Not Just a Cowboy (Texas Rescue) (18 page)

She was so angry, she was crying.

Luke held open his arms. It was her choice. If she wanted his comfort she had only to walk forward.

She did. Luke closed his arms around her, and she clung to him while she tried so pitifully to not cry.

“I know Patricia Cargill is unhappy,” she said, not sobbing, “but I am her, and I will get free of my father no matter what it takes.”

Luke stroked her hair. “Then you be her, and this cowboy will love you, anyway. I just pray you choose to let go of the poison. The money is poison. The revenge is poison. I don’t want to lose you.”

Chapter Twenty

T
he night of the annual Cattleman’s Association black-tie gala would be the night Patricia Cargill found the right man to marry. It was her last chance. She could not fail.

It had been two weeks since she’d gone sailing with Luke, two weeks of using cold logic to choose the course of her life. She’d spent a sleepless night imagining marriage to Luke. As Mrs. Waterson, she would remain in her current financial situation. She’d be no worse off than she’d been for the past thirty-two years, with the positive addition of living with a man who loved her.

Daddy, Melissa, I need an allowance established at the feed store. No, more than that. Luke needs a new saddle. Yes, I know he got new bridles, but these things wear out when you’re a cowboy.

Luke would not have taken a dime of her money. She could not have bought him a gift, because her money was always half Daddy’s. Children would be an issue. One child would bring the amount of Austin Cargills to four, depending on Daddy’s marital status. Two children would mean five Cargills. When they turned eighteen, her two children could help her overrule Daddy and his wife
du jour
.

That possibility, more than any other, decided Patricia against marrying Luke. She would not curse his children with the Cargill fortune.

She did not return his calls. He left her messages several nights a week when he could get away from the JHR. He’d wait in the Driskill Hotel’s famous bar, knowing she’d be comfortable in that elegant atmosphere, in case she wanted to talk. In case she needed a friend. She did not show up, not the first time he did this. Not any of the nights he did this.

She cried a lot, but she made her list of eligible men. There were only three. Unsurprisingly, they all owned ranches. They would be at the Cattleman’s ball.

How perfectly convenient.

Her limousine entered the last set of gates at the breathtaking estate that was owned by one of the members of the board of directors of the Cattleman’s Association. She’d timed her arrival so that she could make an entrance. The candidates should all have arrived. In a sea of black tuxedos, her brilliant blue dress would stand out without being tacky or showy. She was looking to be chosen as a wife, not a one-night stand, after all.

Get your own topside spiffed up. That’s the way to get a man.

She hated that there was truth in her father’s words. She had a black dress that showed her cleavage to perfection. It would have been the smart choice this evening, a way to short circuit a man’s brain and skip ahead a few levels of intimacy. But she’d mentioned the black dress to Luke, just once, and he’d said it would probably kill him to see her in it. That was enough to make her not want other men to see it first.

Foolish.

The blue dress was elegant, a single column of cloth that fell from a collar around her neck, but its sex appeal was more subtle. Feeling desperate in the limousine, she’d carefully picked out the stitches in the long skirt’s side seam, extending the slit from mid-thigh to upper thigh. She couldn’t take chances. Tonight was the night.

Her entrance went brilliantly. The main entertainment area was on a flagstone terrace that had sweeping views of the sunset. Patricia passed through the house and paused on the steps that led down to the terrace. The pause had been no more than a few seconds, carefully timed to not be obvious. Carefully timed to let one man after another nudge each other and nod her way. Then she’d descended the stairs, the conservative dress revealing nearly the entirety of her leg—but only one leg, and only every other step.

By the time she reached the bottom, she didn’t have to look for her three candidates. They’d already clustered around her.

She hadn’t known Daddy Cargill would be in attendance, but when his white suit caught her eye, she had a moment of sweet revenge.
Yes, Father. It’s me. Look how easy it is to catch a man.

The moment was brief, because she heard Luke’s voice in her head.
The revenge is poison. I don’t want to lose you.

She accepted a glass of champagne from an admiring candidate. He proposed a toast, and she laughed appropriately, doing her best to sparkle like the elegant, golden bubbles as she clicked her flute gently against one man’s, then another’s.

