One Husband Needed

Worth’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as memories of a conversation he’d had two days ago with Russ flooded back.

The nervous way Russ had stuttered and stammered had convinced Worth that the older man had changed his mind about marrying Worth’s mother. Worth had been so relieved he hadn’t paid much attention when Russ finally spilled what really bothered him.

His relationship with his daughter Elizabeth.

The scene replayed itself in Worth’s mind with total, crystal-clear recall.

“I was real surprised when Elizabeth agreed to come to the wedding,” Russ had said.

Worth couldn’t imagine why and said so.

Initially, Russ had sidestepped the implied question. “She was such a tiny little thing. If I yelled at her, Elizabeth never cried, but her face would get all funny and her eyes red. I always wanted so much for her. Wished I could give her a perfect world.” He kicked a clod of dirt. “It’s been over a year since her husband Lawrence died, and she’s still mad at me.”

Worth gave the older man a quick look from under his hat brim. “Mad about what?”

Russ wouldn’t meet his gaze. “The funeral. Our best mare was about to foal. We’d almost lost her the time before, but I told Elizabeth I’d come if she needed me. She said she didn’t.”

“You didn’t go to your son-in-law’s funeral?” Worth had to work to keep the disbelief and condemnation out of his voice.

“I knew my ex-wife and her husband would be there. What could I have done they didn’t do? I’d just have been in the way. If Elizabeth wanted me there, she would have said so.” Russ’s defensiveness made plain he didn’t need anyone to point out how wrong he’d been. He already knew.

Worth’s mother once said men had more trouble than women when it came to dealing with death. She said men wanted to fix things, solve problems. Worth guessed the real reason Russ had avoided his son-in-law’s funeral had more to do with Russ hating his inability to make things right for his daughter than putting the needs of a horse before his daughter’s needs. “It’s not too late to tell your daughter you’re sorry you didn’t go.”

Russ rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve tried, but she won’t talk about it. She’s never said it in so many words, but I know she’s convinced I stayed away because I hated Lawrence. I didn’t hate him, but he wasn’t the man for Elizabeth.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Russ went on, “There was something about him. Like he was laughing at something the rest of us didn’t know. I tried to tell Elizabeth and her mother, but they wouldn’t listen.” Russ kicked another clod of dirt. “Lawrence was smart as a whip, and polite, too polite. He reminded me of a rogue horse, the kind you don’t dare turn your back on. Worried me sick when Elizabeth married him.” He uttered a short, bitter curse. “Whatever he was laughing at, he got the last laugh. Because of him, my daughter hates me.”

Worth should have given more weight to Russ’s comments instead of dismissing them as Russ’s guilty conscience talking. Russ was a good man who’d made a mistake. Worth wasn’t exactly perfect himself. Wanting life perfect for your family could lead a man into foolishness at times.

Families understood that and forgave the foolishness and loved the thought behind it.

Worth had assumed that if Russ’s daughter hated Russ, she wouldn’t be coming to the wedding.

Until meeting Elizabeth Randall, it would never have crossed his mind that she might be coming to stop the wedding.

Worth tried to view the situation through her eyes. Her father had disliked her husband, tried to talk her out of marrying him, and had not supported her at her husband’s funeral. He knew anger came with grief. Elizabeth Randall needed to blame someone for her husband’s death. She’d chosen her father.

Russ’s happiness over his upcoming marriage must be unbearable for her, so it must be that she’d come to destroy it. As her happiness had been destroyed.

Worth couldn’t let her do it. For her sake, for Russ’s sake, for his mother’s sake.

For his sake.

After all his years of patiently waiting, no skinny redhead with green cat eyes was going to ruin his plans.

They turned off the highway and crossed the river. Red, clay-like walls rose beside the road before flattening out to rolling ranch land. Colts stood timidly at their mothers’ sides. Darling from a distance, but they’d be huge monsters in a year.

In the backseat the bells on Jamie’s shoes jingled as he kicked his feet and chattered incomprehensibly.

Elizabeth’s hands grew damp. They must be almost there.

Slowing down, Worth Lassiter turned off the road and drove beneath an arched gate made from massive logs. Two wooden circles had been burned into the top cross piece. Elizabeth barely made out the painted words, Hope Valley, on a small sign fastened to the gate. Surprised, she blurted out, “I thought your ranch was called The Double Nickel.”

