Texas Rose. Marie Ferrarella
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Rose had expected to see in New York. For a split second she thought she was hallucinating. Her head and heart were so full of him that she thought she was just projecting his likeness onto someone else.
But he was real.
And he was here.
It took several beats to get her flustered heart under control. She willed herself to remain calm. “What are you doing here?”
The entire trip from Texas he’d rehearsed what he’d say to her, editing, augmenting, changing words up until the very last moment. Now that he was standing in front of her, his mind went blank and he said the first thing that came to him. The truth.
“Looking for you.”
She wasn’t going to fall into his arms, she wasn’t. That would only set her back. She’d gone through this once, said goodbye and ended it. She wasn’t up to dancing the same slow dance again.
“Well, you found me.” She gripped the doorknob tightly, ready to swing the door closed. “Now go away.”
It was the wrong thing to say. He felt his anger, his hurt, flare up dangerously high. “I am not going to go away. Hell, woman, I’ve come over a thousand miles to talk to you.”
He was standing there, looking better than any man had a right to. All she wanted to do was to throw her arms around him and tell him she was carrying his baby. Their baby.
Somehow, she found the strength not to.
“Then you wasted your time and your money because there’s nothing to talk about.” She squared her shoulders, doing her best to sound cold, but hating the way the words tasted in her mouth. Telling herself that it was all for the best was wearing very thin. “I said it all back in Mission Creek.”
Matt’s eyes narrowed. He struggled not to push his way in. He hadn’t come all this way to frighten her, but he hadn’t made the journey just to turn around and go home again, either.
“You might have said it all back there, but I didn’t. I—”
He stopped as a petite, buxomy, dark-haired woman dressed in a black caftan with royal-blue dragons across it came to the door. Her heart-shaped face lit up as she looked at him, a twinkle shining in both dark eyes. “Is there a problem, dear?”
Her words were addressed to Rose, but her eyes never left him. Matt felt as if he were being literally, smilingly dissected, inch by inch.
“My, my, my, who is this handsome devil?” The woman laughed softly, leaning forward, her hand on his arm. “If you’re selling subscriptions, sign me up for a half dozen magazines. Better yet, why don’t you come in and try to convince me to buy more?”
Oh God, no, Rose thought frantically, that was the last thing she wanted. “Aunt Beth, this is—” Rose stopped, feeling shaky inside.
It had to be the pregnancy, she thought in desperation, praying she wouldn’t do something dumb like faint until after Matt was gone. Her head was spinning and she was struggling to keep the world in focus.
“I know who he is, dear,” Beth said, managing to come off serene and flirtatious at the same time. She winked at Matt.
She’d had the complete story out of her niece within less than an hour of her arrival two days ago. Beth prided herself on getting people to talk to her, even when they were reluctant to do so. Especially when they were reluctant to do so. She firmly believed that secrets were best borne when they were shared. That went double for disturbing ones and she knew that this unplanned pregnancy had disturbed Rose’s life greatly.
“With those beautiful blue eyes and that handsome, rugged face, he could only be one of Ford Carson’s boys. Judging your age…” Beth cocked her head, pretending to scrutinize him, knowing that Rose would hate to have her divulge that she’d told her all about Matt and her delicate condition, a condition Beth knew he was completely unaware of. “I’d say you must be Matt.”
Matt stared at the flamboyantly dressed woman at Rose’s elbow. She looked to be exactly as Rose had once described her to be: one of those ageless women who had been everywhere, done everything. He knew that she was Archy Wainwright’s older sister, which had to put her somewhere in her early sixties at the very least, but she wore her age well and almost seamlessly so. He could detect no wrinkles and only a few lines around her mouth, which Rose had once said Beth called laugh lines.
“Yes, I am.”
“Well, don’t just stand out there in the cold hallway, honey.” Beth took a step toward him to pull him into the vast six-room Central Park West apartment. “Come on in and make yourself at home.”
“He was just going,” Rose insisted, looking at Matt for corroboration. She wished from the bottom of her heart that he hadn’t come.
Was she really that eager to get rid of him? Was he just a poor, lovesick idiot wearing his heart on his sleeve for the first time? He had nothing to go by, no ruler to measure any of this with. He’d never felt for any other woman what he did for Rose. But it seemed to be one-sided, after all.
“Oh, but he can’t go,” Beth informed her sweetly. “He’s only just now come.” Calling an end to the discussion, Beth threaded her arms through Matt’s, two heavy bejeweled hands crossing over each other to hold him in place. “Now come inside and take a load off those dusty boots of yours.”
His arm held prisoner, Matt had no choice but to allow himself to be drawn into the apartment.
As he crossed the threshold, Matt looked around, slightly dazed. He had no idea that anything like this could exist in a city as crowded and noisy as the one he’d just walked through and left twenty floors below. The tremendous living room with its vaulted ceilings had modern furniture and an incredibly white rug that ran the expanse of the room. On the walls were framed photographs of Beth with celebrities and an assortment of husbands and several publicity shots from her acting career. He could feel the woman’s vitality fairly leaping from every one.
Mindful of his boots, Matt looked down at the rug. It was as pristine as an untouched beach. “How do you keep it so white?”
The wink Beth gave him was nothing short of outrageous. He had a feeling the woman had been dynamite in her younger years, and probably still was a force to be reckoned with.
“You can manage anything with enough money, honey.”
He didn’t know about that. Money certainly wouldn’t win him the woman he loved.
“Come.” Beth coaxed him over to the ice-blue Italian leather sofa. “Sit.”
Rose knew that Beth meant well, but this was getting severely out of hand. She looked pointedly at her aunt. “Aunt Beth, can I please see you?”
Making herself comfortable beside Matt, Beth looked up at her niece. “You see me now, dear.”
Rose nodded toward the hallway beyond the living room. “In another room.”
Matt inclined his head toward Beth. “I think she means without me.”
Beth nodded. “I think so, too, dear. Always been a stubborn girl. But take it from me, she’s worth waiting for.” Rising, she patted his hand and then turned toward Rose, her caftan sweeping majestically. There was a patient look on her face. “All right, dear, I’m all yours. What room would you like to go to?”
“The den,” Rose told her. The den, at least, had a door she could close. She didn’t want her words being overheard by Matt.
Damn it, she was here as much to get over him as to spare her family any embarrassment because of her condition. Why did he have to show up and send her back to square one?
Who are you kidding? a small voice mocked Rose as she led the way to her aunt’s den. You’re not anywhere near even started getting over him.
She knew it was the truth. She hadn’t really begun getting over him. But she didn’t have a prayer of