The Rancher's Christmas Princess (11 page)

“Thank you, Larry,” she said, and edged away from him as his
wife, RaeNell, stepped up and slipped her arm in his.

“Nice turnout, don’t you think, Your Highness?” RaeNell slid a
narrow-eyed glance from Belle to her husband and back again.

Belle was more than ready to move on. “Very nice. Good to see
you, RaeNell.” She turned for the next table, murmuring “Excuse me” as she
slipped around a young couple holding hands and whispering together. Marcus was
right behind her, keeping close the way he always did in crowds.

The lobby wasn’t very big and she spotted Preston instantly. He
stood across the room, near the wall, looking so tall and solid and manly. He
was watching her, waiting for her.

Her heart lifted. For a split second, the space cleared in
front of him and she saw the stroller, with Ben in it, still sound asleep, his
head drooping to the side, his plump lower lip stuck out and his dimpled chin
tucked low into his blankets. Tenderness filled her. For the child.

And for the man.

Awash in mingled longing, joy and sadness, it took her a moment
to notice the woman who had suddenly materialized at Preston’s side. She was
blond, petite and pretty. Beneath her bright red down jacket, she wore a tight,
white cowl-necked sweater and jeans that clung to her slender curves like a
second skin.

Preston glanced at the woman sharply, frowning, as she wrapped
her hand around his arm and went on tiptoe to whisper something in his ear.

He wasn’t having any of whatever she was offering. He muttered
something out of the side of his mouth and tried to pull free of her grip.

But she held on. And then she whispered something else.

“Let go of my arm, Lucy,” he said, each word formed so slowly
and deliberately that Belle could read them on his lips. He didn’t seem angry,
just not the least interested and impatient to escape.

Lucy laughed, the sound forced and brittle. “Oh, now, don’t be
that way,” she teased, too loudly. But she did let go.

Preston took hold of the stroller and rolled it away from her.
Belle felt the sweetest cool wash of relief. It was clear he was over his former
fiancée.

And beyond relief, she felt...curious. She wanted to know what
Lucy might have said to him, which was odd. She’d never been the nosy type. And
she was not a jealous person. But for a moment there, when Lucy grabbed his arm,
she had most definitely felt the sting of jealousy.

Really, what was happening to her?

She almost smiled. The answer was so obvious.

She
liked
him. She liked him and
she wanted him. And already, in the space of six short days, she’d come to care
for him. Greatly. She didn’t want any other woman to have him.

What she wanted was her chance with him.

Perhaps what she really needed to do was stop running from the
urgings of her own heart. She needed to take her sister’s advice, to make a play
for the tall rancher with the sky-blue eyes.

True, it might not work out. But she would never know unless
she tried.

Preston was wheeling Ben in her direction. He never once
glanced back at Lucy.

But Belle did. A beefy-looking fellow in a big black hat had
grabbed the little blonde by the arm and was pulling her toward the open doors
back out to the street. The fellow didn’t look happy.

Neither did Lucy. She shook her head and said something Belle
couldn’t hear. The man just held on to her arm and kept walking, elbowing people
aside until he had her through the doors.

Preston reached her side. “That was embarrassing.”

She moved in closer. Because she wanted to. Because she was
through denying her attraction to him. “You didn’t look back.”

He shook his head. “No percentage in that.” His voice was low,
meant just for her. So was the warm light in his eyes.

Still leaning close to him, she said, “You missed the big guy
in the black hat. He took her arm and pulled her out of here.”

Preston made a low sound in his throat. “That would have been
her husband, Monty Polk.”

“Ah. I thought as much.”

He added, “Monty owns the local car dealership, Polk’s Prime
Auto. Does real well for himself.”

She wanted to ask what Lucy had said to him. And she would.
Later. When they were alone.

Ben chose that moment to wake up—with gusto. He startled and
let out a cry of surprise followed by a long, loud wail.

Preston said wryly, “I’m thinking it’s about time we headed on
home.”

* * *

Back at the ranch house, Belle said she would change Ben
and then get some food in him. Pres went out to check on the horses.

