Man...Mercenary...Monarch (Royally Wed) Read online

  “She’s not your…” Pete started, then met John’s gaze. The color drained from Pete’s face as he saw the ice in John’s blue eyes and the tight set to his jaw. “You bet.” The cowboy dropped his arm from the woman’s shoulders and took a step backward. “Hey, man, my mistake.”

  “You’ve got that straight,” John said, then looked at the woman. “You’re late. Car acting up again?”

  “Car,” she said, nodding. “Acting up. Again.”

  “Right,” John said. “Come on, let’s go, before someone takes the booth I have for us.”

  “Oh, I don’t think—”

  “No joke,” John said gruffly. “That’s very obvious.”

  He placed one large hand in the middle of her back and propelled her forward until they reached the booth. He shoved his jacket into the corner and glowered at her.

  “Sit,” he said.

  Laura sank onto the leather bench and scooted into the middle, acutely aware that her legs were trembling so badly, they had been about to give way beneath her. She drew a shuddering breath, then looked directly at the man who was now sitting opposite her.

  He pushed his Stetson up with one thumb and met her gaze.

  Blue ice, Laura thought. His eyes were cold, like chips of blue ice. He wasn’t handsome in a smooth, conventional manner; his features were far too rugged, with high cheekbones, a strong, square jaw and a straight blade of a nose.

  His hair was dark brown, thick and shaggy, falling to his collar and badly in need of a trim. Broad shoulders strained against the material of his shirt, and his hands now wrapped around the bottle of beer were large and powerful appearing.

  He was, without a doubt, the most earthy, rough-hewn—the most masculine—man she’d ever encountered. There was an aura of danger emanating from him, a sense of tension, of leashed strength that might explode at any moment.

  Dear heaven, she thought, she could hardly breathe, and the wild tempo of her racing heart was echoing in her ears. Those eyes. Those incredible eyes of his were pinning her in place, making it impossible to move, to tear her gaze from his.

  “I’m not going to gobble you up for dinner,” he said, frowning. “You still look scared to death. I’m not the bad guy here, you know. I rescued you from Pete the Pest, remember?”

  Laura folded her hands on the top of the table and managed to shift her eyes to her entwined fingers.

  “Yes, I know,” she said quietly, “and I want to thank you for what you did. I wasn’t handling the situation with that man well at all.” She sighed. “I never should have come here alone.”

  “Why did you?”

  “I…I just couldn’t face another long evening alone.” She shook her head. “Listen to me. I don’t go around baring my soul to perfect strangers.” She met his gaze again. “I’m acting completely out of character tonight.”

  “Well, if it will make you feel any better, I’m not perfect, nor am I a stranger. I’m the knight who rode in on my white horse and saved you, the damsel in distress.

  “And as far as baring your soul? I’m in this crummy place because I couldn’t handle the four walls that were closing in on me. I needed to escape from my own thoughts. And I can’t quite believe I’m telling you all this.”

  Laura smiled. “I guess we’re both behaving out of character. I suppose the least we should do is introduce ourselves.”

  “No, wait,” he said, raising one hand. “Since we’re behaving so far from the norm, let’s stick with first names only. That will make this whole thing not quite…well, real. I’m John.”

  “Hello, John. I’m Laura.”

  “Pretty name,” he said, smiling slightly, “for a pretty lady.”

  Laura cocked her head to one side and studied John intently.

  “You don’t smile often, do you?” she said. “Your smiles just don’t materialize naturally.”

  John lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve never thought about it,” He paused. “No, I guess I don’t have a hell of a lot to smile about.”

  The waitress appeared suddenly at the booth, startling both Laura and John.

  “I see you took my advice, cowboy,” she said, then looked at Laura. “Drink?”

  “Just a cola, please,” Laura said.

  “You bet. Well, good-lookin’,” she said to John, “you’ve got yourself a pretty woman, you’re doin’ some drinkin’, so get out on the floor and do the dancin’ part. You’ll forget your troubles in no time at all. Be right back with the cola.”

