How To Win (Back) a Wife (Harlequin Silhouette Desire) Read online

  “Maybe We Ought To Have A Kid,”

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Books by Lass Small

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Copyright

  “Maybe We Ought To Have A Kid,”

  Tyler suggested thoughtfully.

  Kayla was startled. “We’re divorced. Children should have two parents.”

  “I’d be around enough.”

  Kayla scoffed. “Mostly gone.”

  “Now, Kayla, you wouldn’t want me to quit working and hang around the house....”

  Again she mentioned, “We are divorced.”

  “You’re an old-fashioned girl.”

  “I’m a current woman, and I am single. There is no way, at all, that I’d take on having a kid in this position. I’m not that careless.”

  He sighed into the phone. “So. I suppose we ought to be married.”

  “No thank you. We’ve tried that.” And she hung up.

  Dear Reader,

  The celebration of Silhouette Desire’s 15th anniversary continues this month! First, there’s a wonderful treat in store for you as Ann Major continues her fantastic CHILDREN OF DESTINY series with November’s MAN OF THE MONTH, Nobody’s Child. Not only is this the latest volume in this popular miniseries, but Ann will have a Silhouette Single Title, also part of CHILDREN OF DESTINY, in February 1998, called Secret Child. Don’t miss either one of these unforgettable love stories.

  BJ James’s popular BLACK WATCH series also continues with Journey’s End, the latest installment in the stories of the men—and the women—of the secret agency.

  This wonderful lineup is completed with delicious love stories by Lass Small, Susan Crosby, Eileen Wilks and Shawna Delacorte. And next month, look for six more Silhouette Desire books, including a MAN OF THE MONTH by Dixie Browning!

  Desire...it’s the name you can trust for dramatic, sensuous, engrossing stories written by your bestselling favorites and terrific newcomers. We guarantee handsome heroes, likable heroines...and happily-ever-after endings. So read, and enjoy!

  Senior Editor

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  LASS SMALL

  HOW TO WIN (BACK) A WIFE

  America’s Publisher of Contemporary Romance

  Books by Lass Small

  Silhouette Desire

  Tangled Web #241

  To Meet Again #322

  Stolen Day #341

  Possibles #356

  Intrusive Man #373

  To Love Again #397

  Blindman’s Bluff #413

  *Goldilocks and the Behr #437

  *Hide and Seek #453

  *Red Rover #491

  *Odd Man Out #505

  *Tagged #534

  Contact #548

  Wrong Address. Right Place #569

  Not Easy #578

  The Loner #594

  Four Dollars and Fifty-One Cents #613

  *No Trespassing Allowed #638

  The Molly Q #655

  †‘Twas the Night #684

  *Domininc #697

  †A Restless Man #731

  †two Halves #743

  †Beware of Widows #755

  A Disruptive Influence #775

  †Balanced #800

  †Tweed #817

  †A New Year #830

  †I’m Gonna Get You #848

  †Salty and Felicia #860

  †Lemon #879

  †An Obsolete Man #895

  A Nuisance #901

  Impulse #926

  Whatever Comes #963

  My House or Yours? #974

  A Stranger in Texas #994

  The Texas Blue Norther #1027

  The Coffeepot Inn #1045

  Chancy’s Cowboy #1064

  How To Win (Back) a Wife #1107

  Silhouette Romance

  An Irritating Man #444

  Snow Bird #521

  Yours Truly

  Not Looking for a Texas Man

  The Case of the Lady in

  Apartment 308

  Silhouette Books

  Silhouette Christmas Stories 1989

  “Voice of the Turtles”

  Silhouette Spring Fancy 1993

  “Chance Encounter”

  *Lambert Series

  †Fabulous Brown Brothers

  LASS SMALL finds living on this planet at this time a fascinating experience People are amazing. She thinks that to be a teller of tales of people, places and things is absolutely marvelous.

  One

  It is now over five hundred years since TEXAS was first occupied by Europeans. The city of San Antonio has been altered and fooled with and adjusted. The downtown river is so lovely that it’s been embellished and funneled into more loops.

  The riverboat rides are especially nice. You get to see all the old trees, the clean water and the preserved buildings along the way.

  One of those riverside buildings, by a handy iron curlicued bridge, harbors the law firm of Reardon, Miller and Rodriguez. The building was renovated inside, but the outside was preserved. The exterior was all painted subtly in a blue-tinted gray and the results are elegant.

  Handily, the firm’s office isn’t far from the red granite Bexar County Courthouse. The red granite is the same granite that was used in Austin for the State Capitol. San Antonio has always been a little pushy.

  The Bexar of Bexar County is pronounced “bear.” Of course, in a long-ago motion picture that can still be seen on cable TV, Errol Flynn called the county “Bex-ar.” Hearing that, the San Antonio people’s eyes flinched and still do.

