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Please let him get over it!
Matt watched her walk away, wondering how a man was supposed to deal with a woman like that. Hell, she even ironed her jeans, put creases in the damned things! And with those nicely fitting jeans she wore a white silk shirt that clung in all the right places. Denim and silk: a helluva sexy combo for an Ice Queen like Laura Gilliam.
Dylan chuckled softly. “Just what did that mean?” he inquired, jutting his chin after Laura.
“What did what mean?” As if Matt didn’t know.
“When you ask if she’s holdin’ out on you, she says it’s not the first time. Something goin’ on I don’t know about?”
“Hell, no.” Matt took off in the same direction she’d disappeared. “What say we go liberate us a couple of cold ones.”
“Best idea you’ve had all day.”
Tubs overflowing with cans and bottles of beer and ice stood beneath the shade of cottonwood trees. Off to one side, long trestle tables with paper coverings groaned beneath the weight of food provided by the townspeople. Matt himself had made a contribution: a tub of fried chicken from a fast-food store.
Fishing out his preferred brand of beer, he ignored Dylan’s running commentary about one thing or another and instead watched Laura talking to Marilyn Rogers, the mayor. Marilyn cocked her silver head attentively, apparently enthralled by whatever the lovely Mrs. Gilliam might be saying.
And she was lovely. Matt had thought so the moment he saw her, a new employee at his grandfather’s newspaper. But he knew she was a widow, and out of respect for her loss he’d waited a year before he asked her out—a whole year. It hadn’t been easy, either, because he’d been intrigued by her from the first.
On their one and only date, they’d gone to the popular local saloon called the Painted Pony, had dinner and even danced a little. He’d found her quiet, almost shy, which didn’t jibe with any of the newspaper people he’d ever known. But then, he’d decided she was probably just intimidated because he was her boss’s grandson.
He was also owner of his own successful construction company and proud of the town where he’d been born and raised. He worked hard for the Rawhide Chamber of Commerce and the local Kids’ Club and every other civic issue that came along, and had donated the labor to erect the bandstand in the park. In short, he was very involved in community life.
She wasn’t, outside of her work. And despite her beauty, he hadn’t exactly seen guys knocking down her door to get friendly. Most of the eligible men in town were probably put off by her aloof manner, but not Matt.
Something told him that with a little effort, she could relax enough to be a whole lot of fun—and he was more than willing to help her. That’s why, when he took her home, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
It was a nice kiss—a real nice kiss. For a moment, she’d felt compliant and warm in his arms. Her lips were incredibly soft beneath his, and unexpectedly he felt something...something hopeful flip over in his chest... something like his heart. The kiss was so much more than he’d expected!
Breathless and shocked, he’d pulled back to stare down at her face, illuminated by the porch light. She looked dazed, and for a moment her fingers clutched at his arms. But just as he was opening his mouth to tell her he thought she was just about the greatest thing since sliced bread, she yanked away, gave him a withering look and slapped him so hard his jaw still ached just thinking about it.
Needless to say, there had been no more dates with Laura Gilliam, nor would there be. The slap said it all; you didn’t have to hit Matt Reynolds over the head with a two-by-four.
But over the intervening months, he’d found himself reliving that incident and wondering what had happened. Because something still whispered to him that if she ever let herself go—
Dylan stepped in front of Matt and yelled in his face. “Hey! You heard a word I’ve been sayin’?”
“No.” Matt snapped out of his trip down memory lane. “Was it important?”
Dylan grimaced. “I just asked you a question, is all.”
“Care to run it by me one more time?”
“I just wanna know if Brandee is your date today or are you free to get into trouble with the rest of us boys?” Dylan winked broadly.
Matt sensed a friendly poker game in the offing and felt a moment’s regret. “Yeah, Brandee’s coming later.”
Dylan did not look happy to hear it. “Isn’t that gettin’ just a little too serious?”
Matt recoiled. “No! I got more sense than that. Dammit, Dylan, I just got tired of her chasin’ me. She’s been after me for years, although God knows why. I just finally got tired of runnin’.”
“It’s probably the old ‘football hero and the cheerleader’ thing,” Dylan agreed. “Just watch your step, buddy. She can be real unpredictable.”
Dylan led the way toward a group of men clustered around a horse someone had ridden in on, and Matt fell in beside him. But his thoughts were elsewhere, on the woman who seemed intent on tracking him down, and the other woman who didn’t even like to be in the same room with him.
