“Magnolia McCabe. Are you accusing me of just wanting to spend time with you?”

Maggie flushed at Hart’s low, flirtatious tone.

His smile widening, and with his son cradled tenderly against his chest, he inched closer. Maggie rocked back in her chair and tried to calm the immediate spark of excitement she felt. And instead got sucked in by his gaze. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to rise and join them both.

“Because it’s really not true,” Hart teased gently. He sat on the edge of her desk, facing her. “It’s Henry here who is completely and utterly crushing on you.” He rubbed the toddler’s back. “Henry, whose heart you seem to have captured.”

It was easy to see the staggering resemblance between Hart and his son. Both were incredibly handsome and engaging in their own way.

Maggie felt something catch in her heart.

Dear Reader,

We’ve all found ourselves in a mess of our own making and wanted nothing more than to run away and leave all the trouble behind.

This is exactly what happens to Magnolia McCabe. She and her twin sister, Calla, have always done everything together. So when it comes time to get married, Maggie and Callie want a double wedding. They spend months planning the romantic ceremony. Not until the very last minute does Maggie realize that she’s thought much more about the wedding than the marriage. And that’s a problem. A big one.

Ex-soldier Hart Sanders is on hand that day to help his folks out with their wedding business. Restless to the bone, he has always chafed at life in rural Texas. And he absolutely detests the diva drama that often accompanies weddings. So when he’s forced to chase runaway bride Maggie McCabe into the woods atop Sanders Mountain, the only thing he feels is aggravation. Until they come face-to-face with each other. And then a very different kind of drama starts.

I had tons of fun writing this story. It’s the first of a six-book series called McCabe Multiples (about the six daughters of Drs. Jackson and Lacey Buchanon-McCabe—a set of twins, triplets and the only daughter of a single birth. All of whom have baby fever…!).

For information on this and other McCabe/Laramie, Texas stories, please visit me on Facebook, and at www.cathygillenthacker.com.

Happy reading!

Cathy Gillen Thacker

Runaway Lone Star Bride

Cathy Gillen Thacker

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CATHY GILLEN THACKER is married and a mother of three. She and her husband spent eighteen years in Texas and now reside in North Carolina. Her mysteries, romantic comedies and heart-warming family stories have made numerous appearances on bestseller lists, but her best reward, she says, is knowing one of her books made someone’s day a little brighter. A popular Mills & Boon® author for many years, she loves telling passionate stories with happy endings, and thinks nothing beats a good romance and a hot cup of tea! You can visit Cathy’s website, www.cathygillenthacker.com, for more information on her up coming and previously published books, recipes and a list of her favorite things.

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Daisy, darling, this one’s for you.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

One look at her lovely face, and Hart Sanders knew. Magnolia McCabe was going to run.

It didn’t matter that Maggie’s fiancé, plus her twin sister and her groom, and all their families, had taken the coveted Wedding Train to the very top of Sanders Mountain and were now standing in Nature’s Cathedral.

Nor was it important that the minister had gotten halfway through the ceremony that would join Maggie and her intended husband forevermore.

The only thing that mattered to Maggie in that instant was how trapped she felt.

And Hart knew from his years of military training that cornered people did one of two things.

They either cowered and froze. Or said to heck with the consequences and bolted for freedom. His gut told him that the beautiful brunette was about to choose the latter option.

As if on cue, Maggie McCabe shoved her bouquet at her maid of honor and picked up the hem of her wedding gown. She revealed a pair of fancy white cowgirl boots that sure seemed to be made for running as she dashed past the four hundred startled guests and made her way toward the thick woods surrounding them.

A collective gasp echoed through the flower-strewn clearing. “Maggie!” her fiancé, Gus Radcliffe, yelled as the white-satin-and-lace-clad bride disappeared into the cover of green. “What the—?”

“Go after her!” another guest shouted hysterically.

Not about to see one calamity turn into two, Hart stepped forward and lifted a staying hand. “Everyone, stay put! The last thing we need is anyone getting lost in the woods.” He looked out into the crowd reassuringly. “I’ll find her and escort her to safety.”

Hart turned to Maggie’s twin sister, Callie McCabe, feeling a little sorry for her. This was her wedding, too, that her sister had just disrupted. “If you want to get married today while there is still daylight, you better go on with your part of the double-wedding ceremony,” he advised, kindly.

Callie appeared to waver.

Her parents, Drs. Jackson and Lacey McCabe, seemed to understand the wisdom of limiting the damages as best they could. Jackson leaned down to whisper something in his remaining daughter’s ear.

Realizing enough time had been wasted, Hart left the rest of them to sort it out, and followed the runaway bride’s path.

* * *

MAGGIE COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. She’d barely been gone five minutes and she was already completely lost. Knowing, however, if she stayed where she was and tried to get her bearings, someone would likely come after her, she kept right on plowing through the heavy cover of cedar, oak and pine trees.

The old logging road she’d seen from the train had to be here somewhere, Maggie reassured herself. All she had to do was find it, and—

Caught up short, Maggie bit down on an oath. The hem of her long skirt had snagged on the branches of a thick, thorny bush. Hurriedly, she tried to work it free and stabbed her fingertips in the process. “Ouch!” She pressed the bleeding appendages to her mouth, and when that did almost nothing to abate the sharp pain, another string of very unladylike words escaped her lips.

“Nice.”

At the sound of the deep male voice, she swore again. Louder and more virulently this time. And was rewarded with a chuckle.

“Need some help there?”

Maggie dropped her still-stinging hand, drew a breath and turned.

Of course it was him. Hart Sanders. The just-out-of-the-military son and heir to the Double Knot Wedding Ranch. Temporarily at loose ends, he’d been tapped—unwillingly, it seemed— into service as the official escort for the McCabe double wedding. She had noticed him in the foreground at the rehearsal dinner the evening before. And yet, disinterested as he had appeared to be in the festivities, he could not seem to stop looking at her. Or, if she were honest, she at him.

Embarrassed color heating her face, Maggie lifted her chin. This crazy attraction she seemed to be having for Hart Sanders was nothing but a symptom of the inadvisability of her marriage plans. A symptom she desperately needed to ignore.

Aware he was the only thing between her and escape, she retorted, “No. I do not need any help.” She made a shooing motion. “So you can go on about your business.”

He smiled grimly. “Hate to break it to you, but at the moment you are my business.”

Maggie glared. “Like heck I am! I got myself into this mess, and I can darn well get myself out.”

“Well, this will be fun.” He folded his arms in front of him. Waited.

Determined to do this on her own, she knelt down and gave another, less delicate, tug. This time, to her satisfaction, her skirt did come free of the thorn bush. It also ripped from shin to midthigh, revealing way too much stocking-clad leg, as well as her silk magnolia blossom-studded garter. Although at this point, Maggie thought wearily, what did that matter?

Aware that Hart was still watching her intently, she lifted her skirt in her hands and continued on her way, stumbling along on the uneven ground.

He said nothing more.

Surprised, she turned and found he had been following her. Soundlessly. Effortlessly. To the point they were now just a mere two feet from each other.