The snow had started in again. After he finished in the
stables, he paused in the yard, which was blazing bright with all the Christmas
lights. He took off his hat and turned his face to the night sky. He did it just
to feel the snowflakes melting on his cheeks the way he used to do when he was
only a kid not that much older than Ben.

It had been a great day. He’d never been much for town events
as a rule. And he certainly hadn’t seen the appeal of wandering from booth to
booth looking at handmade wool hats and frilly aprons and an endless array of
Christmas decorations.

But he had Ben now. And Belle was right. A kid needed to feel
like part of the community....

Belle.
Just thinking her name
caused a powerful yearning inside him.

He lowered his head, feeling foolish. He really did need to
remember the situation here. She only wanted to help.

And then she would go.

He put on his hat again. Keeping his head down, he returned to
the house.

Inside, he washed up quickly at the sink.

Belle took Ben out of his high chair. “Go upstairs with Dada,”
she said. “He will help you with your bath.”

“Dada!” Ben went right into his arms. That was a fine moment to
add to his growing collection of them.

Pres carried his son upstairs, bathed him, changed him and read
him the story about what trucks do at night. Ben was already nodding off when
Pres put him in his crib and turned out the light.

He left the door open the way Belle always did and followed his
nose to the kitchen, where the women had whipped up a meal from what they could
find in the fridge. All five of them sat down at the kitchen table to eat and
then had coffee and Christmas cookies for dessert.

Once dinner was cleared away, Marcus said good-night. And then
Charlotte went across the yard with the old man. She’d said something about the
two of them doing a little holiday decorating. But she was fooling nobody. It
was just an excuse for them to have some time alone.

Pres tried not to worry that his dad was getting in over his
head. Twice before, in the years since they lost his mom, the old man had taken
a shine to a female—a nurse who worked at the community hospital and also a
widow from a nearby ranch. But those courtships had been brief and his dad was
never much beyond lukewarm over either of those women.

It was different with Charlotte. When his dad looked at Belle’s
companion, his whole face seemed to light up from within. He was totally gone on
her. Pres had a feeling it was going to be bad for him when she left. But then
again, Charlotte seemed like a fine woman. And it was obvious she was as taken
with the old man as he was with her.

Why shouldn’t they steal a little happiness while they could?
The two of them were old enough by now to know what they were doing. He
hoped.

Pres carried his coffee mug to the counter. Belle was loading
the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, her sable hair falling forward, the
overhead light bringing out the strands of red and gold in the greater mass of
rich brown.

Looking at Belle, he kind of got what the old man was probably
going through with Charlotte. Some good things were mighty hard to resist. Belle
wore jeans—high-dollar ones of the designer variety—and expensive boots and a
pretty gold-colored sweater. Every time he looked at her he wanted to reach out
and haul her into his hungry arms.

“I’ll take that.” She plucked the mug from his hand and put it
in the top rack, punched the start button and shut the door. The machine gave a
low rumble as the cycle began.

“It was a good day,” he said.

“A wonderful day,” she agreed. And then, with a strange little
smile, she turned and left him there.

He watched her fine backside in those perfect-fitting jeans
moving away from him and had to press his lips together to keep from calling her
back. It was better that she went. If they hung around downstairs alone
together...well, no.

Not a good idea.

He wandered into the family room. Like the rest of the main
floor, it was all done up for the holidays, the mantel decked with greenery and
lights. From the easy chair by the fire, he could glance over and see a little
of the big tree in the front hall.

He put another log on the fire, sat in the easy chair and
closed his eyes. Just for a little. In a bit he would turn on the TV, see if he
could rustle up a decent movie on pay-per-view.

“Preston.” Belle’s voice. Soft. A little husky, a
lot
tempting. He had to be dreaming. “Preston...”

He let his eyelids drift open. And then he blinked.

Because she really was right there, standing in front of him,
wearing a red robe and red satin slippers. The firelight warmed her smooth skin,
brought out the fiery colors in her hair. She really was about the
hottest-looking woman he’d ever known. It constantly took him off guard. All
that hotness. And yet, she was very ladylike, too—which somehow made her even
hotter.