Then she looked directly into a pair of sailing blue eyes.

Luke Waterson turned his back on her and walked off the terrace, into the sunset.

* * *

Patricia hid in the bathroom.

She tugged on her dress, but the damage had been done. Because she’d snipped the first thread, the seam kept unraveling. The slit was so high, she was going to have to remove her underwear.

Then I really will be the kind of girl Daddy Cargill approves of.

Too late, she realized this hadn’t been about Luke. It hadn’t been about independence. It hadn’t even been about revenge. It had been about Daddy, and trying to win his approval. Finally, after thirty-two years, she realized that he only approved of one type of woman, and she was not and never would be that type.

Her father would never love her.

The real tragedy was that Luke would never love her now, either. He’d witnessed her triumph, which had come at the cost of lowering herself to her father’s standards.

She’d have time to regret this for years to come. She couldn’t cry about it in her host’s bathroom much longer. She pulled her compact from her purse and leaned forward to powder her nose in the mirror. The seam opened another notch higher.

There was a tap at the door. “Occupied,” Patricia called, her voice sounding shockingly normal.

“Patricia? It’s Diana. Quinn sent me to check on you.”

Quinn. He was present as one of the owners of the MacDowell’s River Mack Ranch, of course. He was one of her least favorite people right now, because he must have brought Luke as a guest.

“I’m fine, Diana. Thank you. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Another tap. “Would you let me in?”

Patricia looked at herself in the mirror. She deserved this. She really did. Why not let Diana have her moment of triumph? Patricia had tried to marry her man, after all, and had been rather nasty about it.

She unlocked the door. Diana stuck her head in, all cheerful smiles. Immediately, her eye dropped to Patricia’s dress. “Oh, I see the problem. Here, I’ve got a safety pin. It will be tricky but if you turn the dress a little, you know, like this, you can pin it from the inside and no one will see it. Do you want me to do it for you?”

“No, thank you.”

Lord, how did Quinn stand so much sunshine?

In a flash, she realized Luke had been her sunshine, too. Patricia and Quinn needed that balance in their lives. They would have stifled one another in a perfectly proper marriage.

“Okay,” Diana said, setting the safety pin down on the counter and stepping back. “Well, if you need anything else, just come find me.”

She put an extra safety pin on the counter and turned to go.

“Diana? Is Luke looking for me?”

She wrinkled her nose in a way Patricia imagined Quinn found adorable. “Luke who?”

“Luke Waterson. Didn’t he come with you and Quinn?”

“I don’t know the name. Do you want me to ask around?”

“No. Please, no. It’s nothing. Thank you again for the safety pins. And...I just wanted to say, I think you and Quinn make the perfect couple. He’s very happy now that he has you.”

Diana’s smile was radiant. “Thanks. Pin your dress and come on out to the party.”

* * *

Luke waited on the edge of the terrace, wearing a tuxedo but having nothing to celebrate. He placed one polished black boot on a planter. He idly repositioned his formal black Stetson on the table beside him. He’d kept his hat handy. He wouldn’t be staying much longer. Patricia would find him soon.

He’d chosen a spot that was quiet and shadowed, appropriate for a private conversation. He would spare Patricia from a public humiliation, if he could, but that was the kindest thought he had for her right now.

Only a few hours ago, he’d still believed there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. He would offer his friendship. He would sit alone at a bar, holding vigil, just in case she needed him. But now he knew there was one thing he wouldn’t do.

He would not watch her sacrifice herself to please her father.

She walked up to him, a vision of elegance and sensuality in one. His body tightened in response, but then again, so had every other man’s, earlier tonight. She’d made sure of that.
I’m available,
she’d announced with every sultry step down the staircase.
Let the bidding begin.

Nausea could kill desire, Luke now knew. Nausea at seeing such a worthy woman still trying to earn her father’s approval. That’s what it had come down to. Her father would never love her, but Patricia would never stop trying to earn affection he didn’t have in him to give.

“Hello, Luke. You look so very handsome.”

He wore black tie, of course. In Texas, however, the bow tie was often replaced by a Western bolo, something Luke felt more comfortable wearing. The silver slide on his string tie had been in his family for generations.