She stared up at the six-foot-four Texan, born and bred. He was solid muscle. Combat ready. And gorgeous, head-to-toe, from the top of his short light brown hair and deep sable eyes. She stared at his square jaw and the ruggedly masculine planes of his face, wishing he weren’t so damned confident.

“I said,” she repeated, wearily, “that I did not need your help!”

Hart nodded sagely, about as movable as a two ton boulder. “I heard you.”

Apparently, he just hadn’t believed her.

She swallowed as he stepped even closer, feeling the heat radiating from his body. She drew in another breath, taking in the scent of him, so utterly crisp and male. Like the men in the wedding party, he was wearing a tuxedo and white shirt. Black alligator boots. How he managed to look gallant and disreputable all at once she did not know. She only knew that standing so close to him was making her tingle in a way that was not in the least bit appropriate. “Then why are you still here?”

He stood, legs braced apart, arms folded in front of him. “Because, like most Texas gentlemen, I was brought up to never, ever, leave a lady in distress.”

Ignoring the tension headache that had been dogging her all day, Maggie balled her fists at her sides and blurted out angrily, “Look, I can see you mean well, but I really can handle this.”

His gaze moved over her in another long, thoughtful survey. “You sure seem to be doing a bang-up job so far.”

No one had to tell her she’d made a terrible mess of things by once again allowing herself to be caught up and swept along by events that were oh-so-exciting at the time and oh-so-wrong for her later. But she was not about to tell any of that to the arrogant, infuriating man standing in front of her. Maggie admitted instead, “I just didn’t want to get married, okay?” He shrugged and lifted his brow, seeming to reserve judgment on the workings of her fickle heart. “Nothing wrong with changing your mind,” he said, quietly. Then, as if unable to resist, he added, “Even if your timing did suck.”

Aware that she really was drawn to him, a fact that was as shocking as it was unacceptable, Maggie took another step back. She was not going to fantasize about what it would be like to feel the force of that much masculine confidence and testosterone. She was not going to wonder what it would be like to experience the skill of those big hands and sensual lips, or feel the weight of his body stretched over the top of hers. Not when what she really needed here was to be free.

Jerking in a stabilizing breath, she forced herself to return to the matter at hand. “Look, I know you’re a man on a mission, but I just want to limit my embarrassment and get out of here.”

He extended a hand. “Then come back up the mountain with me.”

Maggie thought about everyone she had let down, the beautiful ceremony she had willfully—and wrongfully—ruined. And all because she didn’t know her own mind. “Thanks, but no. I’m getting out of these woods on my own,” she declared.

Another cool lift of the brow, as he regarded her with those gorgeous dark brown eyes. And then once again, he moved swiftly and patiently toward her.

* * *

HART WOULD HAVE preferred not to have to do this, but given the alternatives, he had no choice. Ignoring the runaway bride’s swift gasp of dismay, he caught her against him, slid a hand under her knees, another behind her back and swung her up into his arms. The five-foot-seven brunette was every bit as supple, slender and feminine as she looked.

He’d carried heavier loads when he was in the army, but trekking back up the mountain with a woman struggling in his arms would be no easy trek.

The beautiful Maggie McCabe knew it, too, and used the notion to her advantage. She slammed a fist on his shoulder. “Put me down, before we both fall down, you big lug!”

He held her even tighter, assessing her all the while. There was no way he was dropping her, but there were also significant disadvantages to holding her soft, warm body so close—the least of which was what it was doing to his lower half. “Believe me, I wish I could. But since I have no desire to get lost in the woods and spend the night on the mountain with you, fending off armadillos and snakes...”

And way too much desire.

Her chin lifted defiantly. “One, you wouldn’t get lost because I’m betting you know this entire mountain like the back of your hand. And two, I’m not scared of Texas wildlife—I grew up with it.” She wiggled restlessly in his arms, prompting an even fiercer rush of blood to his lower body. “So forget trying to scare me into behaving the way you want me to behave...’cause I am not going with you!”

Not without a fight, anyway, he amended silently. Seething with an aggravation paramount to hers, he set her down. Trapping her slender frame between his big body and the broad, rough trunk of a century-old tree. “Okay, then we’ll wait.”

She studied him with glittering sea blue eyes. “For what?”

“You. To calm down.”

Her glare deepened.

“And convince me that indulging in your diva drama is the right thing.” When he was pretty damned sure, even without knowing all the details, that it wasn’t.

She ripped off her tiara and veil. A scattering of pins followed, unleashing a riot of chocolate-brown curls that looked every bit as silky and delectable as the rest of her. “It is not diva drama!”

Aware this would have been amusing under any other circumstances, he took in the erotic disarray of her shoulder-length mane and tried not to think about what it would be like to kiss her. “Then what was it?” he asked, resisting the urge to reach out and restore some order to the unleashed strands.

Her lower lip trembled, and she offered a tight, officious smile. “You wouldn’t understand,” she said, finally.

And suddenly, he wanted to do just that. Which was odd, given he usually had little to no interest in other people’s private business. Warning himself to get it together, Hart turned his attention away from her lusciously soft lips to the gradually slowing pulse in her throat. “I might. We’ll never know unless you try me.”

Another silence fell, this one more fraught with tension than the last.

Maggie pressed her lips together, took another deep breath and folded her arms across her chest. “I just can’t get married,” she confessed with another slow shake of her pretty head. She looked at him again, almost beseechingly this time. “I thought I could...but I can’t.”

Hart had seen that kind of unease before...in his own ex-fiancée. As he recalled, Alicia had been just as confused then as Maggie was now. “Why can’t you?” he prodded, pushing away his own unhappy memories of a breakup he hadn’t seen coming.

“Because I don’t have it in me to promise to do one thing—like marry Gus—for the rest of my life.”

On the surface, her excuse sounded shallow.

Going a little deeper...

Hart thought about the relief he’d eventually felt when his own nuptials had been cancelled. The knowledge that what he had initially interpreted as disaster was really a very good thing in the end. “So what if you don’t?” he countered, not about to judge her for that.

She peered at him curiously. “You’re telling me that you don’t believe in marriage, either...?”

Like her, he’d initially thought he did. Only to be saved by his bride-to-be, who’d had the good sense to call off a relationship that never would have lasted over the long haul, given their very different natures.

“No,” he admitted abruptly, aware his ex had been right about one thing. He was too restless to ever settle down in one place for very long. “I don’t.”

Maggie blinked. She leaned closer in a drift of intoxicating perfume. “But your family owns a wedding business! How can you not believe in happily-ever-afters?”

Good question, Hart thought. And one his parents repeatedly asked him. Aware this wasn’t the time to be discussing his issues, however, he moved the conversation back to her dilemma.

“Look, I don’t know what happened to cause all this craziness. But I do know you can’t keep running. Your family will forgive you...” They were, after all, part of the Texas McCabe clan, a family known for their devotion to one another.

Maggie scoffed “I don’t think so. Don’t forget. I didn’t just ruin my wedding, I ruined my twin sister’s nuptials, too.”

“Not necessarily.” At her astonished look, he continued, “I think Callie and Seth went on with it.” At least he hoped they had. “And you have to go back.”

“I agree,” a low male voice said.

Maggie and Hart turned.

