Texas Tango: Texas Montgomery Mavericks, Book 2 (6 page)

“Sorry to catch you off-guard, but you look great. Educational shirt you’ve got on.” He grinned then tapped his hat on the end of her nose. “No reason to dress up on my account.”

Crap. Not a good sign when the guy you want to impress enough to talk into the huge favor doesn’t care if you look like a street person.

She sighed. “Uh-huh. Right. C’mon in.”

He stepped into the living room and glanced around. “Nice place. Love those African masks.” He walked over to study them closer. “There must be a great story behind those.”

Caroline shrugged. “Not really. Just a present from my parents. You want something to drink? I have diet soda, water, iced tea, fruit juice.”

“Water would be great. Thanks.”

She headed for her kitchen, trying to figure out if she could do anything about her appearance before she returned to the living room. Unless there was magic in that can of Crisco, she was doomed to her homeless hobo look for tonight’s appointment. She vowed to stock emergency makeup and a change of clothes in the kitchen from now on.

Straightening after pulling a bottle of water from the back of the refrigerator, she backed into a solid wall of hot male muscle. Strong hands grabbed her arms to keep her from falling at the same time the scent of raw male teased her senses. Sexual tension tightened every muscle. The area between her thighs throbbed with carnal lust.

“Oops,” Travis said.

She whipped around and smashed the cold bottle of water against his chest. A dark wet spot spread on his shirt. “Here.” Her heart jumped into her throat. Heat flared on her face. She had to curb the impulse to press her flushed cheek to his shirt.

Crap. Tonight was going to be a disaster.

“Thanks.” He uncapped the bottle, drank about half in one long gulp then wiped his mouth with his hand. “Man, I needed that. The heat today was a killer, but then I guess you know that.”

Her lower back tingled as a sexual itch expanded throughout her heated body. She needed a little physical distance to regroup. “Let’s go back to the living room. I’ll try to explain why I asked you here.”

“Great. I’m hoping you’ve given some thought to selling the Fitzgerald property.”

Caught off-guard by his comment, she stumbled over her feet. Lucky to not fall, she decided no response would be the best response. She’d had Uncle Angus’s ranch appraised this week for tax purposes. Selling the ranch wasn’t even on her radar at the moment, although she didn’t have a clue what she would do with the place.

She returned to the living room with him following on her heels and retook her seat on the couch. He took the other end. She turned toward him, leaned against the armrest and crossed her legs in yoga style. They sat there for a couple of minutes. Caroline couldn’t take her eyes off the movement of his Adam’s apple sliding up and down in his throat as he drank the water. She found herself swallowing in concert with each of his swallows.

No doubt about it. Travis Montgomery was an excellent male specimen. Too bad she didn’t need a husband…at least not a real husband.

He leaned toward her. A clean soapy scent wafted down the sofa toward her.

“Look, I know how hard it must be to consider selling your great-uncle’s property, so I’ll make this easy for you.”

She frowned and braced herself for his reaction. She held up a hand. “Wait a minute, Travis. I didn’t ask you over here to talk about selling Angus’s property.”

He returned her frown. “You didn’t? Then why am I here?”

Caroline drew in a deep breath. “I need a husband and I need one fast.”

Chapter Four

Travis pushed back into the sofa’s overstuffed padding as the shock of her words rattled through him. Husband? Caroline Graham wanted to marry him?

“What?” His eyes opened so wide he could feel them drying in the cold air conditioning. “I mean…I’m flattered, of course, but…but…are you pregnant?” Oh good Lord. She was a doctor. Surely she knew how to avoid pregnancy? Besides, he couldn’t be the father. Hell, he’d never even kissed her. Where—

“Calm down, Travis,” she said with a shake of her dark hair. “I’m not pregnant.”

“But—”

“And,” she interrupted, “I’m not in love with you or anything like that.”

The air in his lungs left in a rush. “Then what the hell are you talking about?” Her calmness irritated him. Suspicion colored his view of the situation. “Is this some elaborate joke you and Jason dreamed up to jerk my chain?”

