Can't Stop Loving You (31 page)

Two steps out the door, the heat sucker-punched Cash. And instead of sitting inside drinking iced tea with Ms. Ride-into-town-on-a-Harley, he was heading out to deal with his scoundrel of a dog.

“Staubach! What in the hell am I supposed to tell Rosie about her groceries, huh? Shame on you!” he scolded.

And shame on me
, he thought,
for leaving the dog alone
. Still…Annelise was some looker. All that black hair and those intense, ice-blue eyes. And the body. Whoa, boy!

Okay, she was about as friendly as a mama bear with week-old cubs. But if they'd been able to finish their lunch together, he might have been able to change that.

She hadn't given him a last name. What was that beautiful thing hiding? Or, maybe, she really, truly hadn't wanted to sit with him. Didn't want to exchange names.

Her voice held a hint of an accent. New England definitely, despite what she'd said. Maybe Boston? Well, whatever. The voice was hot. Silk. And though she had started off sounding totally teed off, he'd heard amusement and a sense of humor creep in.

He tossed the now nearly empty sack of groceries into the trunk. When he looked up, he saw Annelise at the counter, paying for her lunch. Might as well run the ad over to Mel in time for tomorrow's edition. Looked like he'd struck out with the tempting Ms. Cool Eyes. Time to pack up his bat and ball. Game over.

No doubt she planned to hop on that hog and ride out of Maverick Junction without a backward glance. Too bad. He'd have liked more time with her. Time to dig a little deeper. Unless he was mistaken, and he rarely was, there was more to Annelise than met the eye. She might ride a Harley and wear leather, but everything else about her screamed class and money, pampering and top-notch schooling.

Her hands were manicured to within an inch of their lives. The diamonds that winked at her ears could feed a small third-world country. Yeah, the lady had been indulged.

Maybe he had been, too, but to a far lesser degree.

His gaze landed on the Caddy, and he ran a hand over the hood. God, he loved this thing. He had a lot to thank the old man for. And one very good reason—no, make that two—for being royally irritated with his grandpa. But he wasn't about to travel that road right now.

Reaching under the front seat, he found the folder with the newspaper ad he'd put together last night. Time to hire some help. As much as the old guy would fight him about it, Hank, whom he'd more or less inherited from Gramps along with the Caddy, couldn't handle the responsibility of the barn area alone anymore.

“Come on, Staubach.” The dog's ears perked up, and he came to heel. Cash took another look at the dusty black-and-chrome Harley, and his stomach knotted in lust. Both the bike and its rider were double-take worthy.

Black bike, black helmet, black shades, black leathers and shirt. One cool lady. One heck of an attitude.

And that mouth. Oh, yeah. He'd give up a Monday-night football game or two for a taste of that.

N
ot fair!”

Forehead pressed against the icy windowpane, Sophie stared out at the gray Chicago skyline. The mere thought of hopping on a plane made her palms damp.

And now this weather.

Sighing, she sipped from her mug of cocoa and fingered the amethyst in her pocket.

Mother Nature, who'd either gotten up on the wrong side of the bed or suffered from a major case of PMS, was throwing herself one monstrous, rip-roaring tantrum. During the course of a single hour, the sun had disappeared and left behind a low, ominous cloud cover. The temperature had dropped almost twenty degrees.

A mix of snow and rain spit against the glass. Even tucked away in her fourth-story apartment, Sophie swore she could hear the slush on the sidewalks contracting and solidifying to ice. Her taxi ride to O'Hare would be a slip-sliding, horn-honking nightmare.

Only mid-November and already the temperature had dipped below freezing. Dirty snow and boot-soaking slush blanketed the sidewalks. Frigid gusts of wind, intent on seek-and-destroy missions, whipped off Lake Michigan and zeroed in on pedestrians unlucky enough to be out and about.

But by tomorrow, none of this would matter. This afternoon, nerves or not, Sophie fully intended to be on a flight headed to Texas, sipping a glass of wine, and eating the last of her carefully hoarded birthday stash of Godiva.

Breathing deeply, she turned her back on the ugly outdoor scene. Enya's ethereal voice poured from her stereo and relaxed her…until she glanced at the clock. Shoot! Where had the morning gone?

