Have Honeymoon, Need Husband
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Excerpt
Dear Reader
Title Page
Dedication
About the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Copyright
“Look, I didn’t mean to get out of line just now,”
Luke mumbled to Josie, whose lips were pink and kiss-swollen, her cheeks brighter than the weather alone explained. “I don’t exactly know what happened. I guess I just got overly ex…ex…” Oh, crimony, O’Dell—say anything except excited! “…exuberant.”
Overly exuberant—oh, that was a good one. Flyin’ catfish—where the heck had he come up with that?
Josie’s cheeks flamed.
Luke swallowed painfully and averted his eyes. “Anyway, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. We’d better get going. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
He stalked toward the pickup, wishing some of that ground would just open up and swallow him now.
Dear Reader,
This July, Silhouette Romance cordially invites you to a month of marriage stories, based upon your favorite themes. There’s no need to RSVP; just pick up a book, start reading…and be swept away by romance.
The month kicks off with our Fabulous Fathers title, And Baby Makes Six, by talented author Pamela Dalton. Two single parents marry for convenience’ sake, only to be surprised to learn they’re expecting a baby of their own!
In Natalie Patrick’s Three Kids and a Cowboy, a woman agrees to stay married to her husband just until he adopts three adorable orphans, but soon finds herself longing to make the arrangement permanent And the romance continues when a beautiful wedding consultant asks her sexy neighbor to pose as her fiancé in Just Say I Do by RITA Award-winning author Lauryn Chandler.
The reasons for weddings keep coming, with a warmly humorous story of amnesia in Vivian Leiber’s The Bewildered Wife; a new take on the runaway bride theme in Have Honeymoon, Need Husband by Robin Wells; and a green card wedding from debut author Elizabeth Harbison in A Groom for Maggie.
Here’s to your reading enjoyment!
Melissa Senate
Senior Editor
Silhouette Romance
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
Have Honeymoon, Need Husband
Robin Wells
www.millsandboon.co.uk
To Ken, who roped my heart
ROBIN WELLS
Before becoming a full-time writer, Robin was a public-relations executive whose career ran the gamut from writing and producing award-winning videos to organizing pie-throwing classes taught by circus clowns. At other times in her life she has been a model, a reporter and even a charm school teacher. But her lifelong dream was to become an author, a dream no doubt inspired by having parents who were both librarians and who passed on their love of books.
Robin lives just outside of New Orleans with her husband and two young daughters, Taylor and Arden. Although New Orleans is known as America’s Most Romantic City, Robin says her personal romantic inspiration is her husband, Ken.
Robin is an active member of the Southern Louisiana chapter of the Romance Writers of America. She won the national association’s 1995 Golden Heart Award for best short contemporary novel and was a finalist in the 1994 “Heart of the Rockies” RWA contest.
When she’s not writing, Robin enjoys gardening, antiquing, discovering new restaurants and spending time with her family.
Chapter One
The bridal veil sagged over Josie Randall’s right eye again.
“Blasted thing,” she muttered to herself, pulling a hand from the steering wheel long enough to toss it out of her face. She was having a hard enough time driving through the backwoods of northeastern Oklahoma in the pouring rain at night without having to play peekaboo with a ridiculous piece of netting at the same time. For the umpteenth time since she’d bolted from the church in Tulsa, she tugged at the headpiece, but it was pinned too firmly in her hair to remove with one hand.
She couldn’t wait to get to the guest ranch and take the darned thing off—along with the wedding gown. The elaborate, pearl-encrusted dress was designed for standing at an altar, not sitting through a two-hour car trip. The waistband was about to pinch her in two, and the back of the dress bunched beneath her in a miserable lump.
Josie squirmed, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Now I know why they call it a train,” she grumbled aloud. “My caboose feels like it’s about to derail.”
The sooner she got out of the torturous ensemble, the sooner she could put the whole horrible affair behind her and start getting on with her life. A life that from here on out, she thought resolutely, she would fully control herself.
