The Cowboy and the New Year's Baby (7 page)

Giving up, he shrugged. “If you say so.”

She spun around, then grabbed Willetta and hugged her, to the old woman’s obvious astonishment. “Thank you. It’s wonderful.”

Willetta gathered her composure, then actually smiled. Hardy was surprised her face didn’t crack under the strain.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that kind of optimism. Hope you don’t live to regret this.”

“I won’t,” Trish declared firmly. “When were you planning on closing your shop?”

“Eager to run me off, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Trish said, looking horrified. “I’m just trying to predict my own timetable.”

“End of next week,” Willetta said. “Will that suit you?”

“If you’re sure it’s not rushing you too much.”

“Tell you the truth I’ll be glad to get to Arizona,”
Willetta admitted. “I’ve just been hanging around here out of habit.”

The two women actually beamed at each other. It had turned into a blasted lovefest. Hardy had to swallow back panic.

“We’d better be going so Willetta can get home,” he said, interrupting Trish’s chatter.

“Oh, of course,” she apologized. “Unless you’d like to join us for dinner.”

Willetta looked tempted for an instant, which would have suited Hardy just fine. She could have served as a buffer between him and Trish. For the last half hour, watching excitement put color in her cheeks and sparks in her eyes, he’d wanted desperately to kiss her. He figured it was going to take a natural disaster or the intercession of someone like Willetta to keep him from following through on the inclination before the night was over.

Instead, though, the seamstress patted Trish’s hand. “No, indeed. I wouldn’t dream of barging in on your date with your young man.” She tugged Trish aside. “Keep your eye on him, though. I’ve heard stories.”

Trish glanced his way. “Is that so?”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Hardy said. “Willetta, you’re just jealous because I’ve never asked you out. You’ve forgotten all about the ice cream sundae I bought you at Dolan’s last summer.”

“Indeed, I haven’t. It was butterscotch, as I recall.”

He grinned. “That it was. Now don’t you go telling tales about me to Trish.”

“Young man, it will take more than one butterscotch sundae to buy my silence.”

He winked at her. “I’ll tell Sharon Lynn to make you a banana split tomorrow, on me.”

Willetta grinned. “Now you’re talking,” she enthused. “Now go on, you two. Get out of here.”

When they were outside, Hardy suggested walking up the street to the Italian restaurant. “You’ll need the walk after you eat. They serve enough to feed an army.”

“Perfect. I’m starving.” She glanced up at him. “You really are a shameless womanizer, aren’t you?”

“Me?”

“Willetta’s not the first person to suggest it.”

“You shouldn’t listen to gossip.”

“Is it all lies?” she persisted.

Uncomfortable with the fact that the better part of it was actually pure fact, Hardy tried to think of an evasion. Then he recalled what had happened with her ex-fiancé. Maybe this was the answer. Maybe if she lumped him in with Jack the jerk, she’d keep him at arm’s length. That would take the decision out of his hands. It was the perfect solution to the attraction that was beginning to drive him just a little crazy. He was beginning to think he wouldn’t even make it through this evening without succumbing to temptation.

But for some reason, he didn’t want Trish to think of him that way. It was important that she not classify him as a jerk.

“You’re avoiding the question,” she pointed out when his silence dragged on.

“I date a lot,” he conceded finally. “But I’m not like your ex-fiancé. I don’t have long-term relationships, and I don’t cheat. I just enjoy playing the field.”

“An interesting distinction.”

“Look, I think what he did to you was lousy. He’d made a commitment. He should have honored it.”

“So you think it’s okay to play the field, as you put it, as long as everything’s out in the open.”

“Exactly. That way nobody has any illusions and nobody gets hurt.”

“Bull,” she declared.

He stopped and stared at her, shocked by her curt dismissal of his philosophy. “What?”

“You heard me. That’s just a cop-out and you know it. I suppose you end every date by promising to call, because it’s expected, and then never bothering to do it.”

