The Cowboy's Pride

“So I was thinking, how about I bring over dinner later tonight?”

“Clay, it’s not a good idea.”

“I thought I had good ideas. You said so yourself about a dozen times last night.”

His ideas had given her a night she’d never forget, but morning brought her sanity back. “Last night was incredible,” she said honestly. “I’m not sorry, it’s something we both wanted and needed, but we can’t—”

“Why not? Why can’t we?”

“Because it’s pointless.”

He hesitated for a moment. “Don’t analyze it, Trish. We’re still married.”

For the next few weeks. “Well, I can’t separate the two in my head. I can’t make love with you and pretend we’re not split up. I can’t do that to myself or to Meggie. She’s already lost so much.”

“What is she going to lose if I come over for dinner?”

“It won’t end there and you know it. While I’m here, I’m going to focus on the fundraiser. I won’t have a lot of time for anything else.”

Dubious, his eyes lit like sparks on the Fourth of July. “Count on me to change your mind.”

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to glorious Red Ridge, Arizona, for Clayton Worth and Trisha Fontaine’s story!

I’m thrilled to have The Cowboy’s Pride be a part of Desire this month. I promise you, not only will you fall in love with Clay, the sexy, one-time country music superstar now running Worth Ranch, but I’m pretty sure adorable, blond-haired, blue-eyed baby Meggie will steal your heart as well. She’s a cutie!

I guess you could say, babies are my business, my other business. For the past twenty-five years, I’ve taught childbirth and baby-care classes to expectant parents. It’s been a great honor and joy in my life. Creating Trish Fontaine’s character, a new mommy who is learning parenting skills by the seat of her pants, has been truly fun.

Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about the third Worth brother. Jackson’s story is coming soon, too!

Happy reading!

Charlene Sands

About the Author

Award-winning author CHARLENE SANDS writes bold, passionate, heart-stopping heroes and always … really good men! She’s a lover of all things romantic, having married her high-school sweetheart, Don. A member of the Romance Writers of America, she is the proud recipient of a Readers’ Choice Award and double recipient of a Booksellers’ Best Award, having written more than thirty romances to date.

When not writing, she loves movie dates with her hubby, playing cards with her children, reading romance, great coffee, Pacific beaches, country music and anything chocolate. She also loves to hear from her readers. You can reach Charlene at www.charlenesands.com or PO Box 4883, West Hills, CA 91308, USA. You can find her on the Harlequin Desire Authors Blog, and on Facebook, too!

The Cowboy’s
Pride
Charlene Sands

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This story is dedicated to

all the sweet little babies in the world!

And to one very special baby girl, our first grandchild:

At the time of writing this dedication, you haven’t

come out to greet us yet, but you are precious

and loved already!

One

The Arizona sky over Worth Ranch was cloudless blue, the air clear enough to view a distant yellow cab ambling up the road that led to the main house. A small cloud of crimson dust billowed up in the taxi’s wake, before scattering to earth again.

“Looks like your wife’s finally here,” Wes said.

Clayton Worth followed the direction of his ranch foreman’s gaze and gave a curt nod. He didn’t have to tell him that Trisha Fontaine wasn’t going to be his wife much longer. Everyone in Red Ridge knew their marriage was over.

“Cover your ears, Wes.” Clay pulled off his leather work gloves and drew oxygen into his lungs. He shouldn’t care so damn much that Trish was late getting here—by three days—he hadn’t seen her for almost a year. “The fireworks are about to begin.”

Wes Malloy sent him a halfhearted smile. “Breaking things off ain’t ever easy, Clay.”

His foreman had worked the ranch with Clay’s father way back when, helping Rory Worth build his massive cattle empire. Nothing had mattered more to Rory than the family and the ranch. The two went hand in hand. Rory’s dying plea had been for Clay to take over the reins at Worth Ranch and provide heirs to keep the family legacy strong.

But Clay hadn’t been able to keep that vow to his father.

Not only had Trish refused him children, but she’d suspected him of betraying his marriage vows. Her accusation cut deep and when she’d walked out on him, it had been the last straw. If he’d had any doubts about the divorce, it vanished when he’d gotten Trish’s voice mail message three days ago that something important had come up and she couldn’t make the Penny’s Song opening.