Gus Radcliffe stood at the top of the ravine. He looked the way Hart had felt the moment he got the “I Can’t Do This After All” speech from his fiancée. Like he’d had the stuffing kicked out of him.

The dark-haired groom made his way down to where they were standing. “Come on, Maggie. I know you’re mad at me for what I said after the rehearsal dinner, but you can’t end a seven-year relationship over one difference of opinion.”

They’d been together that long? Hart thought in shock. He tried to imagine it. Couldn’t.

Maggie scowled. “I’m not.”

Gus harrumphed in frustration. “Running out in the middle of the ceremony says you are. So, Magnolia, if your aim was to put me on notice for not being enthusiastic enough about your plans for our future, consider it done.”

Ouch, Hart thought.

Maggie recoiled in shock, but fought back, just as fast. “Contrary to the way you seem to be remembering things, Gus, I never forced you into this. Or anything else, for that matter.”

Her beau regarded Maggie skeptically. “Actually, you and your twin kind of did. Not that I’m protesting.” Gus lifted a hand. “It never hurts to be practical, financially. And the truth is, you and I were destined to get married anyway. Might as well save your parents the cost of yet another wedding—when they still have four more ahead of them. While,” he added importantly, “simultaneously letting you and Callie continue your tradition of doing everything together, as twins. Before that, too, comes to an end.”

Hart watched as Maggie hauled in a deep breath. “Except I no longer want to do this,” she pointed out.

Gus snorted and stood his ground. “I think you do. I think you’re scared about the enormity of the commitment, same as me.” His voice dropped consolingly. “But the thing is, Maggie, even if we disagree about a few of the fundamentals—”

“A few very important fundamentals.”

“—we have to get married if we’re going to start having kids together, the way we planned.”

Maggie’s slender shoulders lifted in another careless shrug. “You and I don’t have to be married for either of us to have kids, Gus.”

“Meaning what?” Gus asked, clearly hurt. “You still want them, just not with me?”

A telltale silence fell. Maggie shivered, despite the heat of the late June day. “All I’m asserting is that it would be a huge error to bring children into an uncertain situation or an ill-fated marriage. Everyone knows that.”

“That’s the thing, Maggie,” Gus returned quietly. “I don’t think—despite our disagreement last night—that the two of us are making a mistake, getting hitched. And I certainly don’t think we should let all the hard work and money we put into our nuptials be for naught. I think we owe everyone, especially our families, more than that.”

There was another beat of silence. Finally, she lifted her hands guiltily. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be letting everyone down. And I should have realized how you felt long before now.” She paused to work off her diamond engagement ring and forced it into Gus’s hand. “Because if I had, I never would have said yes to your proposal. And if you had known how I felt about what our future should look like, you never would have asked me to marry you, either.”

Gus palmed the ring she had given him. Finally, he seemed to recognize the truth of that. He sighed, slid the diamond in the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket, then paused to look Maggie in the eye. “So you really don’t want to go through with it?”

“I just can’t,” Maggie said softly. “Surely you understand that.”

Even though Hart disagreed with the reckless, hurtful way Maggie McCabe was breaking her engagement, he had to admire her resolve. He had always liked a woman who was strong enough to stand up for what she wanted.

Squaring his shoulders, Gus looked at Maggie in grim resignation. “Then I’ll go tell everyone.” He headed off in the direction of the music from the string quartet.

Maggie turned back to Hart. Her elegant features were taut with a mixture of relief, guilt and grief. But mostly relief, Hart noted.

“Now, will you please take me back to the Double Knot ranch house?” Maggie asked.

It was Hart’s turn to hesitate. “You’re sure you don’t want to go with Gus and make the announcement with him?” he prompted. “If we hurry, we could still catch up.”

Maggie shook her head, abruptly an ice princess through and through. To the point Hart wondered what it would take to break down the impervious shield around her heart and find the real, unguarded woman underneath.

“Gus can handle it,” she claimed with an indignant huff, thrusting out her kissably-soft, pink lower lip.

“True. But should he have to?” Maggie gave him another long, debilitating look that only made him want to kiss her even more.

With effort, Hart ignored the man-woman tension suddenly shimmering between them. Since when had he started thinking about what it would be like to chase some other guy’s runaway bride? But here he was, wondering what it would be like to haul her close enough to feel her soft, sexy body pressed up against his and make that pout of hers disappear...

Maggie appeared to tense. “Look, Hart, I don’t expect you to understand where I’m coming from here...but the fact is, I don’t want to deal with our families when they’re this upset with me.” She folded her arms, gave him another pointed glance. “I’d rather face them after we’ve all had time to cool off—that way there’s less of a chance of anyone saying something they can’t take back.”

That much, Hart did understand.

He had some air-clearing of his own to do with his parents, at evening’s end. Worse, the news he’d come there to tell them would not be received happily. Which meant, like Maggie, he would likely be parting company with his folks tomorrow morning on less than ideal terms.

In the clearing above them, the music stopped abruptly, mid-tune.

Aware that his job—when he was at the ranch, helping out his parents—was to assist in seeing that every celebration held there went as flawlessly as possible, Hart tried to comfort Maggie. “I get wanting to run from unpleasant confrontations.” He took another step closer. “But you’re going to have to face the consequences sometime.” He gave her a chance to ponder that notion. “Sooner rather than later might be easier.” Ignoring his outstretched hand and offer of escort back to the party, Maggie flattened her palm across the center of his chest, and gave him a decisive push back, not stopping until he was well out of the bubble of her personal space.

“And I will offer my heartfelt apologies eventually,” she vowed. “But I am not going to do it until I figure out how I’m going to honor my own obligations and reimburse everyone for their time, trouble and expense.”

Accepting financial responsibility was a good first step to moving on from a pretty big mistake.

The sight of her in full, glorious temper—about to be a single lady again—was even better.

Appearing oblivious to the undeniable desire welling deep within Hart, she lifted a finger. Her gesture drew his attention to the lush fullness of her breasts, pressing against the tight, beaded bodice of her wedding dress.

“Because Gus was correct about one thing. We can’t let our families pay for a wedding that never actually happened. And since I’m the one who called it off at the very last moment, I’m the one who’s got to figure out a way to make things right. Not just for me,” she murmured softly, looking long and deep into Hart’s eyes, “but for everyone.”

Chapter Two

Two years later...

“The prodigal son of Sanders Mountain is coming home. Today?” Callie Grimes asked.

Maggie settled into her desk chair at the Double Knot ranch house and pressed the phone to her ear. She and her twin sister might live two hundred miles apart, but they were still as close as ever. Whether she needed a sympathetic ear or someone to roll ideas off of, Callie was who she called. And when the widowed Callie needed a shoulder to lean on, Maggie was there for her, too. “That’s what the message on the office voice mail said.”

Just to be sure, she’d played it back several times, listening to the deep, husky timbre of Hart Sanders’s voice while tremors of awareness went up and down her spine.