“I never do that,” he retorted indignantly. “I never make promises of any kind that I don’t intend to keep. Never.”

“If you say so.”

Hardy didn’t like the disdain he heard in her voice. “Just how am I supposed to prove to you that I’m telling the truth?”

“Why should it matter to me one way or the other?”

“Maybe it doesn’t, but it matters to me.”

“Why?”

“Because…” His words faltered. “Just because.”

“Just because you can’t bear to have one single woman think you’re anything other than a sexy, charming hunk?”

“No, of course not,” he said, jerking open the door of the restaurant and standing back to allow her to precede him. The entire conversation was ruining his appetite. Not even the aroma of garlic and spices was enough to overcome the sudden churning of his stomach.

“Come on, admit it, Hardy. You like being the playboy of this part of the western world.”

“I never said I didn’t like that,” he grumbled.

“You just don’t want to be labeled as a bad guy.”

“Right.”

“Well, I say if the shoe fits…” She allowed her words to trail off as she sashayed on ahead and settled into a booth.

Hardy followed and slid in across from her. “You’re a very annoying woman.”

“So I’ve been told.” She grinned at him. “And I am way out of your league.”

He blinked and stared. “Excuse me? When did this turn personal? Have you heard me ask you out on a date?”

She peered at him over the top of the menu that had been handed to her by an overtly curious waitress. “What do you call this?”

“I brought you into town to look at property. That’s it. End of story. I’m doing you a favor,” he said. “This is definitely not a date.”

“Feels like one to me,” she said. “But, of course, you’re the expert.”

The waitress tried unsuccessfully to choke back a laugh. At Hardy’s fierce look, she swallowed hard and asked, “Can I get you two something to drink? Maybe cool things off?”

“I’ll have a beer,” Hardy said. “What about you, Trish?”

“Herb tea, if you have it.”

“Sorry,” the waitress apologized.

“Anything nonalcoholic or decaf?”

“Orange soda.”

Trish nodded. “Fine. I’ll have that.”

When the waitress had gone off to fetch their drinks—and probably tell everyone in the place about the very provocative conversation she’d overheard—Hardy stared hard at Trish. “Back to our discussion. You can ask any woman I’ve ever been out with if I misled her in any way. There’s not a one who can say I did.”

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t stir up hopes and then leave them unfulfilled,” she said. She made it sound like an accusation of attempted armed robbery or worse.

“Darlin’, I made it my business to fulfill their every little desire.”

She made a face. “I am not talking about sex.”

“Well, I am.”

“Of course you are.”

Hardy hadn’t been struck by so many verbal blows in such a short period of time in all his years of going out with women. Of course, that was prob
ably because he avoided the smart-mouthed variety like Trish as if they carried the plague. He had to concede, though, that the exchange was invigorating. It was also stirring up a whole lot of fascinating images of how explosive Trish would be in bed. If she was that passionate in conversation, it followed that she’d be a regular vixen in bed.

Too bad he would never find out.

Why not? his charged-up and thoroughly frustrated hormones screamed.

Because Trish was also about permanence and happily ever after. Any fool could see that. That made the two of them as incompatible as oil and water, fire and ice. He would just have to keep reminding himself of that before he started something they’d both regret, something that proved to her that he deserved his reputation as a low-down scoundrel.

“T
he space was absolutely perfect,” Trish enthused as she and Kelly curled up at opposite ends of the sofa and sipped on cups of chamomile tea later that night. Despite the difference in their ages, Trish felt as comfortable with the older woman as she would have with one of her friends from home. She certainly felt more comfortable than she would have with her own mother.

“Then you think you might actually stay?” Kelly asked, her expression neutral, as if for once she didn’t want to influence Trish’s decision.

“I’m definitely considering it,” Trish said. “I love the town. I think it would be a great place to raise Laura. I am a little worried about chasing Willetta off, but she swears she’s ready for the move to Arizona.”

