A Willing Wife

Maggie heard the sound of approaching vehicles, and winced. One was her father’s truck and the other could only be Dallas’s. Her nerves began jumping around, and it took effort to look unconcerned.

She hadn’t said a word to her mother about inviting Dallas to a family get-together, even though her stomach had not stopped churning with nervous anticipation all day. This was, after all, her parents’ home, and they could invite whomever they wished to dinner, whenever they wished.

But neither had Rosita mentioned it, and Maggie suspected that her mother knew full well that her daughter wasn’t thrilled with having to deal with Dallas Fortune tonight. Maggie looked at the whole thing as interference, plain and simple, but she suspected that her mother was tickled pink over her own inventiveness.

Ruben came into the house, then the kitchen. He greeted Maggie and Savannah and kissed his wife’s cheek, then headed for the bathroom for his usual after-work shower. Wondering about Dallas, Maggie glanced out the window and saw that he had joined Cruz and Travis in their game of catch.

A dozen things flashed through her mind: He was tall and handsome. He was manly and sexy. He moved gracefully, catching and tossing the ball with enviable ease. He smiled a lot. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

Her throat suddenly dry, Maggie moved away from the window. Travis was reveling in both Cruz’s and Dallas’s attention, and everyone would think she had totally lost her senses if she ran outside, grabbed her son and hid him in his bedroom. But that was what she wanted to do. Not because of Cruz—Cruz was family—but because Dallas just kept burrowing his way deeper into her son’s affections. And nothing could ever come of it, other than heartache that Travis was not old enough to comprehend.

If only she could take Travis and leave the ranch, Maggie thought with a sudden passionate wish to be away from Dallas’s influence. She’d considered sending her résumé to Houston banks, and maybe it was time she did that. It would be great if she had the money to move to Houston even without a job, but it just wasn’t possible now. Yes, she would mail out résumés tomorrow.

“Maggie, this salad looks delicious,” Rosita said.

“What? Oh, thank you, Mama.” Maggie came back to earth with genuine hope in her heart. Surely one of Houston’s many banks would hire her.

“Well, everything’s ready,” Rosita declared. “Where’s Ruben?” She left the kitchen, calling, “Ruben, dinner is ready! What’s taking you so long?”

Savannah got up. “Shall I tell the others?”

“Yes, please do,” Maggie replied. Alone in the kitchen, she took long, deep breaths. Somehow she had to appear calm and nonplussed during dinner. She could not let Dallas or her family know how she felt about Dallas’s presence at the Perez table.

She had to make the best of things. She really had no choice.

Frustrated because she could not fall asleep, Maggie glanced at the lighted face of the bed stand clock: 11:20 p.m. The house was silent. Everyone else was sound asleep. Obviously she was still keyed up over the evening, too tense to relax. Annoyed with herself, Maggie threw back the covers and got up; she had rolled and tossed long enough. Maybe a breath of fresh air would settle her nerves.

She slipped out of her nightgown and, simply because they were handy, pulled on the same skirt and blouse she’d worn for dinner. Finger-combing her hair back from her face, Maggie tiptoed through the house and took a jacket from the foyer closet. Opening the front door as quietly as she could, she stepped out onto the porch. The cool night air was wonderful on her face, and she breathed deeply.

Cautiously pulling the door closed behind her, she saw the huge full moon that seemed to be hanging directly over the Double Crown Ranch. It brightened the earth, almost turning night into day. This was one of those incredibly beautiful Texas nights that she remembered from her youth.

Her mood changed instantly. Smiling to herself, Maggie tiptoed across the porch to the stairs. On the ground, she walked normally, and decided a stroll in the moonlight was exactly what she needed. She left the Perez yard and then stopped to think about direction. She knew the ranch’s layout almost as well as she did the arrangement of the house she’d grown up in.

Recognizing an unusual sense of daring within herself, she decided that the open fields held little appeal. She would hike around the buildings and maybe take a moonlit look at Ryan Fortune’s imposing home.

The hike itself was exhilarating. Everything was so still and quiet, just lovely in the bright moonlight. And Maggie felt quite alone and free to wander wherever she wished. During the day she would not be this bold because there was always someone around—ranch hands doing their jobs, in particular. And, of course, there was always the chance of running into one of the Fortunes. Not that she’d ever been on bad terms with the family. In fact, as a child she had sometimes played with the twins, Vanessa and Victoria, who were only a year younger than herself. Dallas, she recalled, was a year older than she was and had occasionally showed up during play times to tease her and his sisters. Typical kid stuff, Maggie thought with a rather nostalgic sigh. Truth was, growing up on this ranch had been pretty darn great. It certainly beat the way Travis had been raised thus far.

And would she be able to do any better in the future? Houston and Phoenix were both large cities. Travis would have to go to school and have after-school care while she worked in Houston. The one advantage she would have in Texas is that she would be able to bring Travis to the ranch on weekends and holidays to see his grandparents.

It was one thing she’d thought of before leaving Phoenix and coming home. But now, with Dallas hovering over her son the way he’d been doing, she probably should rethink that idea. But, dammit, why should she have to alter her plans because of Dallas Fortune? Why didn’t that man mind his own business and leave her and Travis alone?