Deliberately, Maggie pushed away the memory of the last time she and Hart had seen each other. Although that momentous encounter would forever be emblazoned in her mind, she was no longer just considered a runaway bride around here. In fact, she was a valued employee-slash-Jill-of-all-trades who had also managed to work off her portion of the botched wedding. It had been important to her that her parents not be left saddled with that. Almost as important as finding a place where she could heal, away from the inquiring eyes and minds of her family. And the fact that she had helped out Fiona and Frank Sanders, in turn, after Hart had departed for a job in Los Angeles, was of comfort to her, too.

Clueless to Maggie’s musing, Callie continued her inquisition. “And you’re there alone?”

“Temporarily.” She bit her lip. “I mean, I have prospective clients coming in later.” But not until after Hart had indicated he would be arriving.

Callie’s momentary silence indicated she was not fooled. “You’re not going to bare your soul to him again...are you?” her sister persisted above the happy babbling of her one-year-old son, Brian.

Maggie barely stifled a groan. “Callie!”

“The last time you were alone with Hart Sanders was on your wedding day. And you poured your heart out to him then.”

Don’t remind me. I can’t stop thinking about that day as it is. How kind he was. How sexy, how male. How personable, despite all the drama...

Never had she felt such pure animal attraction to another human being.

“I told you that was a mistake.” Maggie pressed a palm to her flushed skin. “I was overwrought.”

Callie laughed. “Don’t you mean turned-on?”

Maggie drew a deep breath. Leave it to her twin to intuit her deepest, darkest fantasies. She massaged the tension from her temples. “I am not having this conversation with you.”

“Mmm-hmm. Methinks my sister doth protest too much.”

“Oh, please,” Maggie huffed. “Stop conjuring up romance for me and go back to your adorable baby boy—”

Maggie heard the back door to the office complex open and shut. She covered the mouthpiece with her hand and spoke quietly into the phone. “And here he is.”

“You call me later! I want a full report!”

Her pulse racing, Maggie quickly put the phone down. She sat forward in her chair and went back to tackling yet another prenuptial task for a client. And not a second too soon, either, as firm male footsteps and the sound of something being rolled—maybe a cart?— followed. Seconds later, a familiar face appeared in the portal.

Maggie blinked at the sight of the ruggedly handsome ex-soldier. Although she and Hart had talked—or was it flirted?—from time to time on the phone when he “accidentally” called her extension, she’d never imagined what it might be like for them to actually come face-to-face again.

“Hey.” Ignoring the jolt of excitement coursing through her, Maggie rushed to fill the awkward silence. “What are you doing here?” she asked cheerfully.

Message or not, it wasn’t like Hart to just drop in. Particularly since he and his parents had barely been on speaking terms the last couple of years.

In fact, things had been so tense between Hart and his folks since he had taken a job in Los Angeles that the two times Hart had returned to the ranch, Maggie’d taken advantage of the prior notice and arranged to visit her own family until Hart was gone.

No such luck now, though, Maggie thought, still feeling a little embarrassed to square off with the man who had chased her down on what admittedly had been the worst day of her life. Not that Hart seemed to be thinking about that, Maggie noted cautiously. Or anything else remotely connected to her, thank heaven.

Apparently oblivious to the conflicted feelings welling up within her, Hart faced her across the cluttered surface of her desk. Clad in an expensive olive green button-up, nice-fitting khaki pants and boots, he looked handsome and sexy. His sandy brown hair was still cut short enough to require little in the way of maintenance, although it was more stylish now. The taut, masculine angles of his face had been left unshaven. He also appeared unusually contained and exceptionally tired around the eyes, like he’d been travelling for what seemed forever to get there. Which, given the fact he accompanied his famous boss, Hollywood movie actress Monica Day, wherever her work took her, could certainly be the case.

“I came to see my folks,” he said. Every taut inch of his tall, imposing frame was poised and ready in a way she’d never seen before. “Are they around?”

Maggie studied the sticky-sweet smear of what looked like apple juice on the shoulder of his expensive shirt, and lower still, what looked like ground-in-cracker debris. Maybe it had been a long flight. Maybe he’d sat next to...well, what did it matter.

Aware he was still in need of an answer, she said, “Ah—actually, no. Your mom and dad are on a cruise to New Zealand and Australia.”

Briefly, Hart appeared stunned. “When will they be back?”

Maggie shifted her gaze upward, over the strong suntanned neck, to his intense sable brown eyes. He had the same devastating impact on her that he’d had the first time they’d met. “Ten days.”

His brow furrowed in a way that said he was anything but pleased about that.

Maggie fought back her attraction and pushed on, “I gather you’ve got some time off, too?”

“A little over two weeks, yeah.” He shrugged his broad shoulders restively. “I had something important—” He sighed. “I wanted to surprise them.”

Maggie leaned back in her chair. “Well, you did that, all right.”

He shoved a palm through his hair, looked around at the empty suite of rooms where The Wedding Train business was conducted. “I just assumed it being the height of the season, they’d be here.”

Normally, they would have been, Maggie knew. Unfortunately, bookings were down almost twenty-five percent in the past two years. Sadly, for a lot of reasons, it wasn’t looking to get any better. Not that she planned to get into any of that with Hart, who made it a habit to stay as far away from the family business as possible. She watched him tilt his head, as if listening in the direction of the hallway beyond. For the first time she wondered if it was possible he wasn’t alone. Could he have brought a woman home to meet his folks? Was that part of the surprise? And if so, why did she suddenly have a pit in the bottom of her stomach?

“When is the next event?” Hart asked softly.

A brief rustling sound echoed in the silence of the hall.

Maggie watched as Hart tensed even more and doubled back, toward the door. Brawny arms still folded in front of him, he stuck his head around the opening and peered out.

“At the end of next week,” she said.

She watched him frown, tense all the more, while still lingering there in the doorway looking at whatever was out there before finally turning back to her.

Drawing a deep, stabilizing breath, Maggie gestured at the stack of ivory placards and calligraphy pens on her desk. “I’m prepping for the next wedding now.”

He nodded. His expression indicated he wasn’t really interested in the details, but still he asked, “What about the rest of the staff? Where are they?”

Another thorny question. There had previously been four full-time time employees in addition to herself and his parents, as well as a number of part-timers. “They still show up for events, but right now they are working other jobs,” Maggie said.

“But you’re here.”

As the lone person on staff who had so little personal life she could afford to be constantly on call, Maggie confirmed lightly, “Twenty-four, seven.”

This caught his attention “You’re kidding, right? You’re not really still living here on the ranch?”

Aware her accepting one of the guest suites at the sprawling ranch house had initially been only a temporary measure, Maggie said stiffly, “Hate to break it to you, but yeah, I am.”

He looked her over critically, head to toe. “You do realize you can’t hide out here forever. Sooner or later you’re going to have to face the fallout of your ‘big mistake’ and rejoin the world.”

Leave it to Hart to be hopelessly blunt. “Thank you, Dr. Ruth,” Maggie bit out sarcastically.

Mischief sparkled in his dark brown eyes. “Funny, I would have thought you would’ve referenced Dr. Phil. But Dr. Ruth works.” He squinted. “You know you’re blushing.”

Probably because I just referenced a renowned sex therapist instead of a relationship expert. Maggie winced. “You have that effect on me.”

He gave her another long, steady look. “Get you all hot and bothered?”

