"Leigh, Allison - Taggart's Bride" - читать интересную книгу автора (Leigh Allison)

Taggart's Bride

by

Allison Leigh

Chapter One

"I suppose you heard." "Hmm?" Jolie Taggart finished folding the last bath towel and added it to the neat stack sitting atop the shining oak dresser. She wanted to get the laundry put away so she wouldn’t have to do it the next day before going to her part-time job at the post office. Waiting for him to elaborate, she glanced up and in the wide mirror over the dresser saw the reflection of her husband, Drew, standing on the other side of the bedroom. He’d unbuttoned his chambray work shirt and as she watched, he yanked the tails from his jeans and shrugged out of it, balling it up in his fist.
He wasn’t looking at her, though, and she stifled a longing little sigh at the sight of Drew’s bare chest. Her husband was nothing if not a magnificent-looking man, though he’d likely figure she’d lost her mind if she told him so.
She scooped up the stack of towels and walked past him to the linen cupboard tucked in a corner of their bathroom. She juggled the high stack and opened the door. The shelves were jumbled, as if Evan had been rooting through for one of his toys. She knew it was more likely that it was Drew who’d left the disorganized mess. He did that when he was searching for an old towel to turn into a grease rag for whatever engine he was trying to fix around their small spread. She spied a relatively neat corner and began fitting the stack of clean towels into it. "Heard what?"
Drew didn’t immediately answer and she raised her voice a little. "You suppose I heard what?" She glanced over her shoulder, hearing Drew’s soft footfall behind her.
Darian’s back," he said in his quiet voice.
Jolie blinked. She was aware of a slow tumble of pale blue and peach terrycloth as the towels she’d been putting away slid from the shelf to the cool white-tiled floor. Her stomach clenched. "I...excuse me?"
Drew watched her, his deeply brown eyes unreadable. "You heard me."
She swallowed. She’d been married to Drew for nearly seven years now. In fact, their anniversary was just a few days off. She’d knitted him a cable-knit sweater in a beautiful silvery gray color. It had taken her months and she’d had to bribe Evan with a bag of chocolate-covered peanuts to extract his promise that he wouldn’t tell his daddy what she’d been working on every afternoon between the time she picked Evan up from school and when she put on dinner before Drew came in for the day.
She reached for the towels, automatically refolding and stuffing them in the cluttered closet. One of these days she’d pull everything out and organize it properly, she thought stupidly. "How, uh, how do you know? Did you see him? Talk to him?" Did you tell him about Evan? She wanted to ask the question but didn’t. Couldn’t.
"Helen told me."
Jolie relaxed a little. Helen Taggart was Drew’s stepmother, having married his father when he was but a teenager. "So he’s in Gillette, then. At Helen’s." A few safe hours away from Weaver, Wyoming, where she and Drew and their son, Evan, lived. Their son. No matter what circumstances had led to Evan’s birth, she considered Drew to be Evan’s father in every way that counted. She believed that Drew felt the same.
She realized Drew hadn’t answered her. "Drew? Darian is...in Gillette. Isn’t he...?"

Chapter Two

"Yeah. He’s in Gillette," Drew finally said.
Jolie eyed her husband, thinking that she should feel more relief than she did.
If only she could read Drew’s thoughts! But even after all these years, she couldn’t begin to hazard a guess. He’d never been one to wear his emotions or his thoughts on his sleeve. Not with her, anyway. Drew...well her tall, dark, and intense husband usually gave new meaning to the idea of one keeping their thoughts to themselves.
She realized she was chewing the inside of her lip and deliberately made herself stop. She wished Drew wouldn’t stand in the doorway like that. It made her feel decidedly edgy. Even after all these years she was still overwhelmed by the feelings he roused in her. It wasn’t just sexual, either. It was something entirely more complicated.
And it was something she, alone, felt.
She forced herself to focus on the topic at hand rather than the mystery that was her husband. "Do you think Darian will come to Weaver, then? To see you, I mean?"
"To see you, more likely." Drew lifted one sun-bronzed shoulder in a faint shrug.
"He has no reason to want to see me," she said carefully. She couldn’t help but wonder what that shrug meant. So uncaring, yet somehow a hair too casual. Or maybe she was just looking for signs of...of something that wasn’t there. "You’re his brother, Drew."
"Half-brother."
She’d always thought it odd how both men had always made that particular distinction when referring to one another. They’d shared a father, with Drew nearly 10 years older than Darian, but the two men were as different from each other as night was from day. And they’d never gotten along. At all.
"Half, then," she allowed. "But it’s been seven years since he went away. Of course he’ll want to see you." Just because she found the idea abhorrent didn’t mean it wasn’t a possibility.
The corner of Drew’s mouth curled, but the movement held no amusement. "Yeah. Maybe if he’s screwed up and needs me to clean up the mess."
Jolie stiffened, feeling a pain deep down inside her. A pain that was with her always, even though she managed to ignore it for the most part. Time seemed to have a way of doing that, she’d learned.
She pushed to her feet and looked up at Drew. Her husband in all ways save one — he didn’t love her. He never had. And the pain inside stemmed from fear that he never would.
She moistened lips gone dry. "Like you had to clean up the mess he made with me, you mean," she whispered even as her heart silently cried out for him to deny it.
But only silence, thick as a humid summer day, hung between them...

Chapter Three

After a seeming eternity, Drew made an impatient sound and shoved his heavy dark hair away from his sun-bronzed face. He pitched his shirt into the hamper, moving past her. "For God’s sake, Jolie. You know that’s not what I meant."
"Do I?" She made herself speak matter-of-factly but it took a huge effort and even then she wasn’t sure she succeeded. "We wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for...for — "
"For the fact that my half-brother left you alone and pregnant seven years ago? No, I guess we wouldn’t have married."
Though it was true, having him state it in such an unemotional way hurt. Deeply. His eyes, so dark a brown they sometimes looked nearly black, watched her intently. As if he were waiting for something. But what? She knew that Drew hadn’t married her because he’d loved her. He’d married her because of his overwhelming sense of family responsibility.
She may have been foolish enough to fall in love with her own spouse along the way, but that didn’t mean he’d done the same. "Drew, I..." she trailed off. She didn’t know what to say.
"He’ll probably stay in Gillette. If he stays at all." Again, Drew seemed to be watching. Waiting.
"That’ll please Helen," Jolie managed despite the knot in her throat. Before Darian took off all those years ago, Helen had doted on her son to the exclusion of everyone else, though she was admittedly fond of Drew. And she’d detested Jolie on sight. Helen hadn’t changed much in the years since. "Perhaps you should go there to see him." The suggestion came out, surprising even her.
"Why would I want to do that?"
"I don’t know!" She struggled to control her voice. "To see what he’s doing back in Wyoming since when he left he made it clear he never intended to return. To keep him from coming here, maybe. You can’t possibly want him to see Evan."
"Do you want him to?"
"Of course not!"
"Then there’s nothing to be concerned about." He reached into the tiled shower and flipped on the water with one hand even as he unfastened his leather belt with the other. With an ease that still managed to dry Jolie’s throat, he shucked the rest of his clothes and stepped under the water.
On any other night, he might have hooked a long arm around her and pulled her — part protesting, part giggling, all delighted — under the water with him. But not tonight. Not tonight when they both knew his brother — half-brother — had returned after a seven-year absence.
But Darian wasn’t only Drew’s younger half-brother.
He’d been Jolie’s first love.
And before he took off, leaving her life in tatters, he’d unknowingly fathered the precious boy who slept in the bedroom at the end of the hall. The boy who called Drew "Daddy."
Jolie closed the cupboard door on the towels she’d finally succeeded at fitting inside, and picked up her husband’s discarded clothing. She slowly pushed them into the hamper atop his shirt. Through the textured glass of the shower door, she could see his tall blurred form standing beneath the pounding water that was already sending curls of steam over the door.
Drew didn’t think Darian would even want to see him unless it was to clean up one of his messes. Jolie couldn’t say whether Drew’s estimation of his half-brother was correct, or not. All she knew was that just the news of it seemed to have put a wall between her and Drew that had not existed even 10 minutes earlier. So she couldn’t help the suspicion that Darian’s return would change their lives, yet again...

