The Maverick's Baby-In-Waiting (Montana Mavericks: The Lonelyhearts Ranch Book 2) Read online

  His poor father. The man hated not getting what he wanted. And it was rare. His mother said the man-stealing in Rust Creek Falls couldn’t be helped, that there was something in the water—literally. Apparently, at a big wedding a couple years ago, some local drunk had spiked the punch with an old-timey potion or something and no man was safe from the feminine wiles of Rust Creek Falls women. Especially the millionaire Jones brothers.

  “Dad, I assure you, I’m not about to fall for anyone. The last thing on my mind is marriage. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” He wasn’t exaggerating for his father’s sake, either. Jensen was done with love. So there would never be a marriage.

  “Yeah, I think that’s what Autry said right before he proposed to that mother of seven.”

  Jensen rolled his eyes. “Three, Dad. Three lovely little girls. Autry is very happy with Marissa. So is Walker with Lindsay. As is Hudson with Bella.”

  His father made a noise that sounded like a harrumph. “They were happy running Jones Holdings right here in Tulsa until those women got to them! Just come home now. I’m thinking of buying a major-league baseball team. You can help me decide which one.”

  “I’ll see you in a few days, Dad,” Jensen said. “Speaking of buying pricey things—what are you getting Mom for your fortieth anniversary?” Forty years was something to celebrate. Hell, five years was something to celebrate.

  “That woman will be the death of me!” Walker the Second bellowed. “I—Oh, Jensen, my assistant is signaling me that Nick Bates from Runyon Corporation is on line two. Time for a takeover. Get home quick or I’ll come get you myself. And I’m not kidding.”

  Before Jensen could say a word, a click sounded in his ear.

  Now it was Jensen’s turn to harrumph. His parents’ anniversary was in two weeks and his mom and dad were barely speaking. There had always been rifts among the Jones boys and their parents over the years, but Walker the Second and Patricia Jones had always been such a strong team, bossy and snobby and trying to order around their sons as a united front. Now there were cracks in the forty-year marriage. Lately, Jensen had heard the strain in their voices, seen it on their faces, and once he’d caught his mother crying when she thought she was alone in the family mansion. Of course, she’d refused to acknowledge those were tears and insisted she was just allergic to their cook’s “awful perfume.”

  As the youngest, Jensen had always fought for his brothers’ respect and his parents’ attention and had barely been noticed in the big crew. But he was the one who’d watched his brothers grow up one by one and go their own ways, even if that way was the family business. The five Jones brothers might as well be living and working on different continents for how close they were, and that included Walker and Hudson, who lived here in town and worked together, though they had gotten more brotherly, thanks to their wives.

  But Jensen was the one who cared about family dinners and holidays and birthday celebrations, insisting, even as a teenager, that his older brothers come home for his big sports games. When he was seventeen, his parents had taken him to a therapist, insisting that Jensen be cured of “caring too much,” that it would make him soft when family in the Jones world meant business.

  He still cared. And his parents still didn’t get it.

  But there was one thing his father would get his way on. Jensen would be coming home in a few days—once he finally convinced the most stubborn old coot in Montana to sell a perfect hundred acres of land to him for a project very close to his heart. The man, a seventy-six-year-old named Guthrie Barnes, was holding out, despite Jensen upping the price well past what the land was worth. But Jensen was a Jones and a skilled negotiator. He’d get that land. And then he’d go home.

  Because no woman, siren or otherwise, could tempt him beyond the bedroom. Adrienne, his ex, had made sure of that. He wasn’t even sure if he could count her as an ex, since she’d never really been his; she’d been after his money and had racked up close to a million dollars on various credit cards she’d opened in his name, then fled when he’d confronted her. The worst part? She’d admitted she’d done her research for weeks before setting her sights on him, reading up on him, asking questions, finding out his likes and dislikes, what made him tick. When she’d engineered their meeting, the trap had been set so well he’d fallen right into it. He’d walked away from that relationship in disbelief that he could have been so stupid. She’d walked away with his ability to trust.

