Читать книгу: «The Maverick's Accidental Bride»

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“You remind me of a girl I used to know,” said a way-too-familiar deep voice in Jordyn Leigh Cates’s ear. “She was just a kid, really. Pretty little thing, always following me around...”

Jordyn whirled on the killer handsome cowboy she’d known all her life. “Will Clifton, you liar. I never, ever followed you around.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Did not.”

“Did so.”

She laughed. “You know we sound like a couple of overgrown brats, right?”

“Speak for yourself.” Will gave her the sexy half smile that had broken more than one girl’s heart back home in Thunder Canyon. “Never could resist teasing you.”

Jordyn sipped from her paper cup of delicious wedding punch. “I heard that you were in town.”

“Craig, Jonathan and Rob, too.” Those were his brothers. “We’re staying out at Maverick Manor.” Formerly known as Bledsoe’s Folly, the giant, long-deserted log mansion southeast of town had been transformed the year before into an upscale hotel with a rustic flair.

She gave him a teasing look from under her lashes. “I also heard a rumor that you bought a place right here in Rust Creek Falls...?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” There was real pride in his voice, and his gorgeous blue eyes shone bright with satisfaction. “Beautiful spread in the Rust Creek Valley, east of town, not far from the Traub ranch. Escrow closes on Tuesday.”

Jordyn was happy for him. It had always been Will’s dream to have his own ranch. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

They grinned at each other. She thought he looked even hunkier than usual in a white dress shirt, a coffee-colored Western-cut vest and a bolo tie. He’d polished his belt buckle to a proud shine, and his black jeans broke just right over his black dress boots.

He reached out a hand and tugged on a blond curl that trailed loose from her updo. “You’re lookin’ good.”

A warm lick of pleasure stole through her. He was five years her senior, and he’d always treated her like a kid. But right now, the way he gazed at her? She didn’t feel like a kid in the least. She dared to flutter her eyelashes at him. “Thank you, Will.”

He tipped his black Stetson. “It’s only the truth. You look great—not to mention, patriotic.”

“Red, white and blue all the way.” She flicked a glance down at her strapless knee-length chiffon bridesmaid’s dress. It was Old-Glory Blue.

Just a couple of hours ago, Braden Traub, second oldest of the Rust Creek Traub boys, had married angelic blonde Jennifer MacCallum, who had moved to town a year before. They’d decided on an outdoor wedding reception—an Independence Day picnic in Rust Creek Falls Park. Red-and-white-checked oilcloths covered all the picnic tables. Red, white and blue canopies provided shade from the summer sun.

Plus, they’d set up a portable oak dance floor not far from the punch table, where Jordyn and Will stood. The six-piece band wasn’t half bad. Right then they were rockin’ a great Brad Paisley song. Jordyn’s sparkly blue high heels had a tendency to get stuck in the grass when she wasn’t out on the dance floor, but she refused to let that slow her down. She kept her weight on her toes and had no trouble tapping a foot to the music as a certain tall cowboy in a big white hat two-stepped by with a curvy brunette. That cowboy gave Jordyn a wink.

And Jordyn winked right back at him. “Wahoo, cowboy!” She raised her bridesmaid’s bouquet of red roses in a jaunty wave.

And of course, Will just had to demand, “Who’s that?”

She sent him a glance of serene self-possession. “Just a guy I was dancing with a little while ago...” What she didn’t say was that she intended to be dancing with that cowboy again soon. Very soon. Will could get way too big-brotherly, and she didn’t need that. She lifted her paper cup for another sip—and Will snagged it right out of her hand. “Hey!” She brandished her bouquet at him. “Give me back my punch, Clifton. Or I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

He smirked at her and sniffed the cup. “What’s in this, anyway?”

“Oh, please. It’s just punch.”

“Spiked?”

She puffed out her cheeks with a disgusted breath. “Hardly. Punch, I said. Fruit juice and mixers—and a small amount of sparkling wine—and don’t give me that look. I asked the bride so I know whereof I speak. It’s a public park, Will. No hard liquor allowed.”