Something important was always coming up.

She should have been here. Despite their yearlong separation, the charity she helped him develop on Worth land for children recovering from illness should have meant more to her than that. He never thought she’d blow it off.

He’d been wrong.

Clay jammed his gloves into the back pockets of his Wranglers and took slow deliberate steps as he made his approach to the idling cab. He watched Trish get out of the backseat, stretching out her legs as she rose to her full height. Chest tight, Clay’s breath caught and he recalled the first time he’d met her, the first time he’d seen those beautiful mile-high legs, backstage at a black-tie function in Nashville. Clay’s country music superstardom had always brought big donors to charity events.

He’d bumped into her by accident—his big frame no match for her slender body. She toppled and he lunged for her just before she collided with the ground. He’d heard a rip from her too-tight dress and witnessed the gown split along the seam clear up to her thigh. Under the dim lights, her exposed skin glowed soft and creamy and something powerful happened to Clay then. Before he’d gotten her to a standing position, he asked her out to dinner. She’d refused him flat, but with a smile, and handed him her business card so he could make arrangements to pay for her ruined dress.

Hell, he never could resist a challenge and a beautiful woman.

But that was then.

“Trish.” He stood a few feet from her.

“Hello, Clay,” she said softly.

Unnerved by the breathy sound of her voice, he braced himself. It surprised him that she still could affect him that way. Trish’s sighs and little gasps poured fire into his veins. That much hadn’t changed. With a practiced eye, he skimmed over her body.

Half of her white blouse was out of the waistband of her pinstriped skirt. It hung along the side of her hip, haphazardly bunched. The tailored button-down blouse itself was travel-wrinkled, as she would say, stained by some mystery food and looking like it had seen better days. Long strands of her honey-blond hair stuck out of a cockeyed velvet bow in a bad attempt at a ponytail. Smudges of deep cherry-red lipstick colored the lower part of her chin.

In short, Trisha Fontaine Worth, his soon to be ex-wife, was a beautiful mess.

She caught his look of confusion. No one could ever say she was slow. “I know. Don’t say it. I look like something the cat dragged in.”

He was wise enough not to comment. “Bad trip?”

Trish shrugged. “Bad everything lately.” She darted a quick glance inside the backseat of the cab and then spoke to the taxi driver, “Give me one minute, please.”

When she faced him again, the weary tone of her voice bordered on apology. “I missed the opening of Penny’s Song. I tried reaching you a few times and well, I didn’t want to explain it to your answering machine.”

Clay had been piss angry with her for half a dozen reasons, but at the moment, he wasn’t so much mad as he was curious. What the heck was up with her? He’d never seen Trish look so … scattered. What happened to the ever capable, well-organized and fashion-conscious woman who’d stolen his heart three years ago?

“I never thought you’d miss it, Trish.” They’d caused each other injury and frustration, but the one thing they’d always agreed upon, the one thing that rose above their personal trials, had been the founding of Penny’s Song.

“Neither did I, and believe me, I tried to—”

He heard little whimpers coming from inside the cab. The sound brought him up short. “What’s that? Don’t tell me you got a dog.”

Her eyes widened. She whirled around so fast that he nearly missed it when he blinked. “Oh! It’s the baby. She’s waking up.”

Baby?

But by that time, Trish had already reached inside the backseat of the cab.

When she reemerged, she was gently shushing a baby wrapped in a delicate pink blanket. Hips swaying, she took careful steps, rocking the bundle in her arms with a soft smile. Clay noted her entire demeanor changed the minute she’d lifted the baby. “It’s okay, sweet baby. It’s okay.” She spared Clay a glance and offered, “She fell asleep in the car seat.”

Clay stepped forward. He’d been focused solely on Trish. He hadn’t noticed a car seat in the cab or anything else for that matter. He peeked over the blanket, taking in the baby’s honey-wheat blond hair and crystal blue eyes. The same shade as Trish’s. A tick worked at his jaw. He didn’t know much about babies, but he sure as hell knew that the child was at least four months old. Trish had left him one year ago. Doing the math wasn’t rocket science.

His heart pounded against his chest. “Whose baby is that?”