Chapter Four

"Mom? Who’s that man?"
Jolie transferred the last sack of groceries from the cart to the trunk of her car. "What man?"
"Him."
She followed Evan’s pointing finger and felt her stomach drop through the snow-dusted earth beneath her boots. She wanted to turn tail and hustle Evan back inside the grocery but it was already too late. He’d spotted her, flashed a smile and headed straight in her direction.
Nothing to be concerned about?
Darian Taggart was as different from his older half-brother, Drew, as spring was from fall. At 22 he’d been all bronzed skin, chestnut hair, and vivid blue eyes. At 29, he was...even more so.
Jolie swallowed down a jolt of nausea and nudged Evan toward the car. "Get inside the car, sweetheart. The wind is getting really cold."
"But who’s the man waving at us?"
"Nobody." She practically frog-jumped him toward the passenger door and yanked it open. "Come on, kiddo. In you go. I don’t want your cold coming back again." She pointed at the package sitting on the middle of the seat that her best friend, Hope Leoni Clay, had given her earlier that day. "You can open that now, if you like. It’s a new video game from Hope." Hope’s husband, Tristan Clay, among other things also designed video games. His new company, CeeVid, had just opened an office right in Weaver. "I think she said it’s the one that will be released next year."
Thankfully, Evan dove for the package with fiendish glee. He loved getting an advance crack at the games that had become exceedingly popular. Not that Jolie was surprised. Everything Tristan Clay touched seemed to turn to gold. What Jolie liked most about Tristan, though, was his ability to make Hope happier than she’d ever been in her life.
She pushed the car door shut just as she heard the scrape of a boot behind her. Bracing herself, she turned and came face-to-face with Darian’s blinding white smile.
"I would recognize those blond curls of yours anywhere," he said cheerfully, and before Jolie could guess his intentions, he’d put his hands on her hips and lifted her right off the ground to swing her in a half circle.
Pure shock held her silent for a long moment. Then she grabbed for his shoulders. "Put me down!"
He laughed and set her on her feet, but her relief was short-lived when he leaned over and kissed her full on the lips. "You’re as sweet as ripe peaches, Jolie Stewart. Just the way I remember you."
Jolie couldn’t have said a word to save her soul.
"Well? Don’t you have a smile for an old friend?"
"Old friend?" She parroted.
He grinned, as seemingly oblivious to her discomfort at the arms he still had looped loosely around her as he was to the snowflakes that had begun to fall. "Well, Jolie girl, we did have some good times, didn’t we?" His gaze flicked toward the car. "But you’re probably an old married lady by now, if the looks of that boy is anything to go by. So who’s the lucky guy?"
"I am," a grim voice said behind them, startling them both. "And I’d appreciate it if you’d stop necking out here on the middle of Main Street."
Jolie stared, dismayed, at Drew who’d appeared out of nowhere. She was faintly aware of Darian’s arms dropping away and his astonished "You?" even as her knees went weak and her vision blurred.
It was her every nightmare come to life, she thought faintly as the world around her faded to an odd, wavy gray. "Drew," she whispered...and everything went black.

Chapter Five

Darian was standing closer to her than Drew. He caught Jolie in his arms just as she crumpled.
Drew’s hands curled into fists. The sight of his wife in his half-brother’s arms bit into his gut like a vicious dog. He yanked open the rear door of Jolie’s car. "Here," he said shortly. He brushed his hand over Evan’s head as the boy leaned over the back of the front seat, his eyes wide.
Darian, having settled Jolie on the back seat, backed away. Drew rounded the car and climbed behind the wheel, starting the engine with a savage motion. He shot out of the parking slot, marginally aware of Darian jumping out of the way, and drove straight to the doctor’s.
"Daddy? Is Mommy sick?" Evan’s face was pinched and pale.
"She’ll be okay," Drew promised gruffly. He turned sharply and pulled into the parking lot of the medical clinic, parking right in front of the entrance. "Grab Mommy’s purse," he told Evan. He went around to the back and gently lifted Jolie from the seat.
In just the few steps to get to the clinic, snowflakes fell on her hair, glistening like diamonds against her golden curls. He carried her inside, Evan trotting behind. "She needs the doc," he said, heading right past the receptionist toward the examining rooms.
It helped that he was familiar with the new Weaver medical clinic. He ought to be, considering he’d helped build it, fitting in the work between the hours he spent doing his real work as a cutting horse trainer. The door to the second room was open and he carried Jolie inside, lowering her to the high, padded exam table.
Jolie’s eyes opened and she stared up at him, confusion clearly written in her tawny eyes. She started to sit up. "Drew? What happened? Where — "
"So, what’s the problem here?" Dr. Rebecca Clay glided into the room, moving around Drew to look at Jolie. She’d already flashed a light in Jolie’s eyes before anyone could speak.
"I just...I got a little dizzy. That’s all."
"She passed out cold," Drew corrected grimly.
"Don’t be ridiculous," Jolie said defensively. "I’m fine. I guess I’m hungry. I missed lunch and — "
"And we’ll just talk for a minute, okay?" Rebecca was calm as she managed to quietly, but implacably, nudge Drew and Evan from the room. "My nurse, Gloria, brought in brownies to the office today," she whispered with a quick wink to Evan after assuring him that his mom would be just fine. "They’re in the reception area if you want one."
"I want to know what’s wrong with my mom first," Evan said, all young male and determined.
Somehow, the sight of his son looking the doctor’s square in the eyes that way made Drew’s tension ease a little. "Come on, pal. Relax." He closed his hand over Evan’s shoulder. "It’ll just be a few minutes. Then we’ll take your mom home and make sure she eats that lunch she missed. Right?"
Evan didn’t look too enthusiastic, but he nodded and went in search of the brownies.
"You have one, also, Drew." Rebecca’s voice was soft, but firm. "Give me a minute with her alone. We won’t be long."
He looked over the top of the doctor’s head. If Jolie gave one indication that she wanted him to stay, there was nothing the physician could do to keep him away. But Jolie’s gaze met his for only a moment before she looked aside.
"Go relax, Drew," Rebecca urged again and with nothing else to be done about it, Drew joined Evan in the reception area.
But relax? He doubted it.
Particularly when he saw Darian step into the office and look around...

