The Cowboy and His Wayward Bride. Sherryl Woods
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more annoying than her momâs.
After all, Mary Jensen had had a tough life. She was practical to the very core. Harlan Patrick, however, was supposed to be Laurieâs soul mate, the man in whom sheâd confided her hopes and dreams all her life. The discovery that heâd merely been indulging what he called âher little fantasiesâ had brought on one of the most heated fights theyâd ever had.
Why hadnât he been able to understand that singing was simply something she had to do with the gift God had given her? Heâd let herâlet her, she thought indignantlyâsing in the neighboring towns if thatâs what she wanted, but Nashville had been out of the question. His ultimatum had been phrased in a generous, condescending tone that had set her teeth on edge. As if the decision were his to make, sheâd thought as she turned on her heel and walked out of his life for good.
In one way she was grateful. It had made it easier to say goodbye, to head for Nashville without looking back. Sheâd dug in her heels, too, even when the going had been tough and sheâd been waiting tables to make ends meet. Knowing that heâd welcome her back with an I-told-you-so smile had driven her to stay the course.
It had been two long, lonely years before sheâd been discovered by her agent, but then things had happened so quickly it had left her reeling. Sheâd captured the Horizon Award for up-and-coming stars with her first album, a Grammy and a CMA Award with her second. Sheâd gone from a show-starter for the superstars to a concert tour of her own that had broken box-office records. In no time, it seemed, every single debuted at the top of the charts and every album went gold.
Only then, with rave reviews and money in her pocket, had she gone back to Los Piños. It was the only time sheâd seen Harlan Patrick in the five years since sheâd left. She was home just long enough to discover that the chemistry between them was as explosive as ever and that he was every bit as bullheaded as heâd been the day she walked out. Heâd actually thought that sheâd be ready to walk away from it all now that sheâd proved to herself she could do it, as if it had been some cute little game sheâd been playing. The man could infuriate her faster than anyone else on earth.
Then, just a few weeks after their reunion, sheâd discovered she was pregnant. From that moment on, all sheâd been able to think about was keeping the baby a secret from Harlan Patrick. Sheâd been able to walk away from him not just once, but twice. Could she do it again, especially with a baby in the picture? She wasnât sure sheâd have the strength or even the will.
For the first few months of her pregnancy, it had been simple enough to avoid his calls and keep the secret. She was either in Nashville or on the road and she was extremely careful that no oneânot even the very discreet Valâhad any idea she was going to have a child. Val knew only that she had no desire to speak to one Harlan Patrick Adams, which pretty much assured that there wasnât a chance in hell heâd get through to her. Eventually heâd gotten the message and given up. Not even Harlan Patrick was stubborn beyond all reason. Nor was he a masochist. It hadnât taken all that long for the Adams pride to kick in and assure her of a reprieve from his pestering.
When Laurie could no longer disguise her expanding waistline, she had scheduled five months in seclusion at her home on the outskirts of Nashville. Sheâd let Val and no one else in on the secret and let her assistant run interference.
âSheâs working on songs for her next album,â Val had told any and all callers, including Laurieâs agent. That had kept him, if not the media, satisfied.
Now she had Amy Lynn to remember her childhood sweetheart by, and it was both the most miraculous blessing on earth and a painful reminder of what might have been. When she thought of how Harlan Patrick would have adored their precious child, she hated herself for keeping silent. And yet, what choice had she had?
None, she assured herself. Handsome as sin, but stubborn as a mule, Harlan Patrick had given her none. The man didnât know the meaning of compromise. Heâd made it impossible for her to do anything other than exactly what she had done.
After Amy Lynnâs birth, she had scheduled recording sessions for the next two months. Thereâd been a short break, barely long enough for her to catch her breath while the album had been rushed to market, followed by the grueling pace of a concert tour set to coincide with the albumâs release.
By then, those closest to her knew about the baby, but theyâd all been sworn to secrecy and they had united to protect both Laurie and the baby from the glare of the spotlight. It couldnât last forever, but it had to last long enough that Harlan Patrick wouldnât connect her child with that last visit to Los Piños.
It meant sneaking in and out of concert halls and clubs, using hotel back doors and heavily tinted limo windows, but the worst of it was over. One more month, mostly in small towns and out-of-the-way clubs to which she owed a debt, and theyâd be home again. She could drop out of sight completely there, live in seclusion with her daughter. Just thinking of it was enough to have her sighing with relief.
They were halfway down the hall when Val muttered a curse. âI left that package of autographed pictures in the office. Wait for me at the back door, and Iâll check the alley before you go out.â
It was an established routine. When Laurie had the baby with her, Val always preceded her to make sure the coast was clear, that there were no paparazzi or overly zealous fans lurking in the shadows. Sometimes it was Val who carried Amy Lynn tucked in her arms as if the baby were her own.
Tonight, though, Laurie was thinking only of crawling into the back of the limo, resting her aching head against the smooth-as-butter leather and catching a ten-minute nap on the way back to the hotel. That was how bad it had gotten. Even ten minutes of uninterrupted sleep sounded heavenly.
She was so anxious to reach the car and settle in that she opened the door of the auditorium without waiting for Val. The instant she did, a photographerâs flashbulb exploded in her face. Panic had her whirling to shield the baby, but she knew in her heart it was too late. The man had had a clear shot in that instant before sheâd been aware of his presence and time to click off a few more shots while sheâd been temporarily blinded by the first brilliant flash of light.
âOh, God, no,â she murmured, imagining the picture splashed across the front of every tabloid in the country. Tears slid down her cheeks even as Val exited the building, saw what was happening and took off after the photographer with fire in her eyes.
To Laurieâs relief, Val caught him at the end of the alley, but all of her pleading and cajoling could not make him relinquish the prized roll of film. Nor could the swift kick she aimed at his shin or the knee she tried to place deftly in his groin, but Laurie had to admire her courage in trying. She vowed to give the woman a raise for going way above the call of duty, even if her efforts had failed.
Defeated, Val returned to the limo. âIâm sorry,â she whispered. âI should have checked the alley.â
âItâs not your fault,â Laurie reassured her wearily. âI should have waited. I was just so tired.â
âMaybe he was just some local guy and the picture wonât make it beyond here,â Val suggested hopefully.
âEver heard of wire services?â Laurie inquired, wishing she could believe Val, but knowing that she was doomed. Harlan Patrick was going to see the picture. Sooner or later someone would bring it to his attention, and then, no matter what conclusion he reached when he saw it, it was going to rip his heart in two.
Then, she thought with a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, all hell was going to break loose. It was just a matter of time.
* * *
âI say we buy up all the copies in town and burn them,â Sharon Lynn said vehemently, tossing the offending tabloid onto her parentsâ kitchen table. âIf Harlan Patrick