Wild About A Texan
Jan Hudson
Jackson Crow sure had come far for a cup of sugar!But the maddening millionaire's brazen grin and bedroom eyes told a blushing Olivia Emory that he was the new neighbor who'd been a mystery…until now. Months before, an innocent night of dinner and dancing had ended with a Do Not Disturb sign.And while memories of their passionate night together replayed endlessly in Olivia's dreams, she'd hoped to never see Jackson again. For she'd been burned badly by men before, and was way too wild about this Texan to risk him breaking her heart - when what she wanted was to be branded his bride….
“I Would Appreciate It If You Would Forget That Night Ever Happened.”
A slow grin lifted one corner of his sensual mouth, a mouth that had haunted her for months after their encounter. She still remembered the taste of it, the feel of it on—
“Not likely, darlin’,” he said in a slow drawl as he ran a knuckle along her jawline.
Her spine started to soften, then Olivia caught herself and stiffened her resolve. She wasn’t going to fall into his trap again. There wasn’t room for a man in her plans. Certainly not a man like Jackson.
“Forget it,” she snapped. There will never be a repeat performance. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She tried to push past him, but he blocked her way.
“Not so fast,” he said, pinning her between his arms and the wall. “Now that I’ve found you, I’m not about to let you get away….”
Dear Reader,
Celebrate the rites of spring with six new passionate, powerful and provocative love stories from Silhouette Desire!
Reader favorite Anne Marie Winston’s Billionaire Bachelors: Stone, our March MAN OF THE MONTH, is a classic marriage-of-convenience story, in which an overpowering attraction threatens a platonic arrangement. And don’t miss the third title in Desire’s glamorous in-line continuity DYNASTIES: THE CONNELLYS, The Sheikh Takes a Bride by Caroline Cross, as sparks fly between a sexy-as-sin sheikh and a feisty princess.
In Wild About a Texan by Jan Hudson, the heroine falls for a playboy millionaire with a dark secret. Her Lone Star Protector by Peggy Moreland continues the TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: THE LAST BACHELOR series, as an unlikely love blossoms between a florist and a jaded private eye.
A night of passion produces major complications for a doctor and the social worker now carrying his child in Dr. Destiny, the final title in Kristi Gold’s miniseries MARRYING AN M.D. And an ex-marine who discovers he’s heir to a royal throne must choose between his kingdom and the woman he loves in Kathryn Jensen’s The Secret Prince.
Kick back, relax and treat yourself to all six of these sexy new Desire romances!
Enjoy!
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire
Wild About a Texan
Jan Hudson
JAN HUDSON,
a winner of the Romance Writers of America RITA Award, is a native Texan who lives with her husband in historically rich Nacogdoches, the oldest town in Texas. Formerly a licensed psychologist, she taught college psychology for over a decade before becoming a full-time author. Jan loves to write fast-paced stories laced with humor, fantasy and adventure, and with bold characters who reach beyond the mundane and celebrate life.
This one is for all the loyal readers who have been asking for and eagerly awaiting Jackson and Olivia’s story.
Also, special thanks go to Carolyn Lampman for SSS/IS and to Buddy Temple, former Texas Railroad Commissioner.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Prologue
He woke suddenly, his heart hammering against his chest. He rolled over and reached for her, but the place where she had lain was empty. Something told him that she was long gone, but Jackson strode through the suite shouting her name. The only sign that she had been there was the second champagne glass beside his on the nightstand.
Cursing, he grabbed the phone and called her room.
“Miss Emory has checked out, sir,” the operator told him.
“Checked out? When?”
“I don’t know. Would you like the desk?”
“Yeah.”
He cursed some more while he waited, turned the air even bluer when he found out that it was ten o’clock in the morning and she had a three-hour head start on him.
Ten o’clock? He never slept that late. Then he remembered that they hadn’t done much sleeping the night before. God, he hadn’t been able to get enough of her. He’d never met anyone quite like Olivia, never experienced such a powerful connection with any woman. He’d known from the minute he saw her at the first prewedding shindig that she was a special lady. And he’d known that he wasn’t the only one aware of the chemistry between Irish Ellison’s bridesmaid and Kyle Rutledge’s groomsman. Everybody had seemed to notice.
Trouble was, he hadn’t been able to get Olivia alone; they had always been surrounded by people—and she had seemed to prefer it that way. In fact, she’d been feisty as a fractious filly when he’d tried to move in on her and cut her from the herd, telling him in no uncertain terms to get lost. But Jackson hadn’t let that stop him. God may have shorted him a bit on brains, but he’d made up for it with luck and determination. And Jackson was determined to have Olivia Emory, sass and all.
He had already been making plans to take her back to Texas with him, and damned if she hadn’t run off. Well, she wasn’t going to get away from him that easy. She couldn’t run far enough or fast enough.
Snatching his tuxedo pants from the bedpost, he yanked them on and pulled on his dress boots. He let loose another string of oaths when he couldn’t find the studs to his shirt. He grabbed a Dallas Cowboy jersey from a drawer and dragged it over his head as he made for the elevator.
Outside, when Jackson flagged a taxi, he saw that snow was really coming down hard. The cab driver earned his extra twenty bucks, but the few minutes he shaved off the ride to the Akron airport didn’t help. Jackson discovered that Olivia’s plane had left two hours before he had arrived, and now the runways were shut down. A mean snowstorm was moving in, and all the major airports in the area were closing. He tried to charter a plane or a chopper, but everything was grounded until the storm passed.
The ride back to the hotel was slower, and Jackson felt as if somebody had broken both his ankles and thrown him in a hole. He was miserable. Truth was, he had fallen for Olivia Emory—fallen hard.
Strange that he’d zeroed in on her. Even though she was a beautiful woman, she wasn’t the type he usually chose. Olivia was a bright lady with a string of letters after her name, and he was dumber than a barrel of horseshoes—coming from a family of smart go-getters, he’d figured that out when he was just a kid. And he’d never cared much for women who played hard to get; there were too many willing ones to put out the effort to chase one.
She was rare. He’d known it instantly.