  The only thing he had, really had, was his family, and hell, he barely had that. If his snobby, imperious, stubborn father and his snobbier, refuses-to-talk-about-her-feelings mother thought they were going to throw away forty years and the family because they were too set in their ways or too stubborn to deal with each other, well, then they didn’t know what was coming.

  Jensen was coming. Well, more like he was packing a wallop for the Jones patriarch and matriarch. Family was supposed to be there. Should always be there. Disagreements, problems, rifts, whatever. You worked it out. So, hell, yeah, he was going to unite the Jones family and save his parents’ marriage. They were damned lucky and had no idea, no clue how blessed they were for all they had.

  But Jensen knew. He knew because he’d been so willing to go there, to love, to open up his heart and life to another person—before Adrienne had destroyed all that. And three of his brothers knew—they’d surrendered to love and were now truly happy. And he’d need their new family-men status to help him work on the parents. That meant Autry flying in from Paris. He had no doubt the jet-setter would. Because when it came down to it, Jensen could count on his brothers. And it was time for the whole family to be able to count on one another.

  The bell jangled over his head as he entered the donut shop, the smell of freshly baked pastries mingling with coffee. A large, strong blast of caffeine, some sugary fortification and he’d be good to go on his plans.

  Except when he looked left, all thought fled from his head. His brain was operating in slow motion, his gaze on a woman sitting at a table and biting into a donut with yellow custard oozing out. She licked her lips. He licked his, mesmerized.

  Was it his imagination or was she glowing?

  She had big brown eyes and long, silky brown hair past her shoulders. There was something very...lush about her. Jensen couldn’t take his eyes off her—well, the half of her that was visible above the table, covered by a red-and-white-checked tablecloth. And he was aware that he was staring. Luckily, the beauty in question was more interested in her donut and the woman sitting beside her than in anything else. She put down the donut and picked up an iced drink, then laughed at something her companion said.

  He even loved her laugh. Full-bodied. Happy.

  Oh, yeah, this was a woman who knew how to have a good time. If a donut and a joke or whatever her friend had said could elicit that happiness and laughter, then this was someone Jensen would like to whisk off to dinner tonight. Maybe to Kalispell, about forty-five minutes away, to an amazing Italian restaurant his brother Walker had told him about. Kalispell had a nice hotel where they could have a nightcap before spending the night naked in bed, taking a soak together, and then he’d bring her home in the morning and go meet Guthrie Barnes with a better offer on the land to get the man to sell. A great night, a deal and back in Tulsa midweek. Now that was the Jones way. His father would be proud.

  A woman behind the counter, her name tag reading Eva, smiled at him. He was pretty sure he’d met her at her and her husband’s joint bachelor-bachelorette party a few weeks ago. “May I help you?”

  “I’d like to send refills of whatever is making those women so happy,” he said, nodding his chin toward the brunette beauty.

  Eva slid a glance over and raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

  Was that challenge in her voice? Jensen loved a challenge. “I’m a man who knows what he wants.”

  Eva grinned. “Well, then. I’ll just ri
ng you up and then bring over their refills.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said. “You can add a café Americano and a chocolate cider donut for me.”

  She’d raised another eyebrow after the ma’am; she couldn’t be more than midtwenties, but he was a gentleman born and bred.

  After handing him his much-needed coffee and donut, Eva went over to the women’s table with two more donuts and two more coffee drinks. She whispered something, then lifted her chin at him. Two sets of eyes widened, and they looked over.

  He locked eyes with his brunette. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The woman he planned on spending the night with. He’d show her an amazing evening, treat her like a princess, give her anything her heart desired, and then they’d go their separate ways, maybe not even knowing each other’s last names. They’d each get what they needed—a night of pure fantasy—and then they’d go back to real life.

