduled. Her honeymoon was scheduled and she had no doubt at all that her life would be carefully laid out for her, complete with bullet points.

How had it all come to this?

For their honeymoon, Shelby had wanted to see Paris. Instead, Jared’s mother had insisted they go to Philadelphia so Shelby could be introduced to the eastern branch of the Goodman family. And much to her dismay, Jared was simply doing as he was told with no regard at all for Shelby. He’d changed so much since coming back to Texas that she hardly recognized the man anymore.

Margaret was still talking. Fixing a steely gaze on the mirror, she met Shelby’s eyes. “When you return to Texas, you will of course give up your ridiculous business and be the kind of wife to Jared that will enable him to further his own law career.”

“Oh, I don’t think—”

“You’ll be a Goodman,” Margaret snapped, brooking no argument.

Shelby swallowed hard. When they’d met in Chicago, Jared had talked about his ranch in Texas. He’d let her believe that he was a cowboy who happened to also have a law degree. And yes, she could admit that the fantasy of being with a cowboy had really appealed to her. But mostly, he’d talked about their having a family and that had sealed the deal for Shelby.

She’d told herself then that she could move her professional organizer business anywhere. But from the moment Jared had introduced her to his family, Margaret had made it clear that her “little business” was hardly appropriate.

Shelby met her own eyes in the mirror and read the desperation there. Maybe all of this would be easier to take if she was madly in love with Jared. But the truth was, she’d fooled herself from the beginning. This wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. The romance, the excitement, had all worn off, like the luster of sterling silver as soon as it was tarnished. Rather than standing up for himself, Jared was completely cowed by his family and that really didn’t bode well for Shelby’s future.

Margaret checked the slim gold watch on her wrist, clucked her tongue and headed for the door. “The music will begin in exactly five minutes.” She stopped, glanced over her shoulder and added, “My husband will be here to escort you down the aisle since you don’t have a father of your own.”

Shelby’s mouth dropped open as the other woman left the room. Stunned, she realized Margaret had tossed that last bit with venom, as if Shelby had arranged for her father to die ten years ago just so he could disrupt Margaret Goodman’s wedding scenario.

She shivered at the thought of Simon Goodman. She didn’t want him anywhere near her, let alone escorting her, touching her. And even worse, she was about to promise to be in Simon’s family for the rest of her life.

“Nope, can’t do it.” She glanced at her own reflection and in a burst of fury ripped her veil off her face. Then, blowing a stray auburn lock from her forehead, she gathered up the skirt of the voluminous gown in both arms.

“Have to hurry,” she muttered, giving herself the impetus she needed to make a break for it before it was too late. If she didn’t leave now, she’d be married into the most awful family she’d ever known.

“Not going to happen,” she reassured herself as she tentatively opened the door and peered out.

Thankfully, there was no one in this section of the TCC. They were all in the main room, waiting for the ceremony to start. In the distance, she heard the soft thrum of harp music playing as an underscore to the rise and fall of conversations. She could only guess what they’d all be talking about soon.

That wasn’t her problem, though. Clutching her wedding gown high enough to keep it out of her way, she hurried down the hall and toward the nearest exit.

She thought she heard someone calling her name, but Shelby didn’t let that stop her. She hit the front door and started running. It was blind panic that kept her moving. After all, she had nowhere to go. She didn’t know hardly anyone in Royal besides the Goodman family. But she kept moving because the unknown was wildly better than the alternative.

Her veil caught on one of the porch posts and yanked her back briefly. But Shelby ripped the stupid thing off her head, tiara and all, and tossed it to the ground. Then she was off again, tearing around a corner and running smack into a brick wall.

Well, that’s what it felt like.

A tall, gorgeous brick wall who grabbed her upper arms to steady her, then smiled down at her with humor in his eyes. He had enough sex appeal to light up the city of Houston and the heat from his hands, sliding down her body, made everything inside her jolt into life.

“Aren’t you headed the wrong way?” he asked, and the soft drawl in his deep voice awakened a single thought in her mind.

Oh, boy.


Two (#ub9f92427-f13f-5a1b-9a5b-cf72d4aabe78)

A real cowboy.

Shelby tipped her head back to look up at him and caught the flash of surprise in his gaze as he reached out to steady her. Ridiculously enough, considering the situation—running away from her own wedding—she felt a hot blast of something...amazing.

The cowboy had shaggy light brown hair, icy-blue eyes, a strong jaw and a gray cowboy hat tipped down low on his forehead. He wore a black suit, crisp white shirt with a dove-gray tie and oh, sweet mama Lou, shining black cowboy boots. His hands were strong and warm on her upper arms and a slow smile curved his mouth as he took in what she was wearing.

And the soft drawl in his deep voice really worked for her. He was everything Jared wasn’t. Although, even as she thought it, Shelby reminded herself that her judgment had been so crappy about Jared that she could be just as wrong about Mr. Tall, Dark and Yummy.

“Hey now,” he said, that deep voice rolling along her spine again. “Are you all right?”

“Absolutely not,” she said firmly. The humor in his eyes was gone, replaced by concern and she responded to it. “I have to get out of here. Now. Can you help me?”

His eyes narrowed on her and his delectable mouth moved into a grim slash. “You’re running out on your wedding?”

