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“Is that so? And did they teach you at Vassar to drive through blizzards and risk your fool neck?” Pete knew he was being unreasonably hard—he didn’t know the woman, after all—but he had good reasons. The best of reasons.
“What they taught me was to be independent, which I am. And to compete in a man’s world, which I’ve done, quite successfully, thank you very much. They also taught me about male chauvinists who don’t like women. Men such as yourself, Mr. Taggart.”
“Oh, I like women just fine, Miz Potter, ma’am,” he replied, exaggerating the feminist moniker. “I like ’em hot, naked and under me.”
Maddy swallowed her gasp, her lips thinning. “You, Mr. Taggart, are…are…never mind. You just are.” She didn’t want to anger the Neanderthal and find herself dumped back out in the snow, so she kept her unflattering opinion to herself. She doubted a man with a head as thick as a tree trunk would listen anyway.
Pete grinned, noting the heightened color to her cheeks. “I suspect so, ma’am. But I know when to come out of the rain, or, in this case, snow.”
“I admit it was foolish of me to attempt driving to Mary Beth’s house during the storm, but I was anxious to see my sister. And I wasn’t planning on getting lost or having my car skid off the road.”
“Hit the brakes, did you? Didn’t your daddy ever teach you never to hit the brakes during a skid?”
Maddy counted silently to ten, unclenched her teeth and said, “My daddy, as you refer to my father, Mr. Taggart, was more enamored with raising his prized Duroc pigs than with raising me or my sister, or teaching us how to drive. That task fell to my mother.”
Most things having to do with Maddy or Mary Beth had fallen to their mother, and it had come as no surprise when Sarah Potter’s heart had finally given out, from a defective valve, the doctors had said. But Maddy felt her mother’s death had really been caused by Andrew Potter’s indifference and self-absorption, his total lack of awareness where others were concerned. Another grievance in a long list of grievances to heap upon her father’s head.
The hurt in Maddy Potter’s voice was unmistakable, so Pete backed off. The woman obviously had some unresolved issues with her old man, and he wasn’t interested in hearing them.
“It’s not much farther to the house. Once you’ve had a hot bath and hearty meal, you’re going to feel a whole lot better.”
A hot bath! Was the man insane? She had no intention of taking off her clothes in a stranger’s house. Not that she could, even if she wanted to. Her suitcase was still in the trunk of the rental car—something she neglected to mention. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Taggart, but I’ll just use your phone, if that’s all right, and be on my way. I wouldn’t want to cause you any more trouble.”
“Afraid that’s not going to be possible, ma’am,” he said, and Maddy knew a moment of fear. After all, she didn’t know this man from Adam. He could be a rapist or sadistic killer, although, he certainly didn’t seem to be. What he seemed to be was rude, arrogant, the Marlboro man come to life.
Nervous, she started humming Jingle Bells, and he looked at her strangely. “Phone lines are down and the electricity’s out. I suspect we won’t have phone service again for weeks. Fir and pine trees have been snapping like twigs all morning and afternoon. And the forecast is for at least six to eight more inches of snow before morning. I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere for a while.”
The dismay she felt reflected in her voice. “But—but my clothes are back in the car. And my sister is expecting me.” That wasn’t quite the truth. She’d never gotten around to calling Mary Beth. She didn’t want to get into any explanations about why she was coming until she could speak to her sister in person.
It was a conversation she dreaded having. Mary Beth had always been so proud of Maddy’s accomplishments, of her working her way through college and making something of herself in the business world. And Mary Beth, who desperately wanted a child, couldn’t conceive one, while Maddy had had no such problem. The conversation wouldn’t be easy on several levels.
“It would have been helpful, ma’am, if you’d mentioned about the clothes while we were back at the car.” He didn’t bother to hide his exasperation. “It’s going to be a while before we can get her towed.” Perhaps weeks, Pete thought. Willis Helmsley’s tow truck was about as reliable as Willis, who wasn’t very.
She turned her attention back to him. “I wasn’t thinking beyond surviving, Mr. Taggart. I’m sorry if I’ve inconvenienced you.”
“I’m not the one without any clothes, Miz Potter. But I’m sure we can find something for you to wear.” He still had all of Bethany’s clothing stored up in the attic, but he wouldn’t offer her any of those garments.
Even after four years, memories of Bethany were painful. And the anger still festered like an open wound that would never heal. Pete wasn’t sure he wanted it to. The anger at least made him feel alive. And it served as a constant reminder of how stubborn, self-centered and foolish women could be.