Trish snapped her eyes to his and began shaking her head. “Oh no, Clay … it’s not what you think. The baby’s not yours.”

Clay blinked and rocked back on his heels. The implication was there, out in the open, and his gut clenched with the knowledge. He tried a deep breath to steady his rising temper.

For the sixteen years Clay had been in country music, women had flung themselves at him nearly every day. He’d fended off groupies by the dozens. There were always rumors hard to live down, but once he’d met Trish, he’d made it publicly known he was attached and planned on staying that way. He’d never betrayed her. Not during those days when he traveled on the country circuit and not now as he ran the Worth empire. Even throughout their separation, he’d been faithful to his vows.

And damn it, he’d expected the same from her. “But she’s yours?”

She nodded, sending him a look of deep regret. “Yes, she’s mine.”

Clay let out a string of curses that would shock his poker buddies. He didn’t know which news troubled him the worst. That the child was his and she’d kept it from him, or that the baby wasn’t his, which meant she’d cheated on him during their time apart.

“You got pregnant?”

Color drained from her face and her eyes filled with pain.

What was with her anyway? Did she think that showing up here with a baby that wasn’t his wouldn’t rile him? Did she think that he would welcome her and accept them both without question? The divorce she came for today couldn’t happen soon enough for him now.

“No, Clay. I didn’t get pregnant.” She acted like the idea was absurd and that he was a jerk to even think it. Her voice trembled with indignation. “There … there hasn’t been anyone else.”

Her earnest admission split his anger in half. He narrowed his eyes staring at her expression, remembering one thing about his wife. She wasn’t a liar. He believed her. Relief raced through his body. He wasn’t sure why his heart tripped hearing her declaration. Or why he’d felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He shouldn’t feel like doing a tap dance because his estranged wife hadn’t cheated on him.

He tipped his hat farther back on his forehead, trying to make sense of it all. Determined to get to the truth, he folded his arms across his chest and eyed her carefully. “I’m still waiting for that explanation.”

Trish inhaled deeply. Her eyes softened when she glanced at the child in her arms. “I’m adopting her.”

Adopting her?

Clay blinked and shook the cobwebs out of his head. Wasn’t this the woman who’d told him over and over that she wasn’t ready for motherhood? The woman who’d told him she needed more time, until the waiting seemed like it would never end. Wasn’t this the woman who’d caused him to break his vow to his dying father?

“What?”

She turned sideways to shield the baby from the afternoon sun and looked at him over her shoulder. “Clay, can we talk inside the house? Meggie’s squinting. And I’m pretty sure she shouldn’t be out in this heat.”

That was the first thing she’d said during their conversation that made any sense. Clay gestured with a nod toward the house. “The door’s unlocked. Take the baby and go on inside. I’ll deal with the cabdriver and your things and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Thank you. Oh, and Clay, there’s a lot of things.” Trish nibbled on her lower lip. “Babies, I’m learning, come with their own set of gear.”

Trish heard Clay speaking with the cabdriver as she held Meggie tight to her chest and walked along the path where flower beds of white and yellow lilies and purple hyacinth thrived. Everything looked the same as she remembered. With its wraparound veranda supported by polished wood railings and centered by a wide double door, the spacious two-story ranch house embodied old Southwest charm. The first time Clay had brought her here, she’d been awestruck by the expanse and splendor of Worth land and the surrounding Red Ridge Mountains, but she’d been even more enamored of Clay, the man she’d eventually wed.

She’d planned on having his children, one day. She’d discussed it with Clay in obscure terms for the most part before they’d married. But then Clay’s father passed and suddenly her husband was hell bent on having a baby.

Right away.

His sudden change in plans had floored her. She hadn’t been ready for motherhood back then. Heck, she wasn’t ready for it now. The thought of screwing up something as important as raising a child struck fear in her heart. She didn’t want to make the same mistakes her mother had made. But Meggie had come into her life and Trish wouldn’t let her down.

On a deep breath, she turned the doorknob and opened the front door. A wave of nostalgia hit her as she stepped inside the house. “Oh, Meggie,” she whispered.