Disapproval practically radiated from him and Shelby’s spine went stiff as a board in reaction. “Just as fast as I can,” she said. “Can you help me?”

Before he could say yes or no, another voice erupted behind her.

“Shelby! What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

Spinning around until the cowboy was at her back, Shelby watched as Margaret Goodman stalked toward her, fire in her eyes. “Your guests are waiting.”

“They’re not my guests,” Shelby said. Heck, the only people she knew in Royal was the family she was supposed to marry into and frankly, if they were the best this town had to offer, she was ready to run back to Chicago.

“Of course they are.” Margaret waved her hand impatiently, dismissing Shelby’s argument. “Don’t be foolish.”

Shelby moved back until she felt the cowboy’s tall, strong body press up against hers. Cowardly? Maybe, but she’d live with it. Right now, this tall, exceptionally well-built man was the safest spot she could find.

Margaret’s gaze snapped to the cowboy. “Caleb, bring her along inside right this minute.”

Caleb. His name was Caleb. For a second, Shelby worried that he might do just that. After all, he didn’t know her and the Goodman family, as they kept telling her, were a big deal here in Royal. Maybe he wasn’t the safe harbor she’d thought he was.

Then the cowboy stepped out from behind her and moved to partially block Shelby from the woman glaring at her. While Shelby watched, he tipped his hat and said, “I don’t take orders from you, Mrs. Goodman.”

Margaret inhaled through her nose and if she could have set the cowboy on fire, she clearly would have. “Fine. Please bring her along inside. The wedding is about to start.”

“Well now,” Caleb said slowly, that deep drawl caressing every word, “I don’t believe the lady wants to go back inside.”

“No,” Shelby said, exhaling in a rush. “I do not.”

“There you go. She sounds pretty sure,” Caleb said, shrugging as if he couldn’t have cared less which way this confrontation turned out.

“Well, I’m sure, too.” Margaret took a menacing step forward. “This woman is engaged to my son, God help me.”

Insulted, Shelby frowned, but the older woman kept going.

“We have a club full of people waiting for the ceremony to begin and the Goodman family has a reputation to uphold in Royal. I refuse to allow some city tramp to ruin it.”

“Tramp?” Okay, now she was more sure than ever that running had been the right thing to do. The very idea of having to deal with this woman as a relative for the rest of her life gave her cold chills.

Shelby took a step toward the woman with the plan to tell Margaret exactly what she thought of her. But the cowboy alongside her grabbed her arm to hold her in place.

“That’s enough, Margaret,” he said quietly.

“It’s not nearly enough.” Margaret fired a hard look at the cowboy before shifting her gaze back to Shelby. “You stay out of this, Caleb Mackenzie. This has nothing to do with you.”

Though the urge to stand here and have it out with this appalling woman was so strong Shelby was almost quivering, she knew it would be a waste of time. And, since the most important thing was to escape before any more Goodmans showed up, she turned her head to stare up at the man beside her.

“Can you get me out of here?” Shelby asked, staring up into those cool, blue eyes.

“What?” Ignoring Margaret, the man looked at her as if he hadn’t heard her right.

“Take me somewhere,” she blurted, and didn’t even think about the fact that she didn’t know this man. Right now it was enough that Margaret clearly couldn’t stand him. The enemy of my enemy, and all that.

“You want me to help you run out on the man waiting for you at the altar?”

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds terrible,” Shelby admitted, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.

“What other way is there to put it?”

“Okay fine. I’m a terrible human being,” she whispered frantically as Margaret heaped curses on her head. “And I’ll apologize to Jared later. But right now...”

Caleb stared down at her as if trying to see inside her. And Shelby was grateful that he couldn’t. Because right now, her insides were tangled up into so many knots she’d probably look like a crazy person. Heck, she felt like a crazy person. One that had just made a break from the asylum and was now looking for a ride back to sanity.

Hitching the yards of tulle higher in her arms, Shelby murmured, “Margaret said your name’s Caleb, right?”

“That’s right.”

God, his voice was so deep it seemed to echo out around her. His blue eyes were focused on her and Shelby felt a flutter of something she’d never felt for the man she’d almost married. Probably not a good thing. “Look, I don’t have much time. If you can’t help me, I need to find someone else. Fast.” She took a breath and blew it out again. “So. Are you going to help me, Caleb?”

One corner of his mouth lifted briefly. “What’s your name?”

“Shelby,” she said, mesmerized by the motion of that mouth. “Shelby Arthur.”

“I’m Caleb Mackenzie,” he said. “My truck’s over there.”

He jerked his head toward a big, top-of-the-line black pickup that shone like midnight, its chrome bumpers glittering in the sun. At that moment, the huge black truck looked like a magical carriage there to transport her away from a nightmare. Shelby sighed in relief and practically sprinted for it.

“Where are you going?” Margaret’s voice, loud, desperate, followed her. “You can’t leave! What will people think?”

“Whatever the hell they want to,” Caleb tossed over his shoulder. “Just like always.”

He opened the passenger door and helped Shelby to climb in. “We have to hurry,” she said, throwing frantic looks at the building behind them.

“It’d be easier if you didn’t have so damn much dress,” he muttered, grabbing a fistful of the material and stuffing it into the truck.

