Husband For Keeps. Kate LittleЧитать онлайн книгу.
this one—this one jammed her radar with a glance.
She liked it. And then again she didn’t.
She gave herself a mental shake. Living in Hollywood, she had been around some good-looking men. Some remarkably good-looking men. She believed she’d become if not numb, then certainly distant and carefully delayed her reactions, preferring instead to find out what was under all the attractive wrapping before she allowed herself to walk out of the store with the package.
But for some strange reason this man was in a different league altogether. His looks, not typically handsome at all, certainly not movie-star smooth or polished, were totally arresting.
His straight, thick, black hair, damp with rain and slicked back from his brow, emphasized strong features—wide cheekbones, a hard, square jaw and a straight blade of nose, set above a firm, sensuously wide mouth. And those eyes, nearly black in color and bottomless. She’d never seen eyes so dark, she thought.
Dark and deep enough for a woman to easily lose herself in them. But not this woman, she promised herself.
“Are we there yet?” Tyler murmured groggily.
Tyler. The boy had been sitting through the ride so quietly she’d nearly forgotten about him. As Carey glanced down, she could see that he was more than half-asleep, lulled by the stuffy warmth of the cab and the slow, steady beat of the wipers.
His small body was nestled cozily against Luke’s side, with Luke’s arm draped around his shoulders.
Luke roughed up Tyler’s hair with one large hand. “Almost there, pal. See, there’s the house up ahead.”
The ranch house had finally come into view, and Carey headed straight for it, thankful they’d arrived. Tyler sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“Good,” he mumbled. “I really need to use the bathroom.”
Carey couldn’t help but laugh, and heard Luke’s deep chuckle, as well. They shared a quick glance over the top of the boy’s head, and she felt that peculiar ping in her chest when his gaze met her own.
She quickly looked away, steering the truck around the front yard and parking as close to the front door as she was able.
She spotted Judge Kendall’s car and was thankful that he had waited. Carey guessed she had Ophelia to thank for that small miracle. Carey imagined that the judge was now working his way through the last tasty rounds of a five-course lunch.
Luke hopped out of the truck, then stretched out his arms to catch Tyler. “Let’s get in there and find the facilities,” she heard him whisper in a fatherly fashion.
“I’m okay,” Tyler balked.
Though Luke offered to carry him to the porch, the boy insisted on walking himself, one hand grasping Luke’s as his feet slipped and slid on through the puddle-covered path. Carey noticed then that the child was wearing only sneakers, not boots or heavy outdoor footwear.
Luke had introduced himself as the boy’s uncle. But it appeared to Carey that the boy was in his care. And maybe Luke didn’t have the money to buy more expensive shoes right now, she thought. She guessed he really needed this job.
Luke and Tyler waited politely at the door until Carey had made her way up to the covered porch. She opened the front door and ushered them in, showed them where to leave their wet jackets and shoes, then pointed out the closest bathroom.
“Just come back to the kitchen when you’re ready. You both most be starved,” Carey said as she headed toward the kitchen herself. “Ophelia will make you some lunch. Ophelia?”
Carey swung open the kitchen door and was greeted by the expectant look on her housekeeper’s face. Ophelia waved a note at Carey and proceeded to relate the message before handing it over. “Your fellow, Kyle, called a few minutes ago,” Ophelia told her immediately. “He’s stuck in the storm. But I didn’t tell the judge,” she added in a whisper. “He’s just finishing up his lunch.”
She tilted her head in the direction of the dining room where Carey could see the judge sitting comfortably at the long table. He appeared to be quite content and in no hurry to leave, a plate of layer cake and cup of coffee set before him while he worked a newspaper crossword puzzle.
Carey carefully closed the door between the dining room and kitchen. She took the note Ophelia handed her, and even though she already knew the message, she gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, stamping her booted feet as she vented her frustration.
“Damn it! Damn, damn, damn. Damn!”
When she opened her eyes, Luke Redstone stood watching her, Tyler by his side. The corner of his mouth turned up and he almost smiled. Then suddenly he looked down at the floor and coughed into his hand.
“Bad news from the groom?”
“Very bad,” Carey replied, her heartfelt despair underlying her tone. When she met Luke’s gaze, he looked as if he wanted to ask more, offer his help.
“So, who are these two fellows you brought back with you?” Ophelia’s question startled Carey. The older woman stared at Luke and Tyler.
“Mr. Redstone’s truck broke down. I stopped to help out.”
“Luke Redstone, ma’am. This is my nephew, Tyler.” Luke stepped forward and politely offered his hand to Ophelia. She shook it, and Carey could tell that even Ophelia was not unaffected by the man’s dark good looks and heart-stopping smile.
Carey sat down in a kitchen chair and began tugging off her boots. Tyler came over and, without Carey asking, helped her.
“Stuck on the road? In this weather? Lucky Carey came along and found you.” Ophelia bustled over to Tyler and took his small hands into her own. “Your hands are like ice, child. We’ve got to get you warmed up before you catch a chill.”
She led him to the table and sat him down. Having raised five children and now the proud grandmother of eleven, Ophelia had a way with kids, Carey knew. And with adults, too, come to think about it. And if Tyler had mistaken Carey for some kind of storybook princess, he was now gazing up at Ophelia as if he’d finally met his long-lost fairy godmother, Carey noticed.
“Now let me get you boys something to eat.” Ophelia turned back to the stove. “I’ve got some roast beef sandwiches and some nice vegetable soup. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds great. If it’s not too much trouble,” Luke replied.
“No trouble at all.” Ophelia took soup bowls and plates from the cabinets, and Luke carried them to the table.
“How about you, Carey? Will you have something?” she asked.
“No, thanks.” Carey sat staring down at the kitchen floor, wiggling her near-frozen toes as she contemplated the truth of her situation.
Kyle was not coming.
The airport in Denver had been closed, all flights going in or out, canceled. His plane had been diverted, turned around, forced to land in Wyoming.
There would be no wedding by midnight.
No marriage and no inheritance.
The ranch and all her father’s savings and investments, except for a very small gift, would go to her cousin, Roger Burkett. A spiteful bully as a boy, who had grown into an even more malicious adult, Roger had been sniffing around ever since her father’s passing, counting down the hours until the ranch would be his if Carey failed to marry.
Well, maybe that’s the way her father had wanted it anyway. The marriage deadline codicil had merely been another way to reprimand her. Her father had always wanted a son to carry on the family name and run the ranch. And for years Roger had tried his insufferable, phony best to fit himself into Jonah’s lost dream.
Tears burned her eyes, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Carey knew she was not a materialistic person. If so, she would have succumbed