“And Hardy? What did he have to say about this?”

Trish’s exuberance faded. “He didn’t say a whole lot, at least not about the store. I doubt we’ll be seeing all that much of each other.” She couldn’t hide the note of regret that crept into her voice, but it perplexed her. How could she regret not seeing a man who embodied everything she despised? What sort of perversity had her wishing that things could have been different, that he could have been different?

“Why on earth not?” Kelly demanded. “You two didn’t have a fight, did you?”

Trish shook her head. “Let’s just say tonight was an eye-opening experience.”

“In what way?”

“Well, I’d heard bits and pieces of the gossip, of course,” she began.

Kelly cut her off. “You can’t believe everything you hear. You ought to know that,” she scolded.

“Oh, he all but admitted that he was a total scoundrel where women are concerned. And seeing him in action tonight—he even flirted with Willetta, for heaven’s sakes—listening to him talk about how he feels about women and relationships, I realized he’s just not for me, that’s all,” she declared defensively. “I’ve been there, done that.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes,” Kelly said impatiently. “He’s exactly like Jordan was, searching for something without even realizing it. It’s because he’s never met the right woman. The minute he does, he’ll settle right down.”

“What’s the saying? You can’t expect a leopard to change his spots? I think that applies,” Trish said, ignoring the comparison Kelly was making to her own husband. “His attitude seems pretty entrenched to me. Besides, if I decide to open this store, I’ll be too busy to even think about dating for a long, long time, much less about getting involved with anyone.”

“But you do like him, don’t you?” Kelly persisted. “The sparks were flying when he picked you up tonight.”

“You can’t trust chemistry,” Trish said. “Sometimes it just blows up in a big puff of smoke and there’s nothing left afterward.”

“Don’t you at least want to find out?” Kelly asked. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life wondering if you made a mistake, if you judged him too harshly?”

Trish regarded her curiously. “Why are you pushing this so hard?”

“No reason,” Kelly said hurriedly. “I just like you. I like Hardy. I think you’d be good together. You already have an unbreakable bond.”

“We’re not back to the fact that he delivered Laura again, are we?”

“Well, you have to admit there’s very little that’s more intimate than that.”

“It was an accident of fate, nothing more. I’m grateful. End of subject.”

Kelly sighed. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Trish said very firmly. Her expression brightened. “Now let’s talk about something I do
want. Do you think it’s too late to call your father-in-law and tell him I’m interested in the property?”

Kelly grinned. “For news like this, it’s never too late to call Harlan. He’ll want to rush right over and get you to sign the papers.”

“Well, maybe that part can wait till morning, but let’s at least tell him not to rent it out from under me.”

“Oh, believe me, I doubt there is any chance that would happen,” Kelly said wryly. “He has his heart set on having you stay right here.”

Trish hesitated, feeling that renewed sense of walking into a trap that she’d experienced earlier when she’d discovered that Harlan owned the property. “Why would he feel so strongly about that? We’ve barely even met.”

“Oh, for a man known for his business acumen, Harlan makes totally impulsive decisions when it comes to people. He’s taken an interest in you, and that’s that.”

She handed Trish the portable phone and recited the number.

Harlan Adams answered with a booming greeting, despite the late hour.

“Sir, it’s Trish Delacourt. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“No, indeed. I was hoping you’d call. What did you think of the store? Does it suit you?”

“It’s wonderful. And the rent—”

“We can negotiate, if you think it’s too high.”

Trish laughed. “No, it’s fine. If you’ll have the
papers drawn up, I’ll sign them in the morning. I’d like a year’s lease, if that’s okay.”

“Make it five,” he countered. “We’ll lock in the rent. Takes that long to see if a business will thrive. Can’t be opening and closing after a few months, just when folks are discovering you’re there.”