Her suitcase—her still-empty suitcase—lay open, dead-center on her bed.

With this weather, she'd need an extra half-hour to make it to the airport. Checking the time again, she slapped her forehead, upset with herself. She'd procrastinated—again. Now? She had ten minutes. Ten lousy minutes to pack. Adrenaline surged through her. Being on that plane when it took off wasn't optional. She had a wedding to attend. Thank God it wasn't hers.

What should she pack for Maverick Junction, Texas? She'd only been there once before. She'd flown in with her aunt and uncle who'd hoped to talk some sense into her cousin. Turned out they didn't need to. Annelise's cross-country trip on her Harley had already accomplished that. They'd stayed all of one afternoon.

But that was then, and this was now. In a panic, Sophie studied her closet's contents, an eccentric mix of vintage pieces and quirky thrift store finds. Last time, like an idiot, she'd taken white silk to wear to a Fourth of July barbecue at the Hardeman ranch.

The memory brought to mind a handsome cowboy whose kid had dumped his cherry soda in her lap…and the way said cowboy had tried to wipe it clean. Whew! Maybe she should stick her head out the window and cool off.

Ty Rawlins. So hot she could almost forget he cowboyed for a living. The man was something else. Yeah, and wasn't that the truth? How about starting with the fact he had three-year-old triplets? No, they'd turned four in August, hadn't they? Annelise had mentioned a birthday party.

Three, four. Made no difference. Anyway you cut it, it still added up to three little boys. And didn't that cool a gal off faster than any Chicago winter. Yikes. She loved kids. Loved spending time with them. But a mother? She didn't see herself in that role. Didn't know if she had enough to give a child.

Toss in the fact that Ty was a widower, to boot. Talk about baggage.
Three
little ones? And a dad who'd lost the woman he loved? She'd have to be insane to jump into that mess.

Insane? Her? No. Behind on her work deadline? Definitely.

And if she didn't meet it, she'd also find herself behind on her mortgage—and out on her butt on that ice-covered sidewalk.

All that had to wait, though, because this weekend her cousin, her BFF, was tying the knot. Annelise, who'd grown up in the lap of luxury, was marrying a cowboy. An honest to God cowboy. Sophie still couldn't quite wrap her head around that.

And now she had six minutes. Sophie grabbed clothes and stuffed them willy-nilly into her bag. She opened drawers and pawed through them, pulling out everything she might need and dumping it in her suitcase. She added her iPod to her carry-on along with her pouch of crystals.

Her bedroom looked like a hurricane had roared through. Her fingers itched to set it to rights, but there simply wasn't time.

Or was leaving it like this tempting fate? Her fingers found the amethyst in her pocket, stroked its smooth surface. No time. She had to go.

Satisfied she'd done all she could, she slung her carry-on over her shoulder, zipped her large suitcase, and, with one last look around, rolled it out to the living room. She had one hand on the doorknob when her phone rang.

Without thought, she answered—and instantly regretted it.

Nathan.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said. “What are you up to?”

Her stomach dropped, and she leaned against the jamb. “Actually, you just caught me. I'm heading out the door as we speak. I'll be away for a few days.”

“Business?”

“No.”

“Want company?”

A low-grade headache instantly took root. Her neck and shoulder muscles tightened, and she wet her lips. “No, I don't.”

She hated that he forced her to walk so close to rude.

“Where are you going?”

“Out of town.”

Uncomfortable silence fell between them.

“You won't even tell me where you're going?” Petulance seeped into his voice.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Nathan, we've had this talk before.”

“What talk?”

Okay, now he was being deliberately obtuse. “Look, I have a plane to catch.”

“What talk, Sophie?” His voice lost the wheedling tone and took on a harder, demanding quality.

“This isn't a good time—”

“It's the perfect time.”

“Okay.” Resolve squared her shoulders. “We decided this wasn't going to work. That we both needed to move on with our lives. Separately.”

“
You
decided.”

Her pulse kicked up a notch. She hated confrontation, but she couldn't give in on this.

“Fine.” Her carry-on slid off her shoulder, and she hitched it back up. “You're right.
I
decided.”

“I figured by now you'd have changed your mind.”

