Wanted: Texas Daddy. Cathy Gillen ThackerЧитать онлайн книгу.
hand. “MR! What are you doing here? I thought our meeting wasn’t until tomorrow.”
This was the lauded MR? Sage thought in shock. From the way Nick had talked about the venture capital executive, she had imagined someone older and stodgier. Not some auburn-haired beauty sporting stylish black eyeglasses who could double as a Hollywood starlet.
Not that Nick had indicated he had noticed MR’s stunning good looks.
He turned back to Sage, backtracking long enough to make introductions. “Sage, this is MR Rhodes, from Metro Equity Partners. She’s the venture capital exec I’ve been working with. MR, this is—”
“Your fiancée?” the exec guessed tartly.
So she was stodgy after all, considering her disapproving tone as her gaze moved knowingly to Sage’s tummy.
“Ah—” For the first time since the other woman had entered the store, Nick looked flummoxed.
“Baby mama?” MR guessed again, with a candid smile that did not reach her eyes.
The set of Nick’s mouth was suddenly as tense as his shoulders. “Did you want to talk business this evening?” he asked brusquely.
MR got the hint. “Briefly, I do. We’re very close to getting approval from the other partners for the deal you and I have been negotiating.”
A long, slow back and forth of ideas that had been going on as long as Sage had known Nick. “That’s great news!” he said.
MR scowled, suddenly seeming as reluctant and unhappy as Nick had a second ago. “It would be, if you weren’t in the midst of a situation.”
Oh, dear. “Maybe I should leave,” Sage said.
“No.” Nick clapped a possessive hand on her shoulder. He gave her a look that said they had nothing to hide. “You stay.”
Okay, then.
He turned back to MR. “What do you mean by situation?”
MR huffed and looked at Sage as if she were a spoiler. “The plan is to make Nick the public face of the new Western-wear stores. Have him featured prominently in every ad, with personal appearances at every location. But we can’t do that if he’s a deadbeat dad.”
Deadbeat dad? “Nick is not shirking his responsibility,” Sage said hotly.
“I know my partners. They are old-school, family men. There is no way they’re going to go for the new company spokesperson—the brand representative, if you will—having a kid out of wedlock. It’s just not going to happen.” MR looked Nick in the eye. “So unless you want to be trapped here in this one-horse town, in this one-horse store, in perpetuity, the two of you need to get hitched. Pronto.”
Sage turned to Nick in a panic. She didn’t want him to lose everything he had been working so hard to achieve, any more than she wanted to be backed into a corner herself. To her relief, he reached over and gave her hand an understanding squeeze.
“What if we had the rest of my family—my three sisters and brother, and all my nephews and nieces—in the ads?” Nick proposed. “Maybe even use photos of the rest of the Monroe clan. We could go back as far as the store’s beginnings, which is four generations.”
“No. You are the one they want to see in all the ads. And you can see why, right?” MR turned to Sage in full business mode. “He’s like a younger, hotter, tall-dark-and-handsome Ralph Lauren. Our vision and the success of the new venture hinges on Nick’s sex appeal, his image as an upstanding cowboy and devoted family man. And with you pregnant, Sage, regardless of how either of you feel about it, that means marriage. ASAP.”
“We can’t make a decision like that on the fly,” Nick countered.
“Understandable. You all need to talk about it. In the meantime, my assistant, Everett Keller, is checking into the Laramie Inn. We’d like to have dinner locally. So if you could recommend a place with fresh fish. Shrimp. Scallops. Salmon.” MR picked up on Sage’s distaste. “Something wrong?”
Sage shook her head. Nope. Nothing to see here.
But the ever-probing venture capitalist wouldn’t let it go, so Nick placed a comforting hand on Sage’s spine. “Sage got sick on shrimp early in her pregnancy. Just thinking about it makes her ill.”
An understatement if there ever was one. She couldn’t even look at recipes. Never mind photos of the cooked food. And she was a chef! Hopefully, the malady would pass. But for now, a simple whiff made her toss her cookies. Pronto.
“I see,” MR said.
When clearly she didn’t.
Eager to discuss something other than her continuing battle with morning—or in some cases, evening—sickness, Sage wrote down the name of a bed-and-breakfast located a short distance away. “They have an executive chef that’s on par with the best in Dallas, and the menu and wine list to go with. You’ll need reservations. But if you tell them you’re here to do business with Nick and he recommended it, I’m sure they’ll find a way to fit you in this evening.”
“Thanks.” MR looked grateful.
“No problem,” Sage said.
She’d do whatever she could to help Nick.
Short of ruining everything and marrying him, of course.
* * *
“MR IS RIGHT,” Hope Lockhart said, a short time later, when Sage and Nick went over to her brother and sister-in-law’s home. The four of them gathered in the kitchen of the Victorian, while one-year-old Max sat in his high chair and ate his dinner of green beans and diced meatballs.
A crisis manager and public relations expert, Hope had guided the family through several calamities since first meeting them the previous summer. “While there are many customers who won’t care whether you or Nick ever tie the knot, there are others who will be up in arms over it,” Hope told them gently. “You don’t want to lose any potential business right out of the gate. Not if you want this venture to be a success.”
“Think of the plus side,” Garrett added, from his place at the stove. Winking, he gave the boiling pasta and spaghetti sauce another stir. “Mom will be delighted.”
It was all Sage could do not to groan. “Did you all tell her yet?”
Garrett shook his head. “Like we said a while ago at the store, that news is yours to deliver, sis. I just wouldn’t wait too long.”
“Want to do it now?” Nick asked, as he and Sage turned down an invitation to stay for dinner and left.
The sun had set, leaving the quiet residential street bathed in the yellow glow of the streetlamps. Stars shone overhead.
Feeling the need for some support, Sage tucked her hand in Nick’s and rested her chin on the solid warmth of his upper arm. “First, we need to talk about what we’re going to do.”
He caught her other hand and turned her to face him. “I don’t expect you to marry me, Sage.”
But clearly, she thought, it was what he wanted. A simple solution to a very thorny problem. “You heard what MR said. If we don’t, your deal with her firm is likely off.”
Nick shrugged, a distant look coming into his eyes. Sage felt about a million miles away from him. She didn’t like it. In an effort to understand what was going on with him, she asked, “Did you ever tell MR you felt trapped here in Laramie?”
His broad shoulders tensed. “Not in so many words.”
“So she inferred it?”
He nodded curtly.
Which had to mean, she knew Nick pretty well. Pushing aside a surge of unexpected jealousy, Sage gently pushed for more information. “Why would she do that? What did you tell her?” That you haven’t told me?