“It is. Named for Jacob and Anna Nichols, my great-great-grandparents. Anna named the area Hope Valley. She and Jacob were newlyweds who moved out west to build their home and their life here, and she was full of hope.”

Once Elizabeth had been full of hope.

He parked in front of a large, old-fashioned, two-story white frame house. A porch ran the length of the front of the house, one end shaded by an enormous cottonwood tree. Other buildings were scattered about the area, and a corral near a huge barn held a couple of horses. Further afield a half dozen mares grazed, their spindle-legged colts at their sides.

The ranch reminded Elizabeth of every ranch where she’d visited her father. The barn would be dark and gloomy with snarling, half-wild cats. There would be cows and more horses and dust and smells and noise.

She couldn’t stay in the car forever. Worth Lassiter had already gotten out. Elizabeth reached for the door handle.

He beat her to it, opening the door and blocking her way with his body. “Let me give you a little friendly advice, Elizabeth. If you have any issues with Russ, take them up with him, but don’t wreck my mother’s happiness because of them.”

His hat shaded his face, but Elizabeth had no trouble seeing the way his eyes steadily regarded her, almost in warning. A clipped voice had replaced the lazy, dark-honeyed drawl he’d been pouring over her since they’d met in the airport. “What are you talking about?” she asked, confused by the transformation.

He placed his hands on the top of the car, bracing himself as he leaned closer. “You know what I’m talking about, Red. I’m not going to let you hurt my mother. Don’t even think about trying to stop this wedding.”

Too astonished by his assumption to dispute it immediately, she lost her chance as he straightened and walked away. The situation struck her as excruciatingly humorous. She’d been lusting after his body while he’d been imagining some improbable scenario about her trying to keep Russ from marrying his mother.

Russ walked out on the porch with a blond woman. One of the perfect, horse-loving sisters he’d raved about. Elizabeth plastered a smile on her face and stepped from the car.

Her father walked down the porch steps. “I’ll get that luggage, Worth. Hello, Elizabeth, how was your trip?” He stopped a few feet from the car.

“Fine.” She widened her smile. “We had good weather.”

“That’s good.” He put his hands in his trousers. “No air pockets or anything.”

“No. It was a smooth flight.”

“Good. Good.” Russ jingled the coins in his trousers. “Nothing worse than air pockets. Always scare the living daylights out of me.”

“Everything went smoothly. Sunny skies all the way.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Russ,” the woman said, “if you want a weather report, turn on the radio.” She ran lightly down the porch stairs and held out her hands. “Welcome to Hope Valley and the Double Nickel, Elizabeth. I’m Mary Lassiter.”

“You can’t possibly be old enough to be Worth’s mother,” Elizabeth said in astonishment. Not knowing what else to do, she took the woman’s outstretched hands.

“I love her already, Russ,” Mary Lassiter said in a laughing voice, squeezing Elizabeth’s fingers. “No wonder you think she’s wonderful. Now where is Russ’s grandson? I can’t wait to get my hands on him.”

“Here he is.” Worth walked around the vehicle, Jamie riding happily in his arms.

Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. Jamie never warmed to strangers. As proof, he took one look at Russ and Mary and pressed back against Worth’s chest.

Worth rubbed Jamie’s back. “Don’t worry, buddy, us guys have to stick together. I won’t let the women slobber all over you until you’re ready to take them on.” Holding Jamie easily, Worth gave his mother a quick squeeze with his free arm.

“Really, Worth, I don’t slobber.” Mary turned laughing blue eyes, so like her son’s, on Elizabeth. “I hope when Jamie grows up, he doesn’t sass his mother the way my children sass me.” She turned toward the house. “I’ve put you and Jamie in Davy’s room, but if you’d rather have separate rooms, we can move the baby bed elsewhere. Come upstairs and I’ll show you.”

Elizabeth had the feeling of a floodtide sweeping her away. “Jamie,” she said quickly and held out her arms.

Worth gave her a long, steady look, then surrendered her son. “I’ll get your luggage, while you and my mother have a nice,” he emphasized the adjective, “chat.”

Dawn popped over the hills to the east in a showy display of golden peach, the morning light stealing into Worth’s bedroom as he lay awake. He ought to be up and moving. Early morning was the best part of the day, drinking coffee on the front porch, smelling the wind and hearing the birds twitter awake. The old house creaked and sighed, familiar sounds.

