Fiance Wanted
Ruth Jean Dale
Katy Andrews was going to a family reunion where she knew her life just wouldn't be worth living she didn't take a man. Trouble was, all the decent men she knoew were too old, too young or too married, which left her with only one option…Laid-back rancher Dylan Cole was the man Katy loved to hate. They rarely managed to be in the same room for long without arguing! Now they had to call a truce long enough to convince Katy's family that they were engaged.But then they began to enjoy their pretend relationship a little too much…
“But I can’t just kiss you.”
“Why not? It’s easy.” Dylan put his hands loosely on her shoulders.
Katy shivered. “B-because I’m not in the habit of kissing just anybody.”
“I’m not just anybody. I’m supposed to be your soon-to-be fiancé.”
“Nevertheless, I can’t put my heart into it without some emotional content.”
“Emotional what? Look, Katy, we’re just talking about a kiss here. A very simple kiss between…between friends….”
He drew her a tiny fraction closer.
“We’re not friends,” she managed to say. “We’re…we’re…”
He bent toward her. “What are we, Katy? Can’t wait to see what word you come up with.”
“We’re—” Doomed, she thought, lifting her hands to touch the wide shoulders while his hands drifted to her waist. “We’re going to put people’s suspicions to rest once and for all.”
Ruth Jean Dale lives in a Colorado pine forest within shouting distance of Pikes Peak. She is surrounded by two dogs, two cats, one husband and a passel of grown children and growing grandchildren. A former newspaper reporter and editor, she is living her dream: writing romance novels for Harlequin. As she says with typical understatement, “It doesn’t get any better than this! Everyone should be so lucky.”
Books by Ruth Jean Dale
HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®
3413—RUNAWAY WEDDING
3424—A SIMPLE TEXAS WEDDING
3441—RUNAWAY HONEYMOON
3465—BREAKFAST IN BED
3491—DASH TO THE ALTAR
3539—BACHELOR AVAILABLE!
3557—PARENTS WANTED!
Fiancé Wanted!
Ruth Jean Dale
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE (#ua657518f-619b-5f11-a31a-89f3bb3855d1)
CHAPTER TWO (#u4600fa69-fc42-5ca3-88a2-70e369909921)
CHAPTER THREE (#ud56dda71-0f36-58d1-90c4-09295360c343)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
BABY SHOWERS always depressed Katy Andrews.
So did wedding showers, April showers and, if she’d been able to think of any other kind of showers, they would no doubt depress her, too.
The fact was, at the advanced age of thirty, Katy had neither husband, child, nor prospects of obtaining either in the foreseeable future.
Which was the reason that sitting in the middle of pink and blue crepe-paper streamers in a corner of the Rawhide Café in Rawhide, Colorado, didn’t exactly leave her brimming with enthusiasm.
That is, until her best friend Laura Reynolds waddled into the café, let out a little shriek of surprise and was immediately obscured by a horde of hugging females.
Katy sighed. Laura’s baby was due in another month—late September. The glowing mother-to-be had left her job as lifestyles editor of the Rawhide Review newspaper six weeks ago to await the birth of this, her second child. Katy, city reporter for the Review, thought the place hadn’t been the same without her best friend.
But she had to admit that married life agreed with Laura, who had never looked lovelier. Even minus her customary grace, she was a joy to behold as she waddled up to Katy with a big smile on her face.
Katy’s answering smile was completely sincere. She might be envious of her friend’s happiness, but she wouldn’t be mean-spirited about it. “Long time, no see,” she said.
“Too long.” Laura eased herself into a chair across the table. “There just seems so much to do to get ready for the baby.”
“But you’ve got such good help,” Katy teased.
“Oh, yes,” Laura agreed airily. “Just what I need—a ten-year-old girl and a seven-year-old boy ‘helping.’ This poor little baby will be lucky to have a bed when it arrives, with all that help.”
Katy figured that “poor little baby” would be just about the luckiest baby around. It would arrive to find a loving blended family waiting, complete with father Matt, mother Laura, sister Jessica and brother Zach. The importance of a bed paled by comparison.
“Is Matt getting excited?” Katy wanted to know.
Laura rolled her eyes. “Deliriously. Even when I informed him that I expect him to go into the delivery room and hold my hand the entire time, he didn’t run screaming from the house.”
“Brave guy,” Katy agreed. That her old school friend Matt would turn out to be such a rock impressed her. He was certainly nothing like his friend and Katy’s long-time nemesis, Dylan Cole. Katy would have bet that you couldn’t melt Dylan and pour him into a delivery room.
Laura beamed. “The kids say I owe it all to you and that magic wand they gave to you,” she said with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “They’re probably right. After all, who else would have forked out hard cash for those magnificent glass slippers? They made it impossible for me to turn down the pleas of my Prince Charming.”
The two women laughed together, reliving the trials and tribulations leading up to the happy melding last year of Matt and his daughter with Laura and her son into one big happy family.
Katy had been a willing participant with the children in bringing about the union of two people obviously meant to spend their lives together. Yielding to the children’s pleas, she’d bought the ugliest and biggest plastic shoes in the world for Prince Charming to slip upon the dainty feet of his Cinderella. To avoid any last-minute complications, Jessica and Zach had also made and decorated a “magic wand” out of a paper plate and a dowel, presenting it to Katy as their own special Fairy Godmother. Getting into the spirit of the occasion, Katy had waved that wand around with more enthusiasm than verve.
“And,” Laura added, “I see you’ve brought your wand with you today. Are we going to need a little magic?”