He had watched her relentlessly the entire weekend of his cousin Kyle’s wedding, for, despite her words, he’d known sure as the dickens that she felt the same sparks sizzling between them that he did. Still, she wouldn’t even let him hold her close when they danced at the wedding reception. She acted prissier than Miss Culbertson, his third-grade teacher.
They were waltzing with a yard of daylight between them when everything suddenly changed. She started to shake, then plastered herself against him. “Dance me over to the side door,” she’d said. “And let’s get out of here.”
“Are you sick or something?”
She shook her head.
He didn’t question the shift in her attitude again. He chalked it up to his famous good luck—or maybe his charm had finally worn her down. He had danced her to the exit; they left. They found a quiet supper club a few blocks away where they ate and drank champagne and talked.
And laughed. God, how they had laughed. He’d loved the way she laughed, deep and throaty. Sexy as hell. He told every funny story he could think of just to hear the sound of it. Then the banter changed to plain conversation. He couldn’t remember when he’d enjoyed just talking to a woman so much.
Back at the hotel, he’d kissed her in the elevator. When the door opened at his floor, they had gone to his suite together as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Making love with her had been unbelievable. Beyond his wildest dreams.
Now she was gone. He was heartsick.
And colder than a well-digger’s butt.
It was freezing outside, and it finally dawned on him that he wasn’t wearing a coat. Damn, if that woman hadn’t turned him inside out!
He hadn’t even taken his room key with him. When he stopped by his desk for another, the clerk handed him an envelope.
“What’s this?” Jackson asked, frowning.
“A message for you, sir.”
Jackson ripped open the envelope and squinted at the contents. The words danced and blurred; he cursed, crushed the paper in his fist and strode to the elevator.
He was going to D.C. even if he had to hire a bulldozer to get there.
One
This is a mistake, Olivia thought as she sat on the back pew of the Dallas church filled with white flowers and wedding guests.
She should never have let her friend Irish talk her into coming to her sister’s wedding. Weddings were a jinx. If she had simply driven straight to Austin and not stopped by Irish’s house, she wouldn’t have been in this predicament. But she had, and she was.
The moment she saw him waiting at the altar with his brother and the others, she’d known that she’d been lying to herself for the past year and a half. Her insides twisted and her throat tightened. The feelings were still there. Just the sight of him churned bittersweet longings deep within her.
Suddenly, the floral fragrance turned cloying, the crowd oppressive. Her survival instincts, honed from years of experience, screamed at her to flee.
Just as she started to rise, the music swelled and every eye turned toward the aisle. Too late. The first bridesmaid appeared in the archway.
Olivia felt her skin prickle, and she knew that he’d spotted her. She tried not to look at him, but her gaze lifted as if responding to a command, and their eyes met. For a moment they stared at each other. Her defenses crumbled; music and people disappeared; time was suspended.
Then he grinned and winked one wicked dark eye. Who else but Jackson Crow would flirt with a woman in the middle of a wedding? He would probably still be flirting with women at his own wedding.
Damn him. Damn his strength, and damn her weakness. And her stupidity for coming today. Another person might offer all sorts of excuses, but Olivia couldn’t hide behind the comfort of denial. She was a psychologist—or soon would be. Like the proverbial moth to a flame, she’d come to the wedding because she wanted to see Jackson again.
With tremendous effort, she forced herself to pay attention to the bride’s entrance, to the wedding ceremony. Eve Ellison, Irish’s younger sister, was exquisite in her simple satin and lace gown. Matt Crow, Jackson’s younger brother, looked at his bride with such tenderness that Olivia felt her eyes sting. Irish, radiant with the recent news of her pregnancy, was matron-of-honor, and Dr. Kyle Rutledge, her plastic surgeon husband, was a groomsman.
Despite her best efforts, Olivia heard little of the vows. Her attention vacillated between watching Jackson and glancing anxiously toward the exit. She didn’t want to disturb the ceremony by leaving, but she didn’t want to face Jackson either. As soon as the church cleared, she would sneak out a side door, take a taxi back to Irish and Kyle’s house, and—
Rats! She didn’t have a key to the house.
“You may kiss the bride.”
She glanced up from the tissue she had shredded in her lap to find the couple in an embrace and Jackson staring at her. She stuffed the shredded scraps into her purse and clutched the small bag with both hands.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Crow.”
The couple beamed; the crowd stood; laughter and applause broke out. The organ began to play, and the wedding party started down the aisle. As Jackson and Irish approached, Olivia studied one of the stained-glass windows and tried not to hyperventilate.
She waited until every single guest had cleared the pews, then hurried to a side door and flung it open.
There, leaning casually against a wall, stood Jackson Crow.
“Going somewhere, darlin’?”
“I—I’m looking for the ladies’ room.”
Looking amused, he stepped to one side, revealing the sign on the door behind him. “There it is. I’ll wait for you.”
“No need,” she said with forced gaiety. “I know that you have best-man duties, photographs and such.”
“I’ll wait.”
Once inside, she delayed as long as she could, using cold compresses on her face, then reapplying the lipstick she’d nibbled away during the service. Finally, with no other reasonable options, she straightened her shoulders and opened the door.
A lazy smile broke over his face as his gaze scanned her. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Do you know how long and hard I looked for you after you left Akron in such an all-fired hurry? Where’d you get off to?”
“I went home to Washington.”
“I mean after that. I was in D.C. by midnight, and you’d already hightailed it for parts unknown. I did everything but call out the hounds to find you.”
“I went to visit a friend in Colorado—not that it’s any of your concern.”
“Damn right it’s my concern. After that night—”
“I’d rather forget that weekend, Jackson. I…I don’t know what possessed me to— Well, I’m ordinarily much more sensible. It must have been the champagne. I’m not much of a drinker, and—” Realizing that she was blathering and that he was amused at her discomfort, she stopped and drew a deep breath. “I would appreciate it if you would be a gentleman and forget that night ever happened.”
A slow grin lifted one corner of his sensual mouth, a mouth that had haunted her for months after their encounter. She still remembered the taste of it, the feel of it on—
“Not likely, darlin’,” he said in a slow drawl as he ran a knuckle along her jawline. “Even though my mama did her best to raise a gentleman, nothing’s wrong with my memory.”
