The Pregnant Ms. Potter. Millie Criswell
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guess I’m not surprised, then, that you’re all still unmarried, as picky as you seem to be.”
“Well, you’re pretty choosy yourself. I don’t see you married and settled down yet, either.”
Her face flushed. “Apparently I wasn’t choosy enough. I didn’t date all that much, and I guess I was flattered by the amount of attention an older, successful man paid to me. I guess he was only after one thing, but I was too stupid and naive to realize it.”
He’d meant to tease, not hurt her. “Someday you’ll meet someone. You seem the type of woman to be married.”
Pete’s comment annoyed the heck out of Maddy, and she stiffened. “Why, because I bake cookies and decorate Christmas trees? That’s a rather old-fashioned assumption, Pete Taggart, if you don’t mind my saying so. A modern woman can do a lot of—”
He held up his hand. “Please, spare me the ‘I am woman, hear me roar’ speech. I’ve heard it before.”
There was pain in his eyes, and she was sure he was thinking about his dead wife, but Maddy didn’t press. It was none of her business anyway. “Since it’s obvious we don’t see eye to eye on women in the workplace, why don’t we continue on with decorating the tree? Where are the ornaments? I’ll fetch them.”
He felt stupid and small for picking a fight with her. Maddy was a successful career woman with a life back in New York. What did it matter if her goals were different from his? He barely knew the woman. And yet, he felt as if they’d known each other all their lives. It was strange how quickly they’d connected. Strange and worrisome.
“The ornaments and such are kept in the storage closet in the guest room. I’ll carry them down for you. You shouldn’t be lifting things in your condition.”
She brushed off his concern with a wave of her hand. “Don’t be silly. You’ve got enough to contend with at the moment. I might look like a weakling, but I’m strong as an ox. Being pregnant doesn’t change that.” She lifted her arm. “Feel my muscle. I work out with weights.”
Smiling inwardly, he wrapped his hand around the puny biceps and squeezed gently. “You sure you’ve been working out?”
She made a face, then said, “By the way—you know that lovely wedding ring quilt that’s covering the bed in the guest room? Do you have any idea where it came from? I’d like to have one made just like it for my apartment in New York.”
“It was my mother’s. She left it to me, as the oldest Taggart, in her will when she died. Mom inherited it from her mother. The quilt originally belonged to Great-Grandma Maggie and has been passed down from generation to generation.
“The old trunk it originally came in sits in the far corner of the guest room, next to the rocker. You can look and see if there’s a pattern or something in there you can use to make one.”
Maddy laughed, as if the idea was totally absurd. “I’m not that clever. Cooking and thinking up brilliant ad campaigns are about as creative as I get. Sewing is not one of my talents. Now Mary Beth, she can sew just about anything. I intend to talk her into making me a replica of the quilt.”
Pete didn’t doubt for a moment that she could. Maddy Potter could sweet-talk anyone into doing just about anything. He gazed at the too-tall tree and sighed.
A sweet-talking woman was trouble. A sweet-talking, pretty woman—well, a smart man would run for cover and hide.
Pete had always credited himself with being smart. Until now.
MADDY WAS WAVING an old wrinkled piece of parchment when she reentered the family room a short time later. She looked so enthralled with whatever she held that Pete’s curiosity sparked immediately, and he set aside the sports magazine he was reading.
“All right, I’ll bite. What did you find, a pattern for the quilt?”
Her eyes were wide with wonder when she said, “You’re not going to believe this, Pete.” She plopped down on the sofa and leaned toward him. “This paper was in the trunk, hidden beneath tissue-wrapped baby clothes. I hope you don’t mind. I just couldn’t resist looking at those tiny garments.” Seeing those clothes had made her pregnancy seem all too real.
Maddy smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, and Pete’s heart started pounding. He was hungry, but not for cookies, and took a deep breath. “I don’t mind. Now, are you going to tell me what that paper says?” He couldn’t recall ever seeing it before, but then he hadn’t felt much like going through his mother’s possessions after she died. It would have been too painful. Sorting through Beth’s things had been difficult enough.
“It’s a legend about the wedding ring quilt, and it looks to be quite old. Listen to this—‘Place this quilt upon your bed and in one month you shall be wed, but if you think you’d rather not, then a spinster’s life shall be your lot.’ Isn’t that something?”
Pete paled somewhat. A legend about the quilt that foretold of a wedding? It couldn’t be true, could it? “It’s probably just something my great-grandmother made up.”
“Maybe. But I also found a letter written to one of her sons. Apparently Maggie wanted him to marry, settle down and have children, so the ranch would pass on to a Taggart. And she didn’t mince words. From the stern tone of the letter, I think her son, Jared, was pretty resistant to the idea.”
“Taggart men don’t like being told what to do.”
“Well, since you’re here as living proof, I guess your great-grandmother got her way, because it’s obvious both her sons eventually married and had children—your ancestors.”
Pete digested what she’d said then flashed a teasing grin. “Well, Maddy, if you truly believe in the legend then you might just find yourself in the same predicament as my great-uncles.”
Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been sleeping under the wedding ring quilt for a couple of nights now. If the legend’s true, and you seem to think it is, you’ll be married before a month is up.”
She reread the legend and gasped. Then realizing that there were actually two pages of paper not just one, she ran her thumbnail between the sheets and unstuck them, reading to herself. “A man and a woman who meet if by chance, will soon be doing the marital dance. A kiss on the lips, the bargain will seal, and undying love will the couple soon feel.”
“Good heavens! This can’t be true.” She forced a nervous laugh. “You’re right. It was just something your great-grandma Maggie made up.” She and Pete hadn’t kissed. They had nothing to worry about.
“What is it? What’s it say?” He tried to grab the paper from her hand, but she held it behind her back and out of his reach.
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Really. Just fanciful musings of an elderly woman, I’m sure.”
“I don’t believe you. You turned as pale as that snow outside the window when you read it. Now let me see what it says.”
Maddy tried to scoot away, but Pete grabbed her gently about the waist and pinned her down with his body, being careful not to crush her with his weight.
Pete was no longer interested in wrestling for the paper, not when Maddy’s lips were mere inches away and he had a burning desire to kiss her.
Licking his lips in anticipation, his intention reflected quite clearly in his eyes, Maddy panicked. “Pete, wait! Don’t do it! You don’t under—”
“I’m sorry, Maddy, but I’ve got to.” He covered her mouth with his own, cutting off her protest, and plundered the honey within, savoring the sweet, irresistible taste of her. Like a starving man he feasted, unable to get his fill.
Losing herself in the passion of the moment, Maddy allowed him to taste, tease and nibble. Until she remembered the words written on the paper, and then