“Never mind the dress,” she said, staring down at him. She was doing it. Getting away. But she wasn’t gone yet. Grabbing at the dress, she shoved it between her knees and then ignored the rest of the hot mess gown still hanging down the side of the truck. “Just get in and drive.”

He looked up at her and again, Shelby felt that rush of something hot and unexpected. That was just too weird. A few minutes ago, she’d been set to marry another man and now she was getting all warm and shivery for a cowboy in shining armor? What was wrong with her?

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “You’re the boss.” Then he slammed the truck door, leaving a couple of feet of dress hanging out beneath the bottom.

Shelby didn’t care. All she wanted was to get away. To feel free. She pushed her hair out of her face as it slipped from the intricate knots it had been wound into. While Caleb walked around the front of the truck, she stared out the window at the woman still cursing her. Shelby had the oddest desire to wave goodbye and smile. But she didn’t. Instead, she looked away from her would-be mother-in-law and when Caleb climbed into the truck and fired it up, she took her first easy breath. When he threw it into gear and drove from the parking lot, Shelby laughed at the wild release pumping through her.

He glanced at her. “Are you crazy?”

She shook her head and grinned. “Not anymore. I think I’m cured.”

* * *

Caleb told himself that if she wasn’t crazy herself, she was probably a carrier. How else did he explain why he was driving down the long, nearly empty road toward his ranch with a runaway bride sitting beside him?

Two words repeated in his brain. Runaway bride. Hell, he was helping do to Jared what Mitch and Meg had done to him four years ago. Was this some kind of backward Karma?

Caleb shot a sideways look at his passenger. The dress was god-awful, but it was fitted to her body like a damn glove. Her high, full breasts were outlined behind yet another layer of lace. The high neck only made a man wonder what was being hidden. Long sleeves caressed her arms and a damn mountain of white net poofed out around her body even while she fought it down.

Her face was pale, making the handful of freckles across her nose stand out like firelight in a snowstorm. While he watched, she rolled down the window and her hair was suddenly a wild tangle of dark red curls flying in the wind.

She closed her eyes, smiled into the wind, then turned to look at him and smiled even wider. “Thanks for the rescue.”

Yeah. He’d rescued her and helped to humiliate Jared, just as he himself had once been. Caleb didn’t much care for Jared Goodman, but that didn’t make what he’d done any easier to take.

“Why’d you wait to run?” he asked.

“What?”

“Why wait until the last damn minute to change your mind?”

“Good question.” She sighed, pushed her hair back, then propped her elbow on the door. “I kept thinking it would get better, I guess. Instead, it just got worse.”

He could understand that. It was the Goodmans, after all.

“And you couldn’t leave before today?”

She looked at him and frowned. “I could have. But I gave my word. I said I’d marry Jared—”

“But you didn’t.”

“Couldn’t,” she corrected, shaking her head. “Staring at myself in the mirror, wearing this hideous dress, listening to Margaret tell me about the honeymoon plans she made...” Her voice died off and it was a few seconds before she spoke again. “It finally hit me that I just couldn’t go through with it. So I ran. I suppose you think that’s cowardly.”

“Well...”

She shifted in her seat, hiking all of that white fabric higher until it was above her knees, displaying a pair of long, tanned legs. When she stopped just past her knees, Caleb was more than a little disappointed.

He looked back at the road. Way safer than looking at her.

“You’re wrong,” she said. “It took more strength to run than it would have to stay.”

Frowning to himself, Caleb thought about that for a minute. Was it possible she had a point?

She threw both hands up, the fabric spilled off her lap to the floor and she muttered a curse as she gathered it all up again to hold on her lap. Caleb spared another quick look at her long, tanned legs, then told himself to keep his eyes on the road.

“Honestly,” she said, “I could have gone through with it and not been called a ‘tramp.’ I could have stayed, knowing that I didn’t really love Jared after all, but going through with the wedding to avoid the embarrassment. But it wasn’t right for me or fair to Jared for me to marry him knowing I didn’t want to be married, especially to him, you know what I mean?”

Before he could say anything, she rolled right on.

Waving one hand, then grabbing up fabric again with another curse, she said, “I know he’ll be angry and probably hurt today but sooner or later, he’s going to see that I did the right thing and who knows, maybe he’ll even thank me for it at some point.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Caleb muttered.

“What? Never mind.” Shaking her head, she took a deep breath, looked out over the open road and said, “Even if he doesn’t thank me out loud, he’ll be glad. Eventually. This is better. I mean, I don’t know what to do now, but this is definitely better. For both of us.”

“You sound sure.”

She looked at him again until he felt compelled to meet those forest green eyes of hers however briefly. “I am,” she said. “So thank you. Again.”

“You’re welcome.” Caleb didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do with her, so he was headed home. Back at the ranch, she could call her own family. Or a cab. And then she could be on her way and he could get out of this damn suit.

With that thought firmly in mind, Caleb focused on the familiar road stretching out ahead of him and did his best to ignore the beautiful woman sitting way too close to him.

There were wide sweeps of open land dotted with the scrub oaks that grew like weeds in East Texas. Here and there were homes and barns, with horses in paddocks and cattle grazing in the fields. The sky was the kind of clear, deep blue he’d only ever seen in Texas and those few gusting clouds he’d glimpsed earlier had gathered up a few friends.