Ignoring the tautening of her nipples, she allowed sweetly, “Hot under the collar, maybe.”

He chuckled, his eyes holding hers for a disreputably long moment. “I’m all for that, too.”

Maggie held her breath to avoid releasing a wistful sigh. Reaction shimmered through her, along with a deep-seated need that had gone too many years without sating. The merriment in his eyes faded, replaced by something stronger, hotter, more provoking still.

Then, without warning, there was another faint noise in the hall.

Hart appeared to tense, and glanced in that direction again.

Hopelessly curious, Maggie rose and moved around the desk. If Hart Sanders did have a ladylove out there, and he’d been in here flirting with her, she really would kick him in the shin.

“What about you?” she asked casually, edging closer to the door. “Doesn’t Monica Day have her new movie debuting all over Europe soon? Won’t you be going with her to handle security?”

Hart shifted, his warrior frame deliberately blocking her exit to the hall. “Which is something else I need to talk to my parents about,” he drawled.

Then there were two things that had brought him back to Texas—giving Maggie more food for thought. Although why any of this should matter to her, she didn’t know. They might have shared a special connection the day she decided not to marry Gus, but in reality, they barely knew each other.

“What’s the first item on your agenda?” she asked, as the faint rustling noises in the hallway steadily increased.

“This,” Hart said shortly.

He walked out of the office, just as a long, loud, enraged wail broke the office silence. He returned with an adorable baby boy cradled in his arms.

* * *

MAGGIE COULD NOT stop staring. For one thing, the little fella, who looked to be approximately eighteen months old, appeared to have been crying for a good long time before drifting off to sleep. His forehead bore a crease on one side, where he had pressed against something. His big blue eyes were swollen and puffy, his cherubic little face an indignant red and streaked with a mixture of the same crumbly matter Hart had stuck to his shirt. The tyke’s sandy brown curls were sticky and tangled, matted with what appeared to be a combination of spit-up, crushed crackers and apple juice. All in all, Maggie couldn’t help but note, the baby boy in Hart’s arms was having a terrible day. Evidenced by the way he continued to sob, as if his little heart were breaking.

Instinctively, Maggie drew nearer. She knew it was none of her business, and certainly not her responsibility, but she could not bear to see a little one in such distress. “Who is this?” she cooed, gently touching the back of the child’s head.

“My son. Henry,” Hart had to shout to be heard above the loud wailing.

Hart had a baby? Maggie thought in shock, resisting the strong maternal urge to take the tyke in her arms and soothe all his unhappiness away. Since when? “He apparently hates traveling,” Hart continued, shifting the inconsolable little boy carefully in his arms. With his free hand, he dragged a stroller and diaper bag from the hallway. “And it feels like he’s got a really soggy diaper.”

No kidding, Maggie thought, looking at the dampness dripping out of the little boy’s summer overalls onto Hart’s shirt.

Deciding the time for politeness had passed, she said officiously, “Well, let’s see what we can do about that.” Maggie grabbed the diaper bag from the handle of the stroller and carried it over to a small sofa in the corner of her office. Then she plucked a rolled plastic mat from the bottom of the bag and laid it across the upholstery. After adding a few other essentials, she gestured for Hart to put his son down.

Henry, who had been struggling incessantly in his daddy’s arms, went willingly onto the temporary changing area.

Maggie stepped back to let Hart do the honors.

A mistake.

Henry used the time to flip over onto his stomach and crawl swiftly to the other side of the sofa.

Worried he was going to fall off the edge and tumble onto the hardwood floor, Maggie dove after him. She caught Henry just as he neared the slipping point, and with her hands tucked gently but firmly about his midriff, she brought him up into her arms.

The baby stopped crying long enough to stare at her warily, as if thinking: Friend or Foe?

Maggie wrinkled her nose and said softly, “Hey there, Henry, I’m Maggie.”

Henry shoved the thumb on his left hand into his mouth. He sucked it noisily. Still cradling him tenderly in her arms, she sat down on the sofa. “How about you and I get that soggy, wet diaper off, and maybe some clean clothes on, too,” Maggie proposed softly. “So you’ll be all comfy again.” Gently, she placed Henry down onto the padded vinyl diaper-changing pad.

Ignoring the man to her left, who had backed up to give her room to work, Maggie kept her eyes on the baby. She could feel the intensity of Hart’s attention, though, hot as a firecracker on the Fourth of July.... “What do you say, Henry?” Maggie let go of the tyke with one hand long enough to reach for the snaps on the legs of his overalls designed to make diaper changing easier.

She was not going to allow herself to fall in love with this cute little whippersnapper, the way she did every baby that came her way. And she was certainly not going to fall for his equally good-looking daddy. It didn’t matter how many times she’d thought of the rugged ex-soldier-turned-personal-security-expert since they last met.

“Are you up for it, little guy?”

Henry removed the thumb from his mouth, decision made. “No!” he said loudly and distinctly. He flipped onto his tummy again.

Maggie gently brought Henry back around. “Sure about that?” she teased, already working off her wristwatch with her free hand. She dangled it in front of him and continued in a cheery singsong voice. “I’ve got something for you.”

Unable to resist the temptation of sparkling silver and gold, Henry reached for the accordion-style band. Maggie let him have it, and only when he was holding the wristwatch with both hands, avidly examining the face of it closely, did she quickly undo the snaps and ease the diaper off.

A short minute and a half later, Henry was good to go.

The boy was a little antsy, probably from being cooped up for too long. Maggie set him down on the floor and guided him to the open toy and play area adjacent to her office. He toddled happily into the carpeted area with the miniature chairs and table, obviously grateful for the chance to explore.

Satisfied the child would be fine for the moment, Maggie turned back to his daddy. And that was when she saw what Hart had been up to, too. She stared at broad shoulders and a very fine chest. Equally nice abs. And an arrow of dusky brown-gold hair sliding down into the waistband of his pants. She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped from her lips. “You took off your shirt!”

He shrugged. “It was soaking wet and smelled like pee. What would you have me do?”

Maggie gulped, as her nipples tautened once again. Lower still, there was an even more treacherous reaction. “Put on another?”

He met her chastising glance with a boyish, devil-may-care smile. “I would if I had one handy, but I don’t.” He peered at her closely. Moved nearer, too. “Why?” His seductive grin broadened. “Does the sight of my bare chest bother you?”

Maggie threw up her hands in aggravation. “Would the sight of my bare chest bother you?” she shot right back.

“Actually, now that you mention it...” He tilted his handsome head to one side, considered her a long, sensual moment. “I might enjoy the view.

Maggie was sure he would. “Well! This is hardly the time or place for this,” she fumed. “Especially when you have a baby to take care of.”

At the mention of Henry, Hart sobered. “You’re right. This should come later.”

And that was when the outer door opened, and Maggie’s next appointment of the day walked in.

For a moment, the affianced couple just stared, as if wondering what in the world they’d interrupted.

Then Hart flashed a sexy grin, and quickly discarded the soiled diaper. “My son had a little accident that somehow ended up on me, and Maggie was kind enough to help us out.” Hart rolled the damp clothing up into a ball, tucked it under one arm, walked over to the play area and reached for Henry. “And now that she has,” he said, “we’ll get out of your way. And let the three of you get down to business.”

