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She sighed, then squared her shoulders and sat up a little straighter. It didn’t matter what the reason was that had gained her membership in the TCC; she’d blazed a trail. Now she fully intended to see that other women were considered for entry into the prestigious ranks just as soon as she became the new club president. She couldn’t think of a more fitting way to open the new clubhouse she was sure the members were going to vote to build than to have a membership roster with the names of many of the women who had supported the Texas Cattleman’s Club throughout the years.
When her name was announced as the next speaker, she checked on Sunnie one last time before walking up to the podium to outline her agenda. Looking out over the room, she could tell that the older members were less than pleased to have her in their ranks, let alone see her running for the high office. But that was just too bad. It was time they joined the twenty-first century and realized that a woman was just as capable of getting things accomplished as any man.
After going over each point in her plan for the future of the TCC, she ended her speech with a mention of her pet project. “The building committee has hired an architect and presented his plans for a new clubhouse. It is my sincere hope that you vote to move forward with this project to build a new home for our club and the exciting new era we are entering into. In closing, I ask that you all consider what I’ve said here today and base your vote on what I can bring to the Texas Cattleman’s Club presidency, not on my gender or my last name. Thank you, and I look forward to serving as the next president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.” As she walked back to the table to take her seat, she received a rousing ovation from some of the club’s newer members and a grudging nod of respect from a couple of the older ones.
She was confident that she had done all she could do and represented the Langleys, as well as her gender, to the best of her ability. Now it would be up to the members to decide what direction they wanted the TCC to take when the actual voting took place tomorrow.
“Top that, Price,” she said, throwing down a challenge to her lifelong rival.
His hazel eyes twinkled as he rose to his feet and prepared to walk up to the front of the room. “Piece of cake, darlin’.”
She wasn’t fooled by his use of the endearment. Like most Texas men, Bradford Price called all women “darlin’.” What she couldn’t understand was why it sent a tiny little shiver coursing throughout her body.
Deciding it was best to ignore her reaction, she concentrated on Brad delivering his speech. She had to admit he was an engaging speaker and had a lot of good ideas—some of them paralleling her own. But that didn’t mean she was ready to concede.
For as long as she could remember she and Brad Price had been pitted against each other in one competition or another. Sometimes he won, other times she came out on top. But the rivalry was ever present and at times quite fierce.
Abby couldn’t help but smile as she remembered some of the contests they’d found themselves embroiled in. Their game of one-upsmanship had started in the first grade, when they worked to see who would be ranked higher on the honor roll at the end of each term. In middle school, they had competed to represent their class on the student council. By the time they reached high school, they were in an all-out race to see which one of them would be at the top of their graduating class. That particular competition had turned out to be a draw, and they ended up sharing the honor of being co-valedictorians.
Through it all, they had goaded, teased and thrown out challenges, and although their rivalry had never become a cutthroat battle, they hadn’t been friends, either. That was why, earlier in the coat room when Brad had shown such genuine concern and compassion, he had thrown her off guard. Maybe that was the reason she had felt compelled to tell him about her infertility.
She took a deep breath. Her inability to bear a child wasn’t something she discussed freely, and she couldn’t believe that she had opened up to him about it. She hadn’t even been able to bring herself to tell some of her close friends. Why had she shared one of her most painful secrets with him?
As she pondered her uncharacteristic behavior, Sunnie began to squirm within the confines of the baby carrier, and Abby knew she was about to wake up. If the infant’s whimpering was any indication, she was working up a lusty cry. Before they disrupted the rest of Brad’s speech, Abby grabbed the diaper bag and her purse, then picked up the baby from the carrier and walked to the double doors at the back of the room.
They hadn’t been out in the main hall more than a few minutes when Brad—baby carrier in hand—and the other men running for the board joined them. “After the vote tomorrow, all we have to do is wait until the Christmas Ball to see who wins,” he said, setting the carrier on the floor beside them.
“We’re done for the day?” she asked, placing a pacifier to Sunnie’s eager lips.
Brad nodded. “It’s a good thing, too. I think I need to take this little lady home and give her a bottle before we both crash for the afternoon.”
“Have you considered hiring a nanny?” Abby asked, patting the baby’s back as she swayed from side to side in an effort to keep Sunnie calm.
“I don’t intend to hire anyone to take care of Sunnie,” he said, stubbornly shaking his head. “I took on the responsibility of raising her and that’s what I fully intend to do. I’m not handing her care over to someone else, other than an occasional night out or a business meeting.”