Her spine started to unravel, then Olivia caught herself and stiffened her resolve. She wasn’t going to fall into his trap again. There wasn’t room for a man in her plans. Certainly not a man like Jackson. If she hadn’t been so terrified when she’d spied her ex-husband across the dance floor, she would never have left with Jackson that night. But she’d been so shocked to realize that Thomas had found her that she’d acted impulsively, thinking only of escape and of Jackson as a heaven-sent protector.
“You might as well forget it,” she snapped. “There will never be a repeat performance. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She tried to push past him, but he blocked her way.
“Not so fast,” he said, pinning her between his arms and the wall. “Now that I’ve found you again, darlin’, I’m not about to let you get away this time.”
A door opened down the hall, and Jackson’s grandfather stuck his head out. “Jackson—” He gave a little hoot. “Might have known you’d have a pretty woman cornered somewhere. ’Scuse me, ma’am, but, Jackson, you’d better get in there or your mama’s gonna skin you alive.”
“I’ll be there in a minute, Grandpa Pete.”
“Please go ahead,” Olivia said.
“I’m afraid if I leave you might cut and run.”
Jackson’s grandfather, known to everyone as Cherokee Pete, ambled toward them. Well into his eighties, he was still ramrod straight, and merriment danced in his dark eyes. With his long gray braids, he reminded Olivia of Willie Nelson in a tuxedo.
“Well, as I live and breathe,” Pete said, “if it isn’t Olivia Emory. How are you, young lady?”
She smiled and held out her hand. “It’s Olivia Moore now, and I’m fine, Mr. Beamon.”
“Moore?” Jackson said sharply. “Are you married?”
“None of that Mr. Beamon stuff,” Pete said, both he and Olivia ignoring Jackson’s question. “Despite this monkey suit, I’m still just plain Cherokee Pete. Get along, Jackson. I’ll take care of Olivia until you’re through with the picture taking.”
Jackson didn’t budge. “Are you married?”
She started to lie. Lying would have solved a multitude of problems, but something in his tone wrung the truth from her. She sighed and shook her head.
“Then why the name change?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
“No, you ain’t,” Pete said. “Jackson, get going. You can jaw about this later.” After Pete shooed his grandson away, he tucked Olivia’s arm through his. “Little lady, how about you and me mosey on over to the reception? There’s plenty of room in that fancy limousine out front, and I’ll be the envy of every man in the room if I show up with such a beautiful woman on my arm. You wouldn’t deprive me of that pleasure, now would you?” He patted her hand and smiled in a manner so charming and infectious that she couldn’t help but return it.
“You’re a shameless flirt, Pete Beamon. Now I know where your grandsons get their charm.”
His grin widened and he winked. “Taught ’em everything they know. Come along, Miss Olivia. On the way to that highfalutin restaurant they reserved, you can tell me why your name is Moore now. I’m a mite curious myself. So you didn’t get remarried?”
“Not likely. Even though I’ve been divorced for three years, I just decided to take back my maiden name.” That wasn’t precisely the truth, but she’d decided that it was the simplest explanation. Actually, Moore was a name she’d picked from a phone book in Durango.
Pete nodded. “Decided to scrap the name of the sorry scoundrel you got shed of.”
“How did you know my ex-husband was a sorry scoundrel?”
“Just stands to reason. If he amounted to anything, you’d still be married to him. If you ask me, he was a blamed fool to let go of a woman like you.”
If he only would let go, Olivia thought as they neared one of the limousines waiting at the curb.
“Glad to know you’re single,” Pete said as he helped her into the car. “Seems Jackson’s taken quite a shine to you, and I’ve got a proposition to make.”
“A proposition?”
“Yep. Nothing I ever wanted more than for my four grandsons to find a good wife and settle down to raising a family. I was mighty tickled when Kyle hooked up with Irish and when Matt and Eve got together, though both of those pairs had some rough spots, let me tell you. That makes two down and two to go. Now it’s about time that Jackson, being the oldest, got himself hitched to that very particular woman he finally found. I can tell he’s ready.”
“Ready?” Olivia felt her chest clutch and her face go warm. “Who’s the very particular woman?”
“Why,” Pete said, “you are.”
“Me?” Her voice went up an octave.
He nodded. “Irish speaks very highly of you, and I can tell Jackson’s taken with you. He was like a bear with a sore paw when he lost track of you. Scoured the woods good for your whereabouts, kept looking for the longest time. Hired a passel of people to help, too. In my book that makes you a special lady. Now, here’s my proposition. If you’ll marry Jackson, I’ll give you two million dollars on your wedding day.”
Dumbstruck, Olivia could only gape at Pete. She knew that the old man, despite his folksy talk and simple ways, was enormously wealthy and could well afford what he was offering. She just couldn’t believe that he was actually making the offer. Finally she managed to stammer, “Two million dollars? Ma—marry Jackson? Me? You’re kidding.”
“Nope, I’m dead serious. I just handed Eve her two for marrying Matt.”
“But, Pete, that’s ludicrous! I certainly wouldn’t marry your grandson for two million dollars.”
The old man sighed. “Well, truth to tell, Jackson would be a handful for any woman to put up with—not that he’s lacking in character, you understand. He’s a fine boy. But he’s the oldest, and I’d like to see him under the steadying hand of somebody who could see through all his hoorah. It’s past time for him to give up his wild ways and settle down. You strike me as the perfect person to tame him, you being a psychologist and all. Irish tells me that you’re a real smart lady.”
“Too smart to want to marry Jackson Crow. I’m not interested in taming him, nor am I in the market for a husband, thank you very much.”
“Now don’t you decide too quick. Take some time and think about it. It would mean a lot to me to see that boy happy. Why, I’ll even up the ante to five million if need be.”
Two
Jackson didn’t wait for any of the family. As soon as the photographer snapped the last picture, he took off like his tail was on fire. He must have broken every speed limit between the church and the restaurant on Turtle Creek, but he didn’t care. He aimed to find Olivia fast. The notion that she might skip out again had him in a cold sweat.