A five-year commitment, Trish thought warily. Could she do that? Should she? An image of Hardy popped up. He was already invading her thoughts entirely too frequently, despite all those firm declarations she’d just made to Kelly. What if she couldn’t keep him at bay? What if she let her hormones overrule her head and got another nasty taste of reality as she had with Jack? Would she want to stay in a town like Los Piños where she was bound to keep right on bumping into him?

“I’ll give you a release clause,” Harlan offered, as if sensing her uncertainty and very likely guessing the reason for it. “Something important comes up and you need to take off, you send me a letter and that will be that. Deal?”

She’d never get a better one, she realized. And a five-year lease at the terms he’d offered ensured that her overhead would remain stable until the store was on a sound financial footing.

“Deal,” she agreed.

“Then you come on up to the house in the morning and we’ll lock it in,” he said. “Bring the baby, if you like. Nothing makes my day like cuddling a little one for a bit. Come for breakfast. Only way I get anything decent is if we’re having company. Otherwise, my wife feeds me bran flakes and a ba
nana every single day. You can help me sneak a cup of real coffee, too.”

Trish grinned at the thought of a powerful man like Harlan Adams having to sneak around behind his wife’s back to get anything. She suspected he enjoyed the grumbling as much as he savored the occasional victory.

“I’ll be there,” she agreed.

“Eight o’clock too early?”

“Perfect.”

“I’ll see you then, young lady. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Done, she thought with a little sigh of satisfaction as she hung up. By this time tomorrow she would be on her way to being back in business and settling in Los Piños for the foreseeable future. It seemed that fate had known what it was up to when she’d been stranded nearby.

“Daddy wants you to stop by the house this morning,” Cody told Hardy when he found him in the bunkhouse dining room at seven-thirty, taking a break between chores.

“Why?” Hardy asked, genuinely perplexed. It wasn’t as if he and Harlan Adams were buddies. And if it had something to do with ranch business, Cody would be passing along the orders.

“Far be it from me to question my father’s motives,” Cody said. “He works in mysterious ways, but he is still the boss around here. If he wants to see you, that’s all that matters to me.”

Hardy had a sinking sensation in the pit of his
stomach that the command performance had nothing to do with the ranch and everything to do with his personal life. He also knew there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell he could wriggle out of going.

“What time?” he asked with a resigned sigh.

“Eight,” Cody said. “You might as well take off and head up to the main house now. The sooner you get it over with, the sooner you can get back to work.”

“If you need me—”

Cody chuckled. “Oh, no. I’m not taking the blame for you not showing up. Obviously Daddy has some bee in his bonnet that concerns you.”

Hardy heaved an even deeper sigh and headed for his pickup. When he reached the main house, Janet Adams answered his knock.

Harlan’s wife was a handsome woman. With her high cheekbones and black hair streaked now with gray, there was no mistaking her Native American heritage. She carried herself as regally as a queen. One look at him, though, had her shaking her head, her expression amused. “I should have known,” she murmured.

“Known what?” Hardy demanded, perplexed.

“You’ll find out soon enough. He’s expecting you. He’s in the dining room having breakfast.”

“I can wait till he’s finished.”

“Heavens, no. He wants you to come right on in and join the party, I’m sure,” she said, that twinkle back in her dark brown eyes.

She led the way to the dining room, then gestured for him to go in. “If you need rescuing, give me a
call,” she said in an exaggerated whisper as she turned and walked away.

Only then did Hardy hear the voices, one deep and masculine, the other feminine and familiar. A baby’s whimpers counterpointed the other two. So, he thought, that’s what this was about. Harlan had set him up…again.

Before he could beat a hasty retreat, the sneaky old man caught sight of him.

“There you are,” he boomed. “Come on in, son. Grab yourself some breakfast.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Hardy said, his gaze locked on Trish and the baby even as he spoke to Harlan. Patches of color blossomed in her cheeks, proving that she, too, had been caught by surprise.

“I invited you, didn’t I? Now get some food before it gets cold and have a seat. We have some planning to do.”

“We do?” Hardy and Trish said in unison.