“Laura, I need a lot of magic. My family is driving me nuts about—”
“Laura, Laura, we need you at the head table.” Rawhide’s Mayor Marilyn Rogers appeared to whisk Laura away to the place of honor. Throughout the luncheon, throughout the opening of baby gifts, Katy remained uncharacteristically quiet, in the background, with a half-sad smile pasted on her face.
All this hoop-de-doo couldn’t help but remind her of her own failings. Thirty and single, her entire family was on her back to marry and reproduce—as if it were that simple. She couldn’t exactly wave her magic wand—as successful as it had been in the past—and conjure up a Romeo of her own.
If she could, she certainly would. A movement near the door caught her eye and she saw Dylan Cole enter. He hesitated, looking around for a table. She could only hope he didn’t notice the empty one directly behind where she sat.
She and Dylan couldn’t be in the same room for five minutes without launching into battle. It had been that way all their lives, even back in grammar school when he and his buddy Matt Reynolds had made her life miserable.
She turned her back on him just in time to see Laura pull a beautiful hand-made baby quilt from a brightly wrapped box. Good thing mother isn’t here to see this, Katy thought darkly. Lovely and feminine, Laura was the daughter her mother should have had, she thought gloomily even as she applauded enthusiastically. Instead, her mother had got a daughter who grew up a wild tomboy ready to take on the world.
On her thirtieth birthday last October 25, Katy had thought her mother and grandmother were going to hold a wake. And this year, she realized, would be even worse. Her grandmother’s health had deteriorated, her mother reported weekly, and Grandma’s only wish was “to see Katy settled before I die.”
“Settled,” to the Andrews family, meant married, preferably with children.
Throughout lunch and the opening of gifts, Katy mentally reviewed every man she knew in or near the town of Rawhide and came up short. There wasn’t a single suitable husband for her in all the land—and she knew them all. Born and raised here, now in her seventh year as a reporter at the local paper, it was no exaggeration to say she knew everyone.
The shower wound to a close. Katy remained in her seat while Laura said her good-byes and thank-yous, then approached to sink gratefully, if ungracefully, into the chair she’d occupied earlier.
“Isn’t everyone nice?” Laura gushed. “To go to so much trouble for me is just—”
“Natural,” Katy inserted, “because you’re so nice, Laura.”
Laura smiled. “I don’t know about that, but I do know that I’m so happy I sometimes think I’m just going to burst with it.” Leaning across the table, she patted Katy’s hand. “In fact, I’m so happy that I want all my friends to share in it. Lately, I’ve been getting this uncontrollable urge to play matchmaker. Isn’t that awful?”
“Start with me,” Katy said fervently. “Laura, my mom and grandmother are driving me nuts. They’re after me constantly to get married, like I’m against men or something! It’s been so long since I even had a date that I’m not sure I remember how to act.”
Laura squeezed the hand beneath hers. “It’s like riding a bike. You never forget.”
“Don’t be too sure.” Katy fingered the unpainted dowel supporting her magic wand. “Makes me sorry this magic wand doesn’t really work. I’d sure like to conjure up a fiancé to keep my family off my back and Grandma alive for another year.”
Snatching up the wand, she gave it a sharp crack over her head. It whapped into somebody or something, and she froze, afraid to look. Her horrified gaze begged Laura to tell her she hadn’t smacked some little old lady.
Laura laughed. “Hi, Dylan. What are you doing skulking around behind us that way?”
“Dylan!” Katy twisted in her chair. “Thank heaven it’s only you. I was afraid I’d hurt somebody.” She waited for him to make some sarcastic remark.
He stood there rubbing his right elbow, one eyebrow cocked while he looked down at the two women with a calculating expression on his face. A local rancher, he wore the uniform of his trade: denim pants, plaid shirt, boots and hat. Many women had raved to Katy about his good looks but she couldn’t see it; all she could see was the kid who’d pestered her and tried to get the best of her nearly her entire life.
When he simply continued looking at them with that unfamiliar gleam in his eye, she added, “That’s what you get for sneaking around behind people. What are you doing back there?”
“Eavesdropping.” He said it as if it were a virtue. “Mind if I join you?” He plopped down in an empty chair and placed his hat on the table, brim up.
“Yes, I mind,” Katy said, not expecting him to pay that the slightest attention, which he didn’t. “And you’ve got some nerve, eavesdropping on a private conversation.”
“Yeah, I do.” He gave them both a winsome smile. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”
“Couldn’t help? We were hardly shouting.”
“Katy,” he drawled, “you’ve got a voice that could shatter glass. I just seem to hear it above any hubbub.”
That brought a reluctant smile. “Okay,” she said ungraciously, “you eavesdropped. Now I suppose you have some caustic comment to make.”
“No.” He looked offended. “Look, you need a fiancé in name only. You can’t help it if you’re a wallflower.”
This was the Dylan she knew. “So?” She felt her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. It was one thing to confide her lack of sex appeal to her best friend but quite another to discover an old adversary had also heard.
“So…” He sucked in a deep breath. “Surprise! So do I.”
For a moment she simply stared at him. Then she said, “I beg your pardon? So do you, what?”
“Need a fiancée,” he said patiently.
“For what? If this is a joke, Dylan Cole, so help me I’ll—”
“It’s no joke,” he said quickly. “Calm down, Katy. See, since Matt got married I seem to have become the favorite target of every love-starved female in town. Plus, Brandee’s back in town.”
“Brandee Haycox? Head cheerleader, homecoming queen, all-around Miss Popularity—that Brandee Haycox?”