  One of the Reardon, Miller and Rodriguez firm was Tyler Fuller. As a twenty-eight-year-old lawyer, he was a new rooster. He couldn’t yet crow. He was again single.

  The Fullers had been divorced for seven months, three weeks and two days. Tyler Fuller was not keeping track, he just happened to recall the time. After all, it had been he who had instigated the divorce.

  It had stilled him with shock when the dark-haired, blue-eyed Kayla had discarded his name and gone back to her maiden name of Davie. She did that as if she’d wiped out everything about Tyler Fuller.

  Kayla acted like there’d never been any good times—she hadn’t seemed at all grieved to part from him. She’d flipped away like he’d never meant anything to her, at all.

  When she got snippy and cold, and then moved out, he’d countered with the divorce. She hadn’t turned a hair.

  His parents, his siblings, his friends, even his kindergarten buddies all knew he was nuts.

  Disgruntled, Tyler thought at least Kayla could have protested the divorce. She could have at least leaked a tear or two and looked at him with regret.

  Tyler clearly remembered being in a group, not long after their divorce. He remembered having found her in the crowd and with casual élan he’d joined the segment which contained his ex-wife. With some assumed control, he’d used the excuse to be by her side by introducing Tom Keeper to her. Tom’s family owned a chunk of West TEXAS.

  Tyler had named Kayla as Kayla Fuller, and she’d given Tyler a glance as she’d corrected, “My last name’s Davie.”

  Of course, her saying that
had made Tom Keeper smile. Tom had been a male TEXAS predator of females since he was six months old. Everybody knew that. And after the introduction, Kayla had treated Tom as if he was harmless.

  That just proved to Tyler that she needed some sort of chaperone. At twenty-five, she was a babe in the woods.

  No normal woman would treat Tom like he wasn’t dangerous. Any half-brained woman would have immediately known the real Tom Keeper’s knuckles dragged on the floor and his pointed teeth dripped hot saliva.

  It was just a good thing Tyler never left her side that night. He’d even told Tom that Kayla was still his as soon as she recognized that simple fact. Tom was not to foul up the works. Did he understand?

  Tom had laughed. But he had gone on off...that night.

  Tyler had known Kayla now for over four years. They were married not quite two years. And of the two years, they’d been divorced for seven months, three weeks and two days...exactly.

  Just because they were divorced, she hadn’t said anything about their second anniversary. No card. No call. Nothing.

  At the time, he’d courteously called so that she could thank him for the flowers. She hadn’t answered her phone until after eleven. Where had she been on their anniversary? Grieving for their lost marriage, drinking rot gut in some sleazy bar?

  Kayla was not a drinker. At best, she’d have two small glasses of wine in maybe three months. She wasn’t any kind of drinker.

  Where had she been on the night of their second anniversary?

  He hadn’t asked. He’d hinted several times, but he hadn’t out and out asked. Actually, he’d pushed. She hadn’t noticed.

  They hadn’t talked long on the phone. She’d been in a hurry. And she’d never once mentioned the milestone day. Of course, they were divorced. Even so, it seemed to Tyler that she should have remembered it had been two years since their wedding.

  She hadn’t been very open with him. When he’d finally talked to her that night, she’d asked, “Now what’s the matter?”

  And he’d said, “I just called to say—hello.”

  “It’s after eleven, and I have to get to work early. Goodbye.”

  And she’d hung up! She had! On their second anniversary! It was probably a good thing they were already divorced.

  Women are insensitive. It was always the man who bought the woman flowers, smoothed things between them and took the woman out to eat. And just because the eatery wasn’t an Indiana Casa D’angelo! or a Café Johnell, she’d slide her eyes around the place and her face would be pinched.

  Kayla wasn’t at all sophisticated. She had no notion as to how she ought to act. Once she’d gotten up from the table and just flat out left a place. It was after a guy had slid off the bar stool and lay on the floor... ignored by the staff. But the staff was behind the bar, and he had been short. The bartender probably thought the guy had left.

  Kayla had never considered the atmosphere—other than to bury her nose in a lace-edged handkerchief. Tyler had tried to expand her experiences, but she was too limited. She did not accept variations.

  How could a sixth-generation TEXAS woman be so unknowing? She wasn’t a delicate Easterner, she was a solid TEXAS woman!

  Tyler picked up the phone and punched the redial. It rang in his ear twenty-four times. He hung up eventually. She probably was asleep and had turned off the bell. No curiosity. She just lived her life in a vacuum.

  Kayla really never did bend enough. She never had. Like the dogfights. That night they’d found a gathering and stopped to see what it was. It was a dogfight and he was curious. He’d said to her, “Just a minute.”

  It wasn’t long before Tyler frowned and turned to say they’d leave.

