All a Cowboy Wants for Christmas Page 6

  Yet something inside Marlee seemed to rise up, anxious to take him on.

  “I run a business, not a charity,” Carson told her. “The gifts I give folks in Harmony are jobs so they’ll have money in their pockets, food on their tables. I bring new business to this town so it will grow, so more families can have better lives. I work hard at that. Very hard. And I’m not about to give away a hundred dollars so that a bunch of people can come here and sing songs.”

  Marlee’s anger boiled over. She shot to her feet. “How can you claim to care about the citizens of Harmony when you have no real idea what’s at stake?”

  “I assure you, Miss Carrington, I know exactly what’s at stake,” he told her. “One hundred of my hard-earned bucks.”

  “This isn’t about you, Mr. Tate, or what you want,” Marlee said, glaring down at him.

  Carson lurched from his chair and circled the desk in three quick strides to stand next to her. The force of his presence mere inches from Marlee nearly overwhelmed her, but she stood firm, refusing to give him the upper hand by backing away.

  “I always get what I want,” he told her.

  He was close, so close. The scent of him as strong, luring her nearer with its familiarity—a familiarity she wouldn’t give in to this time.

  Marlee gazed up at him. “Don’t even think about kissing me again.”

  Carson’s expression shifted, as if the hunger that had come over him now threatened to consume him—and suddenly all Marlee could think was that if he didn’t kiss her again, she couldn’t stand it.

  Goodness, what was she thinking?

  Forcing aside her feelings, Marlee narrowed her eyes at him in what she hoped was a threatening glare.

  “I want my gun back,” she told him.

  “When you’re all riled up like this?” he asked, and uttered a little laugh. “I don’t feel like getting shot right now.”

  “You’re despicable,” she told him.

  Marlee reached for her market basket. Carson snatched the cookies from inside.

  “I never said I didn’t want the cookies,” he told her.

  “Oh!”

  Marlee stomped out of the office and slammed the door behind her.

  Chapter Eight

  She’d failed. Completely and miserably.

  Marlee hurried along the boardwalk, Carson’s words still ringing in her head. He’d refused to donate to the Christmas festival, and nothing she’d said had changed his mind—she hadn’t even instilled a moment’s hesitation in him.

  Except when she’d mentioned kissing her again.

  “Oh, dear...” Marlee fretted as she continued on her way to—well, she didn’t know where she was going. Nowhere, really. She just needed to walk, to keep moving, to somehow deal with her encounter with Carson.

  And put off the inevitable.

  She’d have to go to Mrs. Tuttle’s home and confess that she’d failed at getting Carson to donate the money to bring the Laughlin Singers to Harmony. Marlee cringed at the thought. The mayor’s wife, her cousins, the women at the meeting, the town merchants had put their faith in her, and she’d let them down.

  Marlee’s steps slowed, recalling how the mayor’s wife had cautioned her that Carson would be difficult to convince. Everyone in town knew he was focused heavily on his business. Surely they would understand why she hadn’t been able to elicit the funds from him.

  And there was perhaps still time, Marlee told herself, to find another musical group who might come to Harmony on a few days’ notice and perform for free. If not, then surely the church choir would sing. It wouldn’t be as grand a performance, of course, and the visitors from neighboring towns who’d come in response to the newspaper advertisements and flyers would be disappointed, but Mrs. Tuttle could make an announcement before each concert explaining the situation and everyone would understand. Wouldn’t they?

  Marlee’s anger rose again. This was all Carson’s fault. He’d put her in this difficult position. He flew into her thoughts and she was so annoyed with him at that moment that she wanted to kiss him.

  Kiss him?

  Marlee stopped dead in her tracks. Why on earth had that notion sprung into her mind?

  “Oh, dear...” she mumbled again, shaking her head. She forced her thoughts back to the task at hand.

  No sense waiting, she decided. She’d go to Mrs. Tuttle’s house now and break the news, and face the disappointing look she’d surely get in response.