Chapter Six

***

Ten minutes later, Jolie walked out of Rebecca’s office, feeling more dazed than when she’d come to and found herself in Drew’s arms in the exam room.
The tableau that greeted her, however, was a blow she could have done without.
Drew standing near the wall, his expression closed.
Darian sitting on a chair next to Evan, their two heads close as they looked at the handheld video game that Evan was playing with.
"What are you doing?" Her voice was sharper than she intended.
Evan’s head lifted and he bounded over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You’re okay?"
She leaned over and kissed his forehead. "I’m fine," she assured him. Then she straightened and looked at her husband. "Nothing to worry about at all. I’d like to go home, now, though."
"Hey, great," Darian pushed to his feet. "Ma told me that Drew there built a house with his own two hands. Could hardly believe it. Can’t wait to see it. I guess that’s the house you two share. Strange how Ma never said you guys were hitched."
"No!" She flushed and looked at Drew, wishing that he would say something. She wasn’t surprised at all that Helen hadn’t mentioned her. The woman would prefer to pretend she didn’t exist at all. "I mean...perhaps another time. I am feeling a bit tired."
Darian shrugged. "Sure. Whenever. I’ll be around a while, after all."
At that, Drew looked over at his half-brother. "Why?"
"Because I’m going to be working at CeeVid. I’m moving to Weaver, man. I thought Ma told you all this. Isn’t it great? It’ll be almost like old times again."
Jolie felt Drew’s dark eyes like a physical thing. "Sure," he said sardonically. "Like old times."

Chapter Seven

Drew stood in the dark bedroom looking down at the twin-sized bed and the sprawling lump hanging half off it. Jolie had joked often enough that Evan could sleep standing on his head in a snowbank and Drew suspected it was close enough to truth.
Once Evan had wound down enough from the excitement of the day, he’d hit the hay hard.
He leaned over and smoothly lifted his son’s head and shoulders back onto the mattress. Evan, predictably, didn’t stir. Not even when Drew pulled the quilt up over his shoulders, nor when he suddenly sat on the side of the bed, his weight denting the mattress.
A good part of him wanted to scoop up the boy and hold on tight. Never let him go. Evan was his. His. He had been since the day Drew had talked a broken-hearted, desperate girl named Jolie Stewart with corkscrew curls out of giving up her baby for adoption and into marrying him.
But the truth was, even then he’d expected this day to come. Seven weeks, seven months, seven years. What did it matter? Drew had known even then that he was living on borrowed time with his beautiful blonde wife and dark-haired son. Because sooner or later either the man she’d loved, his half-brother, would return; or she’d fall for someone else. Someone who’d be able to give her the large family she’d once dreamt of having.
"Drew? What is it? It’s after midnight. Is Evan all right?"
His head shot up at the whisper. Jolie was padding into the room, her arms hugged around herself the way she had of doing when she was chilled.
"He’s fine." He stood and watched her smooth her hand over Evan’s tousled head. "You’re cold. You should get back in bed."
She turned and looked up at him, lifting one hand to push back the hair that hung in wild curls half way down the back of the faded blue football jersey she must have appropriated from his side of the closet. The movement made the too-wide neck of the shirt slide down one ivory-smooth shoulder.
Desire, hard and hot, ripped through him. He very nearly reached for her. But the knowledge that she’d passed out just from the mere sight of his half-brother kept his hands to himself.
"What about you?" she asked.
Dark amusement curled through him as he followed her into the hall and quietly pulled Evan’s door closed. "I’ll be along." Once he’d stuck his head out in the cold night air, that was.
She took a few steps along the hallway toward their bedroom. Then stopped. Turned back, looking at him. Her eyes were shadows in the dim light. "Drew, are...are you all right?"
His amusement died. "Why?"
"I just — You aren’t...well — "
"Spit it out, curly cue."
Her soft lips trembled at the nickname, then firmed. "You seem...I don’t know. Upset. Ever since you told me about, about — "
"Can’t you say his name?"
She made a soft sound. "You are upset. You haven’t even come to bed."
"Did you want me to?"
Her lips parted. "Of course I want you to get some sleep. You’re up every day before dawn and — "
"Sleep."
She cast him a look he couldn’t read, then just as quickly looked away. "You’re my husband."
He didn’t know what devil drove him. "And that’s why you want me to come to bed."
"Actually," her soft voice sounded strained. "I think we need to talk..."

Chapter Eight

We need to talk. Drew figured those had to be four of the most godawful words around. They were never a prelude to something good.
He looked at Jolie. He’d married her. He’d loved seeing her pregnant. Getting big and round with her baby, she’d been everything he’d ever thought a woman could possibly be. Containing his desire for her during that time had just about killed him. But he’d done it. And after the baby came, after they’d settled into a new routine with the three of them, right here in this house that back then had been little more than a weather-tight skeleton, it was Jolie who had finally come to him. Jolie, who’d shyly told him that she was ready to be a real wife.
It had been the night before their first wedding anniversary, he remembered. With no effort at all he could recall every single detail of that night. From the way her hair had flowed wild and abandoned across the white sheets to the way her breath had caught in her throat when they’d joined together for the first time to the way he’d lost control with her like he had never done before.
But she’d still been in love with Darian. It had been Darian’s name that she’d mumbled night after night in her sleep while she’d tossed and turned, caught in the grip of a dream that Drew’s imagination had no trouble whatsoever deciphering.
Yeah, she’d loved his gregarious fun-loving half-brother all right. And to his dying day he’d remember that particular fact.
"Let’s just make it quick," he said evenly. "Darian’s back. Apparently to stay. You don’t have to tell me how you feel about him."
"But that wasn’t — "
"I’ll find a new place to stay in the morning. Unless you want to move out instead. I’d just as soon not sell this place, though, if you don’t mind. We can work something out about the land and the stables." He didn’t know what, though. He trained cutting horses. He needed space to do it.
She’d gone pale. Even in the dim light he could see it. He caught her arms in his hands. She was so cold he could feel the goosebumps on her satiny skin.
"Are you going to pass out again?"
She wrenched out of his arms. "No, I am not. What do you mean, move out? What on earth are you talking about?"
On the best of occasions, Drew didn’t figure he had an over-abundance of patience. And now, it was in seriously meager supply. "You and Darian."
"Me and Darian...what?"
"I saw you two today, remember? Climbing down each other’s throats."
Jolie felt Drew’s words like a physical slap. "He kissed me," she said stiffly.
"And you fainted dead away."
"I was shocked. And...and hungry."
Drew didn’t respond to that. She stared at him, feeling the very foundation of her world cracking right beneath her feet. But how could that be when they were standing in their very own hall right outside their bedroom?
Her voice felt brittle as she forced the question past her numb lips. "What exactly are you saying here, Drew?"