THE MULTICOLORED, four-story Victorian house stood out amidst the pristine white snow. It had been painted a buttery yellow with dark green shutters, its gingerbread trim accented in a deep cinnamon color. And it was hardly the house Maddy expected rugged rancher Pete Taggart to own. A log cabin would have suited the man much better. Or better yet—a cave!
“It looks like something out of a fairy tale,” she remarked, instantly enamored of the wide wraparound front porch, which probably sported a swing in the warmer months. She secretly dreamed of owning such a house but knew her modern, efficient cubicle of a Manhattan apartment would have to do.
“Thanks. It’s been in the family for generations. My great-grandmother Maggie Taggart had it built with the intention that a Taggart would always live in it.”
“Then she was lucky her offspring produced males.”
Pete laughed, and his face took on an entirely different appearance. With his dark hair, light blue eyes and chiseled features, he was already ridiculously handsome. But now those features were relaxed, his eyes smiling, and he looked almost appealing.
“Luck had nothing to do with it, or so I’ve been told. Great-grandma Maggie was a determined woman. She wouldn’t have accepted anything less than a grandson from either one of her boys.”
“Hard to believe you dislike women so much when you’ve got such a sterling example of womanhood as your ancestor. I doubt your great-grandmother would have approved of your attitude.” He said nothing, but his mouth set in a grim line, indicating his displeasure.
Great! Maddy thought, wondering why she just didn’t learn to keep her mouth shut and her opinions to herself. Of course, there were some people—CEOs of large corporations, for example—who paid a lot of money to hear those very opinions.
She’d been on the fast track with Lassiter, Owens and Cumberland until her pregnancy had caused a derailment and brought her career to a screeching halt. But she refused to think about that now. It was too depressing! Better to pull a Scarlett O’Hara and think about it later, tomorrow, never!
Hauling Maddy into the house like a sack of feed, Pete deposited her in the center of the front hallway, where they were immediately assaulted by a barking, tail-wagging mutt.
Smiling at the dog, he bent over to scratch him behind the ear and was rewarded with several enthusiastic swipes of his tongue. “This is Rufus. He’s harmless. And he likes women.”
The homely creature wasn’t a true Taggart then, Maddy thought uncharitably.
“Make yourself at home. Guest room’s on the left at the top of the stairs. There’s a bath attached and a clean robe hanging on the back of the door, if you want to take a hot soak. I’ll be back in a bit. I’ve got to check on my animals. Make sure they’re okay. Come on, Rufus.” He whistled for the dog, who followed him loyally to the door, though Maddy sensed he’d rather be anywhere but outside in the cold snow.
She nodded, too startled to say much else. And what she was tempted to say could only get her into a great deal of trouble, of which she had plenty already. “Thank you,” she finally managed, watching all six feet two inches of him disappear out into the frigid snowstorm.
Removing her shoes, Maddy wiggled her frozen toes, then padded across hardwood floors, inspecting first one room then another. The front parlor was filled with antique furnishings; knickknacks and framed photographs hung on rose-and-green-floral-papered walls. The Taggart family, she assumed, studying an old daguerreotype of two handsome men who looked enough alike to be brothers.
Goodness, but the Taggart men had great genes!
After making use of the bathroom, she entered the kitchen, where she found the makings for tea. Deciding to take Pete Taggart at his word, Maddy proceeded to make herself at home.
She was still cold, despite the fact the house was warmed by a very efficient woodstove. As she waited for the kettle of water to boil, she plopped down on one of the pine ladder-backed chairs at the long trestle table, which had seen some use over the years, judging from the deep scars and nicks, and surveyed the large room.
It had all the modern conveniences one would expect of a kitchen, but still retained an old-fashioned charm with the heart-of-pine cabinets and wide-planked pine flooring, covered in part by a round multicolored braided rug. Shiny copper pots hung over the center island, and cheery apple-patterned curtains framed the window over the double cast-iron sink.
The teapot whistled, and finding tea bags in one of the copper canisters on the counter, she fixed herself a cup of the steaming liquid. “Heavenly,” she murmured after taking a sip, allowing the warmth to penetrate and consume her.
The back door slammed shut, and Maddy turned to find her host entering the kitchen, Rufus following close on his heels. The dog flopped down on the braided rug and promptly went to sleep.
Pete had removed his jacket and boots, but his denims were soaked from the snow; they hugged his muscular thighs in a very intriguing fashion. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, not liking where her thoughts had traveled. If there was one thing she didn’t need right now, it was another complication. “I made myself some tea.” His face was chapped red, and he looked chilled to the bone.
“Don’t mind at all, if you’re sharing.” He blew into his hands to warm them.