  Marlee spotted Audrey walking toward her. She could see the worry that had been etched in Audrey’s face since Chord left Harmony with his family.

  “I’ve just spoken with Mrs. Tuttle,” Audrey said, stopping next to her outside Goodwin’s Dry Goods store. “Everything is arranged.”

  An odd, uncomfortable feeling swept over Marlee. “Arranged?”

  Audrey nodded. “She’s heard back from the Laughlins. They’re on their way to Harmony and ready to perform all the concerts we asked for.”

  Marlee’s heart lurched and panic swept through her. “Mrs. Tuttle already hired them?”

  “Of course.” Audrey’s expression relaxed a little. “You’ve done the town such a huge favor, taking on the task of arranging Carson’s donation. I don’t think anyone else would have attempted it, knowing him like we do.”

  “But—”

  Audrey’s brows drew together. “Is something wrong?”

  “Well, actually,” Marlee said, “I thought Mrs. Tuttle would wait until I brought the money to her before she hired the Laughlins.”

  “She didn’t want them to go elsewhere,” Audrey explained. “And everyone knew that, with your experience in fundraising, you could get the money, even from tight-fisted Carson Tate. So, everything is settled.”

  Marlee opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

  “I’ve got to get back to the store,” Audrey called as she hurried away.

  Marlee staggered into the alley beside the dry goods store and fell against the wall, fearful that she might faint. The singing group was coming. Everyone thought she’d saved the festival. And, really, she’d failed completely.

  What would happen when the singers arrived? Mrs. Tuttle, humiliated beyond belief, would have to inform them that, not only were they not going to perform at the festival, but there were no funds to pay for their train tickets or a night’s lodging and meals.

  The entire town would find out. Even folks in the neighboring towns would hear of it. The festival would be a failure. Merchants would lose their businesses. Families could be devastated. The whole of Harmony would turn against her.

  She would have to return to that tiny little room in Mrs. Montgomery’s mansion, with only the other servants to count as friends. Years—decades—would pass before she saw Audrey and Becky, her aunt and uncle again. This small glimpse of living among family here in Harmony would be but a memory.

  Tears burned in Marlee’s eyes. She’d thought she could make Harmony her home. She’d thought she’d finally found a place where she felt wanted and accepted. Now all those hopes were gone.

  Pain stabbed her heart and twisted inside her. She’d actually pictured her mother coming to Harmony to live, so that at long last they could be together.

  Marlee burst into tears. She hurried deeper into the alley and cried. The anguish of birthdays, Christmases, special moments spent without her mother or any close family tore from her in relentless sobs.

  * * *

  Carson pushed himself out of his chair and stalked across the room. How the hell was he supposed to get any work done when all he could think about was Marlee?

  His office still smelled of her. The vision of her seated across the desk loomed in his head. Her dainty hands. Her pink lips. Those blue eyes of hers. Wisps of her hair curling against her cheeks, cheeks flushed bright with anger.

  She’d actually had the nerve to raise her voice at him. Few people did that. Marlee had held back, as she’d surely been trained to do at that school she was so proud of and a
t that job she had back in Philadelphia, but finally she couldn’t contain her feelings any longer. Where had all that emotion come from?

  Where could it lead?

  A familiar, pleasurable ache filled Carson as he gazed out the window.

  What would it be like to have her in his bed? What would it feel like if—

  “Damn it,” Carson muttered, pushing the image from his mind. If he didn’t get Marlee out of his head he’d never get any work done.

  Carson pulled on his Stetson and left his office. He headed down the boardwalk anxious to put some distance between himself and his office—and the vision of Marlee across the desk from him. He needed to center his thoughts on the weaving mill he was trying to bring to town, and he wouldn’t likely get things handled if he couldn’t stop wondering what Marlee would look like naked.

  “Mr. Tate? Mr. Tate?” someone called.