Being Will, he just had to argue the point. “I’ve spotted a hip flask or two in the crowd.”

“Well, yeah. But on the down low. The punch is harmless, believe me. And if you’re so worried about a teeny bit of sparkling wine, try the kids’ punch table.” With a flourish, she pointed her bouquet at the table several feet away, where the children and teetotalers were served.

Will was watching her, his expression annoyingly suspicious. “You seem to be having a really good time, Jordyn Leigh—maybe too good a time.”

“There is no such thing as too good a time.” She scowled at him. “And do not call me Jordyn Leigh.”

“Why not? It’s your name.”

“Yeah, but when you say it, I feel like I’m eight years old. Wearing hand-me-down jeans and a wrinkled plaid shirt, with my hair in pigtails and my two front teeth missing.”

Looking right next door to wistful, Will shook his head. “I really liked that little girl.”

“Well, I’m not her. And I haven’t been for seventeen years.” Right then, that weird old guy, Homer Gilmore, hobbled by on the other side of the punch table. He gave Jordyn a great big snaggle-tooth grin. Homer was as sweet as he was strange, so she responded with a merry wave. “I’m all grown-up now,” she reminded Will.

“Yes, you are.” He toasted her with her own cup and then drank the rest, bold as brass.

She could almost get aggravated that he’d commandeered her punch. But no. Back at the church during the wedding, she’d been feeling a tad low to be a bridesmaid and not a bride for the umpteenth time. But it was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the wide Montana sky. And hadn’t she already shared a dance with a handsome cowboy? Who knew what good things might happen next? Her dark mood had vanished. Will was right. She was having a wonderful time. No way was she letting Will Clifton harsh her lovely mellow.

Instead, she grabbed a fresh flag-printed paper cup and poured herself another full one. When he held out the cup that used to be hers, she good-naturedly served him, as well.

They tapped cups and drank.

* * *

For Jordyn, the rest of that fateful afternoon flashed by in soft-focus snapshots.

She and Will hung out. And it was good. Better than good.

Up until that day, he’d always treated her like a youngster he needed to boss around. But from the first wedding-punch toast they’d shared that day, it was different.

Suddenly, they were equals. She had fun with him. A lot of fun. They ate barbecue and wedding cake together. They visited with his brothers, with the bride and groom, and with Jordyn’s Newcomers Club girlfriends, who were also her fellow bridesmaids.

They met a quirky married couple, Elbert and Carmen Lutello. Elbert, small and thin with dark-rimmed glasses, was the county clerk. Carmen, broad-shouldered, commanding and a head taller than her husband, was a district judge. Carmen and Elbert were so cute together, totally dewy-eyed over each other—and the wedding and love and romance in general. Jordyn adored them.

She and Will enjoyed more punch. They danced together. Several dances. Somehow, she never got around to another dance with the cowboy in the white hat. Truth to tell, she forgot all about that guy. It was just her and Will, together in a lovely, misty place. The park, the picnic reception, the music and laughter...all that got pleasantly hazy around the edges, became background to the magic happening between her and Will.

Will kissed her. Right there on the dance floor. Just tipped her chin up with a finger and settled that sexy mouth of his on hers. They swayed to the music and kissed on and on.

Sweet Lord, the man could kiss. He kissed like the prince in a fairy tale, the kind of kiss that could wake a girl up from a hundred years of sleep. It was something of a miracle, the way Will kissed her that day. At last. Just when she’d started to doubt that she would ever be on the receiving end of kisses like his.

And he told her she was beautiful.

Didn’t he?

It seemed he did. But she wasn’t sure...

Not completely, anyway. Because things got hazier and hazier as the afternoon turned to evening.

Once night fell, a few weird things happened. One of the Dalton sisters got thrown in jail for resisting arrest—after dancing in the newly dedicated park fountain.

At some point Jordyn and Will stood hand in hand in the parking lot between Rust Creek Park and Brooks’s Veterinary Clinic. They stared into the lambskin-lined trunk of Elbert Lutello’s pink 1957 convertible Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz. Elbert hauled out a leather briefcase and announced with great solemnity, “You never know when a legal order or some other official form might be needed. I am a public servant, and I like to be prepared...”

