my gender or my last name. Thank you, and I look forward to serving as the next president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.” As she walked back to the table to take her seat, she received a rousing ovation from some of the club’s newer members and a grudging nod of respect from a couple of the older ones.
She was confident that she had done all she could do and represented the Langleys, as well as her gender, to the best of her ability. Now it would be up to the members to decide what direction they wanted the TCC to take when the actual voting took place tomorrow.
“Top that, Price,” she said, throwing down a challenge to her lifelong rival.
His hazel eyes twinkled as he rose to his feet and prepared to walk up to the front of the room. “Piece of cake, darlin’.”
She wasn’t fooled by his use of the endearment. Like most Texas men, Bradford Price called all women “darlin’.” What she couldn’t understand was why it sent a tiny little shiver coursing throughout her body.
Deciding it was best to ignore her reaction, she concentrated on Brad delivering his speech. She had to admit he was an engaging speaker and had a lot of good ideas—some of them paralleling her own. But that didn’t mean she was ready to concede.
For as long as she could remember she and Brad Price had been pitted against each other in one competition or another. Sometimes he won, other times she came out on top. But the rivalry was ever present and at times quite fierce.
Abby couldn’t help but smile as she remembered some of the contests they’d found themselves embroiled in. Their game of one-upsmanship had started in the first grade, when they worked to see who would be ranked higher on the honor roll at the end of each term. In middle school, they had competed to represent their class on the student council. By the time they reached high school, they were in an all-out race to see which one of them would be at the top of their graduating class. That particular competition had turned out to be a draw, and they ended up sharing the honor of being co-valedictorians.
Through it all, they had goaded, teased and thrown out challenges, and although their rivalry had never become a cutthroat battle, they hadn’t been friends, either. That was why, earlier in the coat room when Brad had shown such genuine concern and compassion, he had thrown her off guard. Maybe that was the reason she had felt compelled to tell him about her infertility.
She took a deep breath. Her inability to bear a child wasn’t something she discussed freely, and she couldn’t believe that she had opened up to him about it. She hadn’t even been able to bring herself to tell some of her close friends. Why had she shared one of her most painful secrets with him?
As she pondered her uncharacteristic behavior, Sunnie began to squirm within the confines of the baby carrier, and Abby knew she was about to wake up. If the infant’s whimpering was any indication, she was working up a lusty cry. Before they disrupted the rest of Brad’s speech, Abby grabbed the diaper bag and her purse, then picked up the baby from the carrier and walked to the double doors at the back of the room.
They hadn’t been out in the main hall more than a few minutes when Brad—baby carrier in hand—and the other men running for the board joined them. “After the vote tomorrow, all we have to do is wait until the Christmas Ball to see who wins,” he said, setting the carrier on the floor beside them.
“We’re done for the day?” she asked, placing a pacifier to Sunnie’s eager lips.
Brad nodded. “It’s a good thing, too. I think I need to take this little lady home and give her a bottle before we both crash for the afternoon.”
“Have you considered hiring a nanny?” Abby asked, patting the baby’s back as she swayed from side to side in an effort to keep Sunnie calm.
“I don’t intend to hire anyone to take care of Sunnie,” he said, stubbornly shaking his head. “I took on the responsibility of raising her and that’s what I fully intend to do. I’m not handing her care over to someone else, other than an occasional night out or a business meeting.”
When he didn’t elaborate, she felt compelled to ask, “How on earth are you going to manage taking care of her for the next couple of weeks without your housekeeper being around to advise you?” She hoped he was better at feeding a baby than he was at changing diapers.
Abby watched him run his hand through his thick, dark brown hair. She could tell he was a bit uneasy about being solely responsible for Sunnie’s care. “I’ll do my best, and if I run into something I can’t handle, I’ll call my best friend Zeke Travers’ wife, Sheila, or my sister, Sadie, for advice,” he said decisively. “Sheila’s a nurse and took care of Sunnie until I got custody. I’m sure if needed, one of them would be willing to come over and show me what to do.” He smiled. “By the way, thank you for watching her while I finished my speech. I really appreciate it.”
“I didn’t mind at all.” Setting the diaper bag on the floor, Abby knelt to place Sunnie in the carrier, then secured the straps and tucked a blanket in around her. “My ranch isn’t far from your house. If you can’t get hold of Sheila or Sadie, you can always give me a call and I’ll try to answer whatever questions you might have.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said seriously.
When she stood up, they stared at each other for several long moments as they both realized the other candidates had left and they were alone.
He suddenly gave her a lopsided grin. “Have you looked up?”
“No,” she answered slowly. “Should I?”
He pointed to something hanging from one of the heavy beams on the ceiling. “You’re standing under the mistletoe.”
“I hadn’t….” her breath caught when he stepped forward and put his arms around her waist “.noticed.…” Surely he wasn’t going to kiss her?
“I have to,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “It’s a tradition.”
Before she had the chance to remind him that they were opponents and that she wasn’t interested in observing that particular custom with him or anyone else, his mouth settled over hers in a kiss so gentle it left her speechless. Firm and warm, his lips caressed hers with a mastery that confirmed all the rumors she had heard about him being a ladies’ man. No man kissed that way without having one of two things—either a natural sense of what pleased a woman or a wealth of experience. Abby suspected that Bradford Price had an abundance of both.
Feeling as if her legs were about to fold beneath her, she reached up to put her hands on his wide shoulders. The solid strength she felt beneath the fabric of his black Armani jacket sent her heart racing and did nothing to help steady her wobbly knees. But when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her more fully against him, her legs failed her completely and she sagged against him.
Thankfully Sunnie chose that moment to spit out her pacifier and wail at the top of her little lungs, effectively bringing Abby out of the spell Brad had put her under. Leaning back, she quickly looked around to see if anyone had been watching them. She was relieved to find that the hall was empty.
“I … need to … get my coat,” she said, feeling as if the oxygen had been sucked from the room. “Sheila and I have… some shopping to do for the party…. at the women’s shelter.”
“Yeah, I should get Sunnie home for a bottle and a nap.” To her extreme displeasure, Brad didn’t act as if he had been affected one