Everything was absolutely normal. Except for the bride in his truck.

“Weird day,” he muttered.

“It is, isn’t it?” She whipped her hair out of her eyes to look at him. “I never thought I’d be a fugitive from my own wedding. And I know I’ve said this already, but thank you. I kind of threw myself at you and didn’t give you much room to back off, so I really appreciate you riding to the rescue.”

“I could have said no,” he reminded her.

She tilted her head to one side and studied him. “No, I don’t think you could have.”

He snorted. “Is that right?”

“Yeah. I think so.” She shook her head. “You’ve got the whole ‘responsible’ vibe going on. Anyway, I didn’t know how I was going to get away. Didn’t even think about it. I just ran.”

“Right into me.” And he had gotten a real good feel of the body beneath that ugly-ass gown. High, firm breasts, narrow waist, nicely rounded hips. He frowned and shifted as his own body suddenly went tight and uncomfortable. Hell. Just what he needed.

“Yeah, I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

He glanced at her. “No, you’re not.”

She grinned. “No, I guess I’m really not. Hard to be sorry about finding a white knight.”

He let that one go because he was nobody’s hero.

“So now what?” he asked. “What are you going to do from here?”

She sat back and stared at him. “I have no idea.”

“Well, what was the plan?”

“Like I said, there wasn’t a plan. I just had to get away.” Shaking her head, she stared out the windshield. “I didn’t even know I was going to run until just before I did.”

She’d torn down her hair and now it was a tangled mess of dark red curls that flew around her face in the wind whipping through the opened windows. He’d had the AC on, but she’d shut it off and rolled down her window, insisting she needed to feel the wind on her face. Caleb didn’t know what it said about him that he preferred that hair of hers wild and free to the carefully pinned-up style she’d had when she ran from the club.

She still had the skirt of her wedding dress hiked up to her knees and Caleb took another admiring look at her long slim legs. Then he fixed his gaze on the road again. “Look, I’ll take you out to my ranch—”

“Your ranch.”

“That’s right.”

“Jared said he had a ranch.”

Caleb snorted. “The Goodmans used to run a ranch, generations ago. Now they rent the land out to other ranchers so they can live in town.”

“So I discovered.” She held her hair back, narrowed her eyes on him and asked, “Anyway, we know I’m not crazy.”

“Do we?”

She ignored that. “Now I have to ask. Are you a crazy person?”

Both eyebrows lifted and he snorted a laugh. “What kind of question is that?”

“One I probably should have asked before I hopped into your truck.”

“Good point.” A reluctant smile tugged at his mouth.

“Well, I thought I should ask before we go much further down this pretty empty road.”

Amused in spite of everything, he asked, “What happened to me being a damn hero rescuing you?”

“Oh, you’re still a hero,” she assured him, “but you could be crazy, too. You aren’t, though, are you?”

“Would I admit it if I was?”

“You might.” She shrugged. “There’s no telling with crazy people.”

“Know a lot of nut jobs, do you?” Caleb shook his head, he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation.

“A few, but you don’t seem like you’re one of them.” A wide swath of lace lifted into the wind and she snatched it and held it down on her lap. “Have you ever seen so much tulle?”

“What’s tulle?”

“This.” She lifted the swath of netting again. “It’s awful.”

“If you don’t like it, Why’d you buy it?”

“I didn’t.” She sighed. “Jared’s mother picked it out.”

Caleb laughed. “Sounds like her.”

“Okay, you’re not crazy.” She nodded and gave a sigh of satisfaction. “If you don’t like my almost mother-in-law you’re obviously stable.”

“Thanks.” Still shaking his head, he said, “Like I was saying, I’ll take you to the ranch. You can figure out where to go from there.”

“I don’t know where I can go,” she said quietly turning her head to stare out the window at the scenery flying past. “I don’t have my purse, my wallet. God, I don’t even have clothes.”

Caleb didn’t like the sound of the rising hysteria in her voice.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said, and her words tumbled over each other in their rush to get out. “My God, I don’t have anything with me.”

“I can take you to an ATM—”

“No purse,” she interrupted. “No wallet, remember? No clothes except for this giant marshmallow of a dress.” She slapped one hand to her chest as if trying to hold her heart inside her body.

“You’re starting to panic,” he pointed out.

“Of course I am.” Her eyes were wild. “Now that I got away, I can think about other things and what I’m thinking is that I’m alone. In a strange place. Don’t know anyone but the people I’m escaping from.”

He watched from the corner of his eye as she shook her head frantically.

“I can’t exactly go over to the Goodmans’ house and say please can I have my things? My clothes. My purse. My ID. My phone.” She dropped her head into her hands and now her face was covered by what looked like an acre of tulle. “This is a nightmare,” she muttered.

“Remember, you wake up from nightmares.”

She lifted her head to glare at him. “Easy for you to say since I’m assuming you actually have a change of clothing.”

“Good point.” He nodded. “Yeah, you’re about the same size as my sister-in-law. You can wear some of her stuff.”

“Great. And what if she doesn’t feel like being generous?”

“She’s out of town.”

A short laugh shot from Shelby’s throat. “So I’ve been on my own about fifteen minutes and already I’m stealing clothes.”