Josie’s mouth firmed with determination as she steered the car around a curve on the dark two-lane highway. She’d nearly made the worst mistake of her life, and it was all because she’d doubted her own judgment. She hadn’t trusted her own feelings and intuition, and had nearly let her well-meaning but misguided family push her into marrying a man who’d turned out to be nothing but a two-timing, self-centered, greedy, loathsome cad.
The thought of Robert sent a fresh surge of outrage pulsing through her. Thank heavens she’d discovered his true colors before the ceremony! If she hadn’t happened to wander down that back hallway of the church in an attempt to calm her nerves, she wouldn’t have overheard him talking with the best man—and she wouldn’t have learned the real reason he wanted to marry her.
Josie’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. How could she have been so blind? How could she have been so gullible? More importantly, how could she have thought for even one nanosecond that she loved him? If she had, surely she wouldn’t be feeling this overwhelming sense of relief right now.
How, oh how could she have been so naive, so unaware, so foolish?
Thinking about it made her whole body tense and caused her foot to inadvertently press down on the accelerator. The car skidded on the wet pavement, jerking Josie’s thoughts back to present
If she wanted to arrive at the ranch in one piece, she needed to focus all of her attention on her driving, she told herself. There’d be plenty of time later to sort things out. A whole week, in fact. Buying herself time to think was the main reason she’d decided to go ahead and come on the honeymoon—sans groom.
The rain was falling harder now, slashing across her windshield so fast that her wipers were virtually useless. Josie slowed the car and hunched forward, searching for the turnoff. According to the directions in the brochure, the dude ranch should be along here somewhere.
Her headlights picked up the gleam of a metal sign. Squinting, she leaned over the wheel and peered through the downpour. She couldn’t read all the words in the split second of vision the wipers afforded, but she could make out the Lazy O brand at the top. With a sigh of relief, she turned onto the narrow dirt road that cut through the dense stand of oaks.
She hadn’t traveled more than a few yards before she realized the rain had turned the road into a slick, muddy quagmire. Apprehension tightened around her chest like a giant vise. Oh, mercy. There was no place to turn around, and she didn’t dare try to back out onto the highway. She had no choice but to keep going.
Clutching the steering wheel as if it might bound out of her grasp at any moment, she inched the car along, trying to avoid the obvious ruts. The downpour and the darkness made it impossible to see anything but a few scant feet in front of her headlights. The farther she went, the worse the road became. If she didn’t get to the lodge soon, she was likely to find herself stuck for the night.
She rounded a curve in the road and saw a light shining ahead. “There it is,” she muttered in relief. She couldn’t make out anything about the building, but it looked as if it was just around the next bend.
Suddenly the rear end of her car swerved, then fishtailed. The next thing she knew, the vehicle was wedged in a deep, muddy rut, the back tires spinning uselessly.
Oh, terrific. The perfect ending to a perfect day.
She peered through the windshield, squinting to see through the rain. The light was straight ahead, probably no more than a hundred feet away. It was within easy walking distance, but with no umbrella or raincoat she’d ruin her delicate gown in a matter a seconds.
On the other hand, if she tried to wait out the storm, she might still be waiting come morning.
She glanced down at the elaborate gown. As far as she was concerned, it was ruined, anyway. Besides, the darn thing was so uncomfortable it felt like it was lined with razor blades.
“What the heck,” she muttered, switching off the engine.
She was tired of playing it safe, tired of trying to avoid criticism, tired of caring so much about everyone else’s opinion. Most of all, she was tired of not trusting her own judgment, tired of second-guessing her every decision.
With that thought in mind, Josie decisively yanked open the door, stepped out of the car—and promptly slid into the mud.
The rain pummeled her like a prize fighter, drenching her in a matter of seconds. She struggled to regain her footing, but the mud was so slick she flopped back down like a grounded fish. She finally managed to haul herself upright, only to trip on the hem of her gown and again plop in the mire, this time facedown.