“Ha-ha,” he said, “very funny. There’s only one Brandee Haycox.”
“Which has what to do with you? Last I heard, she’d gone off to run a health club in Denver or some such.”
“And now she’s healthy and she’s moved back again.” He squirmed in his chair. “And she…uh…seems determined to add me to her list of conquests, if you know what I mean.” He gave a self-conscious shrug of wide shoulders. “My spirit is unwilling but my flesh is weak. I gotta do something to protect myself, fast.”
Laura looked puzzled. “I don’t get it, Dylan. Can’t you just tell her you’re not interested?”
“I am interested—heck, a man would have to be dead not to be—but not in any long-term way, if you get my drift. I need someone to save me from myself.”
“Or save Brandee,” Katy said, annoyed because it seemed to her that he was trivializing her own problem, which was much more serious—i.e., more important—than his own. “Good grief, Dylan, you’ve never been a wimpy sort of guy. Just avoid her—avoid all of them.”
He gritted his teeth. “It’s not a matter of wimpy, it’s a matter of survival. And there’s something else.” He looked disgusted. “Since Brandee’s daddy owns just about everything in this town, including the bank that holds my mortgage, I’d just as soon not offend his baby girl.”
Katy nodded emphatically. “Okay, I get it. So your plan is to…what?”
“Well,” he said, “before I overheard you moaning and groaning about needing a fiancé, I didn’t have a plan. But now it occurs to me that if I wasn’t available, Brandee and the rest of ’em might take the hint.”
“What happens when she realizes your new love isn’t exactly on the up and up?”
He smiled. “You know Brandee. By then, she’ll have moved on to someone better.”
Katy did, indeed, know Brandee. Which meant she also knew he was right on in his assessment of the beauteous blonde. Brandee didn’t have a mean bone in her body but she could be very tunnel-visioned—and she liked men. A lot. “How long do you need this fictional sweetheart?” Katy wanted to know.
“I dunno, not too long. A few months? You?”
“A few months,” she agreed. “Until my birthday, for sure.”
He nodded. “October twenty-fifth.”
She gaped. “You remember my birthday?”
“Why not? I went to enough of your stupid birthday parties growing up.” He made a face. “The only thing that made it bearable was that your mother always baked a good cake.”
“Yeah, and she’s the one who made me invite you. She always liked ‘that nice Cole boy.’ Which proves she didn’t really know you.”
Dylan grinned. “Your mom likes me? That’s great. I need all the fans I can get.” His expression grew cautious. “So what do you think?”
“Give me a minute to think about this.” Eyeing him warily, she wondered if there was any way they might get along for more than five minutes, even with so much at stake. Certainly he was not bad looking—handsome, according to many. Owner of the Bear Claw Ranch west of town, he was popular with men and sought after by women, one of whom had caught him; he’d been married and divorced.
But could they make such a charade work? Unfortunately, Katy was desperate enough to find out….
“Okay,” she said, “we might as well give it a try. What do we have to lose?”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Nothing except our lives.”
“We’ll have to get a lot of things straight first,” she warned. “For example, how will we ever convince anyone we’re a couple?”
He grinned. “I’ve got a tougher question than that. How will we ever convince anyone that a dyed-in-the-wool career woman like you even wants to get married?”
“Why, of all the nerve!” She practically sputtered in her outrage. “Of course, I want to get married! What makes you think—”
Laura waved her hands for order. “Hold it, you two. This is no place to work out the details.”
Katy glanced around, saw several pairs of eyes watching, and groaned. “You’re right. Where—?”
“My house.”
Dylan blinked. “ Your house, Laura?”
She nodded. “For dinner tomorrow night at six—the kids need to eat early, and then we—I mean you can work out all the details without an audience.”
Dylan made a face. “Matt will really get a kick out of this.”
“Quit grumbling,” Katy snapped. “We’ll be there, Laura.”
“Speak for yourself,” Dylan flared.
“Okay, the floor is yours.” She slumped back in her chair peevishly.
“We’ll be there, Laura,” he said, as if this were new information. “Now if you ladies will excuse me—” Lifting his hat from the table and clapping it on his head, he rose and strode toward the door.
Katy stared after him until he’d disappeared outside. Then she groaned. “Laura, what have I done?”
“Everything you can to make your grandmother happy. Remember that, Katy.”
As if she could forget. There was no other reason in the world she’d deliberately subject herself to the company of Dylan Cole.
Dinner with the Reynolds family was curiously awkward.
Katy couldn’t quite figure out why. Matt and Laura were her dearest friends, and she adored their talkative children. And although she didn’t put Dylan into those exalted categories, she was, at least, accustomed to him.
Maybe it was just the strain of trying not to fight with him.
Whatever it was, he seemed to be feeling the pressure, too. In fact, he looked entirely ready to grab his hat and run out the door at the slightest provocation.
“So,” Matt said, lifting another piece of Laura’s good fried chicken off the platter, “what do you two think about the new gasoline station going up on the west side of town?”
“I think it’s a crime,” Dylan said swiftly, right over Katy’s, “I think it’s high time!”
They looked at each other across the table, frowning.
Katy said, “If you lived over there, you wouldn’t be so quick to condemn. I have to drive halfway across town now to fill up my car.”
“And if you had any concern for the environment and runaway growth, you wouldn’t mind driving a couple of blocks further,” he shot back. “That’s what’s wrong with people today. All they think about is themselves.”