Chapter Nine

Jolie waited, feeling on the edge of a bottomless chasm. Drew’s tall form filled her vision. A button looked loose on the front of his denim shirt, she noticed, and felt the urge to scream rise inside her.
"You can have Bennett Ludlow represent you if you want," he said. His voice was low. Husky. "He’s right here in town, so it’ll be convenient for you. I’ll find a lawyer from over in Braden."
Had she ever felt this cold in her life? Only by clenching her jaw was she able to keep her teeth from chattering. "Lawyers. You...want a divorce, then. That’s what you’re saying."
He didn’t answer immediately and she felt a quick dart of hope. But then he silently inclined his head. Just once. And hope died.
Drew no longer wanted her as his wife.
Maybe later she’d appreciate the irony of the situation. Unwanted by both Taggart brothers in one lifetime. But right now, right this minute, she could barely draw breath. "And Evan?"
Finally, Drew showed some emotion. His jaw cocked to one side and he shoved one hand through his hair, leaving it in disheveled black waves that made her fingers long to stroke back from his brow. "You can have anything you want, Jolie. But I won’t lose my son."
No, you’ll just throw away your wife. The cry went unspoken. One thing was clear. If she didn’t leave his presence right this second, she was going to break down. "You built this place," she said stiffly. "You’ll stay here."
Then she turned on her heel and went into their bedroom. She pushed the door closed, hearing it latch very, very quietly. Her vision blurred as she leaned back against the door panel. After a long moment, she heard the creak of a floor board. The scrape of a boot.
And then...nothing.
She slid down the door and buried her face in her hands, tears slowly scalding their way down her cheeks.

***

"What do you mean you and Evan have moved into Rebecca’s old apartment?"
Despite the horrified question from Hope, Jolie continued sorting mail into the post office boxes. She tried to have the mail in the boxes by 10 very morning. The townspeople counted on it. "I mean we’ve moved. As of yesterday."
"But...but why?"
She wouldn’t cry. She just would not. She’d spent all last night in tears, muffling them in her pillow so she wouldn’t disturb Evan in the next room. He’d made no secret of his confusion of the turn of events that had them hastily packing some of their clothes and moving from their wood-surrounded ranch house to the apartment that had once been Dr. Rebecca’s home before she’d married Sawyer Clay.
Jolie was confused, too.
And surely by now there weren’t any tears left inside her.
"Ask Drew," she told her friend. "He’s the one who decided it." She slotted the last letter and slammed shut the hinged metal door.
"Tristan hasn’t said anything to me. He and Drew are best friends but I don’t think Drew’s told him a thing." Hope’s violet eyes were shocked behind her delicate gold-framed glasses.
She followed Jolie back out to the front counter of the small — and mercifully empty — post office. "I don’t understand this. I thought you guys were the perfect couple."
So much for not having any tears left. "You and Tristan are the perfect couple," Jolie corrected. She dashed her fingers across her damp cheek and blindly began straightening the mailing supplies stacked on the counter. "You love him and he loves you."
Hope frowned. "What are you saying? Don’t you love him?"
The slippery express mail envelopes scattered all over again. "Yes, I love Drew. But he doesn’t love me, Hope," she admitted miserably. "He never has. And I need to start facing the fact that he never will."

Chapter Ten

Hope was staring at Jolie after she’d told her the real bare bones of her marriage as if she’d never seen her before. "When you eloped with Drew it seemed like the most romantic thing ever. I can’t believe you never told me the truth. That you bore all that worry alone. I was off at college, but still — "
Jolie pressed her fingertips against her aching temples. "I couldn’t tell you. It was so humiliating, Hope. Once Darian got what he wanted from me — " her lips pressed together for a moment " — he headed on down the road just like my mother warned me he would. But I wouldn’t listen. I had visions of becoming Darian Taggart’s bride. His wants were rather less romantic."
"And Darian left town before you learned you were pregnant with Evan. Then, in steps big brother and you became Drew Taggart’s bride instead."
It was a simplistic explanation but Jolie didn’t have the energy to correct her friend. The truth of the matter was much more complicated. "Essentially."
"Drew was protecting you. He cared about you, even then, Jolie. For goodness’ sake, he was at the height of his rodeo career. He was one of the top competitors in the PRCA."
Jolie swallowed. Nodded. He’d not only given up his career, but his inheritance from his father that Helen had controlled, all to ensure that her child remained a Taggart.
Helen had detested Jolie badly enough that after their quiet elopement, she’d packed up her house in Weaver and moved to the more populated Gillette. She’d always considered Jolie beneath her, mostly because Helen and Jolie’s mother had never gotten on. Even in a town as small as Weaver, there had been definite attitudes. And Helen had had it in spades.
Drew hadn’t let any of his stepmother’s disapproval deter him, however. Heavens, he’d been a grown man and not given to taking orders from anyone, much less his stepmother. Which had further cemented Helen’s dislike of Jolie. Since then, Drew had built up his reputation as one of the best cutting horse trainers in the country and even now his schedule was booked at least two years out. He still visited Helen regularly, and Jolie generally went along. But the woman’s attitude hadn’t changed much over the years.
"Then surely that tells you how much Drew cared. He wouldn’t have had to marry you, Jolie. He might have found other ways to help. He was — "
"Was protecting my child," Jolie interrupted. "Because he knew I was going to have to give the baby up for adoption." She pressed her palm to her abdomen at the terrible memory. Her mother had been nearly incapacitated with her penchant for alcohol. Jolie supported them as best she could since she’d been 15. That summer, after Jolie graduated from high school, Darian had left town and his mother, Helen, had assured Jolie that he wasn’t likely to return. She’d been only 18 years old, but she’d known she couldn’t hope to provide a suitable life for her child no matter how badly she’d wanted to keep the baby.
Drew had been back in town during that time recovering from several cracked ribs and he’d learned of Jolie’s predicament when he’d come across her crying right here in this very post office.
Jolie had never felt so alone as she had then. She’d had no means to support a child, no matter how much she wanted the baby. Abortion for her was simply out of the question. She’d known she’d have to give up her child for adoption. But Drew had offered an alternative. And though she’d first refused, he’d hung around for weeks, gently, casually, inexorably changing her mind in that quiet way he had.
"Drew latched onto Darian’s return like a drowning man, Hope." Jolie still could hardly believe what had occurred. "He wanted out, obviously. And now he’s got an excuse that his conscience can apparently live with. He even told me to hire Bennett Ludlow to represent me in our divorce."
Hope frowned. "But he’s never given you any indication that he wanted out of your marriage before, has he?"

Chapter Eleven

"So he can feel sorry for me all over again like he did when Darian dumped me? I can’t face that, Hope. I just can’t. If there’s one thing this has made me realize it is that I can’t keep on this way." Her hands pressed unconsciously against her abdomen. "I won’t be just a responsibility to him."
Hope sighed. "I can’t believe Darian is going to be working at CeeVid," she muttered. "And he really doesn’t suspect anything about Evan?"
"No. And he’s not going to, if I have anything to say about it. Drew may not want me, but he is Evan’s father. On that, at least, we agree. Some day we’ll tell Evan when he’s old enough to understand. But not now. Not yet."
Both women looked up when the bell over the door tinkled softly. At the sight of her handsome hunk of a husband entering, Hope patted Jolie on the back. "You and Evan come to dinner tonight," she said softly before moving around the counter toward Tristan and the baby he held.
"I can’t," Jolie said. "There’s a parent/teacher meeting at school."
"Tomorrow then," Hope insisted. "And I know you probably don’t feel like company, but if you don’t come to us, we’ll come to you. Promise me, now."
"Marriage has made you bossy," Jolie observed, striving for some sense of normalcy.
"Motherhood has made her bossy," Tristan Clay corrected, his smile crooked and utterly indulgent. "And your son here is making it obvious that there are some things he prefers you for, sweetpea."
Jolie watched Tristan transfer the blanket-bundled baby Erik from his arms to Hope’s as they left with a wave. If ever there was a man besotted with his wife and child, it was a former jetsetter named Tristan Clay.
She closed her eyes and wished she were a better person. The kind of person who wouldn’t feel envious of her very best friend’s happiness.
Then the bell jingled again signaling the steady start of postal customers and Jolie could only be grateful, for it gave her little time to sit and brood.
She didn’t take a break until lunch. Even then she sat in the back where she still had a view of the front counter. Her sandwich held little appeal, but she forced a few bites down, mindful of what Dr. Rebecca had told her. The door chimes jingled and she was glad of the interruption from her depressing thoughts. She tossed away the half-eaten sandwich and went out front.
Her stomach lurched unsteadily. "Drew," she breathed. Had he changed his mind? "What are you doing here?"