And then, in the blink of an eye, Jordyn and Will, still holding hands, were swept magically back to the park with all the party lights twinkling beneath the almost-full moon. People crowded around them, watching. Carmen Lutello stood before them, blessing them with a tender smile.

What happened next?

Jordyn wasn’t sure.

But the party went on. Will gave her more of those beautiful endless kisses; he fed them to her, each one delicious and perfect, filling her up with delight and satisfaction.

Actually, a lot of folks were kissing. You couldn’t walk beneath a tree without having to ease around an embracing couple. And why not? It was only natural for everyone to be feeling happy and affectionate at a wedding. High spirits ruled on this special, joyous, romantic night...

* * *

The next morning, in her bed at Strickland’s Boarding House, Jordyn woke to discover that an army of mean little men with pickaxes had taken up residence in her brain.

For several minutes, she lay very still with her eyes closed, waiting for her stomach to stop lurching and the little men with the axes to knock off attacking the inside of her skull. Finally, breathing slowly and evenly through her nose, she opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling.

The wrong ceiling...

Her pained grimace became a frown.

With great care, she turned her head toward the nightstand at her side. It was rustic, that nightstand, of what appeared to be reclaimed, beautifully worked old wood. It bore no resemblance to the simple pasteboard one she had at the boardinghouse. A clock stood on that nightstand—not her clock.

And wait a minute. How could it possibly be past noon?

Her stomach did a forward roll. She swallowed down a spurt of acid and carefully, torturously, rolled her head the other way.

Dear, sweet Mary and baby Jesus. Will.

She blinked, looked away—and looked back again.

He was still there, still sound asleep beside her, lying on his stomach with his face turned away from her, his hair night black against the white pillow. His strong arms and broad, muscular shoulders were bare. So was his powerful back tapering down to his tight waist. Below that, she couldn’t be sure. The sheet covered the rest of him.

The sight of Will Clifton possibly naked right next to her in the bed that was not her bed was the final straw. Her stomach rebelled.

With a cry of abject wretchedness and total mortification, she threw back the covers and raced for the open door that led to the bathroom.

* * *

The slamming of the bathroom door woke Will.

With a loud “Huh?” he flipped to his back and bolted to a sitting position. “What the...?” He pressed both hands to his aching head and groaned.

But then he heard the painful sounds coming from the bathroom.

“Huh?” he said again. Apparently, he wasn’t alone. There was someone in the bathroom. Someone being sick.

“Ugh.” Still only half-awake, he raked the sleep-scrambled hair off his forehead. His gaze skimmed past the bedside chair—and then homed right back in on it.

His clothes from last night were tossed in a wad across that chair. On top of them, the hem drooping toward the floor, lay a pretty blue dress topped by a woman’s small sparkly purse and a wilted red bouquet. Will shut his eyes as the heaving noises continued in the other room.

But then, well, keeping his eyes shut wouldn’t make the sounds from the bathroom go away. So he opened them again—opened them and let them track lower, to the foot of the chair and the pair of sexy, sparkly, red-soled blue bridesmaid’s shoes that had toppled sideways beneath the filmy hem of the blue dress.

Will knew that dress, those shoes, that bouquet...

Jordyn?

Jordyn Leigh Cates, in the bathroom? Sweet Jordyn Leigh, in his hotel room without her dress on? Little Jordyn Leigh...had spent the night in his bed?

He clapped his hands to his head again and tried to think it through.

Okay, he remembered spending the afternoon and evening with her yesterday. They’d had a great time.

But what had happened later? How did they get here to his hotel room together?

Damned if he could remember.

He threw back the covers and saw he was wearing only boxer briefs. Did that mean...?

Damn it all to hell. He had no idea what it meant.

And poor Jordyn. The sounds coming from the bathroom were not good.

He jumped to his feet and whipped his black jeans out from under her pretty blue dress. He was pulling them on as he hopped to the bathroom door. Zipping up fast, he gave the door a cautious tap. “Jordyn, are you—?”