“Why, of all the cotton-headed approaches to urban planning—”
“Not to mention overpopulation. If we don’t do something to stop it, Colorado’s going to turn into another California. Why, just the other day—”
“Excuse me.” Laura gave them a warning glance. “Can you hold off on that until the kids are excused?”
Ten-year-old Jessica, seated beside Katy, grinned. “I don’t want to be excused. I think it’s fun to hear Aunt Katy and Uncle Dylan fight.”
Laura rolled her eyes. “ Fighting is not fun. How about I give you kids an ice cream bar for dessert and you can eat it outside while the grownups talk?”
“She means ‘fight,”’ Jessica confided to seven-year-old Zach, who was listening with wide eyes. “Sure, Mom. We know when someone wants to get rid of us.”
Once the kids were through the door, Matt chuckled. “When Laura told me what you two are up to, I told her it would never work. Was I right?” He looked lovingly at his wife, who sighed.
Katy felt duty-bound to defend her friend’s faith in her. “Look, if Dylan and I want to make it work, it’ll work.”
The gentleman in question raised his brows. “ Do we want to make it work?”
She let out her breath on a gust of displeasure. “If you’re going to take that attitude…no.”
“Katy!” Laura exclaimed. “I thought your mother and grandmother—”
“I’d do it for them if I could, but I don’t really see any way.” Katy shook her head in disgust.
Laura turned to Dylan. “And what about Brandee Haycox?”
Matt bolted upright in his chair. “Brandee’s after you now? Dylan, why didn’t you tell me?” He began to laugh.
“I didn’t tell you because I knew this would be your reaction.” The corners of Dylan’s attractive mouth curved down. “And because I knew you wouldn’t have any tips on how to dislodge her.”
“Oops.” Matt glanced at his wife. He’d been Brandee’s target once himself, before he and Laura got together.
Laura frowned. “I just don’t get it,” she complained. “You’re two of my favorite people and—”
“Since when?” Katy shot a challenging glance at Dylan. “I never thought you liked that guy.”
Laura laughed. “I didn’t—and I didn’t like this guy, either.” She touched her husband’s arm tenderly. “Which all goes to show you that things aren’t always what they seem.”
Katy rolled her eyes. “Skim milk masquerades as cream,” she agreed, “but I’ve never heard of cream masquerading as skim milk.”
Dylan frowned. “Am I being insulted, here? Katy, there’s no law saying we have to go out there and make fools of ourselves trying to convince folks we’re a couple. If we told them we’d buried the tomahawk, they’d think we buried it in each other’s back.”
“Absolutely.” She nodded for emphasis. “This will never work, so it’s good we found out right away. No hard feelings.” She offered her hand.
“Naw.”
He took her hand in a grip she felt all the way to her shoulder, but she wouldn’t allow herself to flinch.
He added, “At least no more hard feelings than usual. Kind of a shame, actually.”
She knew she shouldn’t ask, but she did anyway. “What’s kind of a shame?”
“That a good-lookin’ woman like you can’t find some guy willing to tame you into something approaching a woman. Because—”
“Out of here!” Laura surged to her feet. “If you two want to go at it hammer and tongs, don’t do it in my kitchen!” She pointed toward the door with a quivering finger.
“Sorry.” Dylan jumped up. “We wouldn’t want to upset the pregnant lady. Thanks for a great meal, Laura. And thanks for trying.”
“Ditto.” Katy rose, too. “I’m sorry about all that. Old habits die hard, I guess.”
“Maybe, but they can die—if either of you really wanted that to happen.”
“I suppose. As he said, dinner was great and your intentions were even better.” Katy hesitated. “Sure I can’t help you with the dishes?”
“You run along.” Laura, equilibrium restored, smiled. “And think about how much easier life would be for all of us if you and Dylan could just get along.”
“I’ll do that,” Katy promised, adding a silent when hell freezes over.
She kept that state of mind all the way home to her little house on the edge of town. Complete with white picket fence, it was her pride and joy.
The phone was ringing when she unlocked the door. It was her mother, Liz, who lived in Denver with the rest of the Andrewses, including Katy’s “little” brothers: Mack, twenty-six, and Josh, twenty-seven; and her grandmother, Edna. Katy’s father had died nearly five years ago.
“What’s up, Ma?” she asked, tossing her shoulder bag on the sofa. “Everybody all right?”
“Everybody’s wonderful,” Liz said in her usual upbeat manner. “I’ve got some good news, Katy.”
“I can use some of that.”
“We’re having a family reunion October fourth. Everybody’s coming—Uncle Tom and the kids from Omaha, Aunt Gertrude and her family from Tulsa, all of ’em.”
“Sounds great,” Katy said cautiously. Not that she didn’t love her family, and the big reunions were always fun, but she sensed a hidden minefield here someplace. “I’ll bet Grandma’s excited.”
“Oh, she is! But…there’s this little problem….”
“Uh-oh.”
Liz’s tone changed, became cajoling. “Katy, you know how concerned your grandmother is that you’re not married, or even seeing anyone special. And with her health the way it is…well, I know you’ll understand.”
Katy’s heart stood still. “Understand what?”
“Why I’ve taken the liberty of getting you a date for the reunion, dear. He’s a very nice boy, a friend of your brothers’, and he’s really looking forward to meeting you. He’s a lawyer with one of the best firms in town and he—”
“Stop!” Katy’s mind raced. A friend of her brothers’? She’d rather die an old maid.