Damn but life was strange, and women were stranger still.
“Hi, Miz Gilliam, can Zach come play with us kids?”
Laura looked around to find Jessica Reynolds grinning at her. “Well,” she said, “I’m not sure—”
“Please, Mama?” Zach inserted.
Aware that she was frequently called overprotective, Laura tried to calm fears she knew were completely unfounded. Bravely she asked, “Will you keep an eye on him, Jessica?”
“Sure!” The girl pushed all that long hair behind her ears. “We won’t go far.”
“All right. Would you like me to put your hair up into a ponytail before you go?”
“Would you?” Jessica’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve got a rubber band but I kind of get it tangled up when I try to do it.”
“Oh, dear.” Laura took the rubber band from the girl, a plain one that looked as if it had come off a copy of the Rawhide Review. “This really isn’t the best kind to use,” she explained, carefully slipping it around the handful of hair at the back of Jessica’s head. “I’ll pick up the kind you need next chance I get.”
“Thanks!” Jessica turned, rose on tiptoe, and planted a quick kiss on her benefactress’s cheek. “Come on, Zach!”
Laura watched the two kids rush away to join the mob chasing after a soccer ball in the middle of the grassy area. What a sweet child. Matt was a lucky—
She pulled herself up short. Thinking about Matt just annoyed her, and had since the one and only time she’d gone out with him. Was she holding out on him? Much more than an apple pie!
The nerve of the man, to think she’d fall into his arms for the price of a simple dinner at the local gathering place a couple of years ago. Of course, it had been nice dancing with him. He moved with an athlete’s grace and his arms had felt strong around her. The brush of his thighs against hers as they moved in perfect unison sent little tingles running through her from the very first step. Matt Reynolds, she’d admitted to herself, was a very sexy man.
Which didn’t give him any right to think he could grab her like some caveman while they stood before her front door. All right, the pressure of those firm lips on hers had made her... almost giddy for a moment. And maybe she’d clung to him a bit longer than she should have—in shock, nothing more.
Apparently he wasn’t accustomed to dating ladies, because he’d looked absolutely stupefied when she slapped his face.
After that—
“Hi. What’s got you looking so serious?”
Laura pulled herself together to smile at her best friend, Katy Andrews, city reporter for the Review. Black-haired and green-eyed Katy had the suspicious nature you’d expect of a news reporter. Laura herself lacked that attribute, so had settled happily into life-styles.
“I was just thinking about work,” Laura lied. “I’ve got to go back in to write the Citizen of the Year story for Sunday’s newspaper, and I’ll have to make arrangements for someone to keep an eye on Zach.”
“I’ll watch him for you.”
“Really? I’d appreciate that. It won’t take me long.”
“Take as long as you like. He’s a great kid and we always have a good time.”
“Then thank you, I accept. Do you have any idea when they’ll get this show on the road?”
“You mean, announce the Citizen of the Year? After we eat.” Katy glanced around. “There’s Matt and Dylan!” She waved and smiled.
“Talk about looking for trouble,” Laura remarked dryly.
Katy laughed. “With Dylan, yes, but Matt’s okay.” She winked. “You could do worse, you know.”
“I’d rather go over Niagara Falls in a barrel,” Laura cried.
“Okay, let Brandee have him, then. Why not? She’s been after him since second grade.”
“With pleasure.” But Laura felt a shiver run through her at the thought of Matt at the mercy of Brandee Haycox, who seemed like a woman accustomed to getting what—or who—she went after.
“Speaking of love and romance...”
“Is that what we were speaking of?”
“More or less. But speaking of it, what did you think about that classified in yesterday’s paper?”
“What classified?”
Katy’s green eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you missed it! Everyone in town’s talking about it.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“It’s from some guy who signs himself Prince Charming. He’s looking for a wife who’s pretty and nice and likes kids.” She grinned. “Is that cute or what?”
“I’d call it strange. A newspaper ad is hardly an acceptable way to find a wife.”
“Don’t be a spoilsport.” Katy wrinkled her nose. “I’m thinking about applying, actually.”
“Katy!” Laura stared at her friend, appalled. “You wouldn’t!”
“Why not? Hey, twenty-nine-year-olds have to grab the brass rings where they can find them. Besides, it’s probably someone I already know, just too shy to come right out and say he wants to get married and have kids.”
“Maybe it’s Dylan,” Laura suggested with a laugh.