She’d lived in this house with Clay and they’d been happy once. Tears welled in her eyes. She’d missed living on the ranch, but she didn’t know just how much until she stepped over the threshold. She stood there a minute, as sensations flooded her. She and Clay had started a life here, a good life, but obstacles had gotten in the way and as much as he would lay the blame on her, her stubborn soon-to-be ex had played a hand in their breakup.

Clay’s part-time housekeeper approached the foyer and greeted her with a cautious smile. “Mrs. Worth, it’s good to see you. Welcome home.” Her gaze went straight to the baby.

“Hello, Helen. I’m glad to see you, too.” But she wasn’t really home. After her brief stay, she’d have no place here anymore. “I’ll be living at the guesthouse while I’m here, but I—”

“Yes, Clayton has told me. I’ve got everything set for you in there. But, oh my, I wasn’t expecting—”

“I know. Neither was I. This is Meggie,” Trish said, turning slightly to show her the baby’s face. “Isn’t she sweet?”

Helen’s eyes softened and she touched the baby blanket gently just under Meggie’s chin. “She’s a beautiful baby.”

“I think so, too.” Trish brushed a kiss to Meggie’s forehead. The poor child. She had no idea what was happening. They’d traveled across the country to get here, a trip that had taken its toll on both of them.

Helen waited a split second for more explanation, but Trish held her tongue. Clay’s housekeeper had a momma bear protective streak when it came to the Worth men, and Trish already suspected she wasn’t in her good graces for walking out on Clay and moving back to Nashville. Of course, she doubted Helen knew all the details and she wouldn’t hear them from her.

“Would you like something to drink?” Helen asked. “I’ve got a pot of coffee still on.”

“No, thank you. I think we’re just going to sit down in the parlor and wait for Clay.”

Helen nodded and then looked Trish over as if just noticing her state of dishevelment. “If I can do anything for you, let me know.”

How about a course in Motherhood 101? Trish could write a book about what she didn’t know about raising a baby. Every spare moment she’d managed this month had been spent poring over parenting books.

“I will. And Helen, it’s really good to see you.”

The woman smiled. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

Trish entered the parlor and stopped short. Her breath caught in her throat, her shoulders sagged. Hurtful memories entered her mind and threatened to exhaust the last shred of her energy. She hadn’t expected this, to feel such overwhelming sadness. She’d put the divorce on hold for nearly a year, unable to face the failure, but now, being here and stepping into this room again after all this time, brought everything back.

She and Clay had argued—it had become nearly impossible not to during those days—right before she left for an overnight business trip. Trish had come home later that evening when the trip was unexpectedly canceled. With makeup sex on her mind, she strode into the parlor eager to see her husband and put a happy ending on the evening.

She found Clay with Suzy Johnson. On the sofa. Together. Intimately sipping wine and quietly laughing about God only knows, some private joke they’d probably shared. Everything about that scene screamed “wrong” in a marriage already precariously holding on by a thread. And the last thing she’d needed was the hometown girl, a Worth family friend, hovering, waiting in the wings for a chance at Clay.

Trish ground her teeth, reminding herself that she couldn’t dwell on that now. She couldn’t look back. She took a seat, spreading out the baby’s blanket and then laid the baby down. Meggie stared up at her with sparkling eyes, kicking her legs like an exercise guru, happy to be stretching out. That’s when Trish saw moisture leaking from the baby’s bloomers.

“Oh, darn,” she muttered. She’d left the diaper bag in the taxi. She chewed on her lower lip again and shook her head. She had more-than-average intelligence, but Trish couldn’t have predicted in a thousand years how difficult being a single mom would be.

Motherhood was kicking her butt.

“Have patience with me, sweet baby. I’m still learning.”

Just then Clay strode into the room with his usual confident swagger, and her heartbeats sped watching him move across the floor. His jaw tight, and his face flawlessly chiseled from granite, Trish had almost forgotten how handsome he was. She’d almost forgotten his raw sensuality. That and his innate charm had turned her head, even though she’d fought it tooth and nail in the beginning of their relationship. Because while she had refused Clayton Worth’s romantic advances, she hadn’t refused to represent him as his publicist and she’d taken him on as a client. Landing a country superstar even in the final stages of his music career had been a big deal and she’d never mixed business with pleasure. But Clay had other ideas, setting his sights on her. Once she’d stopped resisting the irresistible, she’d fallen deeply in love.