  John shook his head as the waitress hurried away.

  “She probably actually believes that problems are that easily solved,” he said.

  “Do you have problems?” Laura said.

  “Doesn’t everyone?” John said, raising one eyebrow.

  The waitress returned and slid a glass in front of Laura, then she disappeared again. Laura took a sip from the straw poking through the ice.

  “Well,” she said slowly, “I suppose problems are subjective. One person could be upset because they couldn’t find exactly the right shoes to match a new party dress. While another person could be in turmoil due to a serious illness they’re suffering from. But each would say they had a problem.”

  “Ah,” John said, “the lady is a heavy thinker, but what you’re saying makes sense.” He paused. “Since we’ve agreed that tonight is a step away from reality, why don’t you pretend you’ve known me for a long time and tell me your problems?”

  As Laura looked at John, a strange warmth suffused her, a sense of peacefulness that was interwoven with a tingling excitement at being in close proximity to such a blatantly masculine man.

  Yes, she thought, she could talk to John and he would listen, really hear, what she had to say. But she had a feeling that her woes fell into the category of the new shoes to match the party dress.

  John appeared deeply troubled. There was fatigue etched on his ruggedly handsome face, and shifting emotions she couldn’t define were reflected in the icy blue depths of his eyes. It was as though a massive weight was pressing on his broad, strong shoulders.

  Oh, such fanciful ramblings. She was actually beginning to believe that she did know John well enough to sense that he was experiencing a great deal of inner turmoil, and that he needed her to share his crushing burden.

  “Are we on equal terms, John?” she said. “I believe you keep your innermost feelings to yourself. I also think that you’re a loner, a man who moves through life marching to the beat of his own drummer.”

  Laura smiled. “Don’t ask me where all that came from, because I really don’t know. I just feel very tuned in to you somehow.” Her smile faded. “Are you going to be honest and open with me, if I am with you?”

  Hell, no, John thought, taking a swig of the beer that was now distastefully warm. He didn’t dump his problems on anyone…never had, never would.

  He was a loner, just as Laura had pegged him. To have someone to share with required a man to belong, to fit in, and that just wasn’t the way his deck was stacked.

  But yet…

  This woman, this Laura with the unknown last name, was reaching out to him, and for reasons he couldn’t begin to understand he was starting to allow her to touch him deep within, could feel the warmth and gentleness of her caring.

  Crazy. This whole conversation with Laura was nuts. He was succumbing to his bone-deep exhaustion and the tangled maze in his beleaguered brain. Hell, this was more than a step away from reality, it was a world apart from how he normally operated.

  He should leave, just get up and walk out of there.

  But he didn’t want to, wasn’t going to, and he was definitely losing his mind.

  Ah, what the hell. Maybe if he talked about what he was facing, he could get a better handle on it, decide on a course of action.

  That would sure as hell be a new way of doing things for him, but this night was different from any other…and so was pretty Laura. Oh, yes, so was Laura.

  He nodded. “Okay. You’ve g
ot a deal. We’ll be honest and up front.” A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “After all, we’ve known each other for years. Right?”

  Their eyes met and the music and noise of the crowd faded into oblivion. They were encased in a sudden hazy mist that swirled around them, dipping, stroking, heightening awareness of the other and causing embers of desire to begin to glow deep within them.

  “Right,” Laura whispered, unable to tear her gaze from John’s. “I’ve known you for years and years, John.”

  He nodded slowly, attempting and failing to ignore the coiling heat low in his body, and the increased tempo of his heart.

  Lust? he thought, in self-disgust. He was no better than Pete the Pest. Worse yet was the fact that Laura wasn’t even his type.

  She hadn’t come into Jake’s looking for a man, hadn’t been on the prowl like the other women who knew the rules and how to play the game. Lust. He could feel his body reacting to Laura. What a sleaze-ball he was.

