Archer's Angels (4 page)

Clove realized there was a problem with The Plan after spending the early part of the evening getting to know Archer better. Though his e-mail conversations had been Texas tall tale, in person he was Texas short story, she thought, annoyed. All bark, definitely no bite. Not even a nibble.

Apparently, the hook was not properly baited. Bandera had really gone for her as the bar-stool babe. If Archer had, he’d tried to conceal it.

He concealed a lot, this cowboy she’d come to romance. Somewhat rude at times, and definitely in need of a manners injection. Not as kind and poetic as he’d been in cyberspace.

She felt a bit betrayed. He was not going to ravish her; in fact, she doubted he’d ravish any woman. He was more a chauvinistic protector. How dare he tell her she couldn’t stay at Marvella’s! Breathing deeply to get past the memory of his pigheadedness, Clove told herself to remember the bundles of babies his family had produced. Twelve brothers, for starters, and miscellaneous progeny.

“I just want one,” she said longingly. “One.”

John Wayne had had his good side, mixed in with his arrogance, she remembered. Still, Archer seemed to be more arrogant than cowboy gentleman.

“Well, at least my heart won’t be in jeopardy where he’s concerned,” she told herself. A good stuntwoman always saw to her safety first, and after getting to know Archer better, she knew her heart was totally, completely safe.

“Maybe safer than I want it to be.” She gazed in the mirror. When she’d yelled down to ask him about a place to go dancing, she had hoped he would offer to escort her.

He hadn’t—and she had to admit that this cowboy was going to be tough to catch. The most bothersome part was that Archer wasn’t remotely attracted to her.

Picking up a curling iron, she absently pressed a curl into her hair. It bounced when she released it—and The Plan took on a modification. She began to do her hair the way Marvella’s girls had styled it earlier, Texas big and poufy. Tousled. Sexy. She applied the makeup the way they’d had it earlier, and then she shimmied into a tube-top dress she found in the closet. High heels completed her outfit.

“The revenge of the nerdy girl,” she told herself, laying her glasses on the cosmetics tray. “Revenge is supposed to be so sweet.”

The girls knocked on her door. “Ready?” they called. “Going out with us, Clover?”

“I’m ready!” Fluffing her hair one last time, she saw
the woman Bandera had admired gazing back at her. “I’m definitely going to Marvella’s school to learn Hot-Babe Style 101. Then I’m going to get my cowboy,” she said with satisfaction to her reflection. “Archer Jefferson, you’re not going to know what hit you!”

“T
HERE SHE IS
!” Bandera said as they walked inside Two-Bits bar. “The bar-stool babe!”

Archer peered through the smoky atmosphere and clinging partners. In the light from a neon beer sign, he saw her moving, laughing and snapping her fingers. Dressed in a dress practically painted on her lush body, she danced in a circle with a group of men and Marvella’s stylists. “They’re having fun,” Archer observed.

“They sure are, and I’m on my way to do the same.” Bandera took off to include himself in the circle, perilously close to the woman he fancied.

She was hot, Archer conceded. He liked a full-figured lady, and especially one with such nice skin. The breasts were nothing to ignore as they lightly jiggled under the tight material. Idly, he wondered if she was wearing a bra. Strapless dresses just begged to be tugged right off a woman, in his opinion. She had nice legs, and to be honest, he was a madman for high heels.

Checking the door, he wondered when Clover would arrive. He intended to keep an eye on her, because heaven only knew she could get in trouble in a place like this.

“You should dance with me,” Bandera’s beauty said.

He stared at her, then glanced at his brother. Bandera
was surrounded by three Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls, and the evening looked to be going strong from his perspective. Bandera wasn’t even glancing their way.

“I’m waiting on someone,” he said.

She looked so disappointed, almost crushed. His bravado, which Clover and Tonk seemed to have teamed up to kick to smithereens, rose a bit.

“Now, don’t take it too hard,” he said. “You’re beautiful, no question. I would dance with you anywhere, anytime.”

“But?” she prompted.

“But I’m waiting on this crazy little girl to show up. She’s new to town and real unsophisticated. You know what I mean? The kind who’d get lost on a sunny day.”

Her eyebrows rose. She had clear, pretty blue eyes, and the just-teased tangle of her silvery-blond hair was appealing. Made a man’s fingers want to wander there.

He glanced toward the door again. “She probably got lost on her way here,” he said. “I should have offered to escort her.”

“That would have been chivalrous,” she agreed, “but you didn’t, and so now you and I are stuck waiting for a mystery person to show up.” She pulled him by the hand, though he didn’t fight too hard. Once on the dance floor, he’d shift her over to Bandera, and go back to watching out for Clover. He shot a quick glance toward the potted banana tree strung with white lights, to make certain she wasn’t hiding over there.

