Leanna Wilson - His Tomboy Bride

She met his gaze. A sparkle glinted in her eyes, making them look as dazzling as sapphires. One minute she looked childlike—lost, alone, bereft—and the next, she appeared ready to take on the world. Billie had always surprised him with her quick-flash change of emotions. What the hell did he know about women, anyway? They were an enigma. His divorce was a blatant reminder.

She broke the fragile silence with, “Jake would have gotten a good belly laugh about all this.”

Something familiar and warm passed between them, but a new spark ignited, something disconcerting and way too hot. Ignoring his very male reaction to her obvious feminine charms, he matched her smile with an unsteady one of his own. “You’re right. He would have.”

Then her eyes flashed. Her smile faltered. She tipped her chin higher. He recognized that old challenge.

Jake might have laughed at her all dressed up like this. But Nick couldn’t. His lungs constricted, trapping his breath. Words lodged in his throat. She looked so damn different...so grown-up...so beautiful. When had all these changes taken place? At her father’s funeral five years earlier she’d looked like a frightened child, her eyes wide, but unable to shed a tear. At Jake’s funeral two years later, she’d looked thin as a rail. She’d stood strong for her mother, brave, controlling her trembling lip.

He’d missed the gradual transition from girlhood to a full-fledged woman. Somehow she seemed softer than he’d expected, vulnerable, yet he knew she was tough enough to handle a Texas cattle ranch on her own. Still, a trace of that uncertain, freckle-faced girl could still be seen in her wild, blue gaze.

“Jake would have been a fool not to see how beautiful you are,” he managed.

Uncertainty darkened her eyes to the turbulence of a stormy sea. She glanced down at the yards of lace swirling around her. “I feel like I got walloped with confectioners’ sugar.”

Nick chuckled.

“You’re a lovely bride,” Martha reassured her daughter.

“Lovely” was a simple word that didn’t do Billie justice. She was a vision. The dress pinched in her waist, accented her full breasts, showed off her honey tan.

As if the years scrolled backward, he remembered the boldness of the kiss she’d given him. He could feel her creamy-smooth lips seasoned with innocence brushing his. It had taken every ounce of strength to set her away from him then. He’d belonged to someone else. And Billie had been way too young. But now, when the four-year difference between their ages had shrunk in importance, other things stood between them. She belonged to someone else. He never intended to marry again.

Dragging his gaze away from the bride, he set the iced tea on a crystal coaster. He stuck his hands into his pockets and reminded himself of why he’d come here. As a defensive maneuver, he pictured Billie in pigtails and braces with more scrapes and bruises than a prizefighter.

“Step up on the footstool,” Rosa instructed, her hands fluttering around the shimmering white skirt that looked like it had been sprinkled with fairy dust.

Billie turned and took a step. Her foot caught in the hem. She wobbled and tilted off center. Her arms flung wide, seeking balance. “Ah, damn.”

Nick reached out and caught her to him. His hand slipped around her tiny waist. Her body collided with his. He felt the impact of her full breasts against his chest. He sucked in a breath and drew in her enticing scent, something mysterious and exotic, like jasmine. Far too tempting for his own good.

A shiver rippled through her and it echoed in his body. His heart thudded against his rib cage. His insides tightened as if he walked an I-beam on the fiftieth floor. These new sensations aroused by Billie caught him off guard, kept him off balance. Her nearness jumbled his thoughts. What was wrong with him? Had he gone without a woman for too long? Since his divorce he’d focused on work, expanding his construction business. Women, he’d decided, were as welcome as bad weather to a construction site. And Billie Rae Gunther was like a hurricane to his senses.

He had an urge to let her fall on her rump, as he might have if she were an obnoxious twelve-year-old. Then he could clear his mind, stay focused, make sure she’d made the right decision and leave. Instead, against his better judgment, he held her tight against him, his hands secure on her waist. In a thick voice, he asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah. My boot got caught.” She pushed away from his shoulder and stood firmly on her own two feet, the way she always had, never leaning on anyone, never showing any weakness. She carried the heavy load of responsibility she’d been left with well. Nick admired her for her ability to withstand adversity.

Two years ago he’d understood her pride dictated her rejection of his offer to help with the Rocking G. But should he have insisted? Or had he only felt the barb that she no longer needed or wanted him? Regret shamed him. He knew he shouldn’t have stayed away.

“Boots! Where are your wedding shoes? They are perfect for the dress,” Rosa was saying, her brow wrinkling with concern.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to stand around in them for hours at the wedding and reception,” Billie complained.

“It’s only for one day.” Martha soothed her daughter. “The right shoes are so important”

“Why?” Billie asked. “Who’s going to see them under this skirt?” She lifted the hem, giving Nick a glimpse of one silk-covered foot rubbing across the top of the other.

“Everyone,” her mother answered. “You’ll have to lift your skirt so Doug can remove your garter to throw to the single men.”

Nick gritted his teeth. Doug. It had to be a mistake. The groom couldn’t be Doug “Blockhead” Schaeffer!

