The Pregnant Ms. Potter. Millie Criswell

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The Pregnant Ms. Potter - Millie Criswell Mills & Boon American Romance

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girl, he thought, curling his lip disdainfully.

      “You’ll never be able to walk in those shoes, ma’am. Put your arms around my neck, and I’ll carry you to the truck.”

      She shook her head. “That’s n-not ne-neces…cessary.” The woman’s teeth were chattering. “I c-can man-manage.”

      “Dammit! Of course, it’s necessary, or I wouldn’t have said so. Now quit being stubborn and do as I say, or we’re both going to freeze to death.”

      Since the snow was nearly up to her knees, she finally nodded and held out her arms. With ease, he lifted her, but it took a lot more concentration and muscle to maneuver his way back to the pickup. The snow had drifted several feet in some places, making the going slow and arduous.

      When they finally reached the three-quarter-ton truck, he lifted her onto the front bench seat, slammed the door shut and seated himself behind the wheel. “You’re lucky I came down this road this afternoon, or you’d probably have frozen to death. The road’s private and doesn’t get much in the way of traffic. And the way your car looks you won’t be driving it for awhile.”

      “Th-thank you,” she managed, holding her hands out to the heater vent. The hot air pricked her skin like needles as it thawed her hands. “I didn’t mean to trespass. I was on my way to my sister’s in Leadville, and I guess I took a wrong turn.”

      He whistled. “Leadville? You’re hell and gone from Leadville. You’re on Taggart land, ma’am. I’m Pete Taggart, owner of this cattle ranch.”

      The pride in his voice was unmistakable. She’d heard pride like that voiced by her own father many times before. She wasn’t impressed then, and she wasn’t now. “I don’t really know how I ended up here.”

      “It’s easy to lose your bearings during a whiteout. I’m just glad I was checking on my ornery bull, Henry, and had reason to come this far from the house.”

      She found it endearing that he named his animals. Maybe he wasn’t such a hard-ass after all. Maddy forced a smile, though her frozen face felt as if it would crack from the effort. “I’m Madeline Potter, but most people call me Maddy.”

      He kept his eyes riveted on the road in front of him as he talked. “Whatever possessed you to drive in weather like this? A person should have more sense than that. Of course, women don’t.”

      Maddy stiffened, unable to believe what she was hearing. “I beg your pardon?”

      “You heard me right. Most women don’t have a lick of sense when it comes to practical things, like the elements. Like wearing proper clothing and shoes.” He gazed at her high heels once again and shook his head, not bothering to hide his disdain. “Looks like you’re one of those women.”

      The heat flaming her cheeks and body had Maddy thawing out quickly. “I’m an advertising executive from New York City, I’ll have you know. And I’m extremely intelligent. I graduated with honors from Vassar.” She wouldn’t waste her breath telling him about having to work three jobs simultaneously on top of the heavy class load she carried, or the numerous loans she’d taken out to achieve her goal. She doubted Cowboy Pete would give a hoot or a holler.

      “Is that so? And did they teach you at Vassar to drive through blizzards and risk your fool neck?” Pete knew he was being unreasonably hard—he didn’t know the woman, after all—but he had good reasons. The best of reasons.

      “What they taught me was to be independent, which I am. And to compete in a man’s world, which I’ve done, quite successfully, thank you very much. They also taught me about male chauvinists who don’t like women. Men such as yourself, Mr. Taggart.”

      “Oh, I like women just fine, Miz Potter, ma’am,” he replied, exaggerating the feminist moniker. “I like ’em hot, naked and under me.”

      Maddy swallowed her gasp, her lips thinning. “You, Mr. Taggart, are…are…never mind. You just are.” She didn’t want to anger the Neanderthal and find herself dumped back out in the snow, so she kept her unflattering opinion to herself. She doubted a man with a head as thick as a tree trunk would listen anyway.

      Pete grinned, noting the heightened color to her cheeks. “I suspect so, ma’am. But I know when to come out of the rain, or, in this case, snow.”

      “I admit it was foolish of me to attempt driving to Mary Beth’s house during the storm, but I was anxious to see my sister. And I wasn’t planning on getting lost or having my car skid off the road.”

      “Hit the brakes, did you? Didn’t your daddy ever teach you never to hit the brakes during a skid?”

      Maddy counted silently to ten, unclenched her teeth and said, “My daddy, as you refer to my father, Mr. Taggart, was more enamored with raising his prized Duroc pigs than with raising me or my sister, or teaching us how to drive. That task fell to my mother.”

      Most things having to do with Maddy or Mary Beth had fallen to their mother, and it had come as no surprise when Sarah Potter’s heart had finally given out, from a defective valve, the doctors had said. But Maddy felt her mother’s death had really been caused by Andrew Potter’s indifference and self-absorption, his total lack of awareness where others were concerned. Another grievance in a long list of grievances to heap upon her father’s head.

      The hurt in Maddy Potter’s voice was unmistakable, so Pete backed off. The woman obviously had some unresolved issues with her old man, and he wasn’t interested in hearing them.

      “It’s not much farther to the house. Once you’ve had a hot bath and hearty meal, you’re going to feel a whole lot better.”

      A hot bath! Was the man insane? She had no intention of taking off her clothes in a stranger’s house. Not that she could, even if she wanted to. Her suitcase was still in the trunk of the rental car—something she neglected to mention. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Taggart, but I’ll just use your phone, if that’s all right, and be on my way. I wouldn’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

      “Afraid that’s not going to be possible, ma’am,” he said, and Maddy knew a moment of fear. After all, she didn’t know this man from Adam. He could be a rapist or sadistic killer, although, he certainly didn’t seem to be. What he seemed to be was rude, arrogant, the Marlboro man come to life.

      Nervous, she started humming Jingle Bells, and he looked at her strangely. “Phone lines are down and the electricity’s out. I suspect we won’t have phone service again for weeks. Fir and pine trees have been snapping like twigs all morning and afternoon. And the forecast is for at least six to eight more inches of snow before morning. I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere for a while.”

      The dismay she felt reflected in her voice. “But—but my clothes are back in the car. And my sister is expecting me.” That wasn’t quite the truth. She’d never gotten around to calling Mary Beth. She didn’t want to get into any explanations about why she was coming until she could speak to her sister in person.

      It was a conversation she dreaded having. Mary Beth had always been so proud of Maddy’s accomplishments, of her working her way through college and making something of herself in the business world. And Mary Beth, who desperately wanted a child, couldn’t conceive one, while Maddy had had no such problem. The conversation wouldn’t be easy on several levels.

      “It

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