  She was gone.

  In that brief time, she’d vanished. She’d bought four of the dogs at a staggering price and left the place, taking them with her. There had been no room for him in his car with her and the four dogs, and without consulting him, she’d just...driven away!

  Tyler was ticked. She’d abandoned him in that obnoxious place!

  He’d had a couple of offers for rides, but the women had looked dangerous, so he’d walked.

  At a public phone, he’d dialed the sheriffs office to alert him to the dogfights. By the time he got home, he was calm.

  Kayla was asleep. Deep in their throats, the four dogs had growled a warning at him. None barked. They might waken her. Tyler had slept on the living-room sofa.

  When he’d wakened the next morning, Kayla was gone. Gone. None of her clothes were in their closet. She’d moved out. She had taken the dogs.

  She blamed him for the dogfights? That irritated him. She could have waited and listened. He was ticked.

  Tyler had walked around. The apartment was silent. Even with all the furniture, the place was empty.

  So he’d called at her parents’ house. Obviously Kayla had contacted them with her side of the breakup. Her mother had said to Tyler, “Hello, dear. You’ve thrown it all at the fan.”

  Her mother was that way. She said outrageous things but she altered the words for politeness. Her mother was why Kayla was the way she was.

  Kayla’s dad was an observer. Although Mrs. Davie was open and clear, Mr. Davie was quiet, probably suspicious, and watched. That time he’d said to Tyler, “You goofed.”

  And Tyler had replied, “Not entirely.”

  As time passed, Tyler tried to get in touch with his wife, but she was never there. Her car was gone. No matter when he’d go past the Davie house, her car wasn’t there. And she never answered the phone. The cook, Goldilocks, or her parents said, “I’m not sure where she is right now. I’ll tell her you called.”

  So he had the divorce papers served. He’d thought that would stir her up.

  She signed them.

  Before Tyler knew what was really happening, he was divorced. Uncontested.

  He got all the furniture except for the several pieces of antiques that had been in the Davie family for all eternity. She’d picked out their furniture. It was okay. Discreet. He’d have had the upholstery more colorful.

  When he wasn’t there, she’d come to their apartment and collected the rest of her things. But she’d left all of her keys.

  There is nothing more irritating and deflating than a woman who won’t fight to keep a man.

  With all that furniture as his, his mother refused to have him back home, even briefly, so that he could heal. He had to stay where he was. But he didn’t heal.

  There wasn’t a day dragged by that he wasn’t aware Kayla wasn’t there. She’d be back. She had a hungry body. She was ethereal. Pure. She wouldn’t sleep around. He was her only partner in sex. She loved his body. She’d be back, and he’d explain.

  He’d kept the place clean for seven months, three weeks and two days, waiting for her to open the door with her key and fling herself into his waiting arms.

  No key. She’d left them all on the dining-room table. She didn’t plan to...ever...come back.

  She wouldn’t even call him.

  She never answered her phone. Just her mother. Or her father. Or one of her sisters. Or Goldilocks who ruled the Davie household but was supposed to just be the cook.

  All of them just said Kayla wasn’t there.

  So...where was she?

  They never knew.

  She’d been abducted by aliens. No. There wasn’t anything he could do about rescuing her from aliens in star ships. How about slave snatchers?

  He’d go out in his cousin Wally’s boat and chase down the bigger boat and rescue all the captives. But like Scan Connery in the film, Tyler would put Kayla into a rowboat and they’d drift away. He’d show her how they’d made love. She liked sex.

  Kayla loved him.

  When would she remember that?

  When would her hungry body go on overdrive and force her to come back to him? She’d kick open the door, come inside and stand, looking at him with greed in her eyes. Her uncontrolled breasts would be heaving with her desire as her hot ey
es would rake over him mercilessly. Yeah.

  Then he found out she wasn’t living at her parents’ house, she was with a friend. She and those dogs. Henrietta was certainly a tolerant woman. She had cats.

  Cats—and dogs who had been rescued from a fighting pit? That must be distracting. Who acted as umpire during the day when the humans were gone?

  Kayla would come back to him.

  He could handle dogs. He could handle women. He could handle her. Man! How he’d like handling her again. And he about went berserk at the very idea of it.

  He always looked for her no matter where he was going. San Antonio wasn’t that big. There were just over a million people. Eventually, he would get to run into her and then he’d exclaim, “I’m so sorry! Oh. Haven’t we met?” And he’d laugh in his throat in the way that turned her on.

  But he never once saw her. And he figured that she was grieving. She missed him so badly that she couldn’t go out anywhere at all. She was zonked.

  No other woman drew his eyes. He’d thought to date some classy babe and make Kayla jealous. But he couldn’t. He looked at the laughing women and at their bodies, but none of them was Kayla. So he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He could see no other woman. And he sighed.