The Wilde Bunch. Barbara Boswell
toward thirty. The big three-oh! She was only four years away from it and she wasn’t even dating anybody! The lonely empty years stretched before her with no man, no children. And now, no job!
She sadly faced the fact that she was not going to meet Mr. Right. With women greatly outnumbering men in Washington, D.C., eligible bachelors had their choice of outgoing, high-wage-earning beauties. Why would Mr. Right settle for someone like her—a shy office worker, average in every way?
But some indomitable deeply feminine instinct within her demanded someone to love, to nurture. She had always been one of those little girls who cherished her dolls and prayed for a baby sister or brother. But there had been no siblings, and as she grew older, her dreams were for a child of her own—and a man to father her child, a man she adored, who would love her and their baby. What a wonderful, happy family they would make!
Tai meowed and jumped down from the couch. Seeking attention, he wound his way around her ankles, his meows growing louder and more demanding, until Kara leaned down to pet the soft fur around his ears.
“Oh, Tai, what are we going to do?” It hurt to swallow around the huge lump in her throat. Never had her dreams seemed as impossible as at this bleak moment.
Tai purred loudly, oblivious to her distress, his back arched in ecstasy as she stroked him. Tai was perfectly content with their solitary existence; Kara wished that she were. Loneliness washed over her in waves. The future loomed dark and dismal. In nine months, she would turn twenty-seven, all alone except for her cat.
The telephone rang, jarring Kara out of her reverie of despair. She was grateful for the diversion, even though it was probably just a telemarketer trying to convince her to buy magazines or something else she didn’t want or need.
“Kara?” The warm tones of Reverend Will Franklin sounded over the line.
“Uncle Will!” Kara exclaimed, thrilled to hear his voice.
“How would you like to come out for a visit, my dear?”
“Uncle Will, I’d love to, but—”
“No buts. I have a plane ticket for you. Ginny and the girls and I insist that you come to Montana. Immediately, if possible.”
* * *
Standing at the gate in the airport in Helena, Mac glanced at the photograph in his hand for perhaps the hundredth time since Reverend Will had given it to him one week ago. The young woman featured in the photo was Kara Jo Kirby, age twenty-six.
He had urged the reverend to contact her last week, the day Brick had been discovered hiding in the girls’ locker room with a Polaroid camera. And after chasing Clay around the house trying to apply an anti-itch lotion to his chicken pox spots, Mac had decided that a solid marital unit in which to raise the children was no longer an option to consider sometime in the future, it was an immediate vital necessity.
Reverend Will was delighted. “I’ve known Kara for years, and I can attest to her trustworthiness and high moral standards.” He grew quiet for a moment. “I suppose I should tell you that I was Kara’s stepfather for nearly five-and-a-half years, from the time she was three until she was past eight. Then her mother divorced me,” he added flatly.
Mac gaped at him, speechless. He’d known Will and Ginny Franklin for the past fifteen years, ever since the pastor had arrived in Bear Creek. The couple and their two daughters, now aged sixteen and twelve, were the picture of domestic harmony. This was the first time he had ever heard of a previous Mrs. Franklin.
“It’s no secret, although I rarely speak of my first marriage,” Reverend Will said. “There is really no reason to and, well, Ginny doesn’t care to recall that I was married before. I’ve kept in touch with Kara through the years, though I haven’t seen her as much as either of us would’ve liked.” He handed Mac the picture. “This was taken nearly five years ago. I was in Washington for a conference at the time and visited with Kara there.”
Mac stared at the snapshot. Kara Kirby’s smile looked forced, as if she’d been commanded to say “cheese” just as the picture was being taken. Her hair was brown and blunt-cut in a straight bob, which swung below her jawline. A light smattering of bangs—not those moussed, gel-stiff bangs that stood up like a cresting ocean wave—accentuated her large, wide-set eyes.
Her nose was small and rather elegant, her teeth white and straight, her eyes a startling red, a casualty of the camera flash. Actually, her eyes were hazel in color, according to her former stepfather. In the picture, the young woman was slender, wearing white slacks and a peach-colored shirt, although in the past five years, she might have gained some weight.
Like three or four hundred pounds? Mac swallowed. Well, if she possessed the sterling character and rock-solid virtues attributed to her by the reverend, if she were willing to commit herself to a desperate man and four disturbed kids, then he was damned lucky to get her.
Clutching Tai’s travel cage, Kara deplaned and walked to the gate, her eyes flicking over the small crowd gathered to meet the flight. Reverend Will Franklin did not appear to be among them. In his carrier, Tai meowed piteously. He’d hated the flight and his constant raucous cries had earned him glares and scowls from the other passengers from takeoff until landing. The flight attendants hadn’t been too thrilled with him, either—or with her for bringing him aboard.
“Excuse me. Are you Kara Kirby?”
Kara started at the sound of the deep voice. “Yes.” She looked up—way up, for she was just five foot three, and the man standing in front of her was at least ten inches taller. He looked like the quintessential cowboy, wearing jeans, a chambray shirt and a pair of well-worn Western boots, one of those macho sorts featured in a beer or a Jeep commercial.
“I’m Mac Wilde.” He surveyed her intently. She looked the same as she had in that five-year-old picture. Her hair was exactly the same shade and style and her big wide eyes really were hazel, not vampire red. She was slender, small-boned with a slight frame, although the parts of her figure which interested him the most were not revealed. Her breasts were concealed beneath her thick, tunic-style beige sweater, her legs well-hidden in the slightly baggy pleated gray slacks.
Her clothes were certainly tasteful if not a tad dull—and a lot shapeless. Mac found himself wondering how she would look in brighter colors, more revealing styles. He frowned at the direction his thoughts had taken. Certainly he did not expect her to dress like teenage Lily, whose flamboyant sexy outfits frequently caused him bouts of avuncular shock.
His frown deepened. He’d caught Lily in the act of sneaking back into the house yesterday shortly before 3:00 a.m. and the little conniver had refused to tell him where she’d been. Or with whom.
Kara shifted uneasily, registering the man’s frown of disapproval. She guessed he’d been sent by the reverend to meet her plane—and that he was not pleased with his assigned chore. Probably not with her, either. Men who looked like Mac Wilde—who was tall and dark, but whose sharp blade of a nose and hard mouth saved him from classical masculine perfection, thereby making him even more interesting and attractive to her—men like that never noticed plain, uninteresting women like her.
Uncle Will had informed her that the distance from Helena to his home in the small town of Bear Creek was about one-hundred-seventy-five miles. That meant several hours in the company of this man, who would undoubtedly be heartily bored with her at journey’s end.
Kara searched her brain for something to say, wishing that some devastatingly clever bon mot would spring to mind, but of course, one did not. She’d never tossed off a clever bon mot in her entire life.
“I guess Reverend Franklin couldn’t make it to the airport and asked you to give me a ride,” she said, and immediately scorned herself for stating the obvious. When it came to the dull and the bland, she always delivered!
“I wanted to come,” Mac replied. Having paid for her ticket—he’d even sprung for first class—having braced himself for matrimony, he was champing at the bit to see his bride-to-be.
Kara