  He froze, mentally slapping his palm to his forehead. He hadn’t even checked her ring finger. The auburn-haired woman she was with wore an engagement ring; he could see that a mile away. But now that he was looking at his brunette’s hand, he was relieved to see there was no ring.

  Which meant she was his. For the night. Maybe for the few days it would take him to convince Guthrie Barnes to sell.

  Eva waved him over, and he sidled up. The brunette was staring at him. The auburn-haired friend seemed delighted by the turn of events. “Mikayla Brown, Amy Wainwright, I don’t even have to ask this man’s name to know he’s a Jones brother. I’m right, right?” she said, looking at him.

  He laughed. “Was it the diamond-encrusted J on my belt buckle that gave me away?”

  “That and the fact that everything you’re wearing probably cost you more than rent on this place for a few months. And I’m pretty sure I saw you with your brothers at our party at the manor a few weeks ago. We didn’t have a chance to meet then—I think the whole town was there. I’m Eva Stockton.”

  He smiled. “Jensen Jones. And yes, I was there. Great party. Congratulations on your marriage.” He bit into the donut on his plate. Chocolate cider, his favorite. “Mmm—this donut is so good you should charge a thousand bucks for just one.”

  “You’d probably pay that,” Eva said, shaking her head with a smile.

  “Hey, my family might have done all right in business, but we’re not idiots. Two thousand.”

  The three women laughed, and then the bell jangled, so Eva went back to the counter.

  “Mikayla,” he said, unable to take his eyes off her. “I know this is going to sound crazy. We just met. We don’t know a thing about each other. But I’m going to be in town for a few days and would love for you to show me around, show me the sights—if you’re free, of course.”

  His fantasy woman looked positively shocked. Her mouth dropped slightly open, that sexy, pink lower lip so inviting, and she glanced at her friend. Both their eyes widened again, as if his asking her out, politely couched in terms of a sightseeing guide, was so unusual. The woman was beautiful, her lush breasts in that yellow sundress so damned sexy. Surely she was hit on constantly. Maybe not by millionaires, though.

  Ah, Jensen thought, disappointment socking him in the gut. That was it. That was what was so unusual about his interest. She probably wasn’t used to attention from a man with so many commas in his bank account.

  Another gold digger? Oh, hell, what did it matter if she were? Jensen wasn’t going there—never again. His heart wasn’t up for grabs. Mikayla Brown was gorgeous, not wearing a ring, and he had a few days to enjoy her company—around town and in bed. He’d wine and dine her, she’d give him her full attention and then they’d both go their separate ways, maybe hooking up once or twice a year when he came to Rust Creek Falls to visit his brothers. Perfect.

  The more he looked at her, the more he had another thought: Forget Kalispell. I’m whisking her away to Ibiza or a Greek island for the weekend. No harm in a decadent no-strings weekend romance if they were both for it, right?

  She was staring at him. About to say yes. Of course she was. C’mon.

  “Oh, I don’t think I’m your type, Mr. Jones,” Mikayla said. She took another bite of her donut, a hint of pink tongue catching a flick of errant custard.

  He held her gaze, able to feel his desire for her in every cell of his body. “Trust me. You are.”

  She took a breath, lifted her chin and stood up.

  Which was when it became obvious that she was very pregnant.

  Chapter Two

  Mikayla gave the guy five seconds to run screaming out the door of Daisy’s Donuts. Maybe even three.

  A wealthy, hot man with a diamond-studded belt buckle, slicked-back movie-star blond hair and intense blue eyes glittering with desire and challenge? Yeah, he’d run as soon as he realized he was coming on to a pregnant woman.

  All six feet two inches of muscular millionaire cowboy froze, those gorgeous blue eyes on her seven-months-pregnant belly.

  She would have burst out laughing if a tiny part of her wasn’t a bit angry. A minute ago she’d been his biggest fantasy—apparently. Now, not so much.

  Reality always won.

  “Oh,” he said. “You’re...”

  Ding, ding, ding. “Pregnant.”