  But maybe…yeah, maybe, this wasn’t lust in its usual form. He and Laura were connecting in a place they had invented just for themselves, for these few hours stolen out of time.

  They were caring, sharing, being there for each other in their loneliness, fulfilling needs. This heat thrumming low in his body might be…desire, an honest, more gentle wanting, something he’d never experienced before.

  That made sense. Sure. There was a special quality to this interlude with Laura. It stood to reason that new and different emotions would rise to the fore. He was being transported somewhere he’d never been. So be it.

  “Who are you, Laura?” he said, his voice slightly husky.

  “I…” Laura started, then drew a much-needed breath. “I’m a very ordinary person. I grew up in Michigan in a loving family. I have an older sister, Linda, who is married. We’re very close, friends as well as sisters.

  “I went to Michigan State and got degrees in business and public relations. For the past five years I’ve had a marvelous position as social secretary for the daughters of a prominent family.” She shrugged. “That’s it.”

  “Why are you in Hope, Arizona, of all places?”

  “I’m completing an assignment connected to my job. Tonight…well, I’m just not accustomed to having so many idle hours and I was restless, just couldn’t sit still for another second.”

  “And you were lonely,” John said quietly.

  Laura took a sip of her drink, then looked at John again.

  “Yes,” she said, lifting her chin. “Since we agreed to be honest with each other, I’ll admit I was very lonely tonight. My life suddenly seemed empty, with no…no rainbow in my future.”

  “Rainbow?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “What do you want to find at the end of that rainbow? The ever-famous pot of gold?”

  “No.” Laura shook her head. “Happiness. A special man, my soul mate, to share my life, to have babies with. See? I told you I was a very ordinary person. Nothing fancy.”

  “You’re not ordinary, Laura. You’re special. You’re honest, real, like a breath of fresh air.”

  Man, John thought, where was this stuff coming from? He didn’t say junk like this to women, like some corny would-be poet or whatever. But he meant it. Laura was special, rare, and he was very glad she’d walked into Jake’s Saloon tonight.

  “Thank you,” Laura said, smiling. “That’s a lovely thing to say.” Her smile faded. “Now it’s your turn, John. I’m here. I’m listening. Talk to me.”

  Chapter Two

  Laura watched John as he jerked his head around to stare at the band, then the bottle of beer in front of him, then at a point somewhere above her head.

  He was getting cold feet, she thought, shrugging out of her jacket. John was warring with himself, deciding if he was actually going to keep his half of their agreement.

  She could understand his hesitation. It would be very difficult for a man like John to reveal his innermost thoughts.

  But he would do it, she just somehow knew that he would, because he was a man of his word.

  She felt so connected to John, as though they really had known each other for many years. How strange all of this was. Yet it was wonderful, too.

  Yes, John would talk to her, share with her, when he was ready. She would simply wait patiently…wait for John.

  A silent minute ticked by. Then two. Three.

  John cleared his throat and shifted his gaze slowly to meet Laura’s.

  “I grew up in Hope,” he said quietly, “but I never felt as though I belonged here. I left as soon as I was old enough. That’s my fault, the sense of not fitting in, not my family’s. They’re good people.”

  Laura nodded, her eyes riveted on John’s.

  “My family doesn’t know that I’m back. I checked into a motel because I needed some time alone, to figure out what I’m going to do about…” John stopped speaking and shook his head. “Hell.”

  Laura reached across the table and covered one of John’s hands with one of hers as she leaned toward him.

  “Going to do about what?” she said. “What’s wrong, John?”

  John turned his hand over and grasped Laura’s. Heat shimmered up her arm, across her breasts, then began to swirl throughout her. She could feel a warm flush stain her cheeks, but made no attempt to free her hand from John’s hold.

  So strong, she thought, yet so gentle.

  “The last time I was home,” John said, looking directly at her again, “I came here, to Jake’s, met up with a woman I knew and we spent the night together. We both understood there were no strings attached. It was just…well, a night.”