Cool skin slid into his arms, and he was jerked into the present predicament. “Gosh,” he said. “You feel good.”

“So do you, cowboy.” She smiled at him, happy that she’d managed to disguise her accent completely.

They moved well together, Archer acknowledged. Bandera was glowering at him, but Archer shrugged. It had been ages since he’d held a soft woman, and this one was firm and ripe, and her lips were glossy—

“Once upon a time I dreamed of a cowboy like you,” she said. “He was strong and powerful, and he knew how to romance a woman.”

“I know how to romance a woman,” Archer said. He could feel his arms warming from the heat her body was beginning to give off. Glowing embers turning to a sexual fire he hadn’t felt in a long time—maybe ever. Frowning, he stared down at her, wondering if she knew she was working over his testosterone.

“You could show me,” she suggested. “I like romance.”

She was definitely coming on to him.

He glanced toward the door, watching for Clover.

The woman in his arms pressed lightly into his body, a full-length hint of the wonders available.

Taking a deep breath, Archer decided that opportunity only dropped sporadically into a man’s life, and when it did, it needed to be seized by the throat.

“Think my brother had his eye on you,” he said gruffly, his energy now captured by the fantasy of tugging the dress off of her.

“He may have,” she said lightly, “but he doesn’t know me like you do.”

“Really?”

She looked at him with guileless eyes. Then she low
ered her head onto his chest, in a gesture he would have to call gentle surrender. “Really,” he heard her murmur.

That was it. Female-led seduction, his favorite pastime.

He dragged her off by the hand.

C
LOVE HELD HER BREATH
as Archer led her to his truck. She got in when he held the door open for her, and then she stared out the passenger-side window, hoping he wouldn’t look beneath the hair and curls to find plain ol’ Clove. Unsophisticated, he’d called her. Thought he had to watch out for her, a touch of pity in his voice.

His hand snaked around her wrist, surprising her as he pulled her across the bench seat toward him. Then he kissed her hot and fast and hard, and in that moment, Clove knew she’d underestimated her man.

He was everything he’d bragged about in his e-mails.

He just wasn’t showing it to “Clover.”

The way she was now brought out the beast in him. She had rattled the cage.

Pulling back to look at her, Archer said, “Are you okay?”

She nodded.

“You went quiet on me.”

It was too quiet in his truck. In the bar, it had been loud and they hadn’t talked enough for him to recognize her. He’d also been scoping the door, not paying attention to her until she’d fairly propositioned him.

Switching the radio on to turn his mind from chivalry, she kissed him, reminding him of why they were in the truck.

“All right, then,” he said a moment later. “I take it that means yes. I’m in the mood for a swim. Hope you are, too.”

In February? Not likely, but if it meant getting him down to his boxers, then she would swim with polar bears in the Arctic.

He put his hand around hers, driving with his other hand. Clove closed her eyes, thinking about Lucy.

Just one baby.

A few minutes later, Archer parked the truck at a creek wooded with trees. He shone the headlights of the truck into the darkness for a few moments, then switched them to low. Putting the radio on a sexy jazz station, he said, “Now let’s dance properly.”

She went out the driver’s side behind him, sliding into his arms.

“God, I never realized a woman could feel this good,” he said. “You’re like satin.”

They danced together wordlessly after that, until the station went to commercial. Then he took Clove by the hand, leading her toward the water. “I was teasing about swimming,” he said.

“I’m brave,” she said softly. “I can handle it if you can.”

“Skinny-dipping in February? No, my plan is to keep you warm.”

She thought he would find a grassy spot for them to lie, but instead he walked with her, their fingers interlaced.

“This is one of my favorite places on earth. My brothers and I used to come here to swim after rodeos.”

He ran a hand across her bare shoulders. Clove shivered at the caress, her breath held nervously.

“You’re cold,” he said. “Come back to the truck.”

She wasn’t cold, but she followed him, anyway, enjoying his concern for her. He let down the gate of the truck bed, spreading a blanket for them. Turning off the truck lights, he crawled into the bed, pulling her up to join him. Then he covered them with another blanket and rested her head on his chest.

“You’re prepared for everything,” she whispered.

“No, I’m not. If I was, I’d have a bottle of champagne cooling in an ice chest,” he said. “See those stars?”

“Mmm,” she said, loving the feel of his chest and hearing his heart beat fast.

“One of those stars has your name on it,” he said. “What is the name of that star?”

“It’s a secret,” she whispered into his ear, straddling him to kiss his face.

