Pamela Ingrahm - Wedding Planner Tames Rancher!

Straightening her suit—her favorite as it did wonders to hide her hips—Leah stepped into the display area.

And nearly stumbled. Even though she’d been expecting him, she must have forgotten just how right Rhonda could be at times. Handsome was an understatement.

He was tall, Texan tall, at least six-two or -three. His shoulders looked broad enough to battle a reluctant calf, or maybe a dragon, or to support a woman’s tired head. His arms were hidden beneath the soft cotton of his shirt, but she remembered the steely strength in his fingers, even though his grasp had been gentle. She didn’t dare glance down at the hips she knew were narrow or the thighs hidden beneath the denim of his jeans. Just the memory of him in slacks and a sports jacket was enough to make her lightheaded.

The beautiful girl at his side was his daughter, Myra Jo. The gossips had been tripping over their figurative tongues to give the juicy details of her courtship with Pennington Bradford, son of the wealthy and powerful Senator Johnson Bradford.

“Mr. Mackey, Myra Jo! How nice to see you again. Welcome to Brides and Babies,” she said to announce herself.

“Ma’am,” he said, nodding as he switched the straw cowboy hat from his right hand to his left so he could accept her handshake. “And please, it’s just Wade, remember?”

How could she forget? The memory of Tammy Griffen’s wedding, and of his fingers against hers, came back in a powerful rush. She remembered how she would turn at the oddest times and find Wade’s eyes on her. She had hated knowing his penetrating gray gaze had pierced the shield of her professionalism. He had flustered her the entire evening.

Pulling her attention away, she clasped Myra Jo’s fingers warmly. “Best wishes on your engagement. I hope you and Mr. Bradford will be very happy.”

Myra Jo tossed her a cheeky grin. “Mr. Bradford’s already happily married, but Pennington and I plan on proving all the doomsayers wrong.”

She cast a quick glance at her father before returning innocent eyes to Leah.

Leah chuckled, remembering Myra Jo’s quirky sense of humor from the usual prewedding ruckus in the bride’s lounge. She had kept Tammy Griffen laughing so hard she hadn’t had time to be nervous.

“You were a good friend to Tammy. She made it all the way up the aisle without tripping. That girl was—”

“A hoot?” Myra Jo interjected.

Leah’s answering smile widened, despite her best effort. “A good choice of words, I think.”

Myra Jo tucked her palm in the curve of her father’s arm. “I think Tammy picked those awful bridesmaid dresses just to make us look goofy.”

Leah was grateful Tammy had not chosen her attendants’ gowns at Brides and Babies—not that her shop would have ever carried such monstrosities—because Myra Jo was right. The hideous burnt orange satin had made the girls look like something out of a Halloween nightmare next to their black-clad escorts.

“You were awfully good-natured about it,” Leah said, trying to be diplomatic.

“What could we do? It was her wedding. If she wanted seven pumpkins walking down the aisle, who were we to argue?”

A full-throated laugh burst from Leah. Again, Myra Jo was correct. The little hats Tammy had chosen, with a net veil and a green feather perched on the side, had indeed made the slender bridesmaids look like marching veggies, except Leah thought the girls had looked more like carrots than pumpkins.

Myra Jo gave her father’s arm a little shake. “Daddy had the bad manners to laugh when he saw us.”

“I pretended to cough,” he defended himself, his deep voice laced with humor.

Leah kept her smile frozen in place as a flash of agitation coursed through her. She distinctly remembered the clenching in her gut when she’d searched the crowd for the unmistakable sound, knowing somehow just who was jeopardizing months of her hard work. Her own desire to laugh hadn’t eased her resentment. It was one thing to think of laughing and another to do it.

Before she got good and angry at the memory, she looked back at Myra Jo. She was a younger, decidedly female version of her father, with the same aquiline nose, the same full lips, the same high cheekbones. Her ebony tresses were swept back from her delicate face in a loose French braid trailing down her back. Leah suspected Wade’s midnight hair, cut short against his well-formed head, would curl defiantly if left to grow.

Myra Jo had none of her father’s tall ruggedness, though. She was barely five-one, and looked so fragile a strong wind might blow her over. Leah noticed faint smudges under the girl’s eyes, despite her perfect makeup. If she had to guess, and since she did so regularly, she would put Myra Jo at a size six.

“So, what can I help you with today?” Leah asked, bringing the subject back to business. People were walking past with boxes and crates, and it was going to be hard enough to keep their attention while the place was being torn down around them.

Myra Jo withdrew her arm from her father’s and clasped her hands together. Her expression tightened just enough to make the shadows under her eyes seem deeper.

“Well,” Myra Jo cleared her throat. “Just about the only thing Daddy and I haven’t fought about is asking you to do the wedding. I’ve pushed the date back twice for Daddy, but this time I’ve already reserved the church and sent out my invitations.”

“The problem,” Wade interjected, “is that now she’s only given herself a month to get all the rest of the details put together.”

To Leah, Wade’s irritation with his daughter was almost palpable.

