Hitched!
He needs to get married! Rand Taggart has been swindled out of a fortune but if he's happily married by his thirtieth birthday–coming up in just a couple of weeks–he'll inherit a second fortune. His great-grandpa's Texas ranch.She's ready to help him out! Maxine Rafferty's sister has been implicated in the swindle and insists Rand is at the bottom of it. Loyal Maxi figures the only way to clear her sister's name is to get the goods on Rand. When he proposes a brief marriage of convenience, she agrees. The closer she is to him, the easier to find out what she needs to know.Rand gains his inheritance, and Maxi, with Rand's help, lures the real swindler into a trap–leaving them free to pick up their lives where they left off.Except that Rand and Maxi can't seem to ditch each other as easily as they got hitched!
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“I’m what?”
“Take it easy, Maxine. You’re just the kind of woman I need to get my family to—”
“I heard that part. What I want to know is what you meant.”
Despite her scorn, the idea uttered in jest was seeping deeper into his consciousness. Maxine was the perfect candidate for a make-believe bride.
“I can’t imagine you’re talking about a real marriage,” she said.
“No way.” He shuddered. “I could just call my folks and tell them I’m married. Voilà! Inheritance released.”
She said, as if curiosity had gotten the best of her, “So give me details.”
“No details. I’ll just tell my mom I’m married. She’ll swoon with delight and declare the terms of the will fulfilled. If worst comes to worst, I’ll let my mom speak to my blushing bride. That’ll be you.”
She grimaced, reflected, then said, “All right.”
Being nobody’s fool, he didn’t push it. He gave her a thumbs-up and crossed to the bottle of champagne chilling in a silver bucket.
At which point Maxine aimed a forefinger at his sleek back, cocked her thumb and silently mouthed a single word: Gotcha!
Dear Reader,
I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to tell the story of Randy Taggart, the spoiled brat in Fireworks!, book one of my TAGGARTS OF TEXAS miniseries. But for Rand to grow up and find his own true love, Thom T., the Taggart patriarch, had to grow old—make that older, because he was no teenager to begin with.
How to give Thom T. his due? The question stumped me for a long time, but the answer came to me in a flash.
So here it is, book five in the further adventures of the Taggarts. I hope you like the way I’ve handled Thom T.’s “little problem.” I also hope those of you who remember the other Taggart men—Jesse James, Daniel Boone and Trey Smith—will enjoy catching up on their lives and the lives of their wives and children.
For me, this book was a joyful homecoming. I hope it pleases you, too.
Ruth Jean Dale
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ruth Jean Dale lives in a Colorado pine forest within shouting distance of Pikes Peak. She is surrounded by two dogs, two cats, a husband (her one and only) and a passel of grown children and grandchildren. A former newspaper reporter and editor, she is living her dream: writing romance novels for Harlequin. As she says with typical understatement, “It doesn’t get any better than this!”
Books by Ruth Jean Dale
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
678—KIDS, CRITTERS AND CUPID
687—THE CUPID CHRONICLES
788—CUPID’S REVENGE
853—FAMILY SECRETS
Other “Taggarts of Texas” books:
HARLEQUIN ROMANCE
3205—FIREWORKS!
3242—SHOWDOWN!
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
413—THE RED-BLOODED YANKEE!
HARLEQUIN HISTORICALS
768—LEGEND
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
DEAD OR ALIVE, Thom T. Taggart spoke for himself.
But considering that the crusty rancher had been laid to rest less than two hours earlier, his appearance on the forty-two-inch television screen set up special for the occasion in the parlor of the Rocking T Ranch near Showdown, Texas, elicited a collective gasp from the assembled audience.
The old Texas rancher and oilman, spiffy in a dark Western-cut suit and string tie, sat in his wheelchair, holding up a copy of the San Antonio Star. He pointed to the date and his lined face creased in a broad grin.
“Howdy, y’all,” he drawled. “As you can plainly see, today is my birthday. Seems only fittin’ to make my final will and testament before y’all show up to surprise me.” He winked, letting everyone in on the joke. “Not that I ain’t fixin’ to live to be a hundred like I always said, ’cause I am.”
At that point, Kit McCrae Taggart began to sniffle. Her husband, Boone, patted her hand in an attempt to comfort. She gave him a grateful glance and tried to swallow back her tears.
Thom T., all-unknowing, went on. “Folks, it’s been a great life—still is, even if I am mostly stuck in this dang chair these days. I may not be as spry as I usta, but I’m still of sound mind.” His familiar hearty laughter filled the room. “That bein’ the case, I’ll be gol-darned if I’ll let the government get its hands on a penny more a’what I got than it deserves. So here goes.”
It took a lot of hard swallowing and throat-clearing for his nearest and dearest to maintain their poise. Those who shared the Taggart blood had come to hear their departed patriarch’s final words and receive his final bequests.
That included Jesse James and Meg Randall Taggart, who were accompanied by thirteen-year-old daughter, Clementine. Daniel Boone and wife, Kit McCrae Taggart, who were present with their son, Travis, nine, and daughter, Cherish, three. And shirttail relation Thomas Trenton Taggart Smith, always called “Trey,” had come with his wife, the former Rachel Cox, and their eight-year-old twins, Thom T. and Taggart Smith.
Only Meg and Jesse’s twenty-one-year-old, Thomas Randall Taggart, Thom T.’s great-grandson and namesake— “Rand” to friends but still called “Randy” by the family—was missing.
