A Willing Wife. Jackie Merritt
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put in a restless night. He kept picturing Maggie, and reliving the feelings he’d had while talking to her. Was he being disloyal to Sara because he found another woman desirable? He’d honestly believed it would never happen again, and the fact that it had was still surprising him, even at midnight.
How best to approach Maggie? he wondered, knowing he was driven to do it. Was she a lady who would like being treated delicately? Somehow that image didn’t mesh with the blatant sensuality she exuded. Maybe she liked the he-man approach.
Truth was, Dallas finally had to admit, Maggie made him nervous. It had been a long time since he’d made advances toward a woman with anything in mind but a friendly chat. He was out of practice as far as flirting went—rusty as hell, actually. Maybe straightforward simple honesty was all he had to offer.
Punching his pillow because he was tired and his eyes wouldn’t stay closed, Dallas tried again to steer his obstinate mind away from Maggie Perez. This time he thought about Travis and what a great little kid he was. Was he five years old? Six? He was a handsome boy, with his mother’s dark skin and hair, and bright blue eyes that could only have been inherited from his father.
Where was Maggie’s husband? Okay, Dallas thought disgustedly, obviously he was destined to torture himself all night with questions about Maggie. She hadn’t said that she and her husband were moving back to Texas—she’d said that she was going to look for work in the Houston area. Did that mean that the man she’d married was no longer in the picture?
It occurred to Dallas at some point in the night that he was almost as drawn to Maggie’s son as he was to her. Truth was, he realized, he would like to see them both again.
Something else occurred to him. He could ask Rosita, Ruben or Cruz about Maggie’s husband. Rosita was the logical choice, because both Ruben and Cruz were rather closemouthed. But Rosita loved to talk; if Maggie was divorced, Rosita would tell him.
But, dammit, he’d rather ask Maggie herself! No, he would not take his questions to her mother, he’d take them directly to Maggie.
With that decision made and final, Dallas slept.
The following day Maggie was startled to look out the kitchen window—just to check on Travis’s whereabouts—and see Dallas outside in the yard with her son. A pickup was parked near the front gate, obviously Dallas’s. Maggie’s stomach instantly tensed, and she chewed uneasily on her bottom lip. Why was he here?
In the next breath she couldn’t help smiling. Dallas had taken off his western hat and placed it on Travis’s head. Then he let himself be led around the yard while Travis showed him his toys. Maggie was amazed that a grown man would give some of his valuable time to a little boy he barely knew.
“How old are you?” Dallas asked the youngster.
“I’m five,” Travis said with a big-boy swagger. “And I’m tough, Dallas.”
Dallas swallowed his laughter and said solemnly, “Five is almost a man.”
“Yep, and I’m gonna be a cowboy like Grandpa and Uncle Cruz. They’re tough, too.”
“Yes, they are,” Dallas agreed. Ruben wasn’t a tall man, but he was built like a bull and possessed astounding strength. Cruz had the height in the family, and everyone knew he was Rosita and Ruben’s pride and joy. He wore his shiny dark hair long and sometimes tied back with a leather band, and it was common knowledge that Cruz had attracted women like flies to honey since he was twelve years old. Now, at twenty-nine, Cruz was settled down and happily married.
Dallas felt that their business arrangement was a good deal for both of them. Cruz had a special talent with horses, and Dallas was positive that Cruz would work hard and make his longtime dream of breeding and raising quality horses a huge success. Besides, Dallas personally like Cruz, who was two years older than himself.
“Trav,” Dallas said, unconsciously shortening the boy’s name, “is your mama in the house?”
“Yep! Want me to call her?”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll knock on the door.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“I’d really like to talk to her alone for a few minutes, if you don’t mind, that is.”
“No, that’s okay.”
Dallas ruffled the boy’s hair. “See you later.”
Maggie saw Dallas heading for the front door, and was instantly on edge. Did she look all right? She was wearing jeans and a pink blouse. Her wardrobe wasn’t anything to boast about. Raising a child alone was an expensive endeavor and she’d had precious little money to spend on clothes.
But her hair was fixed and there was makeup on her face—not much because she didn’t use a lot of makeup— Actually, she realized, she looked as good as she could—other than wearing glamorous, more expensive clothing, of course.
When Dallas knocked, Maggie held her breath for five counts, then opened the door. She hoped her smile was only pleasantly welcoming.
Before she could say hello, Dallas huskily said, “Maggie,” in such an intimate way that she backed up a step. She swallowed hard and forced a “hello” out of her mouth.
Dallas suddenly believed he knew the best way to approach Maggie. She was so sexy-looking that she must prefer a man to act like a man. He figured he could carry it off.
“May I come in?” he asked.
“Uh, sure, yes, of course.” Standing back, Maggie held the door open wider so he could enter. Her knees got weak when he passed by her at a snail’s pace and even appeared to be inhaling the faint scent of the cologne she used so sparingly.
She couldn’t think of one sensible thing to say to him. Why are you here? was just too blunt, although that particular question was definitely at the root of her confusion. Unnerved, she slammed the door shut a little too hard.
Dallas grinned. Obviously he was ruffling her feathers, which was a good sign that he was right about her preferring a man to be a man.
His smile broadened. “How are you today?”
“Fine,” she said stiffly. “I’m fine. And you?”
“Right as rain,” he quipped.
Maggie was beginning to remember her manners. “Would—would you like something cool to drink? There’s fresh lemonade in the refrigerator.”
“Thanks, I’d love a glass of lemonade.”
Grateful that she had dusted and vacuumed the house that morning, Maggie said, “Go on into the living room. I’ll get the drinks.”
“Thanks.” Dallas went one way, Maggie another.
When she walked into the living room a few minutes later with two glasses of lemonade, Dallas was standing at the one window in the room from which he could see Travis playing in the yard.
Dallas accepted a glass and said, “That’s some boy you have, Maggie. You must be mighty proud of him.”
“Yes, I am.” She sat on the sofa. “Sit anywhere,” she told him.
“Thanks.” Dallas chose Ruben’s favorite chair and took a big swallow of his lemonade. “This is good. Getting back to Travis, he sure seems focused on being tough—like his grandfather and uncle.”
Maggie groaned. “He wants to be tough so badly, and I don’t think he even knows the true meaning of the word.”
“He’s all boy, Maggie. Let me ask you something. Would you mind if I took him riding sometime?”
“He’s never been on a horse, Dallas. Papa told him he would teach him to ride, but he hasn’t had the time yet.”
“I’d put him on our most gentle horse, Maggie, and guarantee his safety. For that matter, you could come with us and