For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why she had affected him so, but something about Olivia had turned him seven ways to sundown. Even after a year and a half, he still thought about her all the time. Maybe he’d built her up into some kind of goddess with no good reason. Maybe if he spent a little time with her he’d find that she was just an ordinary woman, nothing like the person he remembered.
Maybe—
But when he walked into the reception and saw Olivia standing with Grandpa Pete, all the maybes disappeared. Just looking at her made his heart swell in his chest until it hurt, and he felt a big grin spread over his face. Lord, she was beautiful. Long legs, lush body, lips that begged to be kissed and big bedroom eyes that he wanted to dive into.
Beautiful, absolutely. But there was something else about her that grabbed him by the throat, something he couldn’t quite define or understand. It was the kind of thing that some people wrote poems about, except he couldn’t write a poem if his life depended on it. Every time he was around Olivia, an old memory popped up. She reminded him of a bird he’d once encountered. A blue jay.
When he’d been about ten or eleven years old, he’d received an air rifle for Christmas, something he’d been begging for. He’d half listened to the usual lecture about safety, thinking he knew just what to do. After all, he’d been shooting Scooter Franklin’s rifle for nearly a year. Feeling very mature and full of himself, he’d gone into the woods behind Grandpa Pete’s store with the rifle and hung a target on a tree.
When the paper bull’s-eye had been shot to shreds, he looked around for another target. He tried a few pine cones on a fence post. Easy stuff. That’s when he spied the jay. Without half thinking, he took aim and pulled the trigger.
The bird fell to the ground, and Jackson had rushed to view his prey. But the jay wasn’t dead; it was only wounded, and it flapped around the ground with a bum wing. Suddenly feeling like a dirty dog for what he’d done, Jackson had tried to pick it up, thinking to take it somewhere for help. The bird wouldn’t let him near. It pecked and squawked and fought him until Jackson’s hands were bloody and he was in tears. Finally, he’d taken off his shirt and thrown it over the jay to capture it. Held close, it had calmed.
Grandpa Pete had fixed the injured wing and kept the jay in a cage on the porch until it was able to fly again.
Jackson had put the air rifle in the back of his closet and never picked it up again. He never forgot that panicked, injured bird, needing help but instinctively fighting for survival against him.
Olivia had that same fierce way about her, as if she were fighting for survival. Had she been badly injured in some way? He was almost sure of it. Everything in him ached to gather her close, to calm her and hold her till she healed.
A crazy notion, he supposed. After all, she was the psychologist. He was just a lucky stiff who had more money than sense and who, to keep from being called a goof-off, built and ran a fancy golf club for his buddies in the millionaires’ club.
Still, he wasn’t going to let her get away. She might not know it, but she needed him.
He strode toward her.
Play it cool, Crow. Play it cool, he told himself. Don’t scare her off.
She looked like a startled doe when he took the wine glass from her fingers and handed it to his grandfather.
“Let’s dance,” he said, drawing her into his arms.
“There’s no music,” she said, pushing against his chest. “The band is still setting up.”
“I’ll hum until they start.” He pulled her back to him. “What do you want? Waltz? Fox-trot? Tango? I do a mean tango.”
Laughing, she stepped out of his arms. “Jackson, you’re still a piece of work. Behave.”
He winked. “I’d rather misbehave with you.”
“Jackson!” she whispered. “Your grandfather.” She gestured with her eyes, indicating someone was behind her.
“Grandpa Pete’s gone.”
She glanced around. “Where did he go? We were talking.”
He shrugged. “No telling. But Pete’s sharp. He knows when three’s a crowd. If you won’t dance with me, would you like a drink? I see that the bar is open.”
“Just the wine I didn’t get to finish.”
“That’s easy.” He signaled a waiter with a tray of champagne glasses and plucked two from the load he carried. He handed one glass to Olivia.
“Thanks,” she said, ducking her head to study the bubbles rather than look at him.
He touched a bit of dark hair at her shoulder, letting the shiny strand curl around his finger. He couldn’t help touching her. “You’ve cut your hair.”
She nodded. “Just a little.”
“Have you lost weight?”
“Just a little.”
He lifted her chin and ran his thumb over the sexy dimple there. “Why did you run away from me?”
“I didn’t run away.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“I didn’t run away. I left.”
“Why in such a blamed hurry?”
“I explained that in my note. I had to catch my flight home.”
“But you didn’t stay home. You disappeared off the face of the earth. I know because I looked everywhere for you. Your roommate Kim didn’t know where you were. Not even Irish, your best friend, knew where you were. I thought Kyle might strangle me when I interrupted his and Irish’s honeymoon trying to find you.”
“I told you that I went to visit a friend in Colorado. I had a sudden opportunity for a job, so I went.”
“And left no forwarding address?”
She shrugged, then, looking as if she would like to bolt any minute, she chugalugged her champagne.
Back off, Crow, he warned himself. Instead of pressing her, he smiled and held out his untouched glass. “Want another?”
She shook her head.
“Irish didn’t tell me you were coming to the wedding. Is this your first time in Texas?”
“I’ve been in Texas once or twice, and I didn’t know about the wedding. I was just passing through Dallas and decided to call Irish and Kyle, and you know Irish. The next thing I knew I was their house-guest and getting dressed for the ceremony.”
“Passing through?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
She nodded.
There was a long silence while he waited for her to expand on her comment. Finally he asked, “Going where?”
“To Austin.”
“Austin?” He waited again for her to elaborate.
“Yes,” was all she said.
Getting information out of her was harder than trying to put socks on a rooster.
“Jackson, my man,” a deep voice said as a big hand clamped his shoulder. “Might have known you would try to monopolize this lovely lady. Olivia, it’s good to see you again. I’m Mitch Harris. We met at Irish and Kyle’s wedding. I understand that you’re going to be working with Dr. Jurney at the University of Texas. That’s great, really great. Looks like we’ll be neighbors. May I be the first to welcome you to our capital?”
Rankled that Mitch seemed to know more about Olivia’s plans than he did, Jackson scowled and said, “Get lost, Mitch. This is a private conversation.”