She let out a low groan, a sound of purest misery. “Leave me alone, Will. Don’t you dare come in here.”

“Let me—”

“No! Stay there. I’ll be out in a minute.”

His head drooped forward until his forehead met the door. Jordyn Leigh? He’d had sex with little Jordyn Leigh? He wanted to beat the crap out of himself. Her younger brother, Brody, probably would beat the crap out of him—and he would deserve every punch. And what about her parents, who were good friends with his parents? Dear God, he should be tied down spread-eagled in the noonday sun for the buzzards to peck to a million pieces. “Jordyn, I’m so sor—”

“Go away, Will!”

He raised his knuckles to knock again—but then just let them drop. “Uh. Just call. If you need me...”

She didn’t bother to answer him that time. The heaving sounds continued.

He stood there, undecided, wanting to help, not knowing how. And that made him feel even more like a low-down dirty dog, because he couldn’t help and he knew it.

And he had no business just standing there, his head against the door, listening to her being sick.

So he dragged his sorry ass back to his side of the tangled bed and sat on the edge of it. He braced his elbows on his spread knees and let his head hang low in shame.

And that was when he spotted the document on the floor.

“Huh?” He picked it up.

Then, for a long time, several minutes at least, he just stared at the damn thing in stunned disbelief.

But it didn’t matter how long he stared, the document didn’t magically become something else. Uh-uh. No matter how long he stared, it was still a marriage license, complete with the embossed seal of the county clerk declaring it a true certified copy.

The county clerk...

Last night there was a guy, wasn’t there? A little guy in black-rimmed glasses. Yeah. Elton or Eldred, something like that. And the little guy was married to that big woman, the judge...

Will blinked hard and shook his head. It didn’t seem possible. He had zero recollection of any actual ceremony. But still. He was reasonably sure the county clerk had been there last night, the county clerk and his wife, the judge.

So it could have happened. It was possible...

More than possible.

Because he held the proof right there in his two hands.

Around about then, he spotted the gleam of gold on the third finger of his left hand. Or maybe that gleam was brass. He couldn’t be sure.

But gold or brass, the ring looked a hell of a lot like a wedding band. And that signature on the marriage license? Definitely his own. His—and Jordyn’s, too.

It wasn’t possible. But it had happened.

Somehow, he and Jordyn Leigh had gotten married last night.

Chapter Two

Will heard a click when Jordyn opened the bathroom door.

He set the marriage license on the nightstand by his side of the bed and slowly rose, turning to face the woman he’d apparently married the night before.

Jordyn Leigh stood in the doorway. Her big blue eyes had dark shadows beneath them. Her peaches-and-cream skin looked slightly green, and her soft mouth trembled.

She’d put on the complimentary terry-cloth robe that had been hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Her hands were stuck in the pockets, and she kept her head pulled in, like a turtle trying to retreat into its shell. Her wheat-gold hair lay smooth and wavy across her shoulders. She must have used his comb before opening the door and facing him at last.

The sight of all that shining hair made him feel worse than ever. It sent random images of her, scenes from their shared past, sparking and flashing through his brain.

He saw her as a toddler with wispy yellow curls, running through the sprinklers in her front yard, wearing a bright orange bathing suit that tended to sag around her little bottom. And then he saw her in pigtails and busted-out jeans at nine or ten, astride one of the Traub horses.

And the night of her prom...

He couldn’t recall why he’d dropped by the Cates’s place that night, but he did remember Jordyn Leigh, her hand on the banister, slowly descending the front hall stairs, wearing a pink satin dress, her hair piled up high, held in place with sparkling rhinestone clips.

She was such a sweet thing. She deserved so much better than this.

He cleared his throat. “Jordyn, I—”

But she whipped a hand free of a pocket and held it up to him, palm out. “I’m getting dressed right now, Will Clifton,” she muttered through hard-clenched teeth. “I’m getting dressed and going back to the boardinghouse. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll never tell a soul about this.”