  “I...I didn’t mean to intrude on your time together,” he said quickly, slowly backing away with his coffee and what was left of his donut. “Enjoy your afternoon. It was very nice meeting you both.”

  So, eight seconds. He was out the door and probably stopped around the corner, catching his breath from actually having been flirting with a pregnant woman.

  “Why is every Jones brother better-looking than the last?” Eva asked, coming over with extra napkins.

  The man was beyond good-looking. He was the kind of gorgeous that was hard to draw your gaze from, and Mikayla had felt a connection, a tiny little spark of chemistry that went beyond just the physical. There had been something sweet under the sizzling in their two-minute conversation—before her belly had introduced itself.

  But he was gone. As expected. And as it should be! Mikayla Brown wasn’t looking for a man. Or a savior. Or a father for her baby. That wasn’t how life worked. If she met someone and they fell in love and he was wonderful and father material, okay, fine.

  Now she did burst out laughing. Ha ha ha. Like that would happen.

  She’d been burned bad by the father of her baby, which hurt like hell. She’d cried her eyes out, wished until she’d marked every star, and she’d still been abandoned, her baby unwanted by the man who’d helped create him or her. She hated that with every fiber of her being. And she didn’t understand it. But that was when that handy word came in again: reality. Things were what they were, and she damned well was going to make the best of them. She had a baby to consider, a life to bring forth, a child to raise. She was going to be the best mother she could be.

  And anyway, the silver lining? She’d noticed Jensen Jones. Could imagine herself kissing Jensen Jones. Which meant that flicker of hope and faith was still alive inside her. Her ex had taken himself out of the equation, but his loss hadn’t taken the red-blooded woman out of her. Score one for Mikayla.

  Her hundredth pep talk issued, Mikayla took a sip of her decaf iced mocha. “Well, at least he liked the top half of me. Which includes my brain. So that’s something.” She took another bite of her donut.

  “If only he could have seen your feet,” Amy said, “And the sparkly blue pedicure I gave you last week. That would have hooked him.”

  “Jensen Jones doesn’t strike me as a man who’d like sparkly blue toenails,” Mikayla said. “Did you know that Jackie Kennedy Onassis once said that fingernails should be the color of ballet slippers and toes a classic red? He seems like one to agree. Too highfalutin for me, anyway. I’m an eat-ribs-with-my-fingers and blue-toenail-polish kind of woman.”

 
Amy laughed. “We all should be that woman.”

  Eva came over with a tray of samples. “Want to try my new red velvet donut holes? Fresh out of the oven.”

  Mikayla adored Eva, who not only baked for Daisy’s, worked the counter when they were understaffed and had recently finished business school, but was letting her stay at Sunshine Farm. “Ooh, of course,” Mikayla said, snatching one and popping the heavenly treat into her mouth. This would have to be her last bite or she’d gain a hundred pounds in this final trimester.

  Eva sat down. “Mikayla, you were great today, you know that, right? Standing up like that was hilarious. I’ve never seen a man stammer without saying a word quite like that.”

  “Poor guy,” Amy said, sipping her iced latte. “Did you see the way he looked at Mik? He was clearly swooning over her.”

  “What’s his deal, anyway?” Mikayla asked. “Not that I care.”

  Both women smirked at her.

  Mikayla smiled. “I definitely would have remembered meeting him at your and Luke’s party, Eva, but there was so many people and I left a bit early. He has how many brothers?”

  “Four,” Amy said. “All rich beyond belief. They’re from Tulsa and all work as major bigwigs in the corporation their father started. Hudson and Walker—you know them from town—still work for Jones Holdings. They opened a satellite office here in town. And Autry whisked a widowed mom and her three little girls to Paris for the year, but they’re due back. There’s another brother, Gideon, who was at the party, too, since he was visiting Hudson and Walker that week, but I didn’t meet him. Put the five Jones millionaires in a row at a party and women start swooning. Even if three are taken.”