“Not stealing. Borrowing.” He paused. “Are you always this dramatic?”

“Only when my world implodes,” she said and looked at him again. “So basically, I’m homeless and destitute. Well, hasn’t this day turned out all sparkly?”

He laughed.

She narrowed her eyes on him, then reluctantly, laughed herself. “This is not how I pictured my life going.”

“Yeah, not how I saw my day going, either,” he replied, grateful that she seemed to be coming down from that momentary panic.

“Honestly,” she said with another shake of her head, “I didn’t think beyond moving to Texas to marry Prince Charming who turned out to be a frog.”

“And you didn’t notice that right off?”

“No.” She huffed out a breath and turned her face into the wind. “Usually I’m a terrific judge of character.”

When he didn’t agree, she reminded him, “I picked you to rescue me, didn’t I?”

Amused again, Caleb laughed. “Yeah, but your choices were limited.”

“I could have just run screaming down the street,” she pointed out. “Which was first on my to-do list until I saw you.” She paused for breath. “Did you ever notice how appropriate the name Grimm was for an author of fairy tales?”

“Can’t say I ever thought about it.”

“Well, I’ve had the time lately. And the motivation. I mean, seriously. Look at this mess. It’s got it all. The feckless fiancé who’d gone from hero to wimp. His vicious mother and creepy father, not to mention his grabby brother.”

“Grabby?” Caleb scowled at the road ahead and admitted silently that he was really starting to sympathize with his runaway passenger. The Goodman family wasn’t exactly the best Royal had to offer and Shelby Arthur had discovered that the hard way.

She shuddered. “Justin is not someone a woman should be alone with. The only bright spot in that family was Jared’s sister, Brooke. She must be adopted,” Shelby added under her breath, then continued, “but by now, even she’s probably furious with me.”

“Do you need me to respond or are you good to talk all on your own?”

“God this is a mess.”

“Seems to be.”

She turned to look at him. “Not going to try to console me?”

“Would it do any good?”

“No.”

“Then it’d be a waste of time, wouldn’t it?”

“Are you always so chatty?” she asked.

“Yep.”

Shelby laughed, and the sound was soft and rich and touched something in Caleb he didn’t want to acknowledge. Still, her laughter was better than the anxiety he’d just been listening to.

“Look,” he said. “You come out to the house and you can stay there a day or two. Figure out what you want to do.”

“Stay there. With you.”

He shot her a look. “Don’t look so damn suspicious. I’m not offering you a spot in my bed.” Damn shame about that, he admitted to himself, since just looking at her made him want to reach out and cover her mouth with his. And a few other things besides. But not the point.

“You can stay on the other side of the house,” he said. “My mother died a couple years ago. You can have her wing. We won’t even see each other.”

“Her wing?” Shelby frowned. “How big is this house?”

“Big enough.”

* * *

At the Texas Cattleman’s Club, the reception for the wedding that didn’t happen was in full swing. A band played dance music as a Goodman wedding would never have accepted something so pedestrian as a DJ. The tables were decorated with snowy white cloths and a bud vase on each table held a single pink rose. The soft clink of china and crystal was an undercurrent to the music and, while the crowd gathered in knots to exchange gossip about the runaway bride, Rose Clayton sat alone at a table watching it all.

At sixty-seven, Rose was an attractive woman with a figure she took care of, stylishly cut dark brown hair with just a hint of gray—thanks to a talented stylist—that swung in a loose fall at her jawline, and her sharp, smoke-colored eyes never missed a thing.

Conversations rose and fell around her like a continuous wave. She was only half listening, and even at that, she caught plenty of people talking about the upcoming TCC board elections. There had been a time when she wouldn’t have given them a thought. But, now that women were also full-fledged members in the Texas Cattleman’s Club, she was more than a little interested.

As far as Rose was concerned, their current president, James Harris, was doing a wonderful job and she saw no reason to make a change. It was nice to eavesdrop and hear that most of the other members felt the same way.

As people passed her table, they nodded or smiled, but kept moving. Rose’s reputation as the uncrowned queen of Royal society kept people at bay even as they treated her with the respect she’d earned through years of a stubborn refusal to surrender to the unhappiness in her own life.

Rose knew everyone at the reception. She’d watched many of them grow up. Including Margaret Fraser Goodman. The woman, Rose thought, had been born an old stick. She had always been more concerned with appearances than with what really mattered. But even as she mentally chastised Margaret, Rose had to admit that she had done the same. The difference was, she assured herself, that Rose found enjoyment within the parameters that had been forced on her so long ago.

Her gaze fixed on Margaret Goodman briefly and noted the crazed look in her eyes and the grim slash of a mouth she kept forcing into a hard smile. Rose had already heard bits and pieces of chatter, no doubt started by Margaret, that had turned the situation around. Now, the story went, it was Jared who had changed his mind at the last moment. Told his unfortunate bride to leave.

And a part of Margaret might even believe it. Rose had never met the now missing bride, but damn if she didn’t admire the woman. She’d taken charge of her own life and done what she’d had to do. Who knew how Rose’s life might have turned out if she’d had the same gumption?

But times had been different fifty years ago and Rose’s father, Jed, had been a man no one crossed. Her gaze swept the room until she spotted her grandson Daniel. Daniel Clayton was her reward for all of the misery she’d managed to survive over the decades.