“What? No. No. Of course not.” Caroline stood and waved her hand for him to remain sitting.

He couldn’t say he minded remaining seated. His position put him on a perfect level to enjoy the left-right swish of her tight butt as she walked around in a pair of shorts that might get her arrested in downtown Whispering Springs for indecent exposure. He wished he were in a better mental state to enjoy the view. Or let her compare his male anatomy to the drawing on her shirt.

“Stay put. I’ll explain, but I have a tendency to pace when I’m nervous.” She glanced toward him, a pink tinge of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “And trust me, I’m nervous.”

She’s having trouble speaking because she’s nervous? Of him?

Travis nodded then settled back and crossed a boot-covered ankle over a knee. He’d played enough poker to know when to stay quiet and study the competition, and now was that time. He put on his poker face. He may not know what to say, but he hoped whatever was going on ended with her selling him Fitzgerald’s place.

“Fine. Explain.”

She sighed and walked over to the cowboy hat he’d left upside down on a floral armchair. After stroking the chair’s fabric for a moment, she faced him. “I don’t want a husband. Not you. Not any man really.”

“Oh. I see. I didn’t know you were gay…not that I have any problem with that,” he added. Okay, he was a little shocked. Not that he had anything against girls who played on the same team, but he’d have sworn she had a touch of lust in her eyes in the kitchen.

“What? I’m not gay. Good Lord, Travis.” Then she started laughing. In fact, she doubled over, wrapping both arms around her waist. After a couple of minutes, she wiped her eyes and chuckled. “Thanks,” she said and sucked in a deep breath. “I needed that.” She snickered a couple of more times and then sighed as she rubbed both hands over her face. “Okay. I’m better. Now, like I was saying, I don’t want a husband, but I need one. Temporarily, I mean.” She looked at him. “Let me make a long story short. My grandmother, the woman who raised me, is dying. She wants nothing more than for me to be married before she dies.” A rueful smile crossed her full, luscious lips. “It doesn’t matter how old I get, she worries about me being alone. But I guess it’s kind of nice that someone cares that much about me.”

“But you still have your parents, right? Somewhere overseas, if I remember correctly.” The thought of his parents being gone from his life brought a swell of sadness. He feared that would be as hard on him as Susan’s death had been. He wasn’t sure he could survive another emotional blow like that, and he’d spent the last ten years making sure he didn’t have to.

Her responding snort was unexpected. It wasn’t an expression of humor like her laughter and chuckles. This sound clearly conveyed an underlying tone of something else…anger? Disgust?

“Yeah, alive, but they haven’t been in my life in a long time.” She pointed at the African masks. “Christmas last year. They’re Christian missionaries. They’ve traveled all over the world and don’t make it back to the US much.”

This time her snort didn’t surprise him, but her underlying hostility toward her parents, or maybe their chosen profession, came through loud and clear. Her shoulders slumped for a second before she pulled them back and stood as straight as a fence post. She appeared to be collecting herself, so he didn’t speak. Frankly, now that he was over his flabbergasted state, his curiosity had been stroked. His mother had always said his curiosity had been overdeveloped and would surely get him into hot water one day. Was his pot of water simmering?

She picked up his hat and tried it on. It slid down to the top of her pert nose. She laughed.

He smiled, picturing her wearing his hat and nothing else. The mental image made his heart quicken and the blood drain from his brain to his crotch.

All her flitting around the room had his mind drawing erotic pictures instead of paying attention to what she was saying. The way she tilted her chin and cocked her hip to one side was so damn sexy and…his lungs froze up as a band around his chest tightened, making it difficult for him to catch his breath.

Slow down, bud. This was Caroline Graham, not some bar chick he was picking up for a night of hot, sweaty fucking. He didn’t need—or want—the complications of sex with a family friend.