Chapter Twelve

It had been two hellish days since Jolie had silently moved out of their home. And the sight of her was like glimpsing sunshine through a blizzard.
Before he did something stupid, like beg Jolie to come home whether she loved someone else or not, Drew set the small duffel bag on the counter. "Evan called me."
A look he couldn’t decipher flitted through her eyes. "When? He’s in school right now."
Drew dragged his gaze away from her face, only to be distracted by the sweet shape of her breasts beneath her sunny-yellow, skinny-knitted sweater. He realized that Jolie was still waiting. "This morning. Before school," he said. "He wanted this stuff. Told me you’d said to drop it by here."
"I didn’t..." Jolie unzipped the bag, peering inside. She frowned a little and pulled out a pair of hightops from the jumble of trading cards and balls and CeeVid games. "Are you sure? He outgrew these shoes months ago, Drew. Perhaps he meant another pair or something."
Hearing his name on her lips had always driven him a little nuts. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his aging down vest so they wouldn’t do something stupid. Like reach for her. "There are no other pairs. You left his closet very nearly empty, which you know good and well."
She blinked and slowly drew the zipper closed. "What did you expect? That I’d leave behind half of his things? This was your idea, remember?"
And she hadn’t uttered so much as one protest. His fingers tightened into fists. "Have you talked to Bennett yet?"
Her chin angled. "I didn’t realize you were in such a hurry."
He swore. "Jolie — "
But she waved her hand, shaking her head. "Just...go away, Drew. I’ll make sure Evan gets this bag."
"You’re still going to bring him home for the weekend, right?" They’d agreed to that in excruciatingly polite tones before she’d begun packing up the contents of his son’s closet.
She turned away, setting the duffel behind the counter. "I said I would, didn’t I?" Her voice was muffled and he wondered for an impossible moment if she was crying. But when she turned around again, tossing her glorious curls around her slender shoulders, her tawny eyes were bright but dry. "Is there anything else?"
She’d spoken to him like he was merely a postal customer, and nothing more.
Sure in hell not as if he were the man who’d shared her bed and her body for the better part of their life together. His hands came out of his pocket and he leaned over the counter, thrusting one hand unerringly through the silky coils of her hair to curl about her neck and catching her shoulder in the other.
He caught the shocked expression on her face in the bare moment before his mouth covered hers...

Chapter Thirteen

Kissing Jolie now was the same as it had always been, Drew thought. Like trying to capture wildfire.
She made a soft sound, her lips parting beneath his. He caught her face between his hands, angling her head. Plundering. Inhaling. Savoring.
The wildfire spread as easy as a flame through dry grass when he felt her small, slender fingers touch his jaw. Tentative at first. Then more surely as she pushed them through his hair, cradling his head.
His own hands drifted down her back, up her sides, feeling the uneven breath she drew lifting her rib cage and her heart pounding in her breasts that so perfectly fit his palms. Even through the ribbed knit he could feel the peaks tightening under the thumbs he brushed over her.
She moaned, her back arching, and he reached for the hem of her sweater.
One thinking part of his brain cursed the counter separating them.
And then Jolie was twisting her head away from his. "No. No, Drew, we can’t."
He went still. Slowly withdrew his damnable hands from her and planted them flat on the counter.
His head bowed and he hauled in a long breath. "I’m sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn’t have done that."
But he wasn’t sorry. He’d never been sorry for wanting her. Maybe that was his own damned luck. Or his own personal hell. Wanting the woman who wanted Darian, his half-brother.
Jolie’s knees were water. She could barely breathe for the way her heart thundered in her chest. She didn’t know what to say. What to do.
Everything inside her urged her to hurry around to Drew’s side of the counter and pull his head down to hers, regardless of the fact that they were standing right there in front of God and Country and whatever Weaver postal customer decided to come into the post office.
Only he was sorry he’d kissed her.
He hadn’t changed his mind about anything.
"I think you’d better go," she whispered.
He shoved back his hair, his depthless brown eyes watching her for a long moment. Then he nodded abruptly. "Tell Evan I’ll call him before bedtime," he said.
Then he walked out the door, leaving the little bell jingling after him.
Jolie’s vision blurred. She stood there until the sound of the bell had long faded. Until finally, feeling an ache in her soul, she went through the back room to the small restroom in the very rear.
And there, she lost the meager lunch she’d managed to consume.
After, she rinsed her mouth and splashed water over her face and looked at her pale reflection in the small mirror over the sink.
What on earth was she going to do?
She was no longer an 18-year-old girl with no resources whatsoever. And yet, once again, she’d found herself pregnant by a man who no longer wanted her...

Chapter Fourteen

The jingle of the door drew Jolie like a magnet. She dashed out, her silly heart thinking it might be Drew again.
But her feet stopped short at the sight of the other Taggart. "What do you want?"
Darian held up a wrapped parcel. "Doing business on my lunch hour, Jolie girl."
She could hardly ignore him, even though she wanted to. She weighed the package and reached for the cash he held out. When she did, he linked his fingers with hers and leaned toward her, over the counter. He smiled, looking revoltingly secure in his own charm.
She twisted against his hold and wondered what on earth she’d ever seen in him. "Let me go, Darian."
He didn’t. "So how on earth did you end up shackled to dull Drew?"
"He’s not dull," she said coldly. She finally managed to extricate herself from his grip. "Drew’s done more with his life than you could ever hope for." And she suspected that Darian had always been envious of that.
"The only thing interesting that Drew ever did was rodeo. But he hung up his bevy of buckle bunnies when he married you, I suppose."
"Having a bevy was much more your style than Drew’s." Not because Drew wasn’t as attractive as his younger brother. In fact, Drew was far more intense than Darian, a fact that had as much to do with Drew’s personality as it did with his thick dark hair, carved features, and mesmerizing brown eyes.
Mesmerizing brown eyes that no longer wanted to look on her as his wife, she reminded herself harshly.
She counted out Darian’s change and set it on the counter between them. She wasn’t taking a chance that he would grab her hand again. "What are you really doing back in Weaver, Darian? You can’t expect me to believe it’s because you missed it here."
"I got a good offer from CeeVid," he said.
"Don’t act as if they sought you out," Jolie countered immediately. "I wouldn’t believe it and I can easily find out the truth."
His lips thinned. "So I approached them. Big deal. I’m good at what I do and they hired me."
"But why Weaver, Darian? CeeVid has other offices." Nothing about the last few days made any sense. Surely this was something that could be explained, though. "What are you doing? Hiding out from some woman you led on?"
He looked away for a moment and Jolie knew instinctively that her sarcastic comment had been much closer to the mark than she’d expected. But then he was grinning that look-at-me-I’m-so-charming grin again. "So, what do you think, Jolie girl. Might be nice if we were friendly-like since we’re gonna be neighbors."
"I don’t think so."
"Afraid big brother wouldn’t approve?"
"Since it is apparent to most of this town by now that I’ve moved out, I guess that hardly matters now, does it?"
"Why did you? Move out, I mean."
Jolie didn’t answer that. She had no intentions of letting Darian know that he’d had any affect on her marriage.
Fortunately, Darian seemed content to have his question go unanswered. "Drew always did like acting the hero," he said smoothly, instead.
Jolie swallowed. She didn’t know what this turn of conversation meant, but she knew she didn’t feel comfortable with it. "W-What do you mean?"
He lifted one shoulder in a motion eerily like Drew’s. "Well, he’s the one who got the girl, now isn’t he?"