“I like secrets,” he said, pushing his hands underneath her dress to run his hands over her bare bottom. “You have on no underwear,” he said with surprise. “You little daredevil!”

T
HERE WERE SECRETS
and then there were secrets, Clove thought, quietly getting down out of the truck three hours later. She knew the town wasn’t far, and she wanted to be long gone before her cowboy awakened.

It had been a night she’d never forget. They’d made the truck rock like mad, and she’d learned that giving up one’s virginity was easy when the pleasure was that intense. They’d made love over and over again, hungry for each other. When he’d asked about
birth control and offered a condom, she’d said she was fine.

At the final second, she’d confessed her virginity, hoping he wouldn’t hop out of the truck.

He hadn’t. He’d been quite tender and considerate of her.

She hurried, knowing Archer could wake up any minute and realize she’d left. It was a good thing she knew the real Archer, the grouchy one, or she would definitely have lost her heart to him tonight. What a tender lover! So romantic, yet so masterful. She got chill bumps thinking about it.

Thirty minutes later, she quietly let herself into her bedroom, closing the door. She took a shower, glad to be rid of the curls and the makeup. Snuggling into her covers, she smiled, thinking about Archer.

It was good to be herself again.

Only, tonight he’d changed her, made her feel beautiful. Given her appreciation of her woman’s body.

She would never forget him.

Three months later

In Delilah’s kitchen, Clove straightened, her back sore. Cooking at Delilah’s was nice, especially because Delilah was so kind. So was Jerry, Delilah’s trucker boyfriend. Delilah hadn’t really needed another employee, but the fact that Clove was only in town for a short while, until her visa ran out, was a plus.

Clove didn’t really need a job, but she wanted to keep busy and make friends. All the ladies at the Lonely Hearts Salon were very eager to make her feel at home. In fact, she liked it here much better than at Marvella’s, as Archer had said she would.

Marvella had been nice to her, but Clove had begun to feel uneasy about the male clientele who came to the salon.

“Triplets,” the young, pretty doctor had told her at the last appointment. “Congratulations. You hit the jackpot! The first triplets ever to be born in Lonely Hearts Station, I do believe.”

Clove had staggered out of the doctor’s office, and she was still reeling. Triplets! She might have known that Archer Jefferson was capable of not only impregnating a woman, but doing it in an embarrassingly huge way!

She’d moved out of Marvella’s the second she got home from the doctor’s office, telling Marvella she felt she’d overstayed her welcome. The truth was, if Archer had felt strongly about Clove not staying at Marvella’s when he barely knew her, she knew he’d really freak if he ever accidentally found out his progeny was gestating there.

“I’ve really done it now,” Clove told Delilah, who was putting some plastic wrap over peanut-butter cookies Clove had baked.

“Don’t worry,” Delilah told her. “You’re among friends here.”

She was, but for the first time in her life, she was frightened.

“Have you thought of telling the father?” Delilah asked.

Archer had said, on many occasions, he didn’t want children. “He wouldn’t be happy. I’m skipping that conversation for now.”

Besides which, she was already gaining weight. Her face was puffy and her breasts had swelled. If he’d thought her plain and unsophisticated before, now she was downright, well, more plain.

“The thing is,” she told Delilah, “triplets are intimidating.”

“You’d better believe it,” Delilah said. “Pregnancy can be intimidating. You’re doing it times three.” She
looked at her kindly. “If you ever want to talk about the father, you can trust me to be silent.”

Clove lowered her eyes. “I’m afraid you’d be surprised. It’s not anything I can share. But thank you.”

Delilah nodded. “I’m going to my room now.” She patted her hand. “Have a cookie and a cup of hot blackberry tea. Go to bed soon, too.”

Clove smiled at the older woman. “Thank you so much. For everything.”

Delilah smiled and left the room. Clove sat at the table, with only the lamp lit, rubbing her stomach absently. She wore dresses now, with expanding waistlines. Normally, a pregnancy wouldn’t show at this juncture, but her three babies seemed to be thriving.

If they were destined to be Archer’s size, she was in for a rocky road. She felt as if she was in the middle of going down a slide, and couldn’t stop, no matter how much she wanted to. There was no body double who could perform this stunt for her.

Sighing, she pushed her oversize glasses up on her nose.

“Hey,” a masculine voice said suddenly, making her gasp with fright. “What are you doing here, Clover?”

