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Unlikely Lover
Diana Palmer
The boss is fading fast. His last request is that a writer compose his memoirs was Aunt Lillian's plea. Helping the elderly oilman seemed natural to Mari. But Ward Jessup was anything but old and sickly…."Poor little Mari," her aunt fretted. "I'm worried about her state of mind-deep emotional scars." Ward's sympathy went out to Lillian's niece, and he invited Mari to the ranch. But the woman who arrived was hardly a helpless little girl….Though they knew they had been tricked, neither could fight the power of Cupid's magic arrow.
“The boss is fading fast. His last request is that a writer compose his memoirs” was Aunt Lillian’s plea. Helping the elderly oilman seemed natural to Mari. But Ward Jessup was anything but old and sickly….
“Poor little Mari,” her aunt fretted. “I’m worried about her state of mind-deep emotional scars.” Ward’s sympathy went out to Lillian’s niece, and he invited Mari to the ranch. But the woman who arrived was hardly a helpless little girl….
Though they knew they had been tricked, neither could fight the power of Cupid’s magic arrow.
Also by Diana Palmer
Man of the Hour
Trilby
Lawman
Lacy
Heart of Winter
Outsider
Night Fever
Before Sunrise
Lawless
Diamond Spur
Desperado
The Texas Ranger
Lord of the Desert
The Cowboy and the Lady
Most Wanted
Fit for a King
Paper Rose
Rage of Passion
Once in Paris
After the Music
Roomful of Roses
Champagne Girl
Passion Flower
Diamond Girl
Friends and Lovers
Cattleman’s Choice
Lady Love
The Rawhide Man
Her Kind of Hero
Unlikely Lover
Diana Palmer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Chapter One (#u5d656809-7b27-5c58-9cea-415e40f5aec1)
Chapter Two (#u7b134bc1-6280-5dc6-810b-7d1b9f0d87ea)
Chapter Three (#uc448f1d2-1cb4-50a4-9acb-55cd3318c7c5)
Chapter Four (#u9a907ab2-f221-5026-b37d-8bd0a245713b)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Ward Jessup went to the supper table rubbing his big hands together, his green eyes like dark emeralds in a face like a Roman’s, perfectly sculpted under hair as thick and black as crow feathers. He was enormously tall, big and rangy looking, with an inborn elegance and grace that came from his British ancestors. But Ward himself was all-American. All Oklahoman, with a trace of Cherokee and a sprinkling of Irish that gave him his taciturn stubbornness and his cutting temper, respectively.
“You look mighty proud of yourself,” Lillian huffed, bringing in platters of beef and potatoes and yeast rolls.
“Why shouldn’t I?” he asked. “Things are going pretty well. Grandmother’s leaving, did she tell you? She’s going to stay with my sister. Lucky, lucky Belinda!”
Lillian lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “I must have pleased you, Lord, for all my prayers to be so suddenly answered,” she said.
Ward chuckled as he reached for the platter of sliced roast beef. “I thought you two were great buddies.”
“And we stay that way as long as I run fast, keep my mouth shut and pretend that I like cooking five meals at a time.”
“She may come back.”
“I’ll quit,” was the gruff reply. “She’s only been here four months, and I’m ready to apply for that cookhouse job over at Wade’s.”
“You’d wind up in the house with Conchita, helping to look after the twins,” he returned.
She grinned, just for an instant. Could have been a muscle spasm, he thought.
“I like kids.” Lillian glared at him, brushing back wiry strands of gray hair that seemed to match her hatchet nose, long chin and beady little black eyes. “Why don’t you get married and have some?” she added.
His thick eyebrows raised a little. They were perfect like his nose, even his mouth. He was handsome. He could have had a dozen women by crooking his finger, but he dated only occasionally, and he never brought women home. He never got serious, either. He hadn’t since that Caroline person had almost led him to the altar, only to turn around at the last minute and marry his cousin Bud, thinking that, because Bud’s last name was Jessup, he’d do as well as Ward. Besides, Bud was much easier to manage. The marriage had only lasted a few weeks, however, just until Bud had discovered that Caroline’s main interest was in how much of his small inheritance she could spend on herself. He had divorced her, and she had come rushing back to Ward, all in tears. But somewhere along the way Ward had opened his eyes. He’d shown her the door, tears and all, and that was the last time he’d shown any warmth toward anything in skirts.
“What would I do with kids?” he asked. “Look what it’s done to Tyson Wade, for God’s sake. There he was, a contented bachelor making money hand over fist. He married that model and lost everything—”
“He got everything back, with interest,” Lillian interrupted, “and you say one more word about Miss Erin and I’ll scald you, so help me!”