  He paused and looked around the busy boardwalk, then spotted Audrey Meade heading toward him. She was a pretty woman with a good head on her shoulders. Carson knew Chord was courting her and, at that moment, it hit him that Chord was a fool for not asking her to marry him yet.

  “I just wanted to thank you for what you’ve done.” Audrey gave him a pleasant smile, and like most everyone else in Harmony, hurried away, not wanting to keep him from his business.

  Carson had no idea what she was talking about and was in no mood to ask, so he started walking again. As he passed Goodwin’s Dry Goods, a flash of blue caught his eye. Blue, deep blue, like the dress Marlee had on in his office. He stopped and, sure enough, spotted her at the far end of the empty alley.

  Anger rose in him, a welcome relief from the other emotions raging within him. What was the matter with her? Why was she alone in the alley? Didn’t she know it was dangerous?

  Carson stalked toward her ready to chastise her for being so foolish, then stopped still in his tracks. Her back was to him and her shoulders shook. She was crying.

  Fear and anger rocked him with a strength he’d never experienced. Had someone hurt her? Carson was overwhelmed with the need to protect her, and kill anyone who’d dare to lay a finger on her. He closed the distance between them in three long strikes, grasped her arm and whirled her to face him. Tears poured down her cheeks and her eyes were red and puffy.

  “Get away from me!” she said, and tried to yank her arm from his grasp.

  Carson held her firmly. “Are you hurt? Did somebody hurt you?”

  She looked up at him as if he’d lost his senses. “No!”

  “Then why are you crying?” he asked.

  “Because!”

  That didn’t exactly answer his question, but he was relieved no one had attacked her. Still, she kept crying and Carson didn’t know anything else to say so he wrapped both arms around her and pulled her against his chest. Marlee tried to jerk away, but he held on and she came full against him, sobbing into his shirt.

  When her tears finally stopped she eased away. Carson took his handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her.

  “Now,” he said softly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing,” she told him, dapping at her eyes with the handkerchief. Then she sniffed again and said, “Everything.”

  Carson was overcome with the need to fix what was wrong—whatever it might be. He had to make things better, no matter what it took. Then it hit him that he might be the problem; it didn’t make him feel very good about himself.

  “Is this because I wouldn’t donate the money you asked for?” he asked.

  Marlee sniffed and drew herself up. “You are certainly entitled to spend your money as you see fit, Mr. Tate.”

  She’d responded to his question but hadn’t really given him an answer. Carson knew something else was going on. He thought back to when she’d been in his office, how she’d stormed out in a huff. She’d seemed to accept his decision, though certainly it hadn’t pleased her. Nothing else had happened—

  “Audrey,” he said, and managed not to utter a curse. “I saw her. She thanked me for something. Does she think I agreed to donate the money?”

  “Apparently the ladies of Harmony had a great deal of confidence in my fundraising ability,” she said, and looked away. “Mrs. Tuttle booked the Laughlin Singers on the assumption I could secure your donation.”

  Maybe he should have told her.

  The thought sprang into Carson’s mind and for a long moment he considered telling her the reason he’d refused to make the donation.

  He’d never told anyone in Harmony why he lived his life the way he did, but at this moment telling Marlee seemed like the right thing to do.

  Still, Carson couldn’t bring himself to say the words, to tell her what had happened all those years ago. And besides, it wouldn’t change the problem she faced.

  He drew in a heavy breath and said, “I’ll donate the money you need.”

  “No.”

  He looked down at her, not sure she’d heard him correctly.

  “I said I would donate the money—”

  “No,” she said again. Marlee straightened her shoulders and faced him squarely. “I don’t want your pity—and that’s exactly what your offer is about. I’ve spent my life handling my own problems and I will continue to do so.”

  “This isn’t a good time to let your pride get in your way,” Carson said gently.

  That seemed to fire her up again, which was far better than seeing her cry.

  “I will raise that money somehow—without your help,” she told him.