  “I understand,” Laura said.

  “A couple of days ago I received a letter from a friend of that woman,” John continued. “It had taken quite a while for the letter to reach me because I was out of the country. The letter said that the woman I knew had died several months before.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Laura said.

  “Yeah, well, there’s more,” John said, his grip on Laura’s hand tightening slightly. “The woman had…she never told me, but…” He shook his head.

  “John?” Laura said.

  “She had my baby, Laura,” he said, his voice gritty with emotion. “My son. She hadn’t planned on telling me, nor making any demands on me, but then she died.

  “Her friend took the baby and started the process of finding me to tell me I had a son, that I needed to be his father because he no longer had a mother. He doesn’t have anyone.”

  “Dear heaven,” Laura whispered. “A baby. You have a son who needs you to make a home for him, to raise him and—how old is he now?”

  “Eleven months. He’s going to celebrate his first birthday pretty soon. His name is Jeremiah.”

  “Have you seen him?”

  “No.” John frowned. “I spoke with the woman on the phone and told her I’d pick Jeremiah up tomorrow. I needed some sleep and a plan for—ah hell, Laura, what am I going to do? How can a man like me raise a son?”

  Sudden tears stung Laura’s eyes as she saw the raw pain on John’s face, heard it in his voice. She wanted to close the distance between them, hug him, hold him, tell him he wasn’t alone.

  “A man like you?” she said, blinking away the unwelcome tears. “You’re saying that in such a derogatory manner, and you shouldn’t. You’re warm and caring. You were the one, the only one, who stepped in and rescued me from that aggressive man.

  “You’re holding my hand, John, and you could crush it with very little effort, but I know my hand is safe. I know that I’m safe with you, because your strength is tempered with infinite gentleness.

  “How can a man like you raise a son? By just being you, by loving Jeremiah with all your heart. You’re his father, and I think he’s a lucky little boy to have you.”

  “Thank you, Laura,” John said. “More than I can even express in words.” He drew a shuddering breath and let it out slowly. “I guess all I can do is the best I can do. Man, I’ve never
even held a baby before, let alone…I suppose there are books I can read about child care or something.”

  Laura nodded. “You can use books as a guideline, but don’t expect Jeremiah to do exactly what is described. Babies are people in small bodies. They have personalities, likes, dislikes, just as adults do. You’ll need to follow your own instincts.”

  John chuckled, the rumbly, male sound causing a shiver to course through Laura.

  “You’re assuming that I have some paternal instincts,” he said, smiling. “If I do, they’re news to me.”

  Laura matched his smile. “They’re there. Trust me. No, correct that. Trust and believe in yourself, Daddy.”

  John’s smile faded. “Daddy. Father. Whew. I guess it’s really sinking in that I have a son.” He paused. “I wonder if he looks like me? Do year-old babies talk? Walk?” He laughed. “Play poker?”

  “Oh, it’s so good to hear you laugh,” Laura said, “see you smile.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for you, Laura. I’m very glad that you got cabin fever and came to Jake’s tonight.”

  “So am I,” she said softly.

  They smiled, warm smiles, meaningful smiles, smiles that wrapped around them like a comforting blanket.

  Then the smiles disappeared as they continued to gaze into each other’s eyes. The desire within them burned brighter, hotter, consumed them.

  And they welcomed it, because it was real and rich, and so very, very right. It belonged to them in their private and special world.

  They communicated without words, messages of want and need sent and received with intertwined emotions of peacefulness and excitement.

  John slid out of the booth and extended his hand to Laura. She placed her hand in his with no hesitation and moved to stand by his side. He retrieved their jackets, assisted Laura in putting hers on, shrugged into his own, then dropped several bills onto the table.

  With his hand resting on Laura’s back, they made their way through the crowd at the bar to emerge into the clear, cold night.

  “I walked over from my motel,” John said quietly. “It’s a couple of miles from here.”