Chapter Fifteen

Driving to Hope and Tristan’s house on the other side of town later the next evening, Jolie couldn’t contain a shudder at the memory of Darian’s words. She didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to her that Darian might be staying at the motel that comprised the rest of the building where Rebecca’s apartment was located.
For years, the place had been the only motel in town. But since CeeVid had come to town, bringing with it a rush of new growth, one of the national chains had opened a motel on the opposite end of town. Foolish of Jolie to assume that he’d have chosen the new place.
It had to be her preoccupation over that lamentable fact that kept her from noticing the familiar black pickup truck already parked alongside Hope and Tristan’s sprawling place. But Evan noticed Drew’s vehicle. He bounded out of Jolie’s car before she’d barely stopped.
"Daddy’s here!"
A sudden knot tied itself in Jolie’s stomach. She wanted to drive away. To run and hide and continue licking her wounds. But Hope had already thrown open the wide front door of her home, letting Evan inside as she walked toward Jolie’s car.
"I didn’t know," she said quickly. "This is Tristan’s doing. Please don’t turn around and drive away."
Jolie sighed and climbed out of the car. "Evan saw that he’s here. It’s too late to back out." She made herself shrug even as she wished she’d changed out of the blue jeans and flannel shirt that she’d worn to work.
But then, why should she dress up for a husband who’d more than made it clear he wanted out of their marriage? She followed Hope into the house and realized she was pressing her lips together, unconsciously urging some color into them.
It was immediately clear when she followed Hope into the kitchen where Drew had his hip perched on a high barstool that he’d not been expecting to see her, either.
"Hello, Drew. How are you?" Then felt her cheeks flame at such inane politeness.
His lips twisted a little. But there was no denying the pleasure on his face when he glanced down at Evan, who seemed to have forgotten his too-big-for-hugs stage, and had thrown his arms around his dad’s waist.
Jolie turned away, an ache deep behind her eyes. She blindly picked up a knife and a burstingly ripe tomato that was sitting on the cutting board. Hope caught her gaze and must have read the desperation in them for she calmly announced to the men that, unless they wanted to finish cooking supper themselves, they needed to get out from under foot.
They went. So hurriedly that under other circumstances, Jolie would have laughed right out loud.
Instead, she found herself trying not to flinch when Drew’s arm brushed her shoulder as he and Evan moved past. But she still felt his touch reverberate through her. And she still seemed to taste his kiss on her lips.
She couldn’t help looking up at him, only to find his dark eyes watching her closely. As if he, too, was remembering the previous afternoon when he’d kissed her as if there were no tomorrow...

Chapter Sixteen

Jolie must have imagined that heated look in Drew’s eyes. He stepped past her, his "‘scuse me" barely audible.
Once they were alone in the kitchen, Hope gently nudged the swinging door closed, assuring them even more privacy. "Talk about some serious vibes," she murmured as she slid the butcher’s knife out of Jolie’s hand and replaced it with the head of lettuce she’d just washed. "Tear that up instead," she suggested. "Safer than having you cut off a finger."
Jolie’s fingers tightened, easily reducing the head into quarters. "He has a helluva nerve," she muttered.
Hope’s eyebrows lifted. "Why’s that?"
"Coming into the post office yesterday. Kissing me senseless. Then apologizing." Bits of lettuce flew as she tossed bite-size pieces into the salad bowl that Hope had set out.
"The nerve, indeed."
"And Darian with his stupid comments. I swear, Hope, I’m beginning to think moving away from Weaver might just be a good idea. There’s an opening at the Braden post office. I saw the notice today."
Hope looked startled. "You don’t really mean that, do you? Weaver’s your home."
Jolie’s shoulders slumped. "No. I don’t really mean it. Oh, why did Darian have to come back now of all times?"
"Maybe it’s high time he did," Hope said softly.
"I...what?"
Her friend shrugged, looking faintly apologetic. "If it makes you and Drew wake up to each other, then I can only think that’s a good thing." She tossed tomato wedges into the salad bowl and reached for a cucumber. "You said yourself that you were in love with your husband, Jolie. Maybe it’s time you told him so. Particularly considering the circumstances." Her voice was pointed as her gaze flicked to Jolie’s midriff.
Jolie sank down onto the bar stool. "How’d you guess? Did Rebecca tell you?"
"Of course she didn’t. Just because she’s my sister-in-law doesn’t mean she’d break a confidence with a patient." Hope poured a glass of lemonade and set it in front of Jolie. "I recognized some of the signs. That fainting episode, for one thing. And you have that look."
"Great," Jolie laughed brokenly, her forehead pressed to her palm. "Pretty soon the whole town’ll know, too. Seeing as how it’s so obvious to others."
"Obvious to me," Hope chided gently. "You know that you must tell Drew."
"I know. I know. Things are just such a mess."
"Then put on some gloves and clean up the mess. You know I used to envy you, Jolie. Because you had so much more freedom when we were kids than I did. Gram was so strict about everything. My dress, school, church, my friends."
"Your grandmother cared." Jolie said. "My mother — before she died — didn’t much care what I did as long as it didn’t interfere with the path to her gin bottle."
"What I failed to realize when we were kids, though, was that what I perceived as your freedom was far outweighed by the responsibilities you bore. And for whatever reason, it’s left you feeling like you’re undeserving of the love that any wife should feel right in expecting from her husband."
"Just because you and Tristan didn’t start your marriage under the best of circumstances yet are now as happy as two pups in clover doesn’t mean that is going to occur for Drew and I. We’ve been married years, Hope. Don’t you think that if he...loved — " she had to push out the word " — me, he’d have said something by now?"
Hope picked up the salad bowl and headed toward the swinging door. "I don’t know, sweetie. You love him, but it doesn’t seem like you’ve ever told him that."