“Besides,” Martha continued, “you’ll have so many other things to think about you won’t even notice your feet. You’ll be floating on cloud nine. That’s how I was when your daddy and I wed.” A wistful look came into her soft blue eyes.

“I’m sure I will, Mother.”

Had Nick heard a note of doubt in Billie’s voice? Or had he only wanted to?

Scowling, he watched her maneuver toward the step stool in her oversize skirt. The heavy material rustled and swayed, emphasizing the movement of her hips. He stayed close enough to offer assistance if she tripped again, but far enough not to breathe in her secretive scent or reach out to feel the silky strands of her shoulder-length blond hair. Hiking up the skirt to her knees, she climbed onto the footstool, unassisted. Nick caught a better view of shimmery hose covering slender legs.

“Who’s the lucky groom?” he asked, averting his gaze and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Doug Schaeffer.”

Something irrational and dangerous exploded inside Nick. He thought he’d prepared himself to hear that name, but obviously not enough. “Are you nuts?”

She propped her hands on her hips and gave him a stubborn I-dare-you-to-say-another-word stare. “Yes.”

He managed to close his mouth and rein in his confusion... irritation...contempt. How could Billie possibly fall for that bastard? What could she see in him? Of all the men to win Billie! Smug and arrogant were two of Dong’s best traits. The heir to Schaeffer Enterprises should never have been a contender.

He remembered Doug, flaunting his daddy’s bucks, cruising around in a fancy convertible that probably had the same price tag as the house Nick had been raised in. He’d been too rich for his own good, too self-assured, too...too much. Had he overwhelmed Billie with all that glitter and gold? If so, then Billie wasn’t the girl he remembered. Maybe now she was more like his ex-wife.

“Where is Schaeffer?” Nick asked, his teeth clenched. Billie’s father never would have welcomed Schaeffer into the family. And Jake would have booted his butt across the Texas border. Nick would settle this quick and take great pleasure in shoving Schaeffer out of the picture.

“Oh, the groom should not be here to see the bride dressed in her gown.” Rosa shook her head. “Very bad luck.”

“Better than if Schaeffer saw her undressed,” Nick mumbled, his scowl deepening.

Rosa and Martha paid no attention to him. They concentrated on tucking and pinning pieces of the dress to Billie’s long, lithe form.

He wondered then if the bride and groom had been...intimate, if Schaeffer had held Billie, naked in his arms. A cold clamp tightened around Nick’s spine. He ground his teeth at the idea of Doug Schaeffer touching Billie, kissing her, making love to her. A headache twisted through his skull like steel screws digging into his scalp.

“Doug’s working,” Billie answered. The healthy glow across her cheeks brightened and made Nick imagine her lips swollen from kisses, her skin flushed, her hair tousled from lovemaking.

His hands balled into fists. “work was never in Schaeffer’s vocabulary.”

“He’s running Schaeffer Enterprises.” Irritation made her snap the words. She crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts higher until the soft mounds almost spilled out of the scooped neckline.

“I bet old man Schaeffer’s still pulling the strings.” Nick turned and drained the glass of iced tea as if it was a shot of whiskey. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the same numbing effect.

“Didn’t your father start that construction company you run, Nick?” Billie taunted.

Her barb hit its mark. He swung around to throw back another sharp retort, but her smug look killed it on his lips. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

Martha uncrossed her daughter’s arms so the dress would hang right Rosa clucked her tongue and examined the hem.

“I didn’t have any choice,” he said finally, his voice cracking with suppressed anger. “My dad needed me. There were contracts pending, signed agreements that had to be met. Dad was injured. He didn’t have anyone to rely on...but me.” Billie had to understand that kind of responsibility. She’d done the same with the ranch. “Doug works for his daddy because he can’t do anything else.”

“How would you know?” Billie’s jaw squared in that old familiar way.

“You two,” Martha grumbled, pins stuck between her teeth. “Sounds like old times.”

“Then why doesn’t Doug do whatever he wants?” Nick asked, ignoring Billie’s mother.

“He is.” Billie smirked. “He’s marrying me.”

Touché. The muscles along Nick’s shoulders tensed, pinching the nerve endings like steel clamps. Her quick defense of Doug showed Nick he’d have to take another course. Irritating her wouldn’t help. Stroking his chin as Billie’s father had often done when confronted with one of his kid’s problems, Nick said, “What are Doug’s big plans for the future? Live off his healthy trust fund? Then what?”

“He has... We have plans. Lots of them. But I don’t see that it’s any business of yours, Nick Latham. You’re not my father...or brother.” Her voice deepened, a husky quality emphasizing her turbulent emotions. “You’re not even family.”

That hit another nerve. A raw one.

As if he’d taken a direct right hook to the jaw, he stepped back. His gaze locked with Billie’s. In that moment he knew she was a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions and mistakes. He’d have to let her make this one on her own. But he didn’t have to stay and watch.

“Billie Rae Gunther,” Martha snapped, “you apologize this minute.”

Nick met Billie’s gaze, saw the regret, the pain inside her reflecting his own. He hadn’t come here to argue. He’d come to help a girl who’d once been like a little sister. But that person no longer existed.