Oh, boy. This had been hard the first time—and the second and third times. She didn't want to rehash it. Why couldn't he simply accept they were done?

Actually, they'd never really started. Nathan Richards. Good-looking, successful, and, at first blush, personable. They'd dated a couple times and had fun. Then he became possessive. Very possessive. He started showing up at her door. At the grocer's. At the theater.

Truth? He spooked her.

“I haven't changed my mind. I'm not
going
to change my mind. Good-bye, Nathan.” She hung up and stared at the ceiling. She'd been foolish to get involved with him, but smart to end things.

Her plants. In her hurry, she'd nearly forgotten about them. Dropping her bag to the floor, she moved to the window. Scooping up pots of herbs and lavender, she walked across the hall to her neighbor's.

Dee was at work, so Sophie set the plants in the hallway outside her door. Rushing back into her apartment, she scrawled a quick note.

She propped the card against the pale blue pot of English lavender. Okay. That was taken care of. Her plants wouldn't wither and die while she played bridesmaid.

The heat kicked on, reminding her to adjust the thermostat before she left. This summer had been a scorcher, and she'd practically lived on Lake Michigan in her little sailboat. But winter had come roaring in early, teeth bared. Only a few weeks into colder weather, and she was tired of it already.

This wedding might be exactly what the doctor ordered. Time and space should cool Nathan's heels while sunshine and warm weather cured her sudden lack of creativity.

Speaking of…She slid her laptop into its case in the happy event her muse stirred. Even with all the pre-wedding madness, she should be able to sneak in a few minutes of work time.

If she planned to catch that flight, there was no more time to fuss. Sophie turned off the lights, locked her door, and headed for the elevator. Unconsciously, her hand slipped into her pocket to touch the amethyst again.

As she let herself out of the building, she glanced cautiously up and down the street. She wouldn't have put it past Nathan to have called from right here on her doorstep.

Not a soul in sight.

The Maverick Junction series

Somebody Like You

Nearest Thing to Heaven

 

Workaholic Nick Taziano is the proud owner of a successful marketing company in Montana. But his career takes a back seat when he learns his dad plans to remarry his ex. Nick fears she'll break his heart…again. And he doesn't like being reunited with her obnoxious daughter—until the all-grown-up beauty kisses him at the engagement party. The kiss might be a mistake, but once he tastes Jane's lips, nothing—not even her famous blueberry pie—compares.

A promising chef at Big Sky Pie, Jane Wilson never, ever wanted to see Nick Taziano again, but he's just been hired to do the pie shop's marketing. How's a girl supposed to bake the best pastries in town when he's a constant reminder of their steamy chemistry? His chocolate eyes and sexy dimples heat up the kitchen—and every part of her body. Jane has no room for a man in her life, yet sometimes the most delicious dishes don't follow the recipe…

Army captain Trent Davila loved his wife, Laura, and their two beautiful children. But when he almost lost his life in combat, something inside him died. He couldn't explain the emptiness he felt or bridge the growing distance between him and his family—so he deployed again. And again. And again…until his marriage reached its breaking point. Now, with everything on the line, Trent has one last chance to prove to his wife that he can be the man she needs…if she'll have him

Laura is blindsided when Trent returns home. Time and again, he chose his men over his family, and she's just beginning to put the pieces of her shattered heart back together. But when Trent faces a court-martial on false charges, only Laura can save him. What begins as an act of kindness to protect his career inflames a desire she thought long buried—and a love that won't be denied. But can she trust that this time he's back to stay?

Melanie O'Bryan knows life is too short to be afraid of taking chances. And former Air Force sergeant Bennett Hart is certainly worth taking a chance on. He's agreed to help her students with a school project, but she's hoping the handsome handyman will offer her a whole lot more. Yet despite his heated glances and teasing touches, Mel senses there's something holding him back…

Bennett Hart is grateful to be alive and back home in Mirabelle, Florida. Peaceful and uncomplicated—that's all he's looking for. Until a spunky, sexy-as-hell teacher turns his life upside down. After one smoldering kiss, Bennett feels like he's falling without a parachute. But with memories of his past threatening to resurface, he'll have to decide whether to keep playing it safe, or take the biggest risk of all.