“You’re the perfect woman for me,” he’d say, before covering her body with his and bringing them both … perfection. And she’d actually believed it for a while.

He came to a halt a few feet in front of her, a pink polka-dot diaper bag gripped in his hand. “Is this what you need?”

Her gaze traveled from the tight fit of his blue jeans, to a shining silver belt buckle with the famous W brand, up the wide expanse of his blue chambray shirt to his throat and the hairs that peeked out from underneath the collar. She’d loved to kiss that part of his throat and nibble her way up to his mouth. She lifted her gaze further to meet with russet-brown eyes that seemed to peer into her soul. At one time, he could melt her heart with just one of those penetrating looks. She wondered if he was melting Suzy Johnson’s heart now.

“Oh, uh, yes. Thank you.”

He set the diaper bag down near the sofa and then sat opposite her on a wing chair. Leaning in, he braced his arms on his knees. With a no-holds-barred expression, he asked, “Are you ready to tell me what’s going on?”

She’d procrastinated telling Clay about Meggie partly because she could hardly believe it herself and partly because she knew how much Clay had wanted his own family. To her knowledge, no one had ever really denied Clay anything. He’d hit country music stardom at a young age and had retired in this mid-thirties to run the Worth empire. He was wealthy, good-looking and admired, a man used to having things on his own terms. Trish often thought of him as the golden boy. Everything in his life had come easy, whereas the opposite had been true for her.

She’d worked hard to build her career, putting her whole heart into it. When Clay moved to the ranch, she’d kept her business in Nashville and split her time between the two places. At the time, he seemed to understand the situation. But having a baby then would have meant Trish having to give up her dream.

As a child, her parents had been so intent on saving her brother from the cancer threatening his life that Trish’s needs and wants had been neglected. Every moment and every ounce of their energy went into keeping her younger brother alive. Trish had learned early on to fend for herself and to ward off the neglect by becoming self-reliant and independent. She’d clung to the things that made her strong, her schooling for one, and later, her small thriving business. The thought of letting it go and starting a family wasn’t easy for her. Not when she’d finally built something all her own. Not when Clay had changed the rules.

She looked at Clay and began, “Do you remember me telling you about Karin, my childhood friend who lived with her husband in Europe?”

Clay nodded, his eyes narrowing in question. “Yeah, I remember you talking about her.”

Trish took a deep breath and pulled a disposable diaper out of the bag. She ran her fingers along the plastic edges. “Well, sadly, her husband died about one year ago. Karin was shattered when she returned to Nashville as a widow. We mourned together. It was only a few weeks later that she found out she was going to have a baby.”

Trish glanced at Meggie who had turned her body to peer at Clay with curiosity. The baby had good instincts, Trish thought wryly, trying to keep herself from weeping as she recounted the story. “It was really hard for her. She was pregnant and pretty much alone. I was with her when Meggie was born. Oh, Clay, it was such a mir—”

But Trish couldn’t finish her thought, not without falling apart. Meggie was a miracle—just seeing her being born, all wrinkly and pink, taking her first breaths and crying her first soft cries, had been a life-changing experience for Trish. She’d never expected to feel such incredible awe and wonder.

Clay sat quietly, listening, and Trish continued. “Karin had complications after the delivery that put her life at risk. It was touch and go for months and then last month, she got an infection that she just couldn’t fight off.”

Trish closed her eyes, willing the grief away as those painful memories surfaced. “She made me promise I’d take the baby if things went bad. I agreed, of course.”

She’d promised her friend, but Trish never thought that she’d have to follow through on that promise. She never believed her friend would die. The baby had been thrust into her life and now she was solely responsible for her. “Karin didn’t make it and I’m Meggie’s legal guardian now,” she explained. “I plan to adopt her as soon as I can.”

Clay’s eyes softened as he peered at Meggie. “The baby has no other family?”

“I’m it, for all practical purposes.” Karin’s mother was in a nursing home. Her husband’s parents were gone.