He sat up fast. “Uh. Belle. Yeah?”

She laughed then, tossing her head a little, making the ache
within him all the fiercer. “I thought we could spend a little time together.
Just the two of us.”

He needed to tell her that it wasn’t a good idea. But when he
opened his mouth, what came out was, “Sure. Have a seat.”

She had the baby monitor with her. Setting it on a side table,
she took the other easy chair across the fire from him, the silky material of
her robe whispering softly, temptingly, as she sat and smoothed the fabric over
her knees.

He tried not stare at the curves of her breasts, outlined so
perfectly by the clinging robe. Or to look lower, at the long sweep of thigh
outlined by the thin robe, the trim ankles peeking out beneath the red
hem...

And why hadn’t he told her she really ought to get the hell out
of there? His brain didn’t function properly when she was around—especially not
when she was wearing a clingy red robe with very little on underneath it as far
as he could tell.

He had to remember that he was trying to stay away from her. As
soon as she finished helping him make a life with Ben, she would return to her
own world, to her busy life in her glamorous little country, to traveling the
globe helping the disadvantaged get decent medical care. The last thing he
needed was to fall for her and lose her. He’d been there and done that
already.

But no. Not true. He
hadn’t
been
there. Not by a long shot. Belle was nothing like Lucy. Belle was so much finer,
so much truer, so much...more. Losing her would be harder, would hit so much
deeper than losing Lucy had. He needed to get up and say good-night and head for
the stairs.

But wouldn’t you know? He stayed right where he was.

She asked, “So I’m guessing it went well tonight—when you put
Ben to bed?”

“It was good. Great. I’m thinking he’s getting used to me now,
learning to trust me, to feel safe with me.”

“I can see that. I’m...glad.” She turned and stared at the
fire. A log snapped and sparks shot up the chimney. As he watched, she closed
her eyes, those thick gold-tipped lashes sweeping down over the high, perfect
cheeks. So beautiful. And so sad.

“I’m sorry.” The simple words felt scraped out of him.

She sat up straighter, turned her face to him again. Her gaze
was steady and she made her mouth turn up in a resigned smile. “That I’m losing
him?”

“Yeah. I...haven’t been thinking a lot about how it must be for
you.”

“That’s understandable.”

“At first it was just the shock. And the impossibility of it,
of having a child I didn’t even know about.”

“I see that.” She arranged that amazing face into a serene
expression. The serenity didn’t quite reach her eyes, however.

He stumbled on. “But now that I’m getting to know him, now I’m
starting to believe that I will get to be a real father to him, well, I can’t
even wrap my mind around how hard it would be if I was the one who would have to
walk away.”

She smoothed her robe again, the fabric shifting, clinging. All
at once, his mouth was dry and his Wranglers were way too tight. “It will all
work out,” she said at last.

He knew he had more to apologize for. “I shouldn’t have been so
hard on you at the first.”

“You couldn’t help it.”

“You’ve been nothing but a hero, Belle, about all of this.”

Her eyes had the shine of tears in them now. She put up a
slender hand, palm out. “Could we speak of something else?”

He gulped to clear the lump in his throat, reminded himself
again that he ought to get up and go
now.
And then
he said, “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want...”

She laid her hands on the chair arms, and looked at him from
the side, a playful sort of glance. “I saw Lucy whispering to you in the theater
today.”

He grunted and then grumbled, “Did I mention how embarrassing
that was?”

“You did, yes.”

He knew what she was after. “You want to know what she said to
me.”

“I’m not all hero, Preston. Sometimes I want to know things
that are none of my business. Just like everyone else.”

He thought how he would love to give her...everything. Whatever
she wanted. Her heart’s desire. Too bad that what he had to offer would never
come close to what she had—to who she was—already. “Lucy said she misses me. She
wants us to be friends again.” He let out a humorless laugh. “I couldn’t get
clear of her fast enough.”