* * *

LYNETTE JAWORSKI AND Ben Bauer were in their early twenties and, from the looks of it, head over heels in love with each other in a way that Maggie had never been.

Pushing aside her pang of envy, she offered them a seat, then said graciously, “I understand you’re getting married next April and are considering the Double Knot as a venue.”

Lynette took Ben’s hand. “Actually, we’re only here because my parents insisted we see it.”

Outside, Henry began to wail. Maggie struggled to keep her mind on business.

Ben continued, “We don’t want what happened to that one couple to happen to us.”

There was no need to ask what Ben and Lynette were talking about; Maggie knew all too well.

Without warning, Hart walked back in, clean casual shirt on, a tearful Henry in his arms. The boy’s lower lip quavered. He took one look at Maggie and held out his arms for her to come and get him.

Aware the choice was a full-blown toddler eruption or an interruption during the meeting, Maggie stood and walked over to Hart. The little boy vaulted into her arms, promptly stuck his thumb in his mouth and rested his head on her shoulder.

“Sorry about the interruption,” Hart said, clearly not sorry at all, if it meant his little boy would get the maternal comfort he needed. “But Henry wanted Maggie.”

“No problem.” Lynette waved off the intrusion. “All little boys want their mommies.”

Except I’m not his mommy, Maggie thought. And I’m not going to be his nanny, either. But not wanting to get into that, during what was turning out to be a not-so-easy sales pitch, she prompted instead, “So, you were saying...?”

“After reading everything in the reviews online, there’s no way we would feel comfortable holding our wedding here, even if the Double Knot is where Lynette’s parents were married,” Ben said flatly. “So,” they rose and headed hand-in-hand for the door, eager to be on their way, “thanks for meeting with us, Ms. McCabe, but no thanks.”

They walked swiftly out the door. Seconds later, the exterior door banged shut.

Hart turned to Maggie, perplexed. “What was that about?”

“The malfunction of the steam engine, a year and a half ago. The train broke down as it was headed up the mountain. We had to transport the wedding party up to Nature’s Cathedral by bus. The wedding ceremony itself went without a hitch, but the train still wasn’t fixed, so everyone had to get back on the buses and drive down the old logging trails to the reception. Naturally, we apologized profusely for the inconvenience and the couple was given a hefty discount in compensation, but a number of the members of the wedding party were terribly upset, and they posted bad reviews about the Double Knot and The Wedding Train all over the place.”

Hart slipped into business mode. “What’s been the impact on the bottom line?”

“Not good.” Contentment flowing through her as Henry snuggled even closer against her, Maggie explained the subsequent lag in business.

“Can’t anything be done to counter the negative reviews?”

Maggie decided not to sugarcoat the situation. “If your parents would agree to a social media presence, then, yes.”

“You’ve tried to persuade them?” Hart guessed.

“A few times,” Maggie admitted. “Callie is an expert in the field and could probably help us, but your parents don’t want any part of it.”

Hart shook his head in wordless disapproval. “Tell me about it! Since they aren’t keeping up with the times, I tried to get them to sell the business and retire. But they refused. They wanted me to come in and take it over. They still do.”

“But you’re not interested,” Maggie allowed, trying without success to figure out why the notion that Hart did not want to return to his home state of Texas was so upsetting to her. Given the sparks they drew off each other, she ought to want him as far away as possible.

“I’m grateful for the upbringing I had here and the people skills I learned from working in such a chaotic business, but it’s not for me.”

Honestly, Maggie couldn’t see Hart managing the wedding business, either. A larger than life, big-picture guy like him would go crazy with the aesthetics and the minutiae. Sometimes, she felt like she might, too. “I understand. But that aside...” Aware she was loving holding the toddler a little too much, she handed Henry back to his dad. “You really can’t barge in when I’m in the middle of a meeting.”

Hart was instantly contrite. “I know—I’m sorry. I forgot to take the diaper bag with me and Henry’s toys were in there. And once Henry heard your voice...”

Maggie took a seat behind her desk and retorted, “You couldn’t have entertained him any other way?”

Smiling casually, Hart gave her a leisurely once-over. “Magnolia McCabe...are you accusing me of just wanting to commandeer your attention and spend time with you?”

Maggie flushed at his low, flirtatious tone.

With his smile widening and his son cradled tenderly against his chest, he inched closer. Maggie rocked back in her chair and tried to tamp down the immediate spark of excitement she felt. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to rise and join them both.

“Because it’s really not true,” Hart quipped. He sat on the edge of her desk, facing her. “It’s Henry here, who is completely and utterly crushing on you.” He indicated the winsome toddler. “Henry, whose heart you seemed to have captured.”

It was easy to see the staggering resemblance between Hart and his son. Both were incredibly handsome and engaging, in their own way. Maggie felt something catch in her heart. She knew her need for connection went soul-deep. But this was not the time or place to indulge that desire. Not when the child was so vulnerable.

She swallowed around the telltale tightness of her throat. “I know Henry likes me. I like him, too. But you can’t keep treating me like his nanny.”

Chapter Three

For a moment, Hart looked like he’d had his fair share of disappointments, too. He gave her a steely-eyed glare. “I’m not asking you to take responsibility for my son.”

Maggie forced herself to keep her guard up, resisting the urge to become even more involved in what was, she knew, a very emotionally charged situation. And where was the child’s mother, anyway? Who was she?

As if sensing the tension between the two adults, Henry squirmed unhappily in Hart’s arms.

He awkwardly attempted to make his son comfortable. Failed. “But with my parents not here, and me not knowing the first thing about taking care of a baby... Look, I just need you to show me what to do,” Hart said, serious now. “Help me fix him something for dinner, get him ready for bed.”

And then what? Maggie wondered. The three of them would be under the same roof, since her quarters were in the main house, too.

Not to mention the fact that with his parents away and the rest of the staff on hiatus at the moment, they were completely alone. And though Henry might work as an effective chaperone some of the time, he wasn’t always going to be awake.

She ignored the fluttering in her middle. “You don’t ask a lot.”

“It’s not for me.” Hart set Henry down on the floor. Happily distracted, the toddler immediately walked off, exploring. “It’s for him.”

Maggie followed Henry into the hallway to the door. She watched as the little guy stood on tiptoe, trying to work the doorknob.

This child was definitely going to be a handful.

Turning back to Hart, she folded her arms across her chest. “Shouldn’t you already know how to do all this?”

He slung the diaper bag over his shoulder. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” Maggie opened the door for Henry. He toddled out, onto the long covered breezeway that connected the Double Knot Wedding Ranch offices to the sprawling cedar and stone ranch house. In the opposite direction, on the other side of the main house, the breezeway led to a four-car garage.

Ten acres away from that, on the other side of a beautifully landscaped flower garden and lawn, there was a train station built in the style of the Old West. There were covered platforms where guests sat as they waited to board the old-fashioned steam engine that would take them to Nature’s Cathedral at the top of Sanders Mountain, a huge party barn where receptions were held and a large parking lot where wedding guests could park.