She fumbled with Meggie’s diaper. She never got the thing on straight the first time and she’d learned the hard way what happened when there was a leak. She refastened the diaper, making it fit a little better. “I’m muddling through,” she confessed. “This is all so new to me.” She looked up to find Clay’s eyes on her. “Meggie had a little fever last week and I couldn’t travel with her until she was completely healthy.”

He waited a beat. “That’s why you arrived late?”

Trish nodded. “That’s the only reason.”

She’d agreed to live in the guesthouse for one month and work on publicity for Penny’s Song. And while she was here, they would end things legally, their marriage only a few terms and a divorce signature away from being history.

“Under the circumstances, I’m surprised you showed up at all.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t miss being a part of Penny’s Song. I … it’s still important to me, Clay. Because of what my brother went through, and even more so now that I have a child.” She cringed once the words were out, wondering if his eyes would grow hard and resentment would tighten the sharp angles of his face even more. When neither of those things happened, Trish was hit with reality and unrelenting sadness.

He’s divorcing you, Trish. He doesn’t care anymore.

She’d been served those divorce papers a few short months after she’d walked out on him, but she hadn’t had the heart to end things. Even though she’d tried to forget him, coming face-to-face with Clay now brought it all full circle and her heart ached for the loss. Once upon a time, they’d been so much in love. But everything had changed. She was a single mother and she had to get her life in order. She’d see the end of one dream and the beginning of another.

After she replaced Meggie’s bloomers, she picked up the freshly diapered baby and cuddled her close. “All clean now.”

Meggie clung to her, laying her head on Trish’s shoulder. Blond locks tickled her throat and Trish smiled as she lifted her gaze to Clay. She saw the slightest flicker in his eyes.

He rose from his seat and took a few steps toward her. She caught a whiff of his aftershave, the scent of spice and musk filling her mind with images of moonlit trysts on silken sheets and beds of straw. They’d made love every place imaginable on the ranch.

“You should have told me about her, Trish.”

“You should have answered my phone calls.”

His mouth twisted and they stared at each other. Both stubborn when they thought they were right, they butted heads often. “Besides, it wasn’t as if we’re sharing much of our lives anymore.”

Clay scrubbed his jaw and sighed deeply. “Let’s get you settled in the guesthouse.”

With the baby in her arms, Trish got up from her seat and grabbed for the diaper bag. Before she could sling it over her shoulder, Clay intervened, reaching for the bag. “I’ve got it.”

His fingers brushed hers. Inwardly she gasped from the intense heat. Electricity coursed through her system potent enough to curl the very tips of her toes. And when she looked at Clay, his eyes gleamed with something he couldn’t conceal. He’d felt the connection, too.

They stood there for half a beat, no one moving, staring into each other’s eyes.

A woman’s singsong voice coming from the entry broke the moment. “Hello, Clay. Are you in here?” They turned their heads at the same time toward the doorway. The voice grew louder as the woman neared the room. “I made sugar cookies for Penny’s Song and thought you’d like some.”

Suzy Johnson walked through the doorway, a bright smile on her face, wearing a summery sundress with big yellow and blue flowers. The minute she glided inside and spotted Trish with Clay, she froze. “Oh! S-sorry if I’m interrupting. Helen didn’t answer the door and … well, it was open. I didn’t know you had—”

“It’s okay, Suzy,” Clay said. “Thanks for the cookies.”

She nodded, but the moment she took notice of the blond-haired, blue-eyed baby in Trish’s arms, her cheeks paled in color and she nearly dropped her cookie platter.

Clay’s family friend had been forever stopping by, bringing over cherry pies, asking Clay for favors or reminiscing about their childhood in Red Ridge. Whenever the hometown girl was around, Trish felt like an outsider, so seeing her discomfort now gave her no small measure of satisfaction.

The baby let out a little cry, interrupting the deafening silence. Trish rocked Meggie gently and met the dark-haired woman’s silver-dollar-sized stare.

Another moment ticked by. Trish wouldn’t engage in conversation with her, and Clay wasn’t uttering a word.

“I’ll … I guess I’ll leave these with Helen in the kitchen,” she stammered, wielding her cookie dish and backing out of the room.

Finally.

Once she was gone, Trish turned to Clay, cutting off anything he might say and managing to keep the pain from her voice. “I see nothing has changed around here.”