When he didn’t elaborate, she felt compelled to ask, “How on earth are you going to manage taking care of her for the next couple of weeks without your housekeeper being around to advise you?” She hoped he was better at feeding a baby than he was at changing diapers.
Abby watched him run his hand through his thick, dark brown hair. She could tell he was a bit uneasy about being solely responsible for Sunnie’s care. “I’ll do my best, and if I run into something I can’t handle, I’ll call my best friend Zeke Travers’ wife, Sheila, or my sister, Sadie, for advice,” he said decisively. “Sheila’s a nurse and took care of Sunnie until I got custody. I’m sure if needed, one of them would be willing to come over and show me what to do.” He smiled. “By the way, thank you for watching her while I finished my speech. I really appreciate it.”
“I didn’t mind at all.” Setting the diaper bag on the floor, Abby knelt to place Sunnie in the carrier, then secured the straps and tucked a blanket in around her. “My ranch isn’t far from your house. If you can’t get hold of Sheila or Sadie, you can always give me a call and I’ll try to answer whatever questions you might have.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said seriously.
When she stood up, they stared at each other for several long moments as they both realized the other candidates had left and they were alone.
He suddenly gave her a lopsided grin. “Have you looked up?”
“No,” she answered slowly. “Should I?”
He pointed to something hanging from one of the heavy beams on the ceiling. “You’re standing under the mistletoe.”
“I hadn’t….” her breath caught when he stepped forward and put his arms around her waist “.noticed.…” Surely he wasn’t going to kiss her?
“I have to,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “It’s a tradition.”
Before she had the chance to remind him that they were opponents and that she wasn’t interested in observing that particular custom with him or anyone else, his mouth settled over hers in a kiss so gentle it left her speechless. Firm and warm, his lips caressed hers with a mastery that confirmed all the rumors she had heard about him being a ladies’ man. No man kissed that way without having one of two things—either a natural sense of what pleased a woman or a wealth of experience. Abby suspected that Bradford Price had an abundance of both.
Feeling as if her legs were about to fold beneath her, she reached up to put her hands on his wide shoulders. The solid strength she felt beneath the fabric of his black Armani jacket sent her heart racing and did nothing to help steady her wobbly knees. But when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her more fully against him, her legs failed her completely and she sagged against him.
Thankfully Sunnie chose that moment to spit out her pacifier and wail at the top of her little lungs, effectively bringing Abby out of the spell Brad had put her under. Leaning back, she quickly looked around to see if anyone had been watching them. She was relieved to find that the hall was empty.
“I … need to … get my coat,” she said, feeling as if the oxygen had been sucked from the room. “Sheila and I have… some shopping to do for the party…. at the women’s shelter.”
“Yeah, I should get Sunnie home for a bottle and a nap.” To her extreme displeasure, Brad didn’t act as if he had been affected one darned bit by the kiss.
He stuck his hand out and without thinking, Abby reached out to shake it. The moment their palms touched, a warm tingling sensation streaked up her arm. She quickly drew back.
“May the best man—”
“Or woman,” she automatically corrected him.
Shaking his head, he gave her that knowing grin of his—the one that never failed to make her want to bop him. “I suppose it won’t hurt for you to hang on to that little dream until it’s announced that I’ve won.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Price. I most certainly will,” she said, with renewed determination. “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when I win.”
“We’ll see about that, Langley.” He picked up the baby carrier and diaper bag, then turned toward the exit. “If I were you I wouldn’t start polishing your gavel just yet.”
“I could say the same thing about you and your presidential gavel,” she shot back.
His deep laughter as he walked down the hall and out of sight sent a wave of anger coursing through her. What on earth had gotten into her? Why had she let him kiss her? And why was she standing there like a complete ninny, watching him leave?
Unable to understand her atypical behavior, Abby started toward the coatroom. She wished she had the answers to why she’d acted so out of character, but at the moment nothing came to mind—other than she might have temporarily lost her mind.
Shaking her head, she pulled on her coat and walked to her car. She wasn’t certain who she was more angry with, him for being so blasted arrogant or herself for letting him get away with it.
But one thing was crystal clear. Nothing like that was going to happen again. Aside from the fact that she wasn’t interested in being kissed by any man, she was far more comfortable dealing with Bradford Price her lifelong opponent than she would ever be with Brad Price—arguably the best kisser in southwest Texas.