  Marlee glared up at him, defiance etched in the tight line of her mouth and the hard look in her eyes, and all Carson could think was that he wanted to kiss her.

  Then she seemed to crumble again and took a step back.

  “Immediately after Christmas, I’m leaving Harmony. I’m going back to Philadelphia,” Marlee said, then hurried toward Main Street.

  Carson watched her walk away and a heaviness crashed down on him.

  She was leaving.

  And he was falling in love with her.

  Chapter Nine

  Marlee sat on a stool in the Harmony General Store gliding a feather duster along a display of matchboxes and candles. A dozen or so customers roamed the aisles. Their words carried to Marlee as she crouched in the back corner, cringing at everyone’s topic of conversation.

  The festival. The festival that everyone assumed would be a success because she hadn’t yet told Mrs. Tuttle that she had failed to get the donation from Carson. After her confrontation with him in the alley, she simply hadn’t had the strength to give the mayor’s wife the bad news.

  Of course, it didn’t have to be bad news, Marlee reminded herself as she shifted on the stool. Carson had said he’d donate the money—but she’d turned him down. Why had she done that? All her problems—and Harmony’s—would have been solved.

  Yet Marlee knew she couldn’t allow herself to be in his debt, emotionally. She couldn’t let him rescue her, save her from admitting she’d failed. She had to stay strong, handle her own problems as she’d always done. It would do her no good to rely on Carson, or anyone else, who wouldn’t be around in the future.

  All those thoughts had struck her in a flash as she’d stood in the alley gazing into Carson’s handsome face, still feeling his arms around her, basking in the warmth of the heat he gave off. For a moment, Marlee let the memory fill her mind, and the feelings encircle her heart.

  How wonderful that he’d held her while she cried. He’d been concerned that something had happened to her. She’d seen that he’d wanted to fix the problem, whatever it was. No one had ever done those things for her before. She’d felt special in his arms, as if she belonged there, as if he wanted her there.

  What would it be like to step into his warm, strong embrace again and again? How wonderful it would feel if Carson would always be there for her.

  Marlee forced aside those thoughts as a more troubling one presented itself. In turning down Carson’s donation for her own personal
reasons, she was being selfish. She’d let her feelings overwhelm her good sense. Yet she couldn’t imagine going back to Carson and asking for his money, even if it was for the good of Harmony. Not until she’d attempted to get the funds elsewhere first.

  * * *

  “You okay, boss?” Drew asked.

  Carson let his gaze drift to the young man standing in his office doorway who was looking as if he’d found him dancing a jig atop his desk. Carson didn’t blame him, though. It wasn’t often he sat back with his feet on the corner of his desk, staring out the window.

  “It’s just that, well, you haven’t been out of your office all day, and every time I look in here you’re just sitting there doing nothing,” Drew said. “You’ve got those investors coming and—”

  “I’m heading out in a minute or two,” Carson told him and turned his attention to the window again.

  Folks passed by on the boardwalk but Carson didn’t really see them. He was lost in thought—and it didn’t concern the investors he was expecting.

  Marlee. She filled his mind. When he’d kissed her all he could think about was bedding down with her. But after seeing her crying in the alley, holding her, comforting her, something in him had changed. At the time the notion that he was falling in love with her had sprung into his head. Now he knew it was true. He loved her. And she was leaving. She’d be gone right after Christmas, she’d told him. Carson didn’t remember a time when he so assuredly did not want Christmas to arrive.

  Of course, he could solve Marlee’s problem by simply going to the mayor’s wife, giving her the money for the singing group and telling her that Marlee had done her job. But what if Marlee had already told Mrs. Tuttle she’d failed? He couldn’t make her look like a liar.

  He could go to Marlee and insist she take his hundred dollars, but he doubted she’d take it. The woman had a lot of pride, which he couldn’t fault her for, but she also had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Still, he’d have to find a way to make the donation. Then Marlee would stay. He’d see to it.