She stood, her heart pounding, her gaze drinking in Archer as he walked into the kitchen. She’d managed to avoid him while staying at Marvella’s. She should have known she couldn’t hide from him now that she was at the Lonely Hearts Salon. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Looking for cookies and milk. Came in the back way, as I always do, and a pit stop in the kitchen be
fore bed is a necessity.” He glanced at the cookies on the tray in front of her, then his gaze caught on her stomach. She watched with some horror as his attention traveled to her swelled breasts, then back to her stomach.

His eyes wide, he met her gaze.

“Oh, you poor thing,” he said. “If you want me to kill the jerk, I swear I’ll bring an army of Jeffersons down on his head. He’ll wish he’d
never
done you this way.”

“Archer,” she began uncomfortably. “I’m all right.”

“You’re not all right,” he said. “If you were, you wouldn’t be unmarried, pregnant and living in a salon.”

She swallowed. “I wasn’t seduced and then left, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He looked at her doubtfully. “Clover, listen. You’re a nice girl. Very trusting. But that’s just what a man can be capable of. Making a woman love him and then leaving her.”

She blinked. “It was the other way around. Not that you love me, but…”

He looked at her funny for a moment, as if someone had told a bad joke he didn’t get. A muscle near his eye twitched. Slowly, his hand unsteady, he reached to pull her glasses from her face. He pulled her ponytail down, his fingers trembling.

She sensed him pulling away from her.

“Oh my God,” he murmured. “Oh, no.”

Clove’s heart sank.

“This can’t be,” Archer said. “You can’t be her. You can’t be pregnant.” To say that he was horrified would
be putting it mildly. She could see in his face that he still didn’t want to be a father. He was not in love with her. In fact, he hadn’t known she was who she was. “Tell me I’m dreaming,” he said. “A big, huge, ugly nightmare.”

She blinked at his harshness.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I mean, we went looking for you that night at Two-Bits. Well, Bandera was trolling for the bar-stool babe, and he took off with three stylists he met dancing that night. I was hanging around waiting for you to show up, thinking you needed a guardian eye. But
you
were the bar-stool babe.” He frowned. “I really thought you might need my protection.”

“I was fine.”

“That’s what you said that night when I asked you about birth control.” Archer told himself his heart wasn’t going to bust a valve; taking a deep breath, he made himself calm down. “You said you were
fine.
”

She sank into a chair. “I was fine.”

“Not if you’re pregnant!” he yelled. “Clover, that is not the definition of
fine!
”

They stared at each other.

Archer couldn’t believe his bad luck. One more Jefferson to add to the mix of booties and diapers at the ranch. Mason was going to explode. Hell,
he
was going to explode.

“I suppose you want me to marry you. That’s what you’re hanging around Lonely Hearts Station for.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m hanging around because I didn’t expect to get pregnant this fast, and my plane ticket isn’t for another two weeks.”

His eyes went wide. “This fast? You didn’t expect it this fast?”

“Yes. I have a four-month visa from Australia.”

“Australia?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “TexasArcher, I’m Clove Penmire. AussieClove, from Down Under.”

“AussieClove,” he repeated stupidly. “No wonder you haven’t been answering my e-mails. You’ve been here.”

“Yes.”

“You came here to meet me.”

She nodded.

He thought hard, realizing by her tame responses that he was digging to the bottom of a very deep well. “You came here to get pregnant by me.”

“I hoped so.”

“You came here to marry an American.”

“No. That was never my intention.”

“So you just wanted a baby?”

“Yes.” She looked away for a moment, then met his gaze defiantly. “Only The Plan went a bit awry.”

“I’ll say,” he said bitterly.

“I’m having three.”

The world seemed to drop away from his feet. He stared at her, his gaze narrowed.
“What?”

She never flinched. “I’m having three babies.”

Archer’s ears rang, his stomach pitched, his eyes burned. Anger made his body tighten, his guts a pinched cord of disbelief. “Congratulations,” he finally said, stalking from the room.

He stood in the hall, gasping for breath, waiting for
the stars of fury to leave his vision. AussieClove the stuntwoman had come here to get pregnant by him. The babe at Marvella’s and plain ol’ Clover were the same person. Whoa. She’d laid a trap and he’d fallen into it like a dope. Amazing what makeup and some curls and high heels could do to turn a man’s brain to mush!

This made no sense, though. After their night together, she’d made no effort to contact him, not even under the AussieClove e-mail address—and he would never have put two and two together—so was she done with him? It sure appeared that way. He reached for the one thing he could fight about, even if it wasn’t likely.

He stalked back into the room. “This is about money.”

She glared at him. “Could you step one foot closer, please, so I can slap you? I really don’t want to chase you to do it, because you’re not worth it.”