Mitch only grinned and shook him playfully by the nape. “Now, Jackson, is that any way to talk to your governor?”
“You’re not my governor. Hell, I didn’t even vote.”
And, blast it, Olivia’s eyes widened as if she were impressed with the big lug who was standing there looking as smug as a packed-pew preacher.
“Of course I remember you, but I didn’t realize that you were the governor,” she said, extending her hand to Mitch.
“I wasn’t when we met. Hadn’t even decided to run then. I was just inaugurated this past January.”
“Congratulations, Governor.”
Mitch kept holding Olivia’s hand a lot longer than necessary, which burned Jackson good. “The only reason Mitch got elected,” Jackson said, “was that he used to play a little pro football. People didn’t know he got his brains scrambled from all the hits on the field.”
“Jackson!” she exclaimed, clearly shocked by his comment.
Mitch only chuckled. “Actually, I think it was mostly because my opponent got caught in a scandal a week before the election. Nobody was more surprised that I was, but I won, fair and square.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re being modest,” she said.
“No, he’s not,” Jackson said. “Mitch Harris hasn’t got a modest bone in his body. And if you don’t get lost, good buddy, I’m going to revoke your golf privileges at Crow’s Nest.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Mitch asked.
Jackson shot at him with his index finger. “You got it in one, Gov.”
Mitch laughed. “Then I guess I’ll be moving along. I’ll talk to you about that other matter later, Jackson. Olivia, it was good to see you again.” He slipped a card from a case in his breast pocket and handed it to her. “Give me a call when you’re settled, and I’ll show you around, take you to dinner. Austin has some of the greatest restaurants in the state.”
If Mitch hadn’t walked away right then, Jackson would have decked him. Instead, he jerked the card from her hand, tore it in little pieces and dropped them in a nearby flowerpot.
“Jackson! Why did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Don’t be dense! Why did you tear up Mitch’s card?”
“’Cause I don’t want you calling him. Stay away from the man. He’s dangerous. Let’s dance.”
She didn’t budge. “Dangerous?”
“Yes. He dyes his hair, lies about his golf handicap and wears boxer shorts with little smiley faces all over them.”
She tried to keep her lips pressed together, but she finally lost the battle with a laugh. “Jackson, aren’t you ever serious?”
“More than you know, darlin’.” He pulled her close and breathed in the sweet smell of her. “I’m real serious right now.”
“Olivia!” came a feminine squeal from a few feet away.
Olivia pushed away from him, and her face lit up. “Kim!” She held out her arms and they hugged like long lost sisters. “It’s been so long. You look great!”
“And so do you. Why didn’t you write? We were worried about you.”
Olivia shrugged. “Sorry, but you know me. I hate writing letters. It’s so wonderful to see you again. Irish tells me that you’ve had an exciting offer with the state department. Let’s go powder our noses and catch up on all the news.”
And slick as a whistle, she was gone. Jackson could hardly follow her into the ladies’ room—though he considered it. His good manners finally got the upper hand, and he turned away, looking for Mitch. He and his old friend had a little business to discuss.
He hadn’t even considered Mitch’s outrageous request earlier, knowing that, sure as shootin’, he would end up humiliated. He was painfully aware of his limitations. Now things had changed. Jackson told himself that he was letting himself in for a lot of grief, but in spite of the risks, he was going to take Mitch up on his offer. Somehow he would manage to keep from looking like too much of an idiot. After all, he’d been fooling folks for years, and Olivia was worth the gamble.
Olivia and Kim talked nonstop for twenty minutes or more. Finally Kim said, “I hate to leave you, but I promised my folks that I would be right back. Irish invited me over for breakfast tomorrow. We’ll spend the morning gabbing.” Kim hugged her. “Gosh, I’ve missed you two.” With a wiggle of her fingers, her friend left.
Olivia lingered, repairing her makeup and stalling her return to the reception. She’d loved catching up on all the news with Kim. She’d missed her vivacious young friend. Although Kim was more than a decade younger than Olivia, the two of them, along with Irish, had been housemates in Washington and had become very close. Kim had been in college and working part-time for Congresswoman Ellen Crow O’Hara, Jackson and Matt’s older sister and Kim’s aunt by marriage. Olivia had been working on her doctorate in psychology and trying to get her life back on track after her divorce. Irish, who had inherited the old house they lived in, was working as a cosmetic consultant and trying to get her life back on track after a terrible mugging in New York that had ruined her modeling career.
The bonds that Olivia forged with the two women had saved her sanity. They had become the sisters she’d never had, the closest thing to a family that she had left. Her mother had died when she was ten. Her older brother had left home the day he turned eighteen, and God only knew where he was. Her father, a prominent cardiologist in Palm Springs, had disinherited her when she divorced Thomas, not that severing ties with her father was any great loss. He was a tyrant whose abuse had driven her mother to suicide, her brother to the streets and her into a terrible marriage to a man who could have been her father’s clone.
“Olivia?”
She glanced up to see Irish’s beautiful face smiling in the mirror. “Irish, the wedding was lovely. Eve looks so happy.”
“She is happy. But you look awfully sad.”
Olivia shook her head and tucked her lipstick into her purse. “No, I was just reminiscing about the good times we had in Washington at your old house.”
“We did have some crazy times there, didn’t we? But come on, the bride and groom are about to cut the cake, and Jackson is wearing a hole in the floor outside. He sent me in after you.”
“Irish, I really don’t want to get involved with Jackson. I’m simply not ready for any kind of meaningful relationship with a man. I’ve been stung too many times.”
“Oh, don’t worry about Jackson. I don’t think meaningful relationship is in his vocabulary. In fact, someone like him might be good for you. You need to cut loose and have a little fun. Come on.”
Olivia had no choice but to rise and rejoin the party.
Despite her resolve to keep her distance from Jackson, he was at her side almost constantly, and she’d been enjoying herself. He was a wonderful dancer, and she told him so as he whirled her around the floor.
“Thanks,” he replied. “I majored in dancing and poker at college.”
She laughed. He was such a cutup. “Where did you go to school, and what did you really major in?”