Maggie opened the back door to the house. “I mean, do your parents even know they are grandparents?” Maggie was pretty sure the intensely family-oriented Fiona and Frank would have mentioned it if they had.

Hart lifted up his son, and carried him across the threshold, before setting the little boy down again. “I just found out myself three days ago.” Sorrow colored his low tone.

Shock rendered Maggie momentarily still. “Seriously?”

Hart set the diaper bag down on the hall table. “My ex-fiancée never told me she was pregnant.” He shrugged, shook his head. “I might not have known at all if Alicia hadn’t died in a car crash a month ago.”

A silence fraught with heartache fell.

Maggie caught up with Henry, who was headed for the back stairs. She grabbed the little boy’s hand and turned him back in the direction of the ranch-house kitchen. “Where’s Henry been since?” Together, the three of them entered the spacious room.

Maggie left Hart to keep track of his son, while she opened up the large, stainless steel fridge and got out the makings for the little boy’s dinner.

“Foster care in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Apparently, my name was on Henry’s Texas birth certificate, but between the bureaucracies of the two states, it took them a while to track me down.”

Maggie set a skillet on the six-burner Viking stove and turned the heat to medium. “Poor kid.” She buttered two pieces of bread and put a slice of American cheese between them.

Hart’s forehead creased. “He was well cared for. At least he seemed somewhat happy, if pretty confused, when I went to pick him up. I thought it would be easier to fly to San Antonio, and then rent a car for the remainder of the trip.” Hart scooped up his son before he could exit the kitchen at top speed. The two of them watched as Maggie spooned applesauce into a dish.

Maggie lifted the spoon to Henry’s lips. “Since it’s only a little over an hour from the city to the Double Knot.” The child paused, thinking, then cautiously took a bite.

“Right. Unfortunately, while en route, we had to change planes in Dallas. Our flight was running late, and we barely made the connection. Henry didn’t take well to the confusion and he absolutely hated takeoff and landing.”

Maggie set the dish on the counter next to Hart and handed him the spoon so he could do the honors. “Probably his ears.”

Hart shifted Henry to his left arm and picked up the spoon with his right hand. “What?”

A little too aware of how cozy and domestic this all felt, Maggie poured milk into a cup. “The change in air pressure is hard on their little ears.”

A corner of his mouth took on a downward slant. “Makes sense. Anyway, he was really miserable and really ticked off. He wouldn’t stay in his safety seat next to me, and he was worse on my lap. He cried the entire time.”

Maggie’s heart went out to both of them. They couldn’t have had a worse start to their trip or their relationship.

“And he was even madder when we picked up the rental,” Hart mused as he continued feeding his son the last of the applesauce. “Fortunately, he fell asleep about forty minutes into the drive and was still snoozing when we got here.”

Noting the sandwich was done, Maggie slid it onto a plate and began slicing it into small kid-sized squares. “So you put him in his stroller.”

Hart nodded while they waited for the grilled cheese bites to cool. “And wheeled him into the house, thinking my mom and dad would be here.”

Only to find me instead, Maggie thought.

She dampened a paper towel and used the edge of it to clean the applesauce from around Henry’s mouth. “This is why you were hoping to surprise your parents.” The little boy lurched toward Maggie. She caught him in her arms.

“I figured it would be better to tell them in person.”

A tenuous silence fell. “Are you still going to wait for that? Or let them know now?”

Hart hesitated. “I hate to disrupt their trip, knowing how long they have wanted to see that part of the world and how seldom they treat themselves to a vacation, but I really need them to help me get Henry settled. So, looks like I’ll be emailing them the news tonight.”

Maggie pulled a chair up to the table, put the sandwich in front of her and sat down with Henry on her lap. She offered him a bite. “How do you think they’ll react?”

For a second, Maggie didn’t think Hart was going to answer. Sorrow came and went in his eyes. Finally, he pulled up a chair next to them and allowed, “I’m sure they’ll be surprised and happy to find out they have a grandson. However, they won’t be as happy about my part in the snafu.”

If there was one thing Maggie understood all too well, it was not meeting parental expectations. Compassion welled within her. “You think they’ll blame you, for not knowing?”

“Hard to say,” Hart said quietly, offering his son another bite of grilled cheese. “What I do know is that my mom and dad had reservations about my engagement to Alicia from the get-go.”

His romantic past was more complicated than she realized. That gave them something in common in that respect, too. “Frank and Fiona didn’t like Alicia?”

Hart caught Maggie’s confused look. “They thought I might not be right for her.”

“Why not?” she asked, shifting Henry onto Hart’s lap and going to get the little boy a drink.

“Alicia was a small-town Texas girl and she wanted stability.”

Maggie washed out the baby bottle from the diaper bag and filled it with milk. She paused to give it to Hart, then stood opposite him, her back to the marble counter. “And you couldn’t give that to her.”

Hart’s lips compressed grimly. “I tried. It’s why we got formally engaged when I still had a year and a half left to go on my tour. Because she needed to know I was serious, that I intended to marry her when my military commitment was up.”

“What happened?”

“She was frustrated because I didn’t know what I wanted to do when I got out of the service—except not come back here to live. And I didn’t want to set our wedding date until I knew what I was going to be doing, where we were going to live.” Frustration glimmered in his dark brown eyes. “So she called it off. Said I was too restless to ever settle down in one place, and that was all she’d ever wanted.”

Finding his steady regard a little unnerving, Maggie set the skillet in the sink, squirted dishwashing liquid into the center of it and got to work. “Did you have any qualms about leaving the military?”

Hart shook his head. “No. When I’m ready to move on, I move on. I don’t spend a lot of time looking back. And although I enjoyed my time in the armed forces and felt good about serving my country, I was ready to try something else.”

Maggie understood that, too. It was why she had gone from business analyst to wedding planner. Because—even though this wasn’t something she planned to do permanently—she had needed a change.

Another silence fell. Henry having finished his dinner, Hart brought him over to the sink and Maggie helped him wash the child’s face and hands. Then Hart set him down on the floor, in front of the bay window in the breakfast nook. Henry stood, his hands pressed against the glass, looking outside.

Hart stood next to his son, tenderly standing guard. Watching them together, Maggie could already feel the love flowing from father to son.

She shook her head. “I don’t understand why Alicia wouldn’t have told you about the baby.”

“I don’t understand it, either. Unless it was because she wanted to keep Henry all to herself.” He paused. “She had to have known that I wouldn’t have just walked away. I would have insisted on shared custody.”

Maggie moved closer. “I’m sorry she didn’t tell you. It was wrong of her to keep him from you.”

Hart reached out and squeezed Maggie’s hand. “Thanks for saying that.”

It wasn’t just a platitude. It bothered her that he thought it might be. “I mean it, Hart. You were dealt a raw hand. You didn’t deserve it.”

Another moment passed. They exchanged fragile smiles while Maggie considered the irony that Hart had helped her out in the midst of the worst crisis of her life, to date. Now, she was helping him out, in the midst of his.

“In the meantime,” Hart drew a deep breath, considering. “I’ve got to figure out where Henry’s going to sleep tonight.”

He was watching her curiously, as if trying to read her mind while she worked to keep her emotions out of it. “Do you have a crib?”