A little voice chattered from down the hall. Worth smiled. Whatever his mother’s problems were, the kid was a cute one. Elizabeth was as warm and loving toward her son as she was cool and distant to her father.

Not that Russ had rushed to hug his daughter.

Mary joked her mission in life was to teach Russ how to deal with people as well as he dealt with animals. Worth grinned. At least Russ no longer cringed when Worth’s sisters hugged him. As Worth’s nephew frequently said, the Lassiter women were huggers.

Elizabeth Randall was not a hugger.

Worth suspected his family had overwhelmed her. Only his niece Hannah, with her red hair and delight at seeing another redhead, had managed to overcome Elizabeth’s reserve. He wondered about the funny look on Elizabeth’s face when Hannah suggested Jamie’s father was probably playing with angels. Playing with angels being Hannah’s explanation for the death of her birth mother.

Worth strained to hear, but no female voice answered the baby. During the night Worth had heard the baby fretting and his mother’s voice soothing him. Elizabeth had looked exhausted when she’d arrived. She must be getting some much-needed sleep.

His mother hadn’t returned to the house. Every night Mary snuck over to the guest cabin where Russ was staying, and every morning she tried to sneak back before Worth arose. She seldom made it, but he always pretended to believe her story about being unable to sleep and taking an early morning walk. He doubted she believed him any more than he believed her, but he had no objection to pretending if it saved her embarrassment. His mother deserved a little naughtiness in her life.

Down the hall Jamie’s voice took on strident overtones.

Throwing aside the covers, Worth rose and pulled on his jeans. He knocked softly on Elizabeth’s bedroom door, and when no one responded, peeked inside. Jamie greeted him from near the door, bouncing up and down in the baby bed and holding up his hands in a demand to be picked up.

Jamie’s mother lay dead to the world, her chest rising and falling in the slow rhythms of sleep. Tiptoeing into the room, Worth lifted the little boy from the bed. Jamie gurgled with pleasure.

Jamie’s mother slept on, her red hair spread over the snow-white pillow. Worth felt his body tighten. Elizabeth sighed in her sleep and rolled over, her bottom a rounded hump under the blankets. He didn’t even like her, and he wanted to crawl under the covers with her.

Jamie chomped down on Worth’s chin.

Out in the hall, Worth closed the door to the bedroom and grinned at the little boy. “You hungry or reading my mind?”

Jamie grinned back, proudly displaying six little teeth.

Elizabeth lay facedown in the bed. A cup of coffee would be heavenly, but she didn’t want to disturb Jamie, who was sleeping soundly at last. Poor baby. Yesterday had been too long and too stimulating for him.

And for her. Two of Mary’s daughters had come for dinner along with their families. Cheyenne, married to Thomas Steele, had two children, ten-year-old Davy and nine-month-old Virginia. And Allie, married to Zane Peters, with six-year-old Hannah and six-month-old Harmony. The third sister lived in Denver.

The sisters were younger versions of Mary. Both were beautiful and self-assured, their husbands handsome, confident men who clearly adored their wives.

A spasm of envy twisted Elizabeth’s stomach. She’d felt like a penniless child outside a candy store, her nose pressed to the window, as she’d observed the teasing family interaction. Children had been passed among the adults with easy familiarity.

Except for Jamie, who would never experience that kind of loving extended family. Her son would never have an uncle like Worth Lassiter.

Worth Lassiter, whose mother and sisters fawned over him. Whose nieces and nephews clearly adored him.

Hannah and Davy had glued themselves to him. Sitting at the dinner table on either side of him. Following him around. Playing with the baby who sat securely and happily on his lap.

Her baby.

Jamie had looked so content—so right—held in a man’s large hands. A boy needed a father. Jamie was totally blameless, yet he was the one who would suffer.

Sometimes Elizabeth felt the pain would crush her heart when she thought of her perfect, innocent baby who’d been born into a situation he didn’t deserve.

Sunlight reached the window and flooded the room. Opening one eye, she took in the red cowboy-patterned bedspread and a cowboy boot lamp beside the bed. The room had been decorated for her grandson Davy’s visits to the ranch, Mary had explained, giving Elizabeth the room for her stay so Jamie could enjoy the bright colors.

A cow clock beside the bed mooed the hour. Surprised the sound didn’t wake Jamie, Elizabeth sat up.

The baby bed was empty.