Chapter Seventeen

Evan sat between Jolie and Drew at the table. He was so clearly delighted to have his parents together that it made Jolie’s heart ache. As a result, she was barely able to swallow more than a few bites of the delicious meal that Hope had prepared.
Afterward, Hope plopped the baby on her lap into his playpen and began tidying up the dishes. She pushed a stack of plates into her husband’s hands and looking rather amused, he followed her into the kitchen.
Leaving Jolie and Drew alone.
Evan had already been excused and was fiddling with some new high-tech gadget of Tristan’s in the great room just a bit beyond the dining room.
Jolie stifled a sigh and looked down at little Erik in the playpen, smoothing her fingers over his soft cheek. About six months old now, he was a happy baby with his mother’s violet eyes and his father’s striking features. He grabbed her finger and chattered nonsensically.
She couldn’t help but wonder what traits her child would carry. How would her and Drew’s genes combine together in the life they’d created? Would the baby have Drew’s beautiful brown eyes? Her naturally curly hair? Or would their child resemble his brother Evan, who — except for his blue eyes — looked so much like Drew that people often remarked on the striking resemblance?
"You always did look good with a baby in your arms."
Drew’s voice startled her. He’d sounded positively pained. "You make that sound like a bad thing," she said. His lean jaw was so tight it looked white beneath the permanent bronzing caused by hours and hours spent beneath the Wyoming sun.
His thumb was working the edge of the label free from the bottle of beer he’d barely touched. "Just a fact."
Had he figured out that she was pregnant with his child? "Drew — "
He suddenly pushed to his feet. "At least you’ll be able to have more when you and Darian get married."
Her jaw dropped. She very nearly shook her head to shake loose the buzzing that followed hard on the heels of his words. She rose and settled Erik on his colorful quilt that was spread on the floor. Painfully aware of Evan who was still within earshot, she pushed an angry finger against Drew’s hard chest. "You may not want me any longer," she hissed, "but coming up with that stupid statement is really low, Drew."
He circled her wrist with one hand, easily pulling her finger away from drilling a hole right through his gray shirt. "And denying it serves no purpose, either," he said flatly. "He came out to the house, today, Jolie. I know all about it."
Her fingers curled and she twisted her hand, but he held her fast. "Know all about what?"
"He told me all about the wedding plans. Don’t pretend you don’t know."
If Darian was up to mischief, Jolie didn’t know what she’d do to him. But she promised herself it would be slow and very, very painful. What hurt, however, was the evidence that Drew could so easily discard her. "If he’s making wedding plans," she said thickly, "they’re not with me."
Then she called to Evan and told him it was time for them to leave. It should have come as no surprise that he didn’t want to go.
She stood there, looking at those two Taggart males — one young and defensive, one mature and intense and utterly, impossibly unreadable — and felt all her self-defenses crumble...

Chapter Eighteen

"Yes, Evan," Jolie said huskily. "Stay with daddy tonight. I’ll pick you up after school tomorrow. T — tell Hope and Tristan goodnight for me, please." She turned hurriedly away from Drew and Evan before she could no longer contain her tears.
She hated being so tearful. It made her feel weak and inept. Hormones, she reminded herself as she hurried out to her car, pulling her jacket on as she went. It had to be hormones making her so emotional. So unequipped to handle the mess in which she’d suddenly found herself.
Watching Jolie tear out of the house like the devil was at her heels, Drew frowned. She’d been pale and quiet throughout supper, casting him surreptitious looks when she’d thought he hadn’t been looking.
He’d figured she was trying to come up with a way to break the news that she and Darian were already planning their future. But just now, when he’d brought it out into the open, she’d looked as white and shaky as she had when she’d passed out into Darian’s arms the other day.
The realization had him on his feet. What if she fainted while she was driving back home?
No, not home. To the apartment that she was currently staying in.
Tris came into the room. "Did I hear Jolie leave?"
"Yeah." Drew leaned over Evan. "You mind staying here with Hope and Tris for a bit?"
Evan, who was once again thoroughly occupied with the computerized toy, shrugged. "You gonna go get Mom?"
Drew didn’t know how to answer that one. "I’m gonna make sure she gets home okay," he finally settled for.

***

The windows of Jolie’s apartment were dark. If it weren’t for the sight of her car parked near the back door, Drew would have thought she wasn’t there.
He threw his truck in park and pushed open the door. It had started to snow again. He headed toward the door, stopping short when it unexpectedly opened. Darian, head down and hands shoved in his pockets, strode around the side of the building and disappeared from sight.
Drew caught the gleam of Jolie’s gilded curls as she stood in the doorway. His half-brother hadn’t noticed him, but Jolie sure in hell did. In the faint light shining from behind her, he saw her stiffen and begin to shut the door.
His boot stopped its progress.
She didn’t fight him. Merely turned away.
He pushed open the door and followed her inside. He found her sitting in the kitchen, arms folded tightly around her slender body. She didn’t speak. Just tossed her wild mane of curls behind her shoulders and looked at him in the dim light.
"Where did Darian go?"
He heard her sigh faintly. "Darian. Always Darian," she murmured. "To Braden, I imagine."
"What for?"
Her lips pressed together for a moment. "Because that’s where his on-and-off fiancйe lives..."

Chapter Nineteen

"His fiancйe." Drew repeated the words, unable to quite believe them.
"Yes," Jolie assured. "His fiancйe. He told you of his plans but obviously neglected to tell you the name of his intended. I suppose he thought it was one more thing that Helen would have told you. Do you think I’d make it up?"
He shoved his hand through his hair, even as he cursed his half-brother all over again. "I’m sorry."
Jolie looked up at him, her expression sad. "For what? That you’ve lost your easy excuse to call it quits with me?"
"Dammit, Jolie — "
She popped up to her feet, slashing her hand in the air. "Just stop. I don’t have the stomach for this right now." She walked into the living room. "Where’s Evan, anyway?"
"Still at Tristan and Hope’s." He followed her, catching her arm in his hand. Feeling her go stiff as a board. He ignored it and turned her inexorably around to face him. "I’m sorry that he hurt you again." Admitting it didn’t come easy.
"Who, Darian?" She stared at him with that same look she’d been wearing for the past few days. The one that silently asked if he’d lost his mind. "The only thing that Darian’s return proved was that our marriage is a sham." Her throat worked. "I’d thought...hoped — "
Something hard and tight lodged in Drew’s chest. A sham? He’d devoted his life to Jolie and their son even though he’d known they weren’t truly his. It was a hard truth to face. "Hoped what?"
Her lashes swept down, hiding her tawny eyes. "We’ve been...married...a while, Drew. But I don’t think we’ve ever talked about what’s in our hearts. Not really. We talk about Evan, we talk about our friends and what’s going on around Weaver. We talk about the horses you train and about my job at the post office. But that’s about it."
"I know what’s in your heart."
"Do you?" Her lips twisted. "You’ve got one up on me, then. All I know is that you don’t want me, anymore."
"Dammit, I’ll always want you." The admission came out, low and fierce. "But I want you to be happy, more. And if that means Darian, then that’s something I’ve gotta live with."
"When have I ever suggested that I would only be happy with him? I don’t love your half-brother!"
"You used to cry out his name in your sleep. Every damned night, Jolie."
Her lips parted. "Used to, Drew. Did you ever ask me about the dreams? Of course not! You’re Mr. Tall, Dark, and Silent. The man who sacrificed his future for the poor little pregnant girl who couldn’t take care of her life. The man who gave up everything just to ensure his nephew didn’t get raised by strangers!"
"I got everything," he growled. "But I knew it wasn’t mine to keep. You were Darian’s."
"I wasn’t. And I’m not." She swiped her fingers over her cheeks. "I was 18 and infatuated with a handsome college boy who was home on summer vacation. But I got over that infatuation pretty darned quickly when it became clear he’d only been out for some summer’s entertainment."
"Your dreams — "
"Nightmares!" Her arms lifted. "Nightmares, Drew. When I’d find him stealing Evan away from us. And they went away, didn’t they? Because I knew that you and I would never let anything happen to our — " her voice broke " — to our child."
Each tear that he saw slide down her cheek felt like acid burning in his soul. He could no more resist her pain than he could swing from the moon. "Ahh, curly cue," he murmured, brushing his thumb over that trail of tears. "You deserve so much more than I can ever give you..."