“I have several alma mammies, and my major changed from semester to semester. Academics never interested me the way it did my brother and sister and cousins. I wouldn’t have even gone to college if it hadn’t been for Grandpa Pete putting the screws to me.”
“I recall Irish telling me something about a deal your grandfather made with each of you. He paid for your education, then gave you a million dollars when you graduated?”
“Yep. Then we had five years to double the million. If we did it, he sweetened the pot. My sister sank her million into an ingenious invention by her boyfriend, who’s now her husband. Matt started Crow Airline and struck it rich. Kyle made a killing as a plastic surgeon to the stars in California. My cousin Smith, Kyle’s younger brother, started a computer company when he was in college and made his fortune.”
“And you?” Olivia asked. “How did you double your money? I assume that you did.”
“Yep. My biggest talent has always been my luck, so I bought a million dollars worth of lottery tickets.”
She stopped dead still, astonished. He did a fast shuffle to keep from trampling her toes. “Lottery tickets? You’re joking.”
“Nope. If you think about it, I had great odds. Won eleven-million dollars.”
“You won?”
“Absolutely.”
She shook her head. “Jackson Crow, you’re crazy.”
He grinned down at her. “Absolutely.” He pulled her close and whirled her around the floor again. “I’m crazy about you, Olivia Emory.”
She stiffened. “Moore.”
“Sorry. Moore. I’m glad you’re rid of that bozo’s name.”
She’d told him the same story about her name change that she’d told his grandfather. Amazing how easily she’d learned to lie, especially when her life had come to depend on it. She had changed names two or three times since she’d last seen Jackson. Her ruse must have worked, for she hadn’t seen or heard from Thomas since he’d tracked her to Akron and crashed Irish’s wedding reception.
“Relax,” Jackson whispered in her ear, drawing her close.
“Pardon?”
“You suddenly went stiff as a post.”
“Sorry. I must be getting a bit tired.”
“Oh, hell, I’m the one that’s sorry. I’ve been dancing your feet off for an hour. Only way I figured I could hold you and stay decent in front of my mama and daddy. Let’s go sit down, and I’ll get you something from the buffet. Oh, shoot, Mama’s waving at us. You mind visiting with my folks some more?”
“Not at all. I like your parents. They’re very nice.”
“They’re curious is what they are.”
“About me? Why?”
“Let’s just say that they’re sizing you up as a future daughter-in-law.”
Her breath caught. “A what?”
He chuckled and kissed her nose. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. I’m a long way from being ready to make that trip down the aisle.”
Olivia was cordial with Mr. and Mrs. Crow and chatted amiably with them for a few minutes. She really did like his parents, but when Jackson left for the buffet table, she excused herself politely and stole away. Distance was what she needed. Distance from Jackson Crow. She had no plans to take up with him where they left off in Akron. If she hadn’t become so frightened when she’d spotted Thomas across the room, she wouldn’t have thrown herself at Jackson and dragged him from the reception.
She retreated to a courtyard outside the elegant inn, a spot lush with tropical plants and hanging baskets. She sat on a stone bench, hoping to make herself invisible behind the ficus tree growing beside the seat.
She felt foolish, a woman hiding like a child to avoid a confrontation, but she’d spent so many years fleeing and hiding, simply to survive, that the response was as conditioned as those of Pavlov’s dogs. Instinctively, whenever she felt threatened, she ran.
Jackson Crow posed no physical threat to her—at least she didn’t think so. Yet, she seemed to have a penchant for picking abusive men. She’d thought Rick, her college fiancé, was a kind, caring person until the first time he’d lost his temper. And her ex-husband Thomas—
She shuddered.
Olivia had sworn off any sort of significant relationship with men. She didn’t have the emotional stamina for it—at least not now. And maybe not ever.
Her brief fling with Jackson had been a mistake, just as she knew that rekindling their affair would be a mistake. She sensed that although Jackson played the clown on the surface, he was a deeply intense individual underneath. The first time their eyes met, she had responded with a visceral feeling that stunned her. The first time he’d kissed her, she’d gone up in flames. The first time they had made love, she’d been lost.
Those feelings were still there.
Jackson Crow was Trouble. She was glad that they would be living over two hundred miles apart.
Holding a heaping plate of food in each hand, Jackson scanned the room.
Mitch Harris strolled up. “Lose something?”
“Yeah.” Ignoring Mitch, his gaze scanned the clusters of people again. Where in the dickens had she gone now?
“You thought any more about accepting that appointment to the Railroad Commission?”
“I’ve had other things on my mind.”
Mitch chuckled. “Yeah, I noticed. Beautiful woman.”
Jackson glared at his friend. “Keep your mitts off her, Mitch. I mean it. This one is special. If you try to move in on her, I’ll break both your legs and all your writin’ fingers.”
“I got the message earlier, my friend. Jackson, I really wish you’d take that spot for Bledsoe’s unexpired term. Things are getting backed up over there. I need to make an appointment this week, and you’re my first choice. You’re sharp, and I don’t know of anybody any more fair-minded than you are.”
Jackson snorted. “You’re laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m serious. You know the oil business backward and forward, and I know you keep up with the other areas that the commission regulates. I think you’d be perfect for the job.”
“Actually, I have been thinking some about it. I’d have to move to Austin, wouldn’t I?”
“Be a devil of a commute if you didn’t. Come on, Jackson, it’s not permanent—just till the next general election. I know you like Austin, and remember, we’ve got some fine golf courses in the area.”
“None of them as good as Crow’s Nest—the first tee is only ten yards from my front door. Austin’s golf courses aren’t the big drawing card for me.”
“Ah,” Mitch said, grinning, “but we’re soon going to have a drawing card that no place else has. The lovely Olivia.”
Jackson answered with a slow grin of his own.
“Tell you what, if you’ll agree to take the appointment, I’ll show you which way Olivia went.”
“Buddy, you’re on.”
Three
Olivia drove down the tree-lined street on Austin’s west side, then turned into the driveway. She bumped over the cracked asphalt that had been heaved upward by live-oak roots and pulled to a stop in her space beside the garage apartment in the rear yard. She waved to Dr. Tessa Jurney, who was sitting on the side porch of the main house.