“I’m not worth it? Who is the brain behind the lying, cheating plan, Clover?
Clove?
”

“Do you want these cookies or not? I’m going to put them away.” She picked up the tray of assorted cookies, tightened the plastic, and put them next to the coffeepot for visitors to find. “I’ve been baking all day, and now I’m going to bed.”

“You’re staying here?”

“Yes, I am.” She moved past him, and Archer itched to grab her and make her stop bustling around as if his world hadn’t come to a bull-stomped halt. He followed her down the hall. “When did that change?”

“When I found out I was pregnant. I moved over
here. Because you had wanted me at Delilah’s in the first place.”

She went up the stairs, and he followed her, carefully avoiding watching her fanny, though it was a herculean effort. “You got pregnant, and
then
you started taking my advice?”

“Yes.”

Nothing about this moment made any sense. “Maybe I should find a stud for Tonk. If all a woman needs to mind is to become preg—”

She whirled on the stairs in front of him. “I didn’t take your advice so much as make a decision for the good of my children. Cool it with the cowboy macho, Archer.”

“Now just a minute.” He followed her into her bedroom. “I am macho. I am somewhat chauvinistic, hardheaded and generally not a role model for young children. You knew all this. And still you came all the way to Texas to get pregnant by me.”

She jerked a nightgown from a drawer. “Yes, I did.”

“Aren’t there any real men in Australia?”

“Plenty. But you were less complicated. Plus, you bragged all the time about your potency and it was just too tempting. Excuse me.”

He sank into a chair as she went into the connecting bathroom and closed the door. “Triplets, damn it. Triplets!”

“Okay, so you weren’t bragging,” she said through the bathroom door. “Give yourself a gold medal.” She came out of the bathroom in a white nightgown that
went to her neck, touched her wrists with lace, and hovered at her ankles with more frothy lace. It billowed about her body, leaving everything to the imagination.

“Jeez,” he said with some horror. “You’re either trying to be a frilly ghost or a gothic heroine. Where’s your candle and lantern?”

“The nightgown’s practical, it’s expandable for three, and it’s modest enough for a home like this. So sorry it’s not your idea of sexy.”

“I’ll say.” He gulped.

She turned off the light. “Shut the door on your way out, please.”

Man, she was a bossy one. She might not like being compared to Tonk, but his Appaloosa and his Australian had some mighty tight tempers on them. It made him want to jerk on the reins hard, but what he’d learned was that the more attitude a woman gave him, the softer his hands had to be.

“Hey.” He reached over, switching the lamp back on. “Betty Crocker, you’re going to be a little late for your baking tomorrow. We’ve got to talk this out.”

She sighed and shoved a pillow behind her back so that she was sitting up. “I think we should not talk ever again.”

“I’m confused.”

“That’s your problem.”

“Maybe, but it would be best for the children if we talked.” The three children, he thought, his heart pounding with fear.

A scratching in the hall made Clove jump from the
bed in a billow of white and fling open the door. She scooped a cat from the floor, closed the door and got back into the white-sheeted bed. “The four children.”

“Four?”

She smiled. “Four children. This is my new baby, Tink.” The gray-and-white cat observed him from its secure place in Clove’s lap, its large, clear-water green eyes seeming to laugh at his plight. “I named her Tink after Tonk. Because she’s tricky like your Appaloosa. Plus, she has lots of spots, just like Tonk. Of course, she doesn’t have spotted nostrils like Tonk, but—”

“Okay. Let’s stick with human babies conceived by me,” Archer said crossly. “Ones without bobbed tails.”

“Oh,” Clove said, sympathizing with her cat. “It’s only half-bobbed. And she’s still beautiful, in my eyes.”

Archer glared at the feline. “I do not like cats.”

“What man does?” She smiled at him. “Well, some do. Very secure men do.”

“Pregnant women aren’t supposed to have cats. They carry diseases,” he opined majestically.

“And I can’t take you back to Australia with me,” she said to the purring cat. “But Delilah says she’ll give you a good home once I’m gone.”

“Back up,” he said. “I think we overlooked something in the conversation. You’re not going back to Australia.”

“Yes, I am,” Clove said. “I don’t like it here. The air is all wrong, for one thing. It doesn’t smell right. It sort of smells like an old train depot. And—”

“Which it is. Clove,” he said, certain his brain was going to stroke out from his rising temper, “you are not
taking my children to a continent affectionately called Down Under.”

“You’re suggesting that I take them to a ranch affectionately called Malfunction Junction?
That
sounds like it would be good for the children.”

She was making him crazy with her defiance. Strangely, he couldn’t stop thinking about the pleasure her body had made him feel, and all the sassing he was receiving was giving him a fair-size urge to one-up her with some silencing kisses.