CHAPTER TWO

“C’MON, Jimbo, open wide. The early bird’s supposed to eat all his worms.”

“What are you doing with my son?”

Jamie squealed and pounded the tray of the high chair.

Worth turned to face the owner of the furious voice. Sparks practically flew from her red hair. A man would be crazy to want all that heat and voltage centered on him. “I’d say I’m feeding him breakfast, but since the majority of the food is everywhere but in his stomach, you’d probably call me a liar.”

“You had no right to come into my bedroom and take Jamie.”

So much for gratitude. Worth shoved food in Jamie’s mouth and debated apologizing. He didn’t debate long. Widow or not, Elizabeth Randall’s abrasive attitude was beginning to rile him. Besides, she had no business standing there with sleep-tousled hair, doing bad things to his body. “I knocked, but you were snoring so loud, you didn’t hear me.”

“I do not snore.”

When she stuck her nose in the air and jerked her spine straight, the top of her shiny green pajamas poked out in interesting places. Worth gave her a deliberately obnoxious grin. “You made more racket than a freight train, sleeping with your mouth hanging wide open.”

“You watched me sleeping?” She practically shrieked the question.

Turning his back to her, Worth gave Jamie a wink and another spoonful of cereal. “Only for a minute, Red.” Revolving to face her, he added in a guileless voice, “I was admiring your green pajamas.”

She pokered up indignantly. He could almost feel the electricity as she searched for a response to his compliment which would put him in his place. Worth smiled in anticipation.

“Don’t call me Red.” His wolfish smile rattled her. His smile and his comment on her pajamas.

She should have taken time to put on a robe instead of panicking when she’d found Jamie missing from his bed. Being in nothing but pajamas and bare feet made a woman feel vulnerable. Elizabeth wanted to run, but instinct told her the dumbest thing she could do was let this man know he unnerved her.

Making her way across the kitchen, she took a mug from the rack and filled it with coffee. She desperately needed caffeine to recharge her brain cells and took a deep gulp of coffee. “Yuk.” She spit the mouthful of liquid back into the mug and poured it down the sink. “If I licked tar off the street, it would taste better.”

“Does anything around here suit you?” he asked mildly.

“Jamie suits me.” She looked at her son and did a double take. “What in the world is he wearing?”

“Since Jimbo and I didn’t want to disturb his lazybones of a mom, we had to improvise a little. He was sopping wet.”

Jamie gave her a toothy grin and smeared banana on the man’s undershirt he wore. “I don’t suppose you bothered to change his diapers.” Grudgingly, Elizabeth admitted to herself her son didn’t seem to be suffering.

“He’s wearing a dish-towel diaper with a plastic bag over it, aren’t you, Jimbo?”

That made the third time he’d said it. “His name is Jamie,” she said tersely.

“Well now, Red,” Worth drawled, “Jimbo and I had a little discussion about that, and we decided Jamie is a sissy name. A cowboy needs to have a name like Jimbo.”

“He’s not a cowboy and he’s not going to be a cowboy.”

“That’s not what his Grandpa Russ says.”

“Russ has nothing to say about how I raise my son.”

Worth slowly rose. Sticking his hands in his back pockets he silently contemplated her with narrowed eyes. The food splashed down the front of his T-shirt did nothing to subtract from his masculinity. He should have looked ridiculous. He didn’t. He looked sexy.

Elizabeth shivered. Only because the house was cool.

Jamie banged on the tray of his chair with his drinking cup.

She moved to step around the obstacle in her path. The obstacle blocked the move with his large body. “I need to take care of my son,” Elizabeth said.

“He’s fine.” Worth studied her face with such intensity the hairs on the back of her neck rose in uneasy protest.

She dropped her eyes to stare at a hunk of banana stuck to his T-shirt. Elizabeth’s secrets were her own. She didn’t want him, didn’t want anyone, gaining access to them. “Please move.”

With an exaggerated sweep of his hand, he stepped aside.

Ignoring him, she concentrated on feeding Jamie the last of his cereal, then wet a paper towel and bending down, scrubbed her son’s face.

“I surely do love those green pajamas.” The soft drawl flowed from the kitchen doorway.

Elizabeth straightened up and spun around so fast she made herself dizzy. Worth Lassiter slouched against the doorjamb, masculine approval filling his eyes with a drowsy, sensual heat. Her stomach zoomed to her toes. She wanted to run and hide. She couldn’t move. Her traitorous body reacted as if he were physically touching her. And he knew it.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “What do you want from me?”