“But Katy, dear, your grandmother…”
“Grandma doesn’t have a thing to worry about,” Katy lied through her teeth, “because…” Say it! “Because…because I’ll have my own date, thank you very much. As a matter of fact, I have been seeing someone and—and it’s getting serious.”
So there!
The negotiating dinner at Laura’s had been even worse than Dylan expected and he hadn’t expected much. Disgusted, he decided to stop at the Painted Pony Saloon on his way home and have a beer with his buddies, some of whom were sure to be there.
Sure enough, he found a couple of friends holding up one end of the bar and joined them. He got his beer and kept his mouth shut except when he was drinking it.
Until one of the guys leaned over and whispered, “Guess who just walked in, good buddy?”
Dylan knew who it was by the cold chill that shot down his spine. Slowly he turned to find Brandee smiling and waving from the other side of the room, where she stood with a couple of other women he knew—single women eyeing the cowboys at the bar with interest.
He didn’t wave her over, but she came just the same, swinging her hips in tight jeans and grinning broadly.
“Hi, sugar.” Rising on tiptoe, she planted a firm kiss on his stiff lips. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Yeah. Fancy that.”
“Wanna buy me a drink?”
“Love to, but I can’t stay to watch you drink it.” Draining his glass, he motioned to the bartender. “Bring the lady whatever she wants and then clear my tab,” he instructed.
Brandee frowned. “What’s the hurry?” she complained. “I hardly ever see you here.”
“Well, I just came from—”
“Hang around and you can take me home.” She looped an arm around his waist and squeezed meaningfully.
Dylan felt the breath of doom on the back of his neck. “I’d like to, Brandee, but I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?” Her blue eyes challenged him.
“Uhh…because…ahh…” He thought fast, or rather his thoughts tumbled fast. “Because…I’m taken.”
That stopped her, at least momentarily. “Taken?”
“You know, I’ve got a girl.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Would I kid you?”
She laughed. “If you thought you could get away with it. Who is this mysterious ‘girl’ you say you’ve got?”
He strove to look hurt. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?”
She considered, then nodded. “Exactly. I’ve known you too long to fall for your line. I’ll have to see her for myself.”
Dylan sucked in a deep breath. His back to the wall, he grasped at straws. “Drop by here Friday night and you’ll see her, all right.”
And even after you do, he added silently, you may not believe it.
I sure as hell don’t.
CHAPTER TWO
KATY PUT THE FINAL POLISH on an advance story for a city planning commission meeting, pushed the “send” button on her computer, and leaned back in her chair with a sigh. Now she’d have time to think about what she’d been putting off since the phone call from her mother last night.
Which was, how to maneuver Dylan into thinking it was his idea to give their “engagement” another shot. Because no way did she want to grovel to get him to give it another try. On the other hand, she couldn’t bear to face another of her mother’s ill-conceived matchmaking attempts. In the past, she’d been “fixed up with” an aspiring professional wrestler, an accountant, and a college professor.
To say none of these efforts had worked out was an understatement. At least with Dylan, she knew what she’d be getting into. As her father used to say, “The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t know.”
So how was she going to get Dylan to do her bidding? She called Laura and explained her dilemma.
Laura didn’t mince words. “Couldn’t you just level with him? I don’t see what’s wrong with telling the truth.”
“Easy for you to say, now that you’re married and above the fray,” Katy said indignantly. “I’ve got to get him to play along with this but I don’t dare give him the upper hand by letting him know how important it is to me. I thought you, of all people, would understand.”
“Why?” Laura sounded completely unperturbed. “I’ve never understood why you and Dylan treat each other like enemies. Just because he pulled your hair in third grade doesn’t seem sufficiently sinister to keep this feud alive.”
Great, Katy thought, hanging up. Even her best friend didn’t understand. Now what was she going to—
“Got a minute?”
She started and looked around to find Dylan standing just behind her desk in the newsroom. She swallowed hard and tried not to look or sound guilty. “Sure.”
He glanced around somewhat furtively. Katy was the last staff writer to get off deadline so the newsroom was empty except for the sports editor, who looked up with a grin and a wave for the popular Dylan.
“Can we get out of here?” he asked abruptly.
“Look, I’ve got a lot to do. I have phone calls out all over the county and—” She stopped speaking abruptly. After all, she wanted something from him and this wasn’t the way to get it. “Never mind. You can buy me lunch, if you want.”
“Big whoopee.” His mouth curved down at the corners unhappily. “I guess I could do that.”
“If you’re short of cash, I could buy you lunch.” She snatched up her shoulder bag from beneath her desk.
“That’ll be the day! You think John Wayne let women buy him lunch?”
“Why, you big—!” And then she saw he was laughing at her and she had to laugh herself.
Why was she so darned quick to jump on every word he said? She’d have to watch that if she was going to finagle him into doing her bidding.
Katy dropped the paper napkin on her lap and glanced around the Rawhide Café. “Looks like we’re giving the locals plenty to talk about,” she said dryly.
“Looks like.” Dylan resisted the almost unbearable impulse to fidget. If he was going to get Katy to take another shot at togetherness, however phony, he couldn’t let her know it mattered that much to him.
The silence stretched out. “Well?” she finally said impatiently. “I know you’ve got an ulterior motive for luring me here, so out with it.”
He toyed with his fork. “I just…I just wanted to make up for being a grouch last night.”
“Dylan, you’re always a grouch. This is, however, the first time you’ve apologized for it.”
“Am I?” He frowned.
“You certainly are.” She hesitated and the belligerence of her manner softened. “To tell the truth, I guess I’m usually a grouch with you, too. Apparently I just rub you the wrong way.”