Okay, he might be a low-down skunk for...whatever had happened last night, but she ought to know him better than that. “Jordyn, I would never—”

“Hush!” She raised her chin high and smacked the air between them with her palm. “Don’t, okay? Just don’t.” And then she gathered the robe closer at the neck. She did that with her left hand. He saw she wore no ring. But before he had time to consider what that might mean, she hunched into herself again and made a beeline for the chair and that blue bridesmaid’s dress.

He moved fast, skirting the end of the bed, to intercept her before she reached the chair. “Jordyn, wait.”

Folding her arms protectively around herself, she glared up at him. “Out of my way, Will.” Her breath smelled of toothpaste.

He felt another stab of mingled guilt and regret as he pictured her brushing her teeth in the bathroom mirror with her finger and a dab of toothpaste, trying to gather her dignity around her, trying to be strong. He told her gently, “Before you go, we need to talk.”

“Talking with you is the last thing I need.” She tried to dodge around him.

But he caught her by the shoulders. “Hey, come on...”

“Let me go, Will.” Her slim arms felt so delicate, so vulnerable, in his grip.

“Damn it, you’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not.”

“Am, too.” She shook all the harder. He wanted to gather her close, but he feared that putting his arms around her would only freak her out all the more.

They had to discuss this reasonably, with cool heads. But she looked so sick and frantic. He was afraid if he sprung the big news that they somehow got married on her right then, she might just drop to the rug in a dead faint.

Or maybe she already knew they were married. Maybe she remembered what had actually happened...

But they would get to that. First, he needed to settle her down, maybe get some food into her.

She jerked in his grip. “Damn you, Will Clifton. You let me go.”

But he didn’t release her. Instead, he turned her and walked her backward to the bed. “I mean it, Jordyn Leigh. You need to sit down before you fall down.” He gave her a gentle push.

And what do you know? Her knees gave out and she sank to the side of the bed. “Oh, dear Lord...” Her fake bravado deserted her. She let her shoulders slump and buried her head in her hands. “Oh, Will. What’s going on? I don’t remember...I don’t...”

“Shh, settle down,” he soothed. “Come on, put your feet up on the bed. Put your head on the pillow. Just, you know, rest a little, take it easy, okay?” Damned if she didn’t do what he said for once. Obedient as the child she kept insisting she wasn’t, she swung her feet up and stretched out. “Good,” he whispered, and pulled up the covers nice and cozy around her. “Water?”

Blue eyes wide and worried, she bit her lip and nodded. He got a bottle of water from the minifridge. She sat up, and he propped the pillows behind her as she sipped.

“I’m thinking aspirin and room service first,” he suggested. “Then we talk.”

She gulped down more water. “Okay,” she said in a tiny voice. “I could use some aspirin. And you’re right. We should probably talk.”

* * *

When the food came, Will served her in the bed.

Jordyn managed to get some dry toast and tea down, along with the aspirin. He moved their clothing from the chair to the sofa in the sitting area. Then he sat in the chair with his tray on his lap, shoveling in eggs, bacon, potatoes and a muffin, along with several cups of excellent Maverick Manor Blend coffee. By the third cup, he was feeling almost human.

Neither of them said much of anything while they ate. She avoided his gaze as she sipped her tea and nibbled her toast.

“Finished?” he asked finally. At her nod, he took her tray and put it with his outside in the hallway. He returned to the chair.

She smoothed her hair, though it didn’t need it. And then fiddled nervously with the sheet. “I don’t even know where to start, Will. I remember the wedding—”

He blinked. “My God. You do?”

She looked at him like he maybe had a screw loose. “You’re kidding? You actually thought I might have blacked out on the fact that Braden Traub and Jenny MacCallum got married yesterday?”

His racing heart slowed. “Uh. Right. Of course you remember that.”

“What? You don’t?”

“Oh, no. I do.”

“Will. You’re acting strangely.”

Yeah, and why wouldn’t he? It was a damn strange situation, after all. He watched as she plucked at the sheet some more. “Tell me what else you remember.”