“Of course we do,” the old man said, undaunted by their reaction. “If Trish here expects to get her store up and running soon, there’s a lot of work to be done.”

Trish’s gaze shot from Hardy to Harlan Adams. “Sir, with all due respect, any work that’s to be done is my responsibility.”

“I’m the landlord,” Harlan countered. “I can’t have you moving in when the place is a mess, can I? Now I’ve been thinking. You’ll want it painted, of course, maybe some bookshelves built in, a counter for your cash register. What else?”

Trish looked stunned. She also looked as if she
were about to blow a gasket. Apparently Harlan Adams was unaware that she’d left Houston because another domineering man—her father—had been intent on taking over her life and making all of her decisions for her.

“Mr. Adams,” she began, her chin lifting defiantly.

“Harlan, young lady. I thought we’d settled that.”

“Mr. Adams,” she repeated just as firmly. “After Willetta moves out and I have a chance to go over the space more thoroughly, I will decide what needs to be done. Then I will make arrangements for the workmen. And I will pay for it.”

Rather than being incensed by her declaration, Harlan let out a whoop of laughter. “Oh, you’re a fiery one, aren’t you? That’s good.” He went right on as if she hadn’t just made her wishes perfectly clear. “Hardy, you’re handy with a hammer and a saw, aren’t you?”

“I suppose,” he said, finally getting the full picture. “But I’m working for Cody with the cattle, sir. I can’t just pick up and take off for however long it takes to get the store ready.”

“You can if I say you can,” Harlan Adams countered. “Old age still has some privileges around here.” He frowned at Trish. “You got any objections to Hardy doing the work?”

Hardy could see her struggling with her reply. She was obviously torn between diplomacy and indignation, between practicality and a desire to keep Hardy at arm’s length.

“None,” she finally said with evident frustration.

“Good. That’s settled then. Willetta will be out by the end of the week. I’ll speak to Cody. You can start work down at the store on Monday, Hardy. Does that suit you, Trish?”

Looking as if she were surprised to be consulted, Trish responded tightly, “That will be fine.”

“You just tell Hardy whatever you need, and he’ll take care of it,” Harlan said. “The bills will come to me.”

“Absolutely not,” Trish said forcefully. “These are my renovations.”

“To my property,” Harlan countered evenly.

Their gazes clashed, though Hardy was pretty sure he detected more humor than fire in the old man’s. Hardy grinned at Trish.

“Give in gracefully,” he advised. “You can’t win.”

“I most certainly can,” she said, frowning at him. She turned back to Harlan. “If you insist on having your way on everything, I’m afraid this won’t work out.”

Harlan looked vaguely startled by the declaration, then held up the paper she’d just sighed. “We have a contract.”

Her gaze met his evenly. “With an escape clause,” she reminded him. “All it takes is a letter from me and the deal’s off.” She reached for pen and paper. “I can write it right now, if need be.”

Harlan chuckled. “Okay, you can have it your way. You pay the bills.”

Trish looked pleased with the victory, but Hardy
had the distinct impression Harlan would have the last laugh. He suspected the bills would come in, just as she’d asked, but that not a one of them would reflect the market value of the purchases. He could hardly wait to see the fireworks when Trish received the first one.

Harlan stood up, walked over to the sideboard and picked up the pot of coffee sitting there. He had barely poured himself a cup, when Janet walked into the room.

“I saw that,” she said, sliding the cup out of his reach.

“Woman, don’t you have someplace to be?”

“Not since you made me give up my law practice so we could share our golden years,” she replied sweetly.

“What’s golden about ’em when a man can’t even get a decent cup of coffee?” he grumbled, but his gaze was warm as it rested on her face. Something in Hardy’s chest tightened just watching the two of them.

“I’d best be on my way,” Hardy said, suddenly needing to be out of the room and away from Trish, away from Laura and away from the kind of glowing, unconditional love he knew he’d never experience.