Two
“Zeke, is Sheila at home?” Brad asked, as soon as his best friend answered the phone.
“Hey man, how are things going?” Zeke Travers asked cheerfully.
Brad tried to rub away the tension building at the back of his neck. “At the moment, not good.”
“I can tell.” Zeke laughed. “It sounds like Sunnie is throwing one grand and glorious fit. Where’s Juanita?”
“Out of town and—”
“Uh-oh, you’re on your own with the baby,” Zeke finished for him.
“Yeah and she won’t stop crying,” Brad said, wondering how something as small as a baby could make so much noise. He was pretty sure her wailing had the dogs barking in downtown Royal. “I was hoping Sheila might have an idea of what could be wrong with her.”
“Sorry, man. Sheila went with Abby Langley to do some shopping for the Christmas party they’re throwing next week for the kids at the women’s shelter over in Somerset.” His friend paused. “Do you think Sunnie might be hungry? When Sheila took care of her, I noticed that Sunnie was pretty short on patience when she wanted a bottle.”
“It hasn’t been that long since I fed her, and everything was fine up until about ten minutes ago,” Brad said miserably. “That’s when she started crying, and she won’t stop.”
“Maybe she needs her diaper changed,” Zeke suggested, sounding as mystified as Brad felt.
“I just put a new one on her.” Brad walked over to the baby swing, where his niece sat screaming at the top of her lungs. “I’ve tried rocking her, holding her to my shoulder and walking the floor with her. Nothing seems to help. She normally likes her swing, but that isn’t cutting it with her this evening, either.”
“Man, I don’t know what to tell you.” Zeke paused. “Hang on a minute. Abby’s car just pulled into the driveway. Let me fill Sheila in on what’s going on and then have her call you back.”
“Thanks, Zeke. I owe you one,” Brad said, ending the call. He tossed the phone on the couch and picked up Sunnie to pace the floor with her again.
He hated having to bother Zeke and Sheila. They were newlyweds, and he was pretty sure they had more pleasurable things to do in the evenings than give him advice on how to care for a baby. But he was at his wit’s end and man enough to admit that he needed help.
“It’s okay, baby girl,” he crooned as he patted her back and walked from one room to another. “We’ll get through this.”
If anything Sunnie’s screaming got louder and made him feel like a complete failure for the first time in his life. He had thought he was doing the right thing when he made the decision to adopt his late brother Michael’s daughter. But if today was any indication of his parenting skills, he might have been wrong. Although he had gotten the hang of diapering and feeding Sunnie, it appeared he was a complete washout at knowing what was wrong and how to calm her.
What was taking Zeke and Sheila so long to return his call? he wondered, checking his watch. It had been a good ten minutes since Zeke assured him that Sheila would call him back.
With Sunnie wailing in his ear like a banshee gone berserk, it took a moment for Brad to realize that someone was ringing the doorbell. “Thank God,” he muttered, as he rushed over to open the door. He fully expected to see Zeke and Sheila Travers standing on the other side. “I really appreciate—”
Instead of Sheila, Abigail Langley stood on the front porch with her hand raised to ring the doorbell again. Great. The last thing he needed was her witnessing yet another of his inadequacies in child care.
“I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here,” she said, as she hurried into the foyer. “But Sheila became ill while we were out shopping and asked me to stop by to check on you and Sunnie.”
Apparently he hadn’t been very good at hiding his displeasure at seeing her again. But Abby’s help was better than no help at all, he quickly decided when the baby’s screaming reached a crescendo. Explaining everything he’d tried to get Sunnie to stop crying, Brad shook his head. “Nothing works. She’ll start to wind down and look like she’s going to nod off, then she’ll open her eyes and start screaming again. If she keeps this up much longer, I’m afraid she’ll hurt herself.”
Quickly removing her coat, Abby handed it and her purse to him as she reached to take the baby. “It’s all right, angel. Help has arrived. Where’s her pacifier?”
He handed Abby the one he had been trying to get Sunnie to take. “I don’t think it will do any good. She keeps spitting it out.”
As soon as Abby placed the pacifier in the baby’s mouth and cradled her close, Sunnie’s crying began to lessen. “Do you have a rocking chair?” Abby asked.
All she had to do was walk in the door and take the baby from him and Sunnie reduced the racket she was making by a good ten decibels. “What the hell does she have that I don’t?” he muttered under his breath, as he laid Abby’s coat and purse on a bench in the hall, then led the way to the family room.