He shrugged. “Well, she is pretty. Nice twins, too. They look a little like Ty.”
“Poor old thing,” Lillian said gently. “He was homely as sin and all alone and meaner than a tickled rattlesnake. And now here he’s made his peace with you and even let you have those oil leases you’ve been after for ten years. Yes sir, love sure is a miracle,” she added with a purely calculating look.
He shivered. “Talking about it gives me hives. Talk about something else.” He was filling his plate and nibbling between comments.
Lillian folded her hands in front of her, hesitating, but only for an instant. “I’ve got a problem.”
“I know. Grandmother.”
“A bigger one.”
He stopped eating and looked up. She did seem to be worried. He laid down his fork. “Well? What’s the problem?”
She shifted from one foot to the other. “My brother’s eldest girl, Marianne,” she said. “Ben died last year, you remember.”
“Yes. You went to his funeral. His wife died years earlier, didn’t she?”
Lillian nodded. “Well, Marianne and her best friend, Beth, went shopping at one of those all-night department store sales. On their way out, as they crossed the parking lot, a man tried to attack them. It was terrible,” she continued huskily. “Terrible! The girls were just sickened by the whole experience!” She lowered her voice just enough to sound dramatic. “It left deep scars. Deep emotional scars,” she added meaningfully, watching to see how he was reacting. So far, so good.
He sat up straighter, listening. “Your niece will be all right, won’t she?” he asked hesitantly.
“Yes. She’s all right physically.” She twisted her skirt. “But it’s her state of mind that I’m worried about.”
“Marianne…” He nodded, remembering a photograph he’d seen of Lillian’s favorite niece. A vivid impression of long dark hair and soft blue eyes and an oval, vulnerable young face brought a momentary smile to his lips.
“She’s no raving beauty, and frankly, she hasn’t dated very much. Her father was one of those domineering types whose reputation kept the boys away from her when she lived at home. But now…” She sighed even more dramatically. “Poor little Mari.” She glanced up. “She’s been keeping the books for a big garage. Mostly men. She said it’s gotten to the point that if a man comes close enough to open a door for her, she breaks out in a cold sweat. She needs to get away for a little while, out of the city, and get her life back together.”
“Poor kid,” he said, sincere yet cautious.
“She’s almost twenty-two,” Lillian said. “What’s going to become of her?” she asked loudly, peeking out the corner of her eye at him.
He whistled softly. “Therapy would be her best bet.”
“She won’t talk to anyone,” she said quickly, cocking her head to one side. “Now, I know how you feel about women. I don’t even blame you. But I can’t turn my back on my own niece.” She straightened, playing her trump card. “Now, I’m fully prepared to give up my job and go to her—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, you know me better than that after fifteen years,” he returned curtly. “Send her an airline ticket.”
“She’s in Georgia—”
“So what?”
Lillian toyed with a pan of rolls. “Well, thanks. I’ll make it up to you somehow,” she said with a secretive grin.
“If you’re feeling that generous, how about an apple pie?”
The older woman chuckled. “Thirty minutes,” she said and dashed off to the kitchen like a woman half her age. She could have danced with glee. He’d fallen for it! Stage one was about to take off! Forgive me, Mari, she thought silently and began planning again.
Ward stared after her with confused emotions. He hoped that he’d made the right decision. Maybe he was just going soft in his old age. Maybe…
“My bed was more uncomfortable than a sheet filled with cacti,” came a harsh, angry old voice from the doorway. He turned as his grandmother ambled in using her cane, broad as a beam and as formidable as a raiding party, all cold green eyes and sagging jowls and champagnetinted hair that waved around her wide face.
“Why don’t you sleep in the stable?” he asked her pleasantly. “Hay’s comfortable.”
She glared at him and waved her cane. “Shame on you, talking like that to a pitiful old woman!”
“I pity anyone who stands within striking distance of that cane,” he assured her. “When do you leave for Galveston?”
“Can’t wait to get rid of me, can you?” she demanded as she slid warily into a chair beside him.
“Oh, no,” he assured her. “I’ll miss you like the plague.”
“You cowhand,” she grumbled, glaring at him. “Just like your father. He was hell to live with, too.”
“You sweet-tempered little woman,” he taunted.
“I guess you get that wit from your father. And he got it from me,” she confessed. She poured herself a cup of coffee. “I hope Belinda is easier to get along with than you and your saber-toothed housekeeper.”