Patricia noticed it, with her eye for quality. She adjusted it for him, moving it an imaginary centimeter to the left. She was using it as an excuse to touch him, obviously, but whether she hoped to entice him or she just missed him, he didn’t know.

He didn’t care.

“Are you representing the James Hill tonight?” she asked.

“Yes.”

He watched her dark eyes drop to the silver slider at his neck once more. She touched his family’s crest. He could tell the moment she made the right guess.

“Do you own the James Hill?”

“One third.”

“Do you still love me?”

That one was harder to answer. But he looked at her, so beautiful, so vulnerable, so stubborn, and he told the truth. “I imagine I always will in one way or another.”

“But not enough to marry me and help me defeat this Cargill curse?”

Her question was the answer he’d been looking for tonight. It was not the answer he’d wanted to hear. Resigned, he picked up his formal black Stetson and set it on his head.

“Don’t try to defeat poison by swallowing more poison. Good night, beautiful.”

He didn’t allow himself to touch her, and he didn’t allow himself a backward glance. Sometimes, a man had to know when to walk away.

* * *

August was a helluva time to have a practice run-through, but Texas Rescue ran on a strict schedule. Although they’d run a real, full operation in June, they still had to do their annual practice scenario every August.

It was scheduled for a Saturday, and it would be hot. They’d pitch a third of the tents in the parking lot next to the new Texas Rescue headquarters building, and they’d run a few mock scenarios. All personnel were supposed to report to the admin tent to check in, verify their contact information and receive fake orders.

The physicians were routinely sent home immediately after verifying their information, so Luke was surprised when Quinn MacDowell called early on Saturday to ask for a ride. He was at the River Mack, next to the JHR. They were miles apart, but in ranching terms, he lived just around the corner.

Luke couldn’t refuse to pick him up.

“I wasn’t planning on attending,” Luke said, as they pulled into the parking lot.

“She’s no longer the personnel director.”

“Ah.” Luke told himself he was relieved.

“I’m heading to the hospital after this, so I don’t need a return ride. Diana will pick me up.”

Luke pulled his firefighter’s uniform out of the back of his truck and headed for the admin tent. It took him one second to realize Quinn was a liar.

Patricia Cargill was checking in the personnel.

He had way too long to stare as she checked in each person ahead of him in line. She was beautiful. She always had been. In his memories, she was beautiful. But now, to see her again, he was bowled over by her beauty.

“Name, please.”

She couldn’t be serious. “Luke Waterson.”

“You are assigned to engine thirty-seven.”

“No kidding.”

“And the director of Texas Rescue would like to see you in her office as soon as you’re available. The fire crews are dismissed for the day, so I can walk you over now. Have you seen the new headquarters building?”

“I can’t say that I have.”

She stood and came around the table that served as her desk. “I’ll show you where her office is.”

“I’m sure that’s not necessary.”

“Please?”

It was the please that did him in.

* * *

Patricia thought she might faint, she was so nervous. Her plan was working so far, but the early stages had been all logistics. Now came the hard part.

Now she would try to win Luke Waterson back.

He was here, big and real, carrying his heavy helmet and overcoat, so close she could have reached out to touch him. He might have offered her his arm, if they were walking in the dark. They might have held hands, if they were dashing through a thunderstorm. But they were simply crossing a parking lot on a routine Saturday morning, and he was no longer her friend.

He’d said he’d always love her, though. She was counting on that.

The building was nearly empty. She led him down the air conditioned hall to the office of the director of all of Texas Rescue. There was a little outer office for the secretary, but it was empty on a Saturday morning.

“Wait here,” Patricia told him. “Let me go tell the director you’re here. You can set your uniform down on that chair.”

She went into the inner office and shut the door. Her hands were shaking as she took a seat behind her new desk.

“Come in,” she called.

Luke walked in and stopped short when he saw her sitting there, alone.

She waited.

“I don’t get it,” he said, in a voice so flat her heart sank.

“I’m the new director. Karen Weaver was fired, and I applied for her position. I beat out three other candidates.”

Seconds ticked by. “Congratulations.”

She leaned forward and clasped her shaking hands on the desk top. “It’s a paying position. I’m drawing a salary.”