A grown man now, he was handsome, intelligent and damned funny when he wanted to be. He was the light of her life and there wasn’t a thing she wouldn’t do to see him happy. Within reason.

“Oh, that is simply unacceptable,” Rose murmured to herself as she saw Daniel bend down and gently kiss a pretty woman who looked dazzled by his attention.

Alexis Slade.

The granddaughter of Gus Slade.

Just thinking the man’s name gave Rose’s heart a jolt. Once upon a time, she’d been crazy in love with that old goat and risked her father’s wrath to be with him. Until the night her father made the threat that had ended everything between her and Gus forever.

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Nodding to people who addressed her, she was a part of the crowd and yet separate from it as her mind raced back through the years.

For decades now, the Claytons and the Slades had been if not enemies, then at least at odds. They didn’t socialize. Didn’t trust each other. And they surely didn’t look at each other as Daniel and Alexis were right that minute. She wouldn’t have it. And what’s more, Rose was quite sure that on this subject at least, Gus would agree with her.

Their grandchildren had been sweet on each other years ago, but Rose and Gus had put a stop to it. Gus sent Alexis off to an out-of-state college, while Rose kept Daniel so busy with ranch work, he didn’t have time to miss the girl he couldn’t have.

“Unacceptable,” she whispered again, tapping her manicured nails against the tablecloth in a muffled staccato. Again, she scanned the room, but this time, she was looking for someone in particular.

When she found him, Rose stood, crossed the room and stopped at his table. “Gus. We have to talk.”


Three (#ub9f92427-f13f-5a1b-9a5b-cf72d4aabe78)

Gus Slade wore a steel-gray suit with a white shirt and a bold red tie. His black cowboy hat rested on the table alongside his arm. His thick hair, once black as midnight, was silver now, and his skin was tanned and leathered from years of working out in the Texas sun. He was leaning back in his chair, one booted foot resting on a knee. At sixty-nine, he was still a powerful, magnetic man.

Damn it.

His piercing blue eyes fixed on Rose with neither welcome nor warning. “Talk about what?”

Ignoring his rudeness, she took a seat near him, glanced over her shoulder toward their grandchildren and said pointedly, “That.”

He took a look, then frowned. “Nothing to talk about. Keep your boy away from my girl and we have no problem.”

“Take another look, you old goat,” Rose said in a whispered hush. “It’s Alexis doing the flirting. And she’s got the look of a woman who’s been thoroughly—recently—kissed.”

Gus’s frown deepened and his gaze shifted to Rose. “A woman flirting doesn’t mean a damn thing. And kisses are fleeting, aren’t they, Rose?”

She took a gulp of air at the implied insult. Rose had been sixteen years old when she fell head over heels in love with Gus. And if she had to be honest—the man could still give her insides a jump start. But damned if she’d sit there and be insulted.

“I didn’t come over here to talk about the past.”

“Then why are you sitting at my table?” he snapped.

Rose swallowed back her annoyance. Since the death of his wife, Sarah, from cancer a few years before, Gus had become even more unsociable than usual. And another piece of her heart ached. Sarah Slade had once been Rose’s best friend, but Rose had lost them both when she’d rejected Gus. He had turned to Sarah for comfort and soon the two of them had been together, shutting Rose out completely.

But old hurts couldn’t matter at the moment. It was the present they had to worry about, not the past. “Gus, unless we’re prepared to have the two of them getting together—again—we have to come up with something.”

He scrubbed one hand across his jaw in a gesture Rose remembered. Deliberately, she shut down a surge of memories and waited impatiently for the man to speak. Gus always had taken his time choosing just the right words. And even back when she had loved him, that particular trait had driven Rose crazy.

“Fine,” he said at long last, keeping his voice low as he glanced around to make sure no one could listen in. “But not here. Don’t need a damn audience of gossips trying to figure out why we’re suddenly being friendly.”

Rose winced. She hadn’t really considered that. Her one thought had been to enlist Gus’s help in breaking up any attachment between her grandson and his granddaughter. “You’re right.”

He flashed a grin. “Well, this is a banner day. Rose Clayton admitting Gus Slade is right about something.”

She was unamused. “Write it on your calendar in big red letters. Meanwhile—”

“Fine, then. We’ll meet tomorrow. Two o’clock at the oak.”

Rose inhaled sharply at the jab. The oak could have been anywhere in the state of Texas. But Rose knew exactly what meeting spot Gus was talking about. She was almost surprised that he remembered. Then, as his gaze focused on her, she realized that he was testing her. Seeing if she remembered.

How could she not?

“Agreed. Two o’clock.” She turned to walk away, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing that he’d gotten to her. Then she stopped, looked back and said, “Try not to be late this time.”

Smiling to herself at the accuracy of her own little barb, Rose walked back to her table.

* * *

Shelby stared up at the main house and gave a sigh.

She’d been impressed when Caleb drove through the gates with the scrolled ironwork M. Then the oak-lined drive had taken her breath away. But the house itself was amazing.

It was big, sprawling across the ground, like a lazy dog claiming its territory. The house jutted out at different angles that told Shelby people had been adding on to the house for generations. There was a long, wide front porch running the length of the house, with stone pillars holding up the overhang roof.