She straightened the front of the terry-cloth robe and blew out a slow breath. “I remember the reception in the park, or most of it. I think. I remember what happened in the afternoon. I remember us dancing...” She twisted the sheet. “But the later it got, the more it all just becomes one weird, hazy blur.”

A sinister thought occurred to him, and he went ahead and shared it. “Maybe someone put something in your punch.”

She went straight to denial on that idea. “Oh, no. No. I don’t think so. Why would anyone do a thing like that?”

He regarded her patiently. “Why do you think?”

She wrinkled up her nose at him. “Oh, come on.”

“It happens, Jordyn. We all like to think it doesn’t. But what about that smart-ass cowboy in the white hat, the one who danced by and winked at you when we were first standing there at the punch table together?”

“He wasn’t a smart-ass. He was really nice.”

“Seemed like a smart-ass to me,” Will muttered.

But she shook her head. “No. Uh-uh. I don’t believe he would do a thing like that.” She stared off toward the window that looked out over the hotel grounds.

“Don’t just blow me off,” he insisted. “Think about it. I drank from your cup after you did, remember? So maybe both of us were drugged—Jordyn, are you even listening?”

She met his eyes then, but hers were a thousand miles away. “I don’t believe that guy drugged me. I just don’t. He was a great guy.”

“And you know this, how?”

She glanced away. “Okay, fine. He seemed like a great guy—and he never even had a chance to put anything in my drink. I danced with him once. He was nowhere near me when I served myself the punch.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. You’d have been more in a position to put something in my drink than anyone.”

He gaped at her in horror. “Jordyn. You really don’t think I would—”

“Of course not. And I don’t think that other guy did, either.” She’d stopped mangling the sheet—and gone to work wringing her hands. “And frankly, I’m more concerned with—” she turned away again and cleared her throat “—the question of whether or not you and I...” And then she looked at him again, her eyes huge and haunted. “Did we have sex, Will?”

Damn. Direct question. He tried to think of a gentle way to tell her that he had no idea if they had or they hadn’t.

But he took too long, and she went on. “I hope you know, because I don’t. I don’t know how we got here, Will. It’s all just vague, cloudy images, flashes of us dancing. Of us laughing together. Of us kissing...” Her too-pale face colored slightly.

He remembered those kisses, too, remembered that she smelled so good and tasted so sweet, that her slim body fit just right in his arms. “I remember kissing you, too.”

“So then tell me. Please. Did we...?”

He was forced to confess, “I’m sorry, Jordyn. But I don’t remember, either.”

She stared at him as though he’d just slapped her across the face. “Oh, fabulous.” More color flooded her soft cheeks—angry color now. “So I’m that forgettable, am I?”

“Jordyn, be fair. You don’t remember, either.” He said it roughly, letting his own frustration show—and then regretted his harsh tone when her eyes welled with tears. “Aw, come on, don’t cry...”

Too late. Fat tears spilled over and trailed down her cheeks. She sniffed. “I...I can’t help it. I’m a virgin.” His mouth dropped open when she said that. She let out a sad little sigh. “Or I was a virgin.” He gaped at her as she swiped furiously at the tears running down her face. “Can you just not look at me like that, please?” She squeezed her eyes shut, but the tears still leaked out. “Oh, I can’t believe I just said that, just told you that...”

He tried to soothe her. “Jordyn, it’s okay...”

“It is not okay, and don’t you say that it is. Everything is very, very not okay.”

He pleaded, “You have to believe me. I can’t see how I would ever take advantage of you that way.” But he couldn’t be sure, damn it. Because he just plain did not remember.

Jordyn cried harder. “Oh, look at me. What a mess. And now I’ve said it. Now you know. I was a virgin—or I am a virgin. That’s what’s so awful. I don’t know if I am, or just was, because I can’t remember what happened.” And with that, she buried her head in her hands again. Her slim shoulders shook with desperate sobs.

Will had no idea what he ought to do to comfort her, so he just sat there and watched her cry. He felt lower than low. Not only had he possibly had sex with little Jordyn Leigh—if he had, she’d also been a virgin.