Read Online Johnston - Heartbeat by Joan Johnston - Free Book Online Page B

yet Victoria seemed to thrive on their confrontations. Could anyone really be as self-controlled, as self-disciplined as Victoria was? Maggie had never seen a hair out of place, never seen her mother-in-law flustered or frantic—not even during that bitter, wintry week in Minnesota when first her son, and then her husband, had died.
    Nor had Maggie ever met anyone as coldly calculating as Victoria. Mother Wainwright had done her best from the start to separate “that conniving female” and her only son. Until the day Woody died, the two women had done battle over him. Maggie had won his heart. Victoria had claimed his soul.
    They could never be friends, and Maggie refused to expend the energy it would take to deal with Victoria as an enemy. It was easier to allow herself to be bullied on occasion. She didn’t mind giving Victoria her way to keep the peace. Especially since moving away from San Antonio was out of the question-for the moment.
    “Shall we go in?” Victoria said.
    “After you,” Maggie replied.
    Maggie watched Victoria through the door, but before she could follow, felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned and found Jack Kittrick standing right behind her.
    Her heart speeded up to a trot. So much for armor. Her power suit wasn’t working worth a damn. She felt as pliable as Silly Putty, as gooey inside as a bowl of her grandmother’s cornmeal mush and black-eyed peas.
    Jack was close enough that she got a whiff of his cologne, a spicy smell that made her think of pine trees and mountains. Texas Rangers didn’t wear uniforms, but unless they had on a Western-cut suit—and she was beginning to wonder if Jack owned one—they stuck to buff or dark brown Wranglers, a white shirt, tie, light-colored Western hat, and cowboy boots.
    Jack was wearing denim Levi’s, and he had skipped the tie and put on a fringed calfskin vest. He wasn’t dressed as a Ranger, but he didn’t look like any insurance investigator she’d ever met, either. On the other hand, in Texas, where individuality was admired and freedom insisted upon, Western attire was always proper.
    “How long have you been standing there?” she asked.
    “Long enough to know I’m your date for the gala,” he said with a grin that crinkled his eyes at the corners and showed off the creases on either side of his mouth. “Will there be dancing?”
    “Victoria insists on an orchestra,” she said, “but I don’t usually dance.”
    “Don’t know how? Or haven’t had the right partner?” Jack asked.
    “Of course I know—Maybe it would be better if I tell Victoria your plans changed, and you couldn’t make it.” Maggie was distressed at the way the teasing laughter in his eyes tied her up in knots, like a homemade grass rope on a cold, wet morning. She stared at him, tongue-tied for maybe the first time in her life.
    “Dancing. Saturday. I know a good opportunity to hold you in my arms when I see it.”
    “Mr. Kittrick—”
    “Jack,” he said. “We’d better get moving, Maggie. We’re late for the meeting.”
    “You aren’t invited, Jack.”
    “I had a talk with your hospital administrator, Mr. Delgado, and I have the run of the place until my investigation is complete. Shall we?” he said, gesturing toward the conference room door.
    Maggie turned her back on him and stalked off, then waited at the door and motioned for him to go in first. As he sauntered past, he shot her a suggestive, lopsided grin that made her insides clench.
    Maggie stood frozen beside the doorway. When it came to matters of the heart, she set the rules herself. No dating. No involvement, because involvement led to commitment. She had proved ten years ago that she wasn’t capable of committing for the long haul. Three strikes and you were out. Maggie had retired to the dugout, but Kittrick kept dragging her back onto the field, demanding she play.
    And God, she wanted to play.
    Maybe it was some mid-life crisis thing. She had turned thirty-five last month and