If she ever rubbed him the right way—he yanked his thoughts up short, wondering what had come over him. This was Katy Andrews, after all, not just any good-lookin’ woman. “Then you accept my apology?” His voice sounded uncharacteristically rough.
She considered, her green eyes narrowing. “Sure,” she said finally, “why not?”
He felt a load lifting from his shoulders. “Great. Then how about we put our plan in motion by going to happy hour at the Painted Pony Friday night?”
“Going to—you mean, together? Like a date?” Those remarkably long-lashed eyes widened.
“I mean, like we planned. Remember, engagement? Make the grandma happy, scare off my legions of admirers?”
For a moment she stared at him, and then she leaned back in her chair, stifling laughter. “You’re suggesting that we reinstate Plan A?”
“Yeah,” he said sheepishly, “I guess I am. What do you say, Katy? If we both make a real effort—”
“Burgers and fries, coming up.” The skinny kid waiter plunked two overflowing platters before them, and Dylan was forced to wait for her answer through the obligatory checklist: mustard, catsup, mayonnaise, extra pickles and lettuce, toasted bun. The woman made a production out of eating a lousy hamburger!
By the time the waiter withdrew, Dylan had lost any slight degree of patience he might have had. “Well, what’s your answer?”
She cut her hamburger in half but he could tell she was still watching him. “This is important to you, isn’t it?”
“Hell, no!” He shrugged that suggestion away.
“In that case—”
“I meant to say, hell yes.” He didn’t want to lose her, even if he had to swallow a little pride.
“In that case, my answer is yes.” She looked at him with a self-satisfied expression. “But just remember, you wanted this more than I did, so you owe me, Dylan Cole.”
“Yeah, and you’ll never let me forget it,” he muttered, staring down at the huge double burger and crisp steak fries on his plate.
And realizing that he’d mysteriously lost his appetite.
The Painted Pony Saloon was the local hot spot on Friday nights, starting with a happy hour—two drinks for the price of one—from five to seven and then dancing from eight until midnight. Katy had come a few times with dates, more often with girlfriends. It was the kind of place where women could do that without feeling threatened.
As a matter of fact, she’d never felt as threatened then as she did now, walking in on Dylan’s arm. They drew so many stares that she felt downright out of place.
“Wanna sit at the bar?” he inquired.
“No, I do not want to sit at the bar,” she snapped. “How about that table over there by the dance floor?”
“The music will be starting in less than an hour and it gets too noisy down front.”
“Is that a crack because I was late and the best tables are already taken? I told you, that last interview ran way longer than it should have.”
“Katy,” he said in a voice as cold as a well-digger’s knees, “if you don’t shut up at least until we find a table, I’m going to shut you up myself.”
She faced him with hands on her hips. “How are you going to do that? If you lay a hand on me, I’ll have you arrested. I’ll have you hauled away in chains. So how do you plan to shut me up yourself?”
“I only know one way,” he said grimly. “If I grabbed you and kissed you right here in the middle of the Painted Pony, that would shut you up pretty damned fast.”
She rocked back on her heels, shocked to the soles of her feet. Kissing Dylan Cole, or being kissed by him, was not something she had ever contemplated…willingly.
Before she could get her battle flags flying again, he took her hand and half-led, half-dragged her to a table in the corner. Once there, he guided her into a chair, then sat himself.
“Okay,” he said with a sigh that sounded like relief, “now you can insult me to your heart’s content.”
He looked so resigned to his fate that she had to laugh. His answering smile was both surprised and strangely warm.
“You win,” she said. “I’ll try to be nice, but with you, that’s a real stretch.”
“Maybe it’ll help if you remember it’s for a worthy cause,” he suggested. “If we can’t even convince folks we’re a couple—dating and dancing and the whole nine yards, I don’t see how we’ll ever convince ’em we’re engaged. And if nobody believes us, your grandma won’t either.”
“Sad but true.” She hauled in a deep breath. “Okay, I’m going to pretend that you’re Tom Cruise.”
“Too short.”
“Tom Selleck?”
“Too old.”
“Little Tommy Tucker—I don’t care! I just need someone to think about so I don’t jump down your throat every two seconds.”
“You mean, like now?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Exactly like now. Here’s a new idea. Why don’t we just declare a truce—in public, anyway?”
“Works for me.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s three minutes of seven. Shall we start on the hour?”
“You got it.”
“First person who slips owes the innocent party, big time.”
“Absolutely. Seven o’clock.”
“In that case—Katy, I hate that thing you’re wearing. It looks like an explosion in a fireworks factory.”
Offended, she looked down at the bright print of her sundress. “I’ll have you know, this dress cost me a lot of money.”
“Money can’t buy everything.”
“No, but it can buy a lot. Speaking of which, don’t you own anything except jeans and long-sleeved plaid shirts? I’ve often wondered if there was something wrong with your arms—flabby, weak, whatever—the way you keep them covered up.”
“Wanna find out?” Reaching for the top snap, he fumbled to open it, his eyes glinting dangerously. “We’ll see who—”
“Oops, seven o’clock.” She glanced at her watch to confirm this. “As I was saying, I just love a man in a cowboy suit, Dylan darlin’.”
He managed the switch in attitudes as seamlessly as she had. “And I love a woman who knows what she loves.”
Just then the cocktail waitress dashed up, ending the verbal sparring for the moment. But not before Katy felt a little thrill of dangerous anticipation dart down her spine.