The rain continued to pelt her. Panting, she pushed herself into a sitting position. That dratted veil was in her eyes again. She swiped at it with a muddy hand, smearing thick red clay all over it, only to have it immediately fall back in her face.
Dadblast the thing! She’d deal with it once she made it indoors. Right now she needed to concentrate all her energy on the simple task of standing up. The wet gown weighed as much as a small elephant.
Kicking off her shoes, she hoisted the heavy skirt in her arms and struggled to her feet. Mud squished through her sheer stockings and oozed between her toes as she lurched blindly down the road, heading toward the light. Mercy, she hoped it hung over the lodge door!
The muddy veil obscured her vision, but her hand made contact with a doorknob. Relief surged through her as she tugged the door open, staggered inside and slammed it shut behind her.
“What the hell…” a deep male voice roared.
It smelled like a barn. Confused, Josie dropped her dripping skirts and pushed back the mud-soaked veil.
Oh, heavens. It was a barn!
A loud snort jerked Josie’s attention to her right, and the source of the noise made her freeze. An enormous, wild-eyed horse reared, whinnied and charged directly at her.
Helpless to move, she watched in horror as a tall, dark-haired man lunged at the beast and grabbed the harness. The animal reared on its hind legs and pawed the air, nostrils flaring, teeth bared. A flash of hooves sailed past her face, missing her by mere inches.
In terror, Josie watched the beast turn and buck. The man jumped aside, narrowly dodging disaster as the powerful back hooves struck the very spot he’d stood just a second before.
“Easy, boy. Easy.” The man spoke softly, but his grip on the horse was strong and sure. His biceps bulged under his plaid flannel shirt as he grasped the halter under the animal’s chin, backed the beast into a stall and slammed the gate closed with a loud bang.
The sound reverberated in the air. Jessie leaned her head against the wall and let out a long, ragged breath. Her chest hurt, and she realized she’d been holding her breath.
The man strode toward her, his dark eyes glaring, his broad shoulders squared. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You nearly got yourself killed!”
His build was as powerful as the horse’s, and from the look in his eyes, he might be just as dangerous. Josie tried to take a step backward, but her back was already against the wall. “I—I’m sorry. I thought this was the Lazy O Lodge.”
The scowl on his tanned face deepened. “If you can’t tell a barn from a lodge, then maybe you’d just better go back to the city where you belong. The number-one rule around here is no visitors allowed on the working parts of the ranch without an escort.” He raked her from head to toe with a scathing gaze. “What in blue blazes are you doing in a getup like that, anyway? Halloween’s not for another two weeks.”
Josie glanced down at her wet, mud-smeared gown. She knew she must look like an escapee from a sideshow exhibit, but she’d be darned if she’d offer the man an explanation. He was too rude to warrant one.
Doing her best to disguise her rattled nerves, Josie raised her chin. “I said I was sorry,” she said stiffly. “If you’ll just give me directions to the lodge, I’ll get out of your way.”
“How’d you get here, anyway?”
“I drove in from the highway. I was following the directions in the brochure.”
The man gave a disgusted shake of his head that sent an unruly lock of hair cascading over his forehead. “No, you weren’t.”
Josie bristled. She’d had a horrible day, and she was in no mood to take any guff from a disagreeable ranch hand. “I most certainly was. The directions said to turn at the sign, and that’s exactly what I did,” she said frostily.
“You turned at the sign that says Lazy O Lodge Ahead. If you’d driven on five hundred feet, you would have seen a larger sign with an arrow.”
Josie felt a familiar cringing sensation—the one she always felt when she’d just made a mistake. Oh, no, you don’t, she told herself fiercely. You’re not going to let this man make you feel like your judgment is faulty just because you couldn’t read the entire sign in the pouring rain.