Chapter Twenty

Jolie closed her eyes against the sight of Drew. So tall and darkly beautiful. "I know you don’t love me," she whispered. "But pushing me toward Darian isn’t something that makes up for what you don’t feel. I don’t blame you, Drew. All you wanted was to make sure my child was provided for; that he remained a Taggart. My falling — "
"All I wanted was you. The baby...Evan. He was icing on the cake."
She shook her head, disbelieving. "You married me because you felt sorry for me."
"I married you because I looked into your golden brown eyes and saw forever."
Fresh tears collected in her eyes. "But you didn’t...why...we — oh dammit, Drew!" She wanted to kick him. She wanted to kiss him.
"Are you in love with Darian or not?"
"No! I’m in love with — "
His tension suddenly penetrated the cocoon of misery surrounding her. An unexpected calm swept through her and she thought she might well contentedly drown in the depths of his dark eyes. "I’m in love with you," she finished quietly. "Darian was the flash. But you...you were the substance. The real thing. And I knew it practically from the start."
He folded her in his arms. "You deserve more." His lips burned over her temple. "I thought I could let you walk away, but I can’t."
"Push me away, you mean. You can spend the next few years paying for it." She twisted her head around until her lips found his. "Say it, Drew. Give me the words. Just once and I’ll never ask again."
He kissed her. Long and deep. And when he lifted his head, his breath was ragged and her head was filled with stars. "I love you. Always have. Always will."
"Then why do you keep saying I deserve more? All I want is what I have. You. Evan."
"And babies. You told me once you wanted a houseful of kids." He gently captured her face in his hands. He pressed his mouth to hers. Then let go of her, stepping away.
Jolie reached out for him, but he’d turned away and didn’t see her outstretched hand.
"I can’t give you that houseful." His voice was rough. "You stay with me and Evan is all we’ll ever have."
It was a good thing there was a chair nearby, for she sank weakly onto the arm of it. Having Evan would have been enough, she thought faintly. "Why would you think that?"
"I had the mumps when I was younger. The doctor said I could write off...well, you know."
She settled her hand on her abdomen and sent up a prayer of thanks. "You never had a test to be certain."
"What was the point? Just more proof that I can’t father a child."
"Oh, Drew," she whispered. "Do you know what tomorrow is?"
"Our wedding anniversary."
"Hmm." She pushed to her feet and moved over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She pressed her cheek against his strong back. "Do you know what tonight is?"
She felt the deep breath he drew. "Six years ago was the first time we made love."
"That night was when I truly felt like Drew Taggart’s bride. I knitted you a sweater for our wedding anniversary," she murmured, and practically felt his reaction to the seemingly odd comment.
"I bought you a bottle of that perfume you’re always drooling over."
She smiled faintly and, still keeping her hands on him, slipped around to face him. "But I have another gift for the both of us. For our true anniversary." She took his big hands in hers and pressed them to her flat belly.
He looked pained. "Jolie — "
"I’m pregnant, Drew. You and I...we’ve made a baby together. That is why I fainted the other day."
"But...how — "
She tucked her tongue between her teeth, trying very hard to contain the joyful laughter bubbling inside her. Oh, she loved him so! She stretched up, wrapping her hands around his shoulders, pressing her breasts against him. And now that the truth was out between them, she planned to tell him she loved him on an exceedingly regular basis. "In the usual way," she assured gently. "If you’d like a reminder of the process, I’ll be happy to show you."
Drew swept his hands down Jolie’s back and stepped back, staring incredulously at her. "You’re serious."
She nodded. Smiled and the brilliance lit up every corner of his soul. He swept her against him, kissing her, swinging her in a circle. It seemed Darian’s return hadn’t been such a bad thing, after all. "It’s a miracle," he whispered. "You’re a miracle."
"It’s love. And I have only one more thing I want." Jolie tilted her head back, looking up at her husband, feeling the love in his eyes like a warm glow.
"Anything."
"Let’s go get Evan," she said. "And then let’s go home."
"Yeah." Drew’s smile was long and slow and utterly sweet. If she hadn’t already loved him, she’d have fallen for him just for that smile alone. "Let’s go home," he said. "Where we all belong."

The End

Taggart's Bride

by

Allison Leigh

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

***

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

***

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Jolie sank onto a high stool and buried her face in her hands. "Oh, Hope. I don’t know if there have been signs. All I knew was that I fell in love with Drew. He gave up so much for Evan and me. I didn’t deserve him. I never wanted to hurt him or bring him harm."
Hope tsked and slid a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Who says you have? Or that you didn’t deserve him? For goodness’ sake, Jolie. You two have been together for years. I’ve never thought Drew was the kind of man who’d put up with an unacceptable situation for seven minutes, much less seven years. You need to tell him how you feel!"
"So he can feel sorry for me all over again like he did when Darian dumped me? I can’t face that, Hope. I just can’t. If there’s one thing this has made me realize it is that I can’t keep on this way." Her hands pressed unconsciously against her abdomen. "I won’t be just a responsibility to him."
Hope sighed. "I can’t believe Darian is going to be working at CeeVid," she muttered. "And he really doesn’t suspect anything about Evan?"
"No. And he’s not going to, if I have anything to say about it. Drew may not want me, but he is Evan’s father. On that, at least, we agree. Some day we’ll tell Evan when he’s old enough to understand. But not now. Not yet."
Both women looked up when the bell over the door tinkled softly. At the sight of her handsome hunk of a husband entering, Hope patted Jolie on the back. "You and Evan come to dinner tonight," she said softly before moving around the counter toward Tristan and the baby he held.
"I can’t," Jolie said. "There’s a parent/teacher meeting at school."
"Tomorrow then," Hope insisted. "And I know you probably don’t feel like company, but if you don’t come to us, we’ll come to you. Promise me, now."
"Marriage has made you bossy," Jolie observed, striving for some sense of normalcy.
"Motherhood has made her bossy," Tristan Clay corrected, his smile crooked and utterly indulgent. "And your son here is making it obvious that there are some things he prefers you for, sweetpea."
Jolie watched Tristan transfer the blanket-bundled baby Erik from his arms to Hope’s as they left with a wave. If ever there was a man besotted with his wife and child, it was a former jetsetter named Tristan Clay.
She closed her eyes and wished she were a better person. The kind of person who wouldn’t feel envious of her very best friend’s happiness.
Then the bell jingled again signaling the steady start of postal customers and Jolie could only be grateful, for it gave her little time to sit and brood.
She didn’t take a break until lunch. Even then she sat in the back where she still had a view of the front counter. Her sandwich held little appeal, but she forced a few bites down, mindful of what Dr. Rebecca had told her. The door chimes jingled and she was glad of the interruption from her depressing thoughts. She tossed away the half-eaten sandwich and went out front.
Her stomach lurched unsteadily. "Drew," she breathed. Had he changed his mind? "What are you doing here?"