Dylan should have been glad the Pained Pony was filling up so fast, but for some reason, all those people piling in simply added to his tension. It didn’t take a genius to know he and Katy were the prime topic of conversation. Although he wasn’t a particularly private person, all the attention was getting on his nerves.
So were the inevitable questions he got every minute he was away from her, as in fetching drinks, waiting while she visited the ladies’ room, watching her dance with those strong enough to ask.
Yeah, strong, he thought watching her in the arms of Mickey Evans, a fireman. He knew she intimidated most guys and with good reason. A lot of people thought it was her job that made her so willing to ask or say things that others would be too timid to touch, but Dylan knew better.
Katy had always been that way. As a pigtailed kid, she’d run with the boys and held her own with the best of them—Matt and Dylan not excluded. Anything they could do, she could do, too.
Or bust bones trying. Like the time she jumped out of the cottonwood tree when none of the boys would, because you had to be real careful or real lucky to avoid the rocks along the creek bank. Katy had been neither. She’d hit those rocks and broken a leg.
He smiled. She’d taken it like a man and her cast had been a badge of honor.
The thing was, other girls grew out of that tomboy stage. Katy hadn’t. Even while she changed from gangly hellion into beautiful young woman on the outside, her wild spirit did not change.
That was why she and Dylan were still at odds all these years later. And why most of the guys in town gave Katy Andrews a wide berth.
“Hi, handsome.”
The breathy voice in his ear didn’t surprise him; he’d seen Brandee enter earlier and figured she’d been waiting for her chance.
She slipped into Katy’s vacant chair. “So this is what I came to see—you and Katy Andrews. Do you think I was born yesterday, Dylan? It’s me—Brandee! I’ve known you both forever, and the thought of you two as a couple is hysterical!”
“Katy and I don’t think so.”
“You mean you actually expect me to believe that you have a thing going with Katy?”
He liked that: a thing. They sure did! “We don’t give a damn what you believe, Brandee,” he said. “I was just trying to make you understand why I’m not available.”
“Sure you are. I mean, here you sit while she dances with that cute fireman. If that’s not available, I don’t know what is.”
The fast music played by the small band at the edge of the dance floor ended. Mickey and Katy turned back toward the table, and Dylan knew the precise moment she spotted Brandee in her chair. Katy’s eyes narrowed and her entire expression grew watchful.
The band started in on a new piece, slow this time. Dylan stood abruptly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to dance with my girl,” he said to Brandee. If Katy had heard, she wasn’t going to be happy but a man had to do what a man had to do.
Taking her into his arms, Dylan swept Katy back onto the dance floor. She followed him effortlessly. In all the years they’d known each other, they’d never danced together, but he’d seen her dance with others enough to know she was good: graceful and intuitive in her movements.
Now she flowed against him with perfect ease. He slid a hand around her waist while the other lifted her hand to press it against his chest. The startled green eyes flew open just before he pulled her closer.
Her voice was muffled. “Aren’t you laying it on a bit thick?”
“Not hardly.” He led her into a swooping turn, which she followed without faltering. Damn, she felt good in his arms: soft and firm at the same time, warm and fragrant as a summer day.
Too bad it was just Katy.
“Brandee giving you a hard time?” she asked.
“Trying to. How ’bout we both just shut up and dance?”
“I suppose we could try that.”
They did. On the crowded dance floor, they moved closer and closer together—out of pure self-defense, he told himself, tightening his grip. If he hadn’t known it was Katy he was dancing with, he could have fooled himself into believing this could be the start of something good.
Funny that they’d never danced together before, though. It wasn’t a half-bad experience.
The music stopped. After a moment she said, “You can let me go now.”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Sorry.”
He couldn’t imagine what he’d been thinking of, he conceded, guiding her through the crowd. Maybe just the jolt he’d gotten when she let him hold her so close.
Brandee was waiting. “Hi, Katy,” she said. “Dylan tells me you two are a couple. Any truth to that?”
Dylan held his breath.
“I wouldn’t exactly say we’re a couple.” Katy smiled and he relaxed again. “On the other hand, I wouldn’t say we aren’t, either.”
Brandee rolled her eyes. “That’s pretty hard to believe for those of us who’ve been around.”
“Oh, you’ve definitely been around,” Katy said. “But things change, Brandee. So tell me, what’s the Chamber of Commerce and your father the president doing about paying off the bills they ran up for the Fourth of July celebration?”
“How would I know?” Brandee retorted. “I don’t pay any attention to that stuff.”
“Well, I do. It’s part of my job. If—”
Her words were suddenly muffled by Dylan, who clapped a hand firmly over her mouth. “No more shop talk,” he announced. “Want another drink?”
She shoved his hand away. “I certainly don’t,” she said indignantly.
“Want something to eat?”
“I certainly don’t.”
“Want to go home?”
“Bingo!” She grinned at Brandee. “Going home’s not the big attraction. It’s saying good night that I enjoy.”
And she winked. She actually winked.
Dylan could have kissed her.
“Yuck!” She made spitting noises. “I can’t believe I said that—saying good-night. I’m ashamed of myself.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, thinking he looked mighty smug.
Sounded it, too, when he said, “I thought you did just fine. You can’t be subtle with Brandee, in case you didn’t know. Not that you’re noted for your subtlety or anything.”
“Is that a slam?” She stumbled over a broken patch of asphalt and he caught her arm to help her.
“Nah, that was the truth.”
They reached his pickup truck and stopped while he fumbled in his jeans pocket for the keys. They’d parked right beneath a street light where it was literally as bright as day.