Who did he think he was, anyway, talking to her like that? She wasn’t going to stand for it. “Do you work at the Lazy O?”
The man’s lip curved upward. “You might say that.”
Josie stretched her frame to its full five-foot-four height and took a step forward, striving for her most imposing demeanor. “Well, then, sir, I’ll make you a deal. If you’ll spare me any more pearls of wisdom and simply tell me how to get to the lodge, I’ll refrain from mentioning your insufferably rude behavior to Mr. O’Dell.”
“Oh, you will, will you?” The man’s mouth widened into a smile, a smile as infuriating as it was devastating. The expression transformed his face, bringing the hard, masculine planes and angles into a shockingly attractive alignment.
For some reason, the sight knocked Josie off her stride. She compensated for her shaken composure by directing the full force of her fury at him—a fury that had been building inside her ever since she’d learned the truth about her would-be groom.
Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “On second thought, I won’t. I used to work in a hotel, and I thought I’d seen everything, but I’ve never heard of anyone in the hospitality industry treating a guest trying to check in as rudely as you’ve just treated me. I’m sure Mr. O’Dell will be interested to learn of your behavior.”
To her chagrin, he appeared amused. “I’m afraid you’re out of luck, miss. For starters, we don’t have any rooms available. We’re booked solid.”
“But I have reservations.”
The man’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “All of our guests have already checked in, except for the honeymoon couple.”
He suddenly froze and stared, his gaze traveling from her mud-covered stockings to her clay-encrusted veil. His eyebrows flew up like the wings of a crow. “Holy molasses! Is that a wedding gown you’re wearing?”
Josie took a perverse pleasure in his dumbfounded expression. “It is,” she said with all the dignity she could muster. “And if you’d point me in the direction of the honeymoon cabin, I’d like to change out of it as soon as possible. My car got stuck on the road and I fell in the mud.”
The man stared at her. “You’re Mrs. Olsen?”
“No. I’m Josie Randall.”
He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, his expression confused. “But the reservation is for the Olsens.”
“Yes. But it’s on my credit card, and my credit card says Josie Randall.”
The man studied her for a moment, apparently processing the information. He shook his head. “I’ve never understood why a woman would marry a man and refuse to take his name, but that’s your business. So where’s your husband?”
“I don’t have one.”
His dark brows pulled together. “But you just said you’d reserved the honeymoon cabin.”
“I did.”
“And you don’t have a husband?” His expression clearly said he was having doubts about her sanity.
“We didn’t—I mean, the wedding didn’t—” Josie’s throat swelled with emotion, and to her horror, she realized she was about to cry.
Oh, no! She always cried when she was upset—ever since she’d been a young child. It was nothing more than an emotional release valve, but this man was sure to take it as a sign of weakness. The last thing she wanted to do was break down in front of him.
She drew a deep breath and tried to forestall the inevitable. “The w-wedding was c-c-called off,” she finally managed to say in a tear-choked voice.
She ducked her head, and the mud-streaked veil sagged forward. She gratefully took refuge behind it. Her pride had taken enough of a blow today without the additional embarrassment of having this impossible man see her cry.
“Oh, hey…I’m sorry.” His deep voice was contrite. “That must be rough. I had no idea…”
The veil abruptly lifted. The man stood in front of her, his dark eyes worried and apologetic.
“Here.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at her face, first drying her cheeks, then gently wiping her forehead. “You have some mud here, too,” he said, rubbing the cloth across her chin.
His gentleness jarred Josie as much as his earlier rudeness. She stared up at him, surprised to find his face so close, his eyes so dark and concerned.
Still holding the hanky, he placed his hands on her shoulders. His fingers were warm on the wet silk. “Look, I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize…”
His change of demeanor disoriented her. Or maybe it was his nearness. She was keenly aware of the weight of his hands, of his masculine scent, of his breath on her face.