There were chairs and swings along the length of the porch, crowded with pillows and huge pots filled with flowers spilling down in rivers of bright colors. The effect was a silent welcome to sit and enjoy the view for a while. And the view was pretty spectacular. It was exactly the kind of ranch you would find in a House Beautiful article called “The Lifestyles of Rich Ranchers.”

She turned in a slow circle, still holding her wedding dress up around her knees. There was a barn, a stable, a corral where three horses were gathered in a knot as if whispering to each other. There was another house, a two-story cottage style just across the yard and in the distance, there were other long, low buildings.

“Wow.” She half turned to look up at Caleb. “This is all yours?”

“Mine and my brother’s, yeah.” He frowned. “Part of your dress is in the dirt.”

She looked over her shoulder and muttered a curse. Then she huffed out a breath. “I don’t care. Not like I’m going to wear it again. Ever.”

He shrugged. “Your call.” He pointed to the two-story house. “My brother and his family live there. I’ll go get you some of Meg’s things.”

“I don’t know...” It felt weird. She was already so much in his debt, how much deeper could she go? He’d rescued her, offered her a place to stay and now he was going to give her clothes.

“Hey, okay with me if you want to stay in that dress.”

Biting her lip, she looked down at the white nightmare she was wearing. “Okay, yes. I’d like to borrow some clothes.” Please don’t let him be crazy.

“Be right back. Oh,” he added, “when you go inside, just...watch yourself.”

What kind of warning was that? She turned to glance at the wide oak front door and wondered what she was going to find behind it. A torture chamber? Rat-infested rooms? A collection of wedding dresses from the brides he’d rescued before her?

Shelby groaned at that last ridiculous thought. How many brides could one man run across, anyway? After what she’d already been through that day, what in that house could possibly affect her?

So, bracing herself for everything from explosives to bears, Shelby walked across the porch and opened the door.

A blast of icy, air-conditioned air greeted her and she nearly whimpered. She’d thought Chicago summers were killer. But Texas was a brand-new ball game. The humidity here was high enough to fill a swimming pool. Eager to get into the cool, she pushed the door wider but it hit something and stopped.

Curious, Shelby peeked inside and gasped.

Stuff.

Wall-to-wall stuff.

The door wouldn’t open all the way because there was an antique dresser right in front of it. She didn’t need to ask why, either. One step into the main room told Shelby everything she needed to know about Caleb’s late mother.

The furniture was lovely, but jammed into what should have been a large, generous room. And on every table, every dresser, every curio cabinet, was stuff. Not old newspapers or magazines, but statues and crystals and rings and bracelets and candlesticks and crystal bowls and baskets and trays.

If Caleb had thought this room would send her screaming, he couldn’t have been more wrong. Shelby’s organized soul was instantly energized. Her business, Simple Solutions, depended on people like Caleb’s mother. Back in Chicago, she’d built her reputation on being able to go into a mess, straighten it out and teach the homeowner how to keep it tidy. Her client list had been built on word of mouth and she was thinking of expanding, hiring more employees, when she’d met Jared Goodman.

Frowning a little, Shelby realized it was hard to believe that she’d given up everything she knew for a man who had ended up being nothing but a facade. She’d trusted him. Believed him. Thought she was in love.

But as it turned out, she’d been in love with the idea of being in love and the reality of actually marrying Jared had been enough to jolt her out of the illusion.

Shelby walked farther into the room, lifting one of the crystal bud vases for a closer look, then carefully setting it down again. In her business, she’d learned early about maker’s marks on crystal and glass. She knew antiques when she saw them and had a pretty good idea of the value of different pieces.

She did a slow turn, admiring the bones of the room and she wondered why Caleb’s mother had felt that emotional need to surround herself with things. The ranch itself was elegant and even in its current state, Shelby could see that the home would be, once cleared out, amazing.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” Caleb said from behind her.

She turned to look at him. “I’ve seen worse.”

He laughed shortly. “Hard to believe.”

“Oh, this is nothing, really.” She lifted a porcelain tray and ran her fingertips across the library table it rested on. “No dust. I’ve been in places where the dust was so thick the furniture looked like ghost pieces. The wood was white with neglect.”

“My foreman’s wife, Camilla, takes care of things around here.”

“Well, she does a good job of it.” Shelby looked around again. “It can’t be easy to keep all of this dusted.”

He sighed and gave a look around. “I keep telling her that we’ll get people in here to haul all of this stuff away, but—”

“But you get busy,” Shelby said.

“Yeah.”

“And that’s where I come in.”

He turned a wary look on her. “What’s that mean?”

“I’m a professional organizer,” Shelby said, smiling up at him. “This is what I do. I go into people’s homes and help bring order to chaos. I had my own business in Chicago. A successful one.”

“And you gave it up to marry Jared,” he mused.

“Yes, well.” She stopped, frowned. “Bad judgment aside, I’m excellent at what I do.” She turned to look at the room again before staring up at him. “I can take care of this for you.”

“Is that right?” He was holding a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

She supposed shoes were too much to hope for.

“Sure. It’s great, really.” Shelby’s mind was racing, figuring, planning and when she had most of it all set, she started talking again. “I need a place to stay for a while.”

“Now, wait a second...”