A lazy smile crept across his face. “You know what I want, Red. And I intend to make sure I get it.”

What kind of man tried to seduce a woman he barely knew who was a guest in his home? She picked up Jamie, as much to hide behind him as to give herself time to regain her composure. “When you live in a university town, and your husband dies, someone’s bound to bring you a book on being a widow. As if it’s like learning how to sew or raise puppies. I had nothing better to do, so I read it. The book talked about this.”

“This?”

“How some men will tell a widow they know she must miss sex and offer to, well, comfort her.” Her voice rose nervously, which both annoyed and mortified her. She forced herself to look him directly in the eye. “Let’s get one thing straight, Mr. Lassiter. I am not a lonely widow looking for a man to share my bed.”

Surprise flashed deep in his eyes, then he lowered his eyelids to half-mast, concealing any expression. “You know, Red, it’s always enlightening to watch a woman’s mind at work. I compliment your pajamas, and you immediately conclude I want you out of them.”

“If I was wrong, I apologize,” she said stiffly.

“A man would be crazy to have sex with you without a fire truck standing by. I don’t want sex. I want you to forget the reason you came here, because I intend to make sure you don’t get what you want.”

“What could you possibly know about what I want?”

“I know you hope to stop the wedding, and I know I’m not going to let you do anything which makes my mother unhappy.”

He was so far wrong, she would have laughed. If his exasperating, irrational fixation uttered in a patient, long-suffering voice didn’t make her back teeth ache. “I’m not going to stop the wedding,” she shouted.

Jamie started crying and clutched at her.

“Good. You don’t start any trouble, and we’ll all get along just fine.” His eyes darkened and a lopsided smile slowly curved one side of his mouth. “Jimbo, you little devil, you.” He strolled out of the room.

“Don’t cry, sweet pea. It’s okay. The mean ol’ man has gone.” Elizabeth quit grinding her teeth and looked down at her son. And realized Jamie’s frantic clutching had unbuttoned half the buttons on her pajamas leaving the top gaping wide open. The cool morning air had hardened the tip of her bared breast to a tight nub.

He was having so much fun watching the color wash across Elizabeth’s face each time he managed to catch her eye, they were halfway through dinner before Worth realized the tension at the dinner table could be cut with his dinner knife. Russ and Elizabeth were excruciatingly polite to each other. His mother was trying valiantly to bridge the conversational gap between them. With very little success.

Worth couldn’t believe it. He thought they’d reached an agreement this morning that Elizabeth wouldn’t cause trouble. Obviously she’d had no intention of honoring that agreement.

Her mistake. He didn’t care if her anger at Russ was justified. Nobody messed with his family.

“Elizabeth,” Mary said, “your father has told us how much you love to ride. The two of you should check out some of the trails around here.”

Elizabeth’s head shot up. “I didn’t bring clothes for riding.”

Worth’s senses sharpened. There was nothing about his mom’s proposal to cause the hint of panic he picked up in Elizabeth’s voice. He didn’t like one bit that the panic suggested Elizabeth feared her father.

“It seems a shame not to get in all the riding you can while you’re here,” Mary said. “If you’re worried about Jamie, I’m happy to watch him while you ride.”

“That’s very kind of you, but Jamie’s a little overwhelmed by all the changes in his routine right now. Having me disappear for hours would be too distressing for him.”

“You don’t want to make a mama’s boy of him,” Russ said. “He’ll be fine with Mary for a couple of hours.”

“I haven’t ridden for years,” Elizabeth said tightly. “I’d get all stiff and sore, which would be no fun with your wedding coming up.”

“We don’t have to ride that long,” her father said. “You gotta be tough to be a cowboy,” he added in a hearty, teasing voice.

“So you’ve told me.”

As Elizabeth turned to her son, Worth had the oddest impression that every muscle in her body quivered. The way a horse quivered when terrified. It was clear Elizabeth was adamantly opposed to riding with Russ. Why? What did she fear?

Old family friends had introduced Russ to his mother, but Worth had still checked into Russ’s background. He wondered if he’d checked deep enough. Russ’s first wife had left him, and Elizabeth and Russ obviously had an uneasy relationship. Russ’s surprise at Elizabeth coming to the wedding took on new, ominous overtones.