Maggie heaved a sigh. She couldn’t say that Dallas in any way had impeded the Perez family’s enjoyment of her excellent dinner and of being together. He’d laughed when everyone else had about some silly comment or joke, and he’d appeared relaxed and at ease throughout the evening. Oh, she’d caught him looking at her with those eyes of his more than once, but he’d said nothing offensive or even suggestive to her, certainly nothing that should rile her.

And yet he had riled her, just by being there. If the man had one ounce of common decency, he would have refused her mother’s dinner invitation. He had to have known that his presence would annoy Maggie. He had to have known he was a thorn in her side—he wasn’t stupid!

“Oh, well,” she said with another sigh.

She suddenly slowed her steps. Just ahead of her was a house— Dallas’s house, the one he’d had constructed after his marriage. Until now she’d had no interest in this home. For the most part Dallas had been away and there’d been no reason to even go near his house.

Maggie eyed it for a few moments, making out its low-slung style, noting its dark windows. Unlike his father’s home, Dallas’s place had no yard lights. Of course there could be dozens of outside fixtures and Dallas simply hadn’t turned them on, Maggie realized. It struck her then that his house looked lonely, even a bit ghostly in the moonlight. Was he a lonely man? Did her mother’s opinion regarding Dallas’s long mourning period have some validity?

But if that really was the case, why had he come on to her so strongly? Maggie wondered uneasily. You’re the first woman that has made me feel like a man in a very long time. Wasn’t that one of the things Dallas had said to her?

It just wasn’t possible for her to understand that man! Maggie stood still for another minute or so, wondering why she would even want to understand Dallas. And yet there was a curiosity that she couldn’t seem to stem.

She began walking again, this time slowly and cautiously, thinking that she would curl up and die if anyone spotted her snooping around Dallas’s house in the middle of the night. Not that she would allow herself to get so close to the house that a potential onlooker could misconstrue her midnight stroll as snooping.

But she knew she was snooping, and it made her nervous. Not so nervous that she turned around and left, however.

When she spotted the gazebo, a beautiful little structure to the right of the house, she sighed longingly. Her own dream house, which she had very little hope of ever attaining, included a gazebo. She had to take a closer look at this one. This was probably the only chance she would ever have to do so. Gearing up her courage by telling herself that there wasn’t a soul awake on the entire ranch, and that even the yard dogs that wandered at will were either sleeping or off exploring one field or another, Maggie stealthily began tiptoeing toward the gazebo.

Sitting in the gazebo, nursing a drink of scotch and a splash of water, Dallas suddenly became alert. Someone was out there, moving very quietly but unquestionably coming closer. Who on earth would be wandering at this time of night? Twisting around, he peered through the slats of the latticed wall behind him—and nearly choked. Maggie! He could hardly believe his own eyes, but yes, the night-wanderer was definitely Maggie Perez.

Dallas narrowed his eyes to see her better. She was heading straight for the gazebo. A small smile toyed with his lips. Since she couldn’t possibly know that the gazebo was a favorite spot of his when he suffered from insomnia, it stood to reason that she also had no idea that he might be in there. This could turn out to be very interesting.

Soundlessly he set his glass of scotch on a small table, and waited.

Maggie approached the short set of stairs leading up to the floor of the gazebo, then came to a sudden halt. The interior of the structure looked black as pitch; obviously the moon, bright as it was, was not a strong enough light to insinuate itself through the narrow openings of what she could now see were latticed walls. She stood there thinking about what she was doing. Hiking around the ranch at that time of night was one thing; entering a building that was strictly private property was quite another.

But if she took just one quick look and left immediately after, who would ever know? Dallas wouldn’t. His house was completely dark; he was undoubtedly fast asleep.

So there really was no one to worry about, Maggie decided. Before she could talk herself out of trespassing on Dallas’s personal property, she tiptoed up the wood stairs and then took one step into the gazebo. It wasn’t nearly as dark inside as she’d thought when she’d been outside, but the first thing she really saw was the shadowy figure of a man getting to his feet.

“Hello, Maggie,” Dallas said quietly.

She let out a shriek of pure terror and turned to run. She shrieked again when Dallas caught her by the arm and stopped her.

“Hey, it’s just me! Calm down and stop screeching,” Dallas said. “You’ll wake up everyone on the ranch.”

It finally registered on Maggie’s shattered nervous system that the man gripping her arm so tightly was Dallas.

“Oh, God,” she groaned. She’d been caught in the act—and by Dallas himself. Humiliation and embarrassment nearly destroyed her. Her knees got so weak that it was a wonder her legs held her upright. “I— I’m sorry,” she whispered tremulously.

“Maggie,” Dallas said gently, “you can come to this gazebo anytime you wish. Don’t be sorry.”

“B-but I trespassed on…on your home!”

“That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard,” Dallas scoffed. “Come over here and sit down.”

Maggie didn’t have the strength to resist, and she let him lead her to a padded bench along one of the walls. He sat next to her and then pressed a glass into her hand.

“Take a swallow of this. It’ll calm you down,” he said.

“What is it?”

“Scotch and water. Go ahead, take a swallow.”

She couldn’t deny that she needed something to quiet the persistent racing of her pulse, and she lifted the glass to her lips and took a big swallow. She choked and coughed on the hard liquor going down her throat.