Wild About a Texan Read online

  “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 sai
d, 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.”