Coming Home to Texas. Victoria Chancellor
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of this large residence, Jodie wouldn’t be surprised if he had live-in help—not that she’d seen anyone yesterday.
She and Travis needed to talk about his ultimatum and she’d much rather do that in private, without even a one-person audience. She still thought a temporary marriage was best. Certainly they needed a whole new plan if he insisted they stay married. Not that she believed they would, of course. They had separate lives and might find that they weren’t compatible if they spent months rather than days together. The one thing they had in common was the baby, and she was willing to share the child with Travis. Surely they could be civilized and compromise on custody.
She hadn’t spent too much time thinking about marriage—although like many women, she’d fantasized about the perfect wedding. She’d been too busy rising in her profession. She’d always assumed one day she’d fall in love, get married and have children. In that order. Now she was doing it in reverse, only there was no guarantee of “falling in love.” But how could she get what she needed—a cooperative husband—without giving up on her dreams?
She couldn’t even call her mother, sister or publicist in California yet. They wouldn’t appreciate being awakened at six o’clock in the morning, West Coast time. But as soon as she and Travis talked again and came to a realistic agreement on their marriage, she’d let her people, family and friends know.
Perhaps a small private ceremony with a minister or justice of the peace wouldn’t be too bad. But Valentine’s Day? That was certainly quick, which was one of her needs, but was it too quick? When she’d told him they needed to get married right away, she was thinking of flying off to Vegas or Reno. Having a quiet ceremony. Perhaps with one photo that could be released to the press.
She had the perfect dress in her closet in Newport Beach. A creamy silk organza with embroidery that she’d purchased in India last year. The dress was beautiful, but she hadn’t found the perfect place to wear it…yet. She’d add medium-height Ferragamo’s and some polished capiz shell and pearl jewelry from her favorite Los Angeles designer. She’d look romantic yet sophisticated, especially on the arm of such a handsome, tall man dressed in black, classic Ralph Lauren.
She stopped and frowned. Surely she wasn’t shallow enough to consider the father of her child as an accessory! No, that’s not how she felt, she realized. She was just so accustomed to thinking in terms of how she looked in public that when she’d included him in the mental picture, she’d made him seem like part of her ensemble.
But Travis was much more. He was opinionated and decisive. Sexy and smart, yet perfectly at home in all types of situations. He possessed a strong sense of values that she admired, even when they conflicted with her need to do what was right for her life, her career and their baby.
A movement below caught her eye. As though she’d conjured him up by thinking so hard about him, he appeared. Wearing a sea-green crew-necked cotton sweater, faded jeans and heavy-soled boots, he looked every inch the wealthy, country gentleman. He could be a model for a new Chaps ad campaign.
“Didn’t anyone tell you that frowning causes wrinkles?” he said in a faintly teasing tone, placing his hands on his hips and staring up at her.
She smoothed away her expression, surprised she’d let him see her emotions so clearly. “Obviously, I’m not using Botox,” she quipped, thinking of all her acquaintances who had the injections to paralyze the muscles that caused frown lines on their foreheads.
“What’s troubling you?”
You, she felt like shouting. But that wouldn’t accomplish anything, especially when she needed his cooperation. “I have a few things on my mind.”
“Join the crowd,” he said with a sigh. “Come down and have some breakfast. Then I’ll help you with any plans you need to make.”
She turned away toward the spiral staircase leading to the first floor, feeling the telltale frown return. Her hand gripped the metal banister until her newly polished nails threatened to snap. She didn’t need his help planning—she needed his agreement that they would cooperate on a temporary marriage, she thought as she tromped down the steps. She needed him to make the media believe they’d fallen madly in love in Monte Carlo and were getting married because they couldn’t bear to be apart.
Well, at least not too far apart for too long, since she planned to continue her scheduled assignments and he probably had commissions to design buildings. Once the news of their hurried, hushed wedding hit the press and they’d granted a few choice interviews, she and Travis could go back to leading their separate lives most of the time. Then she’d fly back to Texas as often as possible and he could visit her in California, especially when she had a function to attend.
Especially when she started showing her pregnancy. She’d need a supportive husband then.
She walked into the breakfast area of the spacious kitchen. She smelled bacon and commented, “You’re quite the cook.”
“Not really. I just know enough to get by. I have a housekeeper, Helen Kaminsky, who comes twice a week. She’ll be here tomorrow and you can meet her. If I’m in town and on a project, she sometimes prepares meals for me. Otherwise, I go shopping myself. I’m amazed by the new prepared food at the grocery stores.”
She couldn’t picture Travis Whitaker pushing a cart through a supermarket, although she had no problem thinking of him in formal attire or country casual or cowboy chic. The fact that they knew so little about each other’s lives accentuated the need to avoid a permanent commitment. They’d have plenty of time to get to know each other well enough to mutually support a child, however, if Travis decided to stay involved.
“I’m constantly amazed at the variety of food available in restaurants,” she replied, forcing her attention back to breakfast.
“Maybe in New York or L.A., but you’ll find the choices much more limited in Ranger Springs.”
“But surely you have restaurants.”
“A few. The Four Square Café for breakfast and lunch. A pizza place that delivers. That’s a fairly recent addition. There’s a Tex-Mex place on the state highway, a fast-food burger chain and then there’s Bretford House for lunch or dinner. That’s where we’ll be having the wedding.”
“If we can agree on terms.”
He turned toward a beep from the oven. As he pulled a pan of perfectly browned biscuits out, he said, “There’s really not much to talk about. I’ll be glad to sign a prenuptial agreement if you’d like. We can each agree to keep whatever we came with into the marriage, although that’s pretty much the law in Texas anyway. Since there’s no baby yet, we don’t need to address that issue right now. Other than inviting family, I’m not sure what else is necessary.”
“How can you be so calm, so glib, about this? Surely you don’t get married every day!” At his chuckle she added, “Do you? You mentioned one ex-wife, but are there more?”
Travis shook his head, making a lock of tawny hair fall over his forehead. “No, one was quite enough, which is a really good reason not to have another one. Ex-wife, that is,” he clarified as he dumped the biscuits into a basket and covered them with a napkin.
“What was she like?” Jodie asked before she could stop herself. His past relationships weren’t really her business, but she was curious about his ex. In Monte Carlo he’d been so adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything past a great weekend. Had his marriage been a disaster? Her fault…or his?
He shrugged, carrying the biscuits and butter to the table. “Tiffany was cute and clever. Petite. Dainty, I suppose, but only in appearance. Inside she was a ten-foot-long great white shark with a huge appetite for anything that caught her eye.”
“And I’m sure you caught her eye,” Jodie commented, grabbing the plate of bacon and carrying it to the table. He’d set two places with place mats and heavy, dark blue ceramic plates.
“If you’re thinking of love at first sight, you’re wrong. She decided I was moving