Hart scrubbed a palm across the day’s growth of beard on his chin. “Not sure.” He frowned again. “There used to be one—mine, actually—in the attic. Would you mind looking after Henry while I go check it out?”

“Not at all.” In her view, the sooner they got the little one down for the night, the better. And to that end...maybe she should speed things along, too.

“So what do you think, little fella?” Maggie asked, lifting Henry into her arms after Hart disappeared. The boy smiled and cuddled against her while Maggie ran her fingers through his cracker-and-juice-encrusted hair. Knowing his dad’s chore was going to take a while, given the jumbled state of the contents of the attic, she asked, “You up for a bath tonight? Because to be honest, sport, you really need one.”

Henry flashed a toothy grin.

“I’ll take that for a yes,” Maggie said. She retrieved the diaper bag, Henry still snuggled safely in her arms, and went up the stairs.

* * *

HART HEARD THE wild giggles the moment he hit the second floor. He followed the sound to the guest-room bath. Henry was in the tub, splashing happily. Maggie was kneeling in front of it, one hand tucked securely around Henry’s tummy while Henry dropped a set of toy keys into the bubbles. Chortling happily, he picked them up and promptly dropped them again.

She certainly had the touch with kids, Hart thought. And she was still damned beautiful, too—even in disarray. In deference to the potentially messy task of bathing his son, she’d swept her thick espresso curls up into a loose knot on the back of her head. Her legs and feet were bare, her skirt pulled tight across her delectable derriere and hiked partway up her even more sensational thighs. The front of her blouse was damp and covered with bubbles. She looked as happy and relaxed as the toddler in front of her.

Was this the same child he had picked up at foster care that morning? Hart could hardly believe it.

Catching sight of him in the mirror, Maggie shifted slightly to look at him. As she moved, the neckline of her blouse gaped, showing a hint of lace and soft womanly curves. There was a light in her eyes that made his pulse race all the more.

“How did it go?” Her silky voice caressed his skin.

He kept his eyes on hers and Hart answered her smile with one of his own. “I found the crib. Unfortunately, it was covered with layers of dust.”

“Did you bring it down?”

Hart edged nearer and caught a whiff of her perfume. Hyacinth. He repressed a sigh of pure lust. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. Too long. “I took it outside and hosed it off,” he replied, trying in vain to get his libido under control and his mind back on track. “I was hoping that a simple rinse would do it, but it looks like it’s going to need soap, too.”

“I think there’s some wood-oil soap under the kitchen sink.”

Was it his imagination, or was it getting hot in here? “Thanks. I’ll look.” She seemed very much in her element with his child, amazingly so. “Are you okay here with Henry—if I go off to finish the job?”

Maggie nodded. “None of us will get any shut-eye tonight unless Henry has a place to sleep. So go for it.”

“Thanks. I owe you.”

She laughed and waggled her brows facetiously. “I’ll remember that.”

Hart took another last, lingering look at the two of them, then went off to finish the chore. By the time he returned, Maggie was in the living-room rocking chair, Henry on her lap. The baby had a bottle of milk clutched in his hands, and he was drinking it drowsily. The two looked like mother and son, and Hart couldn’t help but smile at them. Maggie smiled back, then stiffened abruptly. Her contentment fading, she seemed more than ready to relinquish his son to him. “All set?” she asked.

Hiding his regret to see her so eager to leave, Hart nodded. “Bed’s made and everything.”

Maggie rose, Henry still in her arms. “Where’d you put it?”

“My old room.”

“Ah, yes.” Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “The one with all the trophies and awards.”

A little embarrassed his parents insisted on keeping the room like a museum of his accomplishments, Hart dipped his head in droll acknowledgment. “That would be the one.”

“You know, it might be a good idea to take the rocking chair up there.”

Hart had been thinking the same thing. Wordlessly, he handed Henry back to Maggie. Then picked up the rocker and headed up the stairs. Maggie and Henry followed along behind him.

When they reached his old bedroom, Maggie looked approvingly at the crib set up right next to the extra-long twin bed of his youth. A bedside lamp was glowing. Once again, she relinquished command of her young charge. “Ten more minutes of rocking and he ought to be out like a light.”

Hart nodded his understanding. Trying not to think how quickly he had come to rely on her, he sat down with Henry in his arms and got to it.

* * *

HALF AN HOUR LATER, Maggie was in the kitchen making tortilla soup and a salad for her own dinner when Hart walked in. He had changed into a pair of nice-fitting jeans and a denim shirt, and for the first time since he had arrived, he looked completely relaxed and at ease.

She couldn’t help but light up at the sight of him.

He was just so damned sexy.

And she could not afford to be noticing!

Maggie tabled the loneliness that made her so susceptible and brought her thoughts back to the situation at hand. “Henry asleep?”

Hart breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah.” His smile grew tender. “He fought it as hard as he could, but the poor little guy just couldn’t keep his eyes open. I put him in his crib about ten minutes ago, and he ought to be good for a while. In the meantime, I rigged up a makeshift baby monitor by calling the house phone with my cell and leaving the phone receiver in Henry’s room. I hope that’s okay,” he said.

Impressed he had figured out what to do until they could get a real baby monitor for him to use, Maggie nodded her approval. “If anyone really needs me, they’ll call my cell phone.” She paused. “I’m glad he’s finally asleep, though.”

Except...it would mean they’d have the rest of the night without distraction. And the two of them needed the commotion Henry supplied to keep them safely at arm’s length.

Hart strode closer. He’d shaved since she had seen him last. A mixture of mint and spicy aftershave lotion clung to his handsome jaw. She felt a tingle of awareness deep inside her.

He smiled. “But just in case—would you mind keeping an ear out for him while I bring in the stuff from the rental car?”

“No problem.” It would give her a moment to calm her jumping nerves.

“Thanks.” Hart flashed a confident smile, promising, “It should just take a couple of minutes.”

While he was gone, Maggie got out two bowls, a bag of chips and some grated cheddar. She didn’t really want to eat dinner with Hart—it somehow felt a little too intimate—but she also knew he had to be hungry. Good manners dictated she share what she had, at least for that evening. The fact she’d felt something for him, when they were talking, had nothing to do with it. Nor did the fact she found him as tempting as ever.

Hart came back in, loaded down with a big suitcase prominently bearing Henry’s name, an expensive leather duffel with his initials and a laptop bag.

He grinned when he saw the double place-setting at the kitchen island. “Expecting company or is that for me?”

“It’s for us,” she corrected wearily, then aware of the potential implications of that, quickly wished she hadn’t. “And you are ‘company’ to me, in the strictest sense of the word.”

She meant to reassure him. Put the mood back in the platonic-to-a-fault category. Instead, to her frustration, her words had the opposite effect. His dark brown eyes lit up the same way they had when she’d mentioned Dr. Ruth instead of Dr. Phil. He invaded her space, wrapping both hands around her spine. “Sure about that?”

He pressed lightly, bringing her all the way against him. Now she was the one on fire with desire. Her pulse pounding, Maggie worked to get air into her lungs. “Hart...”

“Can’t help it, Maggie,” he said huskily, guiding her closer still. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the first time I saw you. And damned if I’m not going to do just that.”

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