Grateful to be home and doubly grateful that it was Friday, she climbed from the oven of a car. Sweat trickled from her hairline, and her sleeveless shift stuck to her back from the car’s leather seat. She blotted her face and neck with a paper towel from the roll she’d learned to carry with her.
“Come have a glass of iced tea,” Tessa called. “You look as if you’re about to melt.”
“I melted a long time ago,” Olivia said as she walked toward the porch of the two-story house, an elegant white clapboard from the thirties. “Is it always this hot?”
“At this time of year? Always. People around here say that there are two seasons—summer and August. Thank goodness August is finally over. September is a bit better, especially toward the end, and October is glorious.” She poured a glass of tea from the pitcher and handed it to Olivia.
Olivia took a long swallow, then rolled the cold glass over her forehead. “The first thing I’m going to do when I get a pay check is to have my car’s air conditioner fixed. I never needed it in Colorado, so it wasn’t a problem. Even though the car’s getting old, it has never given me a moment’s trouble. I didn’t even know the air conditioner wasn’t working until I headed to Texas.”
“I’ll be happy to loan you money to—”
“No.” Olivia held up her hand. “Absolutely not. You and Ed have already done too much for me—helping me get this job and letting me live in your apartment for practically nothing. No loans, but thanks, anyhow.”
“At least drive Ed’s car for a while. He’ll be in Atlanta for ten more days, and it’s just sitting idle in the garage.”
With the temperatures still soaring into the nineties, it was murder to be stuck in a car without air-conditioning. But Olivia hated to be a mooch. She wasn’t accustomed to having to depend on the generosity of others or doing without conveniences—at least not until she left Thomas with nothing but the Lexus she still drove, her clothes and what few personal items she could hurriedly throw into the car. She couldn’t even count on her father—he’d disinherited her when she walked out on Thomas, even though she’d been frightened for her life. In the past few years, Olivia had learned to survive on a lot less than she was accustomed to—and been a thousand times more content.
For two years Dr. Tessa Jurney had been her major professor in graduate school at American University in Washington, D.C. Tessa and her family had moved to Texas shortly before Olivia had been forced to flee, but they had kept in touch with a card or a phone call now and then. Tessa and Irish were the only people who knew the whole story—or at least most of it—about her past. Olivia had always meant to finish her doctorate, but with Thomas after her…well, things had gone on hold for a while. Tessa had pulled the strings that had allowed her to complete her degree.
“How are your classes going?” Tessa asked.
“Wonderfully. I have some really bright students in the two undergrad classes I’m teaching, and I’m enjoying my seminar with Dr. Bullock immensely—even though we have lots of reading to do. I just came from three hours in the library.”
As Tessa refilled their glasses, a truck stopped in front of the house across the street. The name of a furniture store was scrolled across the side.
“Looks like our new neighbors may be moving in soon,” Tessa said.
“Um. Do you know who bought the house?”
“No. Jenny and her friends are hoping that it’s a family with a ‘really fine’ son in her age range.”
Jenny was the Jurneys’ thirteen-year-old. They also had a son, Bill, who was sixteen. Both were good kids. Part of Olivia’s deal for living in the apartment was to be close by for Jenny and Bill on evenings when the Jurneys went out or the occasional weekend when Tessa and Ed were out of town. Jenny and Bill were at that awkward age when they were too old for sitters and too young to be alone—especially for an entire weekend.
A luxury car pulled to a stop behind the truck and a long-legged blonde got out and hurried up the walk of the Spanish-style home.
“The owner, you think?” Olivia asked.
Tessa shook her head. “Looks like a decorator to me, and I’d venture that no expense has been spared. I priced a chair at that furniture store last year. It cost more than Jenny’s braces. The braces won.”
The two of them did some more speculating as the delivery men toted couches and tables and chairs up the front walk. In the two and a half weeks that Olivia had been living in Austin, the new-neighbor question had been an ongoing saga. The Sold sign went up the day after Olivia arrived, and there had been a parade of repairmen and plumbers and landscapers coming and going.
It was a beautiful home, Olivia had thought with a tiny twinge of envy as she’d watched the painters apply a coat of warm cream to the stucco. She loved the red tile roof and the sprawling hacienda style with the walled courtyard. A beautiful home indeed, but her little apartment suited her just fine—and she was thankful to have it. Although it was furnished with castoffs as Tessa had warned, the rooms were really quite charming, especially after Olivia had done some painting and spent a couple of weekends scouting garage sales and resale shops. She’d actually enjoyed going “junking” as Tessa called it—and gotten some darned good bargains.
She smiled at the notion of Michelle or Dani or any of her other chichi California pals buying used goods in someone’s garage or at a Goodwill shop. Olivia had come a long way from California, and she wouldn’t go back for anything. She much preferred the peacefulness of her life now—the friends she’d acquired since she left that life.
“Something amusing?” Tessa asked.
“I was just thinking about how much I like Austin—and going to garage sales. Want to go junking again tomorrow?”
“Can’t. Jen has a soccer game that I promised to attend.”
Another big truck stopped across the street.
“Moving van,” Olivia said. “Looks like Jenny’s suspense will soon be over. I hope for her sake that a really fine guy is moving in.”
Olivia was brushing her teeth Saturday morning when a knock came at her door. Probably Tessa, she thought. She rinsed and hurried to the door, wiping her hands on the seat of her shorts.
Her heart stumbled when she opened the door. Jackson Crow leaned against the jamb, a big grin on his face and a cup dangling from his index finger.
“Mornin’,” he said, tugging the brim of his straw cowboy hat.
“What are you doing here?”
He held out the cup. “Came to borrow a cup of sugar.”
“Sugar? You came a long way for a cup of sugar. How did you find me?”
“Irish gave me your address. A cute little redhead with braces told me you lived up here. Jenny, I think she said her name was. Say, is that coffee I smell? I’d give fifty dollars for a cup of coffee right now.”
Olivia sighed. “Okay, come on in, but you can’t stay long. I’m going junking.”