“Just hear me out.” She took a breath and released it in a rush. “You’ve been fabulous. Really. So thanks again for the whole rescue and bringing me here and not being a serial killer.”

One corner of his delectable mouth quirked briefly. “You’re welcome.”

She grinned at him. Really, he was ridiculously good-looking, but when his mouth hinted at a smile, his looks went off-the-chart hot. Still, not the point at the moment.

“But the truth is,” she said, “until I can get all of my stuff from Jared’s parents’ house—not to mention get into my money, I’m stuck.”

“What about family?” he asked. “Isn’t there someone you could call?”

“No.” Sorrow briefly landed on her, gave her a fleeting kiss, then moved on again. “My mother died last year, so I’m all that’s left.”

“Sorry.” He looked uncomfortable.

Shelby understood that, since she’d seen it often back home. So she spoke up quickly to even things out between them again. “Like I said, I’m a professional organizer.

“The plan was to open a business here in Texas...” She frowned, unsure now just what she would do about that. “Back in Chicago, I had hundreds of satisfied clients.”

“Uh-huh.”

He didn’t sound interested, but he hadn’t walked away, either. Which meant she hadn’t lost him completely. And seeing this house had given her the first shot of good news she’d experienced in days. Before, she’d felt like a beggar, asking for help, borrowing clothes. But if he let her do this, she could feel as though she were paying her way. And that, more than anything, was important to her. She liked being her own boss. In charge of her own life. And right now, she could use a jolt of that in her system.

“My point is,” she said eagerly, “I can straighten all of this out for you. I can organize everything of your mother’s. All you’ll have to do is decide what you want to do with everything.”

He glanced around the room again and looked back to Shelby. “It’s a big job.”

“I’m up to it.”

He studied her for a long minute, long enough that she shifted position uncomfortably. What was he seeing when he looked at her? He was seriously gorgeous, so Shelby had to wonder if he was feeling the slightest bit of attraction that was humming through her blood. And the minute she thought it, she pushed it away. Really? Run away from your wedding and have some completely indecent thoughts about your rescuer? God, Shelby, get a grip.

“My brother and his wife have already taken what they want, and as for me, keep what works in the room and we could donate the rest of it, I guess,” he said.

Concession, her mind shouted and she jumped on it. “Absolutely, and that would be very generous. The crystal alone is probably very valuable. I could contact an antiques store and see about selling some of it if you want me to. I can check all of it for you. Make lists of what you have and where it is and—”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

She frowned at him. “Not often. And this is important. I really need to get you to agree with this or I’ll be sleeping in a park or something. So I’ll do all the work here in exchange for room and board until I can get my life back on track.”

“And how long do you figure that will take?”

She winced. “Depends on how cooperative the Goodmans are.”

“So forever,” he said.

She sighed and felt a momentary dip in her enthusiasm. “I know it’s an intrusion on you and I’ll try not to bug you much...”

He was watching her and she wished she could read whatever thoughts were digging furrows between his eyebrows. The man was unreadable, though. He was the embodiment of the iconic cowboy. Tall, rugged, gorgeous, stoic. So she was forced to wait. Thankfully, it didn’t take long.

“I suppose we could try it.”

She sighed, grinned and slapped one hand to her chest. “Thanks. Wow. I feel better already. This is great. You won’t be sorry. I’ll have this taken care of so fast you won’t even recognize the place.”

“Uh-huh.” He started walking toward the wide hall. “Anyway. You can stay over here in the east wing.”

Shelby was looking around the house as she followed him. From what she could see in the hallway, there were plenty of places for her to organize there, too.

“I’ve never lived in a house with wings.”

He glanced down at her as she hurried up to walk at his side. “Yeah, this one’s got all kinds of wings spreading out from here, the center. Every generation has added to it for nearly a hundred and fifty years.”

“Wow.” Shelby was impressed. She and her mother had been constantly on the move, from apartment to condo, to rental house. They’d never stayed anywhere longer than three years. So hearing about a family who had been in the same spot for more than a century filled her with a kind of envy she hadn’t expected. That was roots, she told herself. Digging in, planting yourself and building your own world. One for your children and your children’s children.

And that hunger for family, for roots, was what had prompted her to allow herself to be swept off her feet by Jared. Lesson to be learned there, Shelby told herself.

The walls in the house changed from log to stone and back again as they walked. The hardwood floor was shining, letting her know that the house was well cared for in spite of the clutter in the main room that had dribbled into the hallway. She imagined that Camilla had to work like a Trojan to keep everything as clean and beautiful as it was.

Caleb opened a door on the right and stepped inside. Shelby was right behind him, but she stopped on the threshold to simply stare. She gasped because she couldn’t help herself. The room was beautiful. Big, with a four-poster cherrywood bed covered by a dark blue-and-white star quilt. There were two end tables, a chest at the foot of the bed and a dresser on the far wall. Two bay windows offered a view of the front yard and the oaks lining the drive.

“This was my mom’s room.”

Shelby looked at him. “She didn’t clutter this one.”

“No,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “She only did that in the main room and the kitchen. Anyway—” he pointed to a door “—there’s a bathroom through there.”

“Okay, thanks.” Shelby walked farther into the room, laid one hand on the footboard and looked back at Caleb again.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/maureen-child/runaway-temptation/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.