“Maybe it’s not,” Katy shot back. “It could be Matt, I suppose, but he’s got more women than he can shake a stick at without putting an ad in the newspaper. I’ve come up with a few other possibilities, though....”
Laura listened politely to Katy’s list of prospective Prince Charmings but her attention kept wandering to the group of men clustered around the red horse, and to one tall, broad-shouldered man in particular....
“Attention, everybody! Your attention please!” Mayor Marilyn Rogers stood on the bandstand, hands held up to quiet the crowd milling around below. When the level of sound had dropped to a murmur, she went on. “As you know, the purpose of this community picnic is to announce the selection of our Citizen of the Year, a great honor that goes to the man or woman who best exemplifies the unselfish ideals of service....”
Laura, standing unobtrusively near one corner of the bandstand, zoned out This was the third such event she’d covered and she pretty much knew the mayor’s spiel by heart. Not that she didn’t take it seriously; she did. She considered community service to be the sacred duty of every good citizen, and always tried to do her part.
But at the moment, she just wished Marilyn would announce the winner because Laura had to interview him or her, then rush back to the office and—
“—this year’s coveted award goes to the man who spearheaded efforts to revitalize the downtown area...the man who chaired revision to the city’s general plan...the man who headed up the fund drive to refurbish the gymnasium at the Rawhide Boys and Girls Club. Ladies and gentlemen, Rawhide’s Citizen of the Year...Matt Reynolds!”
Laura’s heart stood still. Not Matt! She didn’t want to interview him. But automatically she turned toward the spot where he’d been standing. He looked as stunned as she. Dylan slapped him on the back and gave him a shove. Reluctantly Matt moved forward to accept his plaque to the sound of enthusiastic applause.
Now he’ll probably say some arrogant thing about how it’s high time he won, Laura thought disapprovingly. Some people were just too sure of themselves.
Marilyn handed him the plaque, which was actually a leather-wrapped slab with all the particulars burned into it—get it? John had asked with delight the first time she’d seen it. Rawhide!
When Matt looked up to face the applause, his expression was serious, not arrogant at all. In fact, it looked as if he had to swallow hard before he could find his voice.
Even then, all he said was, “Thank you—thank you all. I don’t deserve this but I appreciate you folks giving it to me.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I know it’s a cliché but...” His gaze wandered over the faces in the throng, settling in on Laura’s for a heart-stopping instant that made her catch her breath.
After a moment he went on in a low, even humble, voice. “This town has given me so much that it’s only fair for me to try to give back what little I can. It takes all of us to make Rawhide the kind of place where we’re happy to live and bring up our kids. If I’ve helped at all, I’m deeply grateful for the opportunity. And for this.”
He waved the plaque above his head, grinned and stepped off the bandstand.
Laura stood fro
en to the spot for a moment Then her background and training surged to the fore. She stepped in front of him when he would have returned to his spot.
“Excuse me,” she said through the tumult of sound, “but I need a little information for the Review. If you have a moment...?”
For an instant, she thought he might turn her down. But then he grinned and said a cocky, “Sure. I try never to disappoint a lady.”
She could have kicked him for that.
It was easy enough to get the who-what-where-when-why of it—the classic five W’s of journalism. But getting to the man beneath was considerably harder, for a variety of reasons.
For one thing, the interview was conducted sitting side by side on the edge of the bandstand, with well-wishers feeling free to wander past to admire Matt’s plaque and offer congratulations. For another, he’d reverted to his old sardonic self. Only when Jessica and Zach rushed up to give him hugs did he relax into soft good humor again.
Jessica beamed. “I’m proud of you, Daddy!” she announced.
Zach parroted her: “I’m proud of you, too, Da—” Stricken, he glanced at his mom and hurriedly changed it to, “Mr. Reynolds.”
The near miss was like an arrow to Laura’s heart but it didn’t seem to faze Matt, who sent both children on their way with hugs and kisses. When they were gone, Laura couldn’t help observing, “You’re very good with children.”
He shrugged. “I like ‘em, that’s all.”
“At least we have one thing in common.”
He looked at her through suddenly narrow blue eyes. “I think we have considerably more than that in common.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Not a chance. Tell me, have you lived your entire life in Rawhide?”
He nodded. “Except for a few years at the University of Colorado.”
“Your family...?”
He looked thoughtful. “My dad died four years ago and my mom moved back to Oklahoma City, where her people are. You know my grandpa and my daughter.”
She couldn’t miss the pride in his voice at mention of his daughter. Softly she asked, “And your wife?”