“Is that like slumming?”
“Not even close.”
He tossed his hat on the sofa and followed her to the kitchen alcove where she poured a mug of coffee for him. “Sugar? Cream?”
“One sugar. No cream. Say, this is a nice place you’ve got here.”
“Thanks. I like it.”
“Cozy,” he said, standing so close that she could smell the faint scent of his aftershave.
She tried to act casual, as if Jackson’s dropping in was an everyday occurrence, but she was so nervous that she spilled sugar all over the cabinet before she finally got a spoonful into the coffee. Why did he have to stand so close? She handed him the mug and stepped back. Unfortunately, the alcove was so small that she bumped into the stove and couldn’t retreat any further. His presence filled the compact area as he raised the mug to his mouth and swallowed.
“Ah, that hits the spot. You make a great cup of coffee. You don’t happen to have any leftover eggs or a biscuit or something, do you?”
“No,” she said, yanking open a cupboard, “but here’s a granola bar. You can take it with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to leave.”
“What’s the hurry?”
“I told you that I was going junking. If I don’t hurry, all the good stuff will be gone before I get there.”
“Get where?”
Olivia sighed. “I’m going to hit several garage sales first. I have a list from the paper.”
“Garage sales? Well, I’ll be darned. You don’t strike me as the type.” He stuck the granola bar in his pocket, refilled his mug with coffee and said, “Tell you what, I’ll go with you.” He started for the door, grabbing his hat on the way. “Which one do you want to hit first?”
Olivia tried every way she could think of to dissuade Jackson from accompanying her, but he was unyielding. The last thing in the world she wanted was to spend the morning with Jackson Crow and his extraordinary smile.
Well…not the last thing.
Actually, her spirits had seemed remarkably high from the moment he’d arrived at her door. Just seeing a familiar face, she supposed. But spending time with him wasn’t wise. She wasn’t going to allow herself to get involved with Jackson. Thank goodness he lived several hours away.
“Why are you here?” she asked as they walked down the steps of her apartment.
“I came to see you—to borrow a cup of sugar.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I mean, why are you in Austin?”
“Business.”
“Shouldn’t you be tending to it?”
He grinned as he slipped on his sunglasses. “It doesn’t start until Monday. I have the whole weekend free. Want me to drive?”
“No, thank you. I’ll drive. You navigate.” She thrust the folded newspaper and map into his hands and jerked open her car door before he could play the gentleman.
“We’re lost!” Olivia said.
“Aw, naw. Why don’t you turn left right up here?”
Fuming, she whipped into a convenience-store lot and jerked the newspaper and map from his hands. “We’re lost! I thought you were going to navigate.”
“I told you that I was better at driving than navigating.”
After studying their location and their destination on the map, she realized that they were several blocks away from the garage sale that she’d marked with two stars. “That’s where we’re going!” She poked a spot on the map. “You’ve been taking us around in circles.” She thrust the papers at him, counted to ten, then pulled out and turned to the right. This was the third time they’d been lost that morning. She could almost believe that Jackson was deliberately trying to make her angry.
“Sorry, sugar,” Jackson said, turning his smile up to high. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take you someplace special for lunch. You like Mexican food?”
“I love it, but I’d love finding a desk that I can afford even more. I really need one. Darn it, if we had been there five minutes sooner, I could have bought that one on Elm Street.”
“The leg was broken. It wasn’t a good deal. We’ll find a better one, trust me. At least you got a bargain on that toaster. Two bucks ain’t bad.”
She laughed as she pulled to a stop at the address she sought. “You’re the one who got the bargain. I can’t believe that you were arguing over fifty cents. Me, I can believe, but you? I thought you told me that you’d never been to a garage sale.”
“Haven’t. But Grandpa Pete has trading days on the grounds of his store in East Texas. People have been coming to set up tables and booths there for as long as I can remember. They rent space from him and sell everything from used pots to goats. I learned dickering there, learned from a master. No finer horse trader than Grandpa Pete.”
“Seems strange. I thought your grandfather was a millionaire.”
He laughed. “Billionaire’s more like it, but he’s just plain folks. We all are. Nothing makes him madder than for one of us to start acting uppity.”
“Uppity?” She smiled at the old-fashioned term.
“Those are Grandpa Pete’s words,” he said as they climbed from the car and headed for the goods displayed along a driveway.
Olivia spotted it immediately—a small Queen Anne writing table that had been painted a ghastly shade of green. With a little work—no, make that a lot of work—it would be beautiful. And perfect for her apartment.
“Like it?” Jackson asked.
“I love it,” she whispered. “Under that awful paint is a very nice piece of furniture. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for—better actually.”
“Great. Let’s get it.”
When she looked at the price tag, she sighed. “I think the owner knows what’s underneath the paint. It’s sixty-five dollars. Even though it’s a steal at that price, I can’t afford it. I was hoping to find something for about twenty-five.”
“Maybe we can dicker a little.”
Jackson knew the outcome before Olivia said a word. Damned if she didn’t have tears in her eyes. It about tore his heart out. He’d buy her a hundred ugly green desks if she wanted them, but she was such an independent female, he knew better than to try. He’d found out early in the morning that she didn’t intend to take a penny from him, and if he didn’t hush about it, she’d turn around and go home right then. He’d kept his mouth shut after that.
But, damn, he hated to see that wistful look on her face as she ran her fingers over the top of the table.
“No go, huh?”
Olivia shook her head. “I could only get her to come down fifteen dollars. You’re not considering buying that ratty thing, are you?”
He held up the stuffed armadillo that he’d been looking at to kill time. “I might. I kind of like old Jake here. He has character, don’t you think? Grandpa Pete would love him, and he’s got a birthday coming up soon. Let me see if I can do a little dickering for him. And these beach towels.” He grabbed a couple of towels from the display table. “I saw a lamp over there that you might check out, too.”
While Olivia was examining the lamp, Jackson made a quick offer to the plump little woman running the sale. She looked at him kind of funny, but she shrugged and agreed to the deal. He whipped out his wallet, paid her, and made his way back to Olivia with Jake and the towels under his arm.
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