Motioning toward the new rocking chair he’d bought the day before bringing Sunnie home from Sheila and Zeke’s, Brad stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and watched as Abby seated herself and began to gently rock the baby. In no time at all Sunnie’s cries had settled to occasional whimpers and he could tell she was about to go to sleep.
“When I tried rocking her, she just screamed louder,” he said, unable to keep from feeling a bit resentful. The immediate change in the baby when Abby took her made him feel completely inept, and it annoyed him beyond words that she had been witness to it.
“I think the problem is that you’re nervous about taking care of her without help.” Abby shifted Sunnie from her shoulder to the crook of her arm. “She senses that.”
“I don’t get nervous,” he said flatly. Frowning, he stubbornly shook his head. “I might feel a little apprehensive about being solely responsible for her care, but I’m not the nervous type.”
Abby laughed softly. “Apprehension, nervousness, whatever you want to call it, I think she’s picking up on it and she’s letting you know the only way she can that it upsets her.”
Feeling a little insulted, he glared at the woman calmly rocking his niece. “So you’re saying it’s my fault she wouldn’t stop crying?”
Her indulgent smile as she shook her head had him clenching his teeth. “Not entirely. I think a big part of her problem is that she’s fighting to stay awake.”
Brad grunted. “I’d rather fight for sleep than against it.”
She nodded. “Me, too. But with each day Sunnie is becoming more alert and aware of what’s going on around her. I think she’s probably afraid she’ll miss something.”
While Abby rocked the baby, Brad went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and see if there was some of Juanita’s apple cake left. The least he could do was offer Abby cake and coffee for bringing the noise level down. When he returned to the family room, Sunnie was sound asleep.
“I don’t think we should risk waking her when you pick her up,” Abby said, her tone low.
“Good God, no.” Just the thought of another crying marathon like the one that had just ended made him cringe.
Rising from the chair, she smiled. “If you’ll tell me where the nursery is, I’ll put her to bed for you.”
He led the way up the stairs to the bedroom he’d turned into a nursery and couldn’t help but notice how natural Abby looked with a baby in her arms. If any woman was meant to mother a child, it was Abigail Langley. It bothered him to think she wasn’t going to give herself that chance.
He had come to fatherhood through adoption. She could reach motherhood that way, too. All she had to do was open herself to the possibility. But she apparently wasn’t ready to consider her options and it wasn’t his place to point out what they were.
While she put Sunnie to bed in the crib, he turned on the camera and picked up the video baby monitor to take with them. “Thank you for stopping by,” he said once they’d left the nursery and were descending the stairs. “It seems like you’ve had to come to my rescue twice today.”
She gave him a questioning look. “Since Sunnie is wearing a dry diaper, I assume you mastered that challenge?”
Nodding, he grinned. “It turned out to be a lot easier than getting her to bed for the night.” When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he asked, “Would you like to stay for a cup of coffee and a piece of cake?”
“I… should go and let you enjoy the quiet,” she said, walking over to the bench where he had laid her coat and purse earlier. “If you have any more problems you can always call me.”
Before she had a chance to pick up her things, he placed his hand to the small of her back and ushered Abby toward the family room. “To tell you the truth, I could use the company of another adult for a little while. As you’ve seen this evening, Sunnie isn’t exactly a witty conversationalist just yet.”
“No, but you have to admit, she gets her point across,” Abby said, smiling.
“No kidding.” He rubbed the side of his head. “I’m still experiencing some ringing in my left ear.”
When they went into the family room, she sat down on the edge of the couch. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll pass on the cake and coffee. If I drink caffeine now, I’ll be up all night.”
“Would you like something else?” He walked over to turn on the gas log in the fireplace. “I think there are some soft drinks in the fridge.”
Abby shook her head. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
“I’d offer you something stronger, but since I don’t drink, I don’t keep it around the house.”
Brad’s sister, Sadie, had told her that he never drank anything stronger than coffee or iced tea, due to the fact that their older brother, Michael, had been an alcoholic, as well as a drug addict. It had ultimately led to the man’s death when, in a drug and alcohol induced haze, he’d crashed through a guardrail and driven over the side of a cliff.
“I’m not much of a drinker, either,” she admitted. “I might have an occasional glass of wine with dinner, but that’s about it.”
Brad sank into the big, overstuffed armchair flanking the couch. “Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against drinking in moderation. It’s when a person doesn’t know when to quit that it becomes a problem.”
“Like it did for your brother?” she asked.