She filled a ceramic mug with hot water and a tea bag, then set it down before him. “It’s a good thing you’ve got gas appliances, or we’d really be in a fix with the power out.”
“Only the stove’s gas, the rest are electric, so we’re still in a fix. But I’ve got plenty of kerosene lanterns, and the woodstove and fireplaces will keep the house warm.”
“Guess you’re used to this kind of storm.”
Pete shrugged, trying not to notice the way her soft brown hair, shot with streaks of gold, framed a very lovely face, or the way her eyes, the color of green clover, sparkled prettily. “I should be. I’ve had to live with them for thirty-six years.”
“Is there a town close by? I couldn’t see much of the surrounding area, with the way the snow was blowing. I need to get my car repaired.”
“Sweetheart’s about twelve miles to the west of us. It’s small, so there aren’t many amenities. If you want things like malls and movie theaters, you’ve got to drive to Colorado Springs or Canyon City, and I wouldn’t hold your breath about the car. If Willis can tow it out, and that’s a big if, it’s doubtful he’ll have the parts to make the repairs right away. He’ll have to order them from Denver, and that could take a while. Plus, Willis has a real aversion to working in cold weather.”
Maddy was genuinely concerned. “But I need my car. I need to—”
“No sense trying to buck the weather, and no use worrying over things you can’t control.”
“But I don’t want to be an imposition, Mr. Taggart. Is there a motel or an inn nearby where I can stay?”
Pete nodded. “There’s the Sweetheart Inn and Flannery’s Motel.” At her sigh of relief he added, “But they’re both full, because of the Christmas holidays. Looks like you’re stuck with me—for now.”
“Oh, I couldn’t…”
“Sweetheart’s not New York City, and that’s a fact, Miz Potter. I guess you’ll find that out soon enough.”
Sweetheart. There was a story behind that name, she’d bet money on it. Maddy thought about all the advertising possibilities it proffered and smiled to herself.
“Sounds familiar. I grew up in a small farming community in Iowa.” And hated every minute of it. She’d left as soon as she turned eighteen, not that her father would’ve noticed. Her mother had died by then, and Mary Beth had married her high school sweetheart, Lyle Randolph, so there’d been nothing to keep her there, certainly not Andrew Potter, whose only passion in life had been pigs.
She’d read once that an actress had been jealous of her famous ventriloquist father’s dummy while she was growing up, which was exactly how Maddy had felt about her dad’s stupid swine. He’d treated those pigs with far more affection than he’d ever shown her.
Her father was still living alone on the farm, still tending his pigs. Mary Beth kept in contact with him, but he and Maddy hadn’t spoken in years. They’d never had all that much to say to each other. Nothing good, anyway.
“New York must have been quite a culture shock after Iowa,” Pete remarked, drawing her attention back.
“At first, but I’ve grown to love it. It’s got a heartbeat all its own. And you never feel alone there.” Lonely, but never alone.
“I went there once with my—” He almost said wife, but caught himself just in time. Pete didn’t like discussing Bethany with strangers, with anyone really. If Maddy noticed, she didn’t let on. “Didn’t much like it,” he said finally.
Maddy continued sipping her tea. “Guess it’s not for everyone. It’s certainly not tranquil like this. How do you stand it? I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep without horns honking outside my bedroom window all night.”
He studied her thoughtfully for several moments, seemed disturbed about something, then pushed back his chair and said, “If you’re done, I’ll show you to your room. It’s got a fireplace, so you should be warm enough. Tomorrow I’ll try to hook up the generator.”
“I’m truly sorry to be such an imposition, Mr. Taggart. It’s kind of you to put me up.”
“We don’t turn away stranded folks out here in the country, ma’am, so you needn’t apologize. And you may as well call me Pete, seeing as how we’ll be living together for an indefinite period of time.”
The very idea of their “living together” was disconcerting, if not downright alarming, but she nodded anyway, following him up the stairs, thinking that it would be glorious to take off her wet stockings and soak her feet in a tub of hot water. “Where is your room located, if you don’t mind my asking?”
His smile grew teasing. “Why, right next door to yours. But you needn’t worry about locking your door. I think I’ll be able to control myself.”
Her face flamed. “I wasn’t trying to imply—”
“If you need anything, just give a holler. And if you’re hungry, there’re sandwich makings in the cooler out on the back porch.”
He walked away then, leaving Maddy to stare at the audacious man’s broad back and wonder how she was going to survive in his company for even one more day, let alone an indeterminate length of time.
Chapter Two
Garbed in a green-and-white Sweetheart High School football jersey and thick woolen socks that Pete had provided for her the night before, and which were undoubtedly his, judging by the reluctant expression on his face when he’d handed them to her, Maddy made her way across the cold bedroom floor toward the bathroom.