Her gaze fastened on his lips, and a wild, alien thought formed in her mind: what would it feel like to kiss him?
Merciful heavens, where had that thought come from? She lowered her gaze, suddenly self-conscious. Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself; it’s not like the thought is tattooed on your forehead. He’s a cowboy, not a mind reader.
“I’ve never had a guest show up in a wedding gown before,” he said apologetically. He gently tilted up her chin. The pads of his fingers were callused, and the rasp of them on her skin made her heart rate soar.
Funny…she couldn’t remember a man ever touching her face before. Certainly not Robert. And she’d never known fingers could be so warm. Why, his seemed to warm her straight to the bone.
“With all the mud, I thought you were wearing some sort of costume—Swamp Girl or Creature from the Black Lagoon or something. It’s close to Halloween and I’ve had some guests do some pretty weird things…” His brow knit in concern as he looked down at her. “Are you okay?”
Josie nodded, not yet trusting herself to speak. He smelled like leather and horseflesh and hard work, with a subtle undernote of soap. The scent was rich and male— far more appealing than all of Robert’s expensive colognes and grooming products, she thought distractedly. Her gaze again fell to his lips.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was upset because you nearly got yourself killed,” he explained. “That stallion’s got a mean streak a mile wide. In fact, I’m trying to sell him for just that reason. A potential buyer is coming to look at him in the morning, so I was grooming him when you walked in.” His hand moved back to her shoulder. His eyes were kind and worried. “I go ballistic when guests put themselves in danger. Sorry I overreacted, Josie.”
The frank, open apology took her by surprise. There weren’t many men who would own up to a mistake so readily, she thought.
But it was the way he’d said her name that really jolted her. His deep rumble of a voice had wrapped around it like a velvet cloak, making it sound appealing and feminine and…sensuous.
What the heck was the matter with her? Her pulse was racing and skittering, and her thoughts were flying off in all kinds of dangerous and inappropriate directions. She must have taken leave of her senses, responding this way to some man she’d just met.
She must be more overwrought than she’d realized. Maybe she was even suffering some type of post-traumatic syndrome. After all, it had been a nerve-wracking day. This behavior was so far out of character she could barely recognize it as her own.
Josie folded her arms protectively across her chest. “Let’s just forget about it,” she said. “If you’ll help me get to the lodge, I won’t mention anything to Mr. O’Dell.”
The man dropped his hands from her shoulders, but the heat from his touch remained. He gave a lopsided grin. “Too late.”
Was he deliberately keeping her off balance? “What do you mean?”
Folding one arm across his flat stomach and the other behind his back, he made a courtly bow. “Luke O’Dell at your service, ma’am.”
“But the man in the brochure photos—”
“Was my father. He died six months ago.”
“Oh!” Josie murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too.” A flicker of pain crossed his face. He diverted his gaze to the toes of his cowboy boots, then shoved his hands into the pockets of his well-worn jeans. “Look, Josie, I know guests are told payment is nonrefundable without a week’s notice, but under the circumstances I’ll be happy to give you your money back.”
“Oh, I don’t want my money back. After all I’ve been through, I really need a week’s vacation.”
Luke gazed at the mud-stained creature before him and tried to suppress his dismay. The last thing he needed right now was a half-crazy, lovelorn woman moping around the ranch. She’d probably require extra attention, and the lodge staff was overextended as it was.
He shook his head dubiously. “It would probably be better if you come back some other time. All of our guests this week are couples, and I don’t want you to spend the week feeling like a third wheel.”
“But I won’t be participating in the group activities. I’m registered for the honeymoon package.”
She wasn’t half-crazy; she was full-blown loco! Luke stared at her incredulously. “You want to do the honeymoon package activities alone?”
“That’s right.”
“You want to go on a moonlight trail ride, a private cookout, an overnight canoe trip…by yourself?”
Her chin moved ever so slightly upward. When she spoke, her voice had a defensive edge. “That’s right.”