Besides, finding a gal for a couple of hours of sex was, well, easy. One town over was Long Branch Roadhouse, better known as the Love ’Em and Leave ’Em bar. There was always a willing gal or two ready to party for a few hours. Then it was home again. No commitments. No ties. No heartache.

And no fucking in his own backyard. He’d learned that lesson the hard way with a local divorced debutant who had him on her radar for husband number three. It was a die-hard rule he almost never broke and he wasn’t going to break it now…even if the idea had its appeal at this moment.

Setting the hat back as she’d found it, Caroline rubbed at an invisible smudge on the dark-wood side table before turning back to him. “I owe my grandmother everything.”

She’d been quiet so long her words jarred him back to the situation. “Your grandmother,” he repeated just to let her know he was still listening, not that he had been, but he would now.

“Right. My grandmother was the one who was there for me. Loved me. Supported me. And now she’s dying.” Her emerald-green eyes glistened. She turned away and tried, unsuccessfully, to surreptitiously wipe her eyes. “And the worst part is that I’ve been lying to her.”

Now that got his attention. He lowered his foot to the floor and leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. “Really? Lying about what?” For some reason, a warning siren began to wail in his mind like a female cat in heat.

Caroline wrung her hands and a red flush colored her throat and face. “My last serious relationship ended before I moved here. In fact, it ended about six months before that.”

“Why? I mean, why did you break up with your boyfriend? All the moving around?”

She chuckled, but the sound was tinted with discomfort instead of humor. “Not hardly. Let’s just say I didn’t break up with him. And before you feel sorry for me that I got dumped, don’t. It was for the best.” After a quick glance in his direction, she shifted her eyes to the African masks. “Anyway, Mamie—my grandmother—was more upset than I was. I think she had high hopes I’d marry him and she could quit worrying about me. And no matter how many times I told her not to lose any sleep over my marital status, she was still concerned about me being alone. Nothing I said convinced her I was content with my life as it is.” She traced a finger along one of the carved designs in the mask. She cut a quick glance his way then whipped it away. “Don’t kill me when I tell you this next part.”

He’d been listening and had enjoyed watching the tensing and relaxing of her thigh muscles while she walked, but now she had his undivided attention. Kill her? What had she done?

“One night…” She slanted another look his way. “I swear I don’t know what came over me. One night when Mamie kept going on about me being alone and she sounded so sorry for me and—” The muscles in her face bunched and her lips pulled tight. “I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me…ever. That night I just blurted out that I was dating you. I am so sorry. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.” A frown creased her brow. “I am so sorry, Travis.”

He’d been confused at the beginning of the conversation, now he was truly baffled.

“Me? Why?”

Her cheeks took on a rosy color. “You happened to be standing outside my office door that day talking to Lydia. You were handy. That’s all.”

He shrugged. Made sense. “Okay. You lied to your grandmother. Told her we were dating. Got it.” When she couldn’t meet his gaze, an acid bomb exploded in his gut. “What is it, Caroline? What haven’t you told me?”

Caroline murmured a very unladylike cussword. “I sort of said a little more than dating.”

An inconceivable thought formed. A sharp cold ran through him, followed by a flash of red-hot fury. “You told her we were married, didn’t you?” He slapped his thigh.

“
No
. I didn’t. I, um…” She hurried back to the couch and sat. “No, I didn’t. But maybe I exaggerated our relationship a little more than I’d intended.”

“Exaggerated?” Disbelief and amazement flowed like beer at a frat party. His left eyebrow arched. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re a friend of my family’s, but we—you and I—don’t have a relationship beyond that. What were you thinking?” He ran his hand across his short cropped hair. “Hell’s bells, Caroline.”

She flinched. “It gets worse. I, um, oh God, Travis, I told her we were getting married, and now she wants us to get married before she dies.” She shut her eyes and hung her head. “I am so sorry. I just don’t have the heart to tell her I was lying, or even that we broke up. She’ll just feel sorry for me that another guy dumped me, no matter how I try to spin the break-up.” Speaking directly to the floor, she added, “What can I do to get you to pretend?”