The fire in the hearth had gone out hours before, and the ice smothering the windowpanes promised another day of snow and below-freezing temperatures.
How long was she going to have to remain stranded here? Maddy wondered. Not that she wasn’t grateful for Pete Taggart’s hospitality, because she was, but she needed to get to her sister’s, needed to fix the mess she’d made of her life. If she could. And that was a very big if.
Pushing open the bathroom door, she let loose a scream. Pete Taggart was standing half-naked on the other side of it, looking like a Greek Adonis come to life. Her hand went to her throat, and her eyes widened. “Wha—what are you doing here?”
“Ouch! Dammit!” he cursed, razor in hand, turning away from the mirror over the sink to look at her startled expression. “What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m shaving, that’s what I’m doing.” He looked quite annoyed as he blotted the bloody nick on his face with a tissue. “You might try knocking next time, instead of just barging in.”
Her jaw dropped as she took in his thickly muscled chest lightly sprinkled with hair, corded biceps, and the towel that hung precariously low on his hips, which barely covered his—
“Deck the halls with boughs of holly…”
She didn’t want to think about what it barely covered. Not this early in the morning.
“I—I thought this was my bathroom.”
“Guess I should have made myself clearer. It’s our bathroom. It adjoins the two bedrooms. But you’re welcome to use it. When I’m not in it.”
She tried to avert her gaze, but that meant she had to look into his mesmerizing blue eyes. “You might have told me that we’d be sharing this bathroom. That would have been the gentlemanly, civilized thing to do.”
The sexy grin flashing across his face told her more than words that there wasn’t a civilized bone in Pete Taggart’s muscular, oh-so-very-fine body. “Never been accused of being civilized, Miz Potter, ma’am.”
“You infuriate me, Mr. Taggart,” she admitted, reaching up to secure the scrunchie that had come loose during the night, and hearing him suck in his breath.
Pete’s gaze zeroed in on her long, shapely legs, and his eyes filled with heat. “I wouldn’t be raising your arms up like that, if I were you, ma’am, or you might be revealing more than you were intending.” Not that he minded the view. It had been a long time since he’d entertained a pretty woman in his bedroom, or bathroom, for that matter.
Maddy slammed the door shut in his face, but she could still hear Pete’s laughter coming through, and it filled her with outrage. Sucking in huge gulps of air, she ran to the brass cheval mirror standing in the corner and lifted her arms, observing the effect. Then she gasped.
“Good Lord!” The jersey barely covered her thighs! Why hadn’t she noticed that before?
Oh no! What the man must be thinking!
WHAT THE MAN WAS THINKING was something Maddy was better off not knowing. His thoughts were X-rated, to say the least. Pete had already cursed himself many times over for finding the woman attractive. Attractive, headstrong and intelligent, despite what he’d told her. A deadly combination.
He’d sworn off women four years ago, and he didn’t need this temptation, this complication in his life right now. His self-imposed celibacy—the butt of many a joke by his two younger brothers—was taking its toll. And having a half-naked woman flaunting herself at him was not helping matters in the least. Just because she hadn’t intended to flaunt didn’t matter. Flaunting was flaunting, no matter how you looked at it. And he sure as heck liked looking at it—her—which resulted in some pretty predictable results.
Just thinking about how she’d looked all warm and tousled from bed and dressed in his old football jersey was enough to weaken his resolve and harden his member. “Damn!” Pete fiddled with the gauges on the generator as he tried to figure out why it didn’t work and cursed again.
“Why?” he asked himself. Why now when he was just getting his head back together? His heart would never mend, but he figured he could live with that.
Four years. Four years since Bethany’s death, since the death of their unborn child, and the pain still festered, as if it had only been yesterday.
“I’m sorry, Pete,” Dr. Reynolds had told him when he’d entered the ER that rainy afternoon four years ago. “Bethany didn’t survive the crash.”
“And the baby?”
The old man had shaken his head, and there was pity in his eyes. “Both dead. I’m sorry, son.”
Pete blamed himself for their deaths. If he hadn’t been arguing with Bethany over her new job at the radio station, if she hadn’t run off half-cocked during the middle of a severe thunderstorm…
If, if, if. Too many ifs and not enough answers. None that would suffice anyway. His wife and child were gone.
Though he took his fair share of responsibility for what had happened, he blamed Bethany more. She’d always been headstrong, bent on having her own way about working after they were married. She hadn’t been content to be “just a rancher’s wife” and had told him as much after they were married. She wanted to contribute, to make her mark in the world, to have it all.