“Anyway,” Myra Jo continued, “Daddy thought you did a great job keeping the ‘Hatfields and McCoys’ apart at Tammy’s wedding, so if anyone can referee the ten rounds until Penn and I get married, and maybe get my bullheaded father into a tuxedo, it’s you.”

Leah cast an astonished glance at Wade. She wasn’t surprised Myra Jo was interested—they’d gotten along fabulously at the Griffen wedding. But to know Wade approved of his daughter’s choice based on a brief introduction at the reception was more than a shock. She was hardly an expert on Wade Mackey, but she didn’t see him as the impulsive type.

“Thank you for your confidence. I’ll try to do my best for you.” I just hope I don’t regret it.

Myra Jo patted her father’s arm. “I’m going to run down to that honeymoon packager before they close. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait—”

But she was gone. Wade shook his head.

“Kids,” he said, shrugging one shoulder.

“She’s lovely.”

Pride radiated from his whole body. “Thank you.” He turned his head to watch Myra Jo’s retreating figure. “But sometimes she’s the most stubborn cuss I’ve ever met.”

“She must take after her father,” Leah said straightfaced.

Wade’s glance darted back to her, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ve heard a similar suggestion once or twice.”

She should have won an Oscar for the innocence of her expression. “Still, I’m looking forward to working with her.”

“Then let’s hope you enjoy her father just as much.”

He delivered the words in a quiet, warning tone. Leah didn’t feel intimidated, but she did acknowledge the message with a sharp nod. Rhonda’s earlier quip ran through her mind. Being around her sexy, single daddy would have some...interesting...advantages.

Yeah, right.

He was certainly single, and more than sexy, but she doubted those gray eyes would turn smoky and his voice husky because of her. Not that she wanted such a reaction from him, of course, but she suspected this would be one tough assignment from the get-go.

Wade looked at his watch as Myra Jo returned, bearing several brochures. “We need to get going for now. Myra Jo will give you a call. I believe she wants a lunch catered for her sorority friends, so she’ll contact you to make arrangements.”

With barely time to set an appointment and say their goodbyes, Wade ushered Myra Jo away. Leah stood there, a little dazed, until they disappeared from sight.

Blast it, he’d done it again! With a few words, the man had stolen her composure. That was simply not acceptable. She’d worked for the hard kind before and managed not to get out of sorts. Getting perturbed at this early stage was not a good sign. It would have helped if Wade were old and crotchety, but since that wasn’t the case, she’d have to deal sternly with her improper responses to his unfortunate good looks.

Rhonda rejoined her, and the task ahead of them forced Leah to put Wade Mackey from her mind. Except she couldn’t quite banish the picture of a rugged, handsome cowboy who looked about as approachable as a bull...right before the gate was pulled.

Wade pulled the gate shut with an irritated jerk and headed for the kitchen, amazed that a week had passed. Sometimes he wondered where all the peace and quiet he tried to guard so fiercely had disappeared to. He warned himself to be careful or he’d land himself in the hospital again with pneumonia.

He wanted to believe he’d learned his lesson, but he glanced at the skyline and shook his head. The sun hadn’t even made its appearance and he was already at work. He’d arrived home late last night to have Myra Jo tell him the hot tub wasn’t working and her sorority party was the next day—in a few hours, in fact—and Wade had had a hard time teasing her out of her the-world-is-going-to-end mood.

He went into the kitchen and leaned back against the cool ceramic counter, every tile of which had been laid and grouted with his own two hands. He folded his arms across his chest and tried to ignore the coffeepot gurgling behind him, tempting him to check. As usual, his patience ran out before the water in the reservoir, and he poured a mug while drops danced and scuttled on the hot plate. After returning the decanter, he headed back out the door into the predawn coolness.

He’d had to leave from the bndal fair and head directly to the airport to catch his flight to Midland-Odessa. His meeting had gone well with the man who owned the black Angus bull Wade had his sights on, but he was perturbed by the frequency with which his thoughts had been interrupted by the memory of one Leah Houston. In the end, he’d left without the bull because it seemed a stupid time to start indulging his whim for a purebred herd.

Wade paused, taking a careful sip of the strong, hot brew as he watched the gradual lightening of the sky above the scrub-covered hills. There was something amusing about the demarcation between his manicured lawn and the beginnings of the rough soil and tenacious plants of the Texas hill country. Without constant attention, the fragile yard would quickly be taken over by the tough range grasses that defied the rocky soil.

Much like he felt his life was being taken over, at times.

So when had his baby girl grown up? Hadn’t he been a band booster and Future Farmers of America sponsor just yesterday? He clearly remembered sitting at the kitchen table, poring over course catalogs with her, back in the days when his opinion had mattered.

What had happened to the giggling girl who could rein a horse with one hand and hold a portable phone with the other? Somehow she had turned into a beautiful, stubborn woman who wouldn’t listen to her daddy when he told her she was picking the wrong man to marry.

Which reminded him—just how had he convinced himself that his attraction to Leah at Tammy’s wedding had merely been a healthy man’s reaction to a beautiful woman? He’d only attended out of obligation to Tammy, who had been one of Myra Jo’s best friends since they were gangly little girls.