“Got it.” He hauled out the keys triumphantly. “Just let me—damn!”
“What? What is it?”
“Brandee and a bunch of her friends, standing over there in the shadows watching.” He spoke in a muted whisper.
“Where?”
“Don’t look!” He turned her away, so she was looking in another direction. “Apparently she still doesn’t believe us.”
Katy shrugged. “Not much we can do about that.”
“Yeah, there is.”
“Such as? We can’t drip water onto her forehead until she’s convinced. I don’t see—”
“Dammit, Katy, I guess I’d better kiss you.” He added hastily, “Of course, it’ll be like kissing my sister.”
“For sure,” she agreed, but her heart leaped crazily in her breast, “and a sister you don’t like at that.”
“Ready?”
He looked down at her, the light haloing his dark hair, his features completely obscured.
“You mean you weren’t kidding?” Her heart pounded a hundred miles an hour.
“Hell, no!”
“But I can’t just kiss you.”
“Why not? It’s easy.” He put his hands loosely on her shoulders.
She shivered. “B-because I’m not in the habit of kissing just anybody.”
“I’m not just anybody, I’m your soon-to-be fiancé.”
“Nevertheless, I c-can’t put my heart into it without some emotional content.”
‘’Emotional what? Look, Katy, we’re just talking about a kiss here. A very simple kiss between…between friends….”
He drew her a tiny fraction closer, despite her determination to hold back. He was strong, far stronger than she’d imagined, and she felt herself beginning to lose control of this situation.
“We’re not friends,” she managed to say. “We’re…we’re…”
He bent toward her. “What are we, Katy? Can’t wait to see what word you come up with.”
“We’re—” Doomed, she thought, lifting her hands to touch the wide shoulders while his hands drifted to her waist. “We’re going to put Brandee’s suspicions to rest once and for all, I hope.”
“That’s the spirit.”
His lips touched hers, and it was not like kissing her brother. It was like kissing Tom Cruise and Tom Selleck and all the other Toms all rolled into one. With her eyes tightly closed, she felt herself whisked away on a magic carpet to some mythical place where there were no more answers, only questions.
He lifted his head and he was breathing hard. “She’s gone,” he said in a voice that came out a little husky. “For a woman who doesn’t like kissing without emotional content, you’re damned good.”
Releasing her, he unlocked the cab of the pickup, opened the door and lifted her onto the high seat. This time when he grinned, the lamp illuminated his devilish expression clearly.
“Just for the record,” he said, “it was not like kissing my sister.”
To that, she had no response.
At the newspaper office Monday, Katy was met with smiles by everyone she met, up to and including her boss, John Reynolds, owner, publisher and editor of the Rawhide Review and the grandfather of Laura’s husband, Matt.
“Hear you got yourself a new beau,” he said cheerfully. “That Dylan Cole is a fine man. You could do worse, Katy.”
Katy felt her cheeks flame with embarrassed dismay. “What are you talking about?” she demanded. “All I did was go to happy hour with the man and you’re turning it into a lifetime commit—” She caught herself up short. That was exactly what they wanted everyone in town to believe, she remembered belatedly.
“Don’t bite my head off,” John said. “All I know is what a little birdie told me.”
Yeah, Katy thought, a little birdie named Brandee. John Reynolds had the best network of contacts she’d ever seen. Heaven help her if she tried to put anything over on him.
By lunchtime, she was running scared; everyone she met looked at her with that speculative little gleam in their eyes. Hoping for sanctuary, she called Laura and wrangled an invitation to lunch.
“I don’t think I realized what I was letting myself in for with this crazy scheme,” Katy complained, reaching for the tuna salad sandwich Laura had placed before her. “This town has the healthiest grapevine I’ve ever seen or heard tell of.”
“You should have known,” Laura said serenely, taking her seat. “You remember all the gossip when Matt and I were just starting to get together? I seem to recall someone explaining to me that they meant well, so I shouldn’t let it bother me.”
“Sounded good when I said it,” Katy agreed dourly. “But this is happening a lot faster than I ever expected. I thought it would take us at least a few weeks of being seen together before anybody believed us.”
“Maybe the sight of the two of you making out in the parking lot at the Painted Pony speeded things up.”
Katy’s jaw dropped. “We were not making out!”
“Hugging, kissing—most people would call that making out.”
“Well, it wasn’t.” Distracted, Katy dropped her sandwich back on the plate, appetite gone.
“What was it, then?” Laura prodded.
“Just two people pretending.”
“Pretending.” Laura cocked her head, a question on her face. “So how was it?”
“Laura! I’m shocked you’d ask me a question like that.” And shocked at the wave of heat in her own cheeks.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” Laura’s smile was devilish. “It’s just that you seem to need some sage advice and all I have is curiosity, just like everyone else.”
Jessica trotted into the kitchen with her younger brother at her heels. “What’s sage?” she asked. “I already know about advice.”
“Sage advice,” her mother said, “is very wise advice. That’s what Aunt Katy needs right now. Unfortunately, I’m all out of it.”
Jessica grinned broadly. “I’ve got some sage advice,” she declared. Turning to Katy, she took her hands and peered deep into her eyes, radiating sincerity. “Aunt Katy, when you want sage advice, like, why don’t you just wave your magic wand? That’s what it’s for, to make things right. Right?”
“Right!”
Jessica gave her mother a triumphant glance and trotted on through to the yard. Zach followed without ever having said a word.
Katy looked helplessly at Laura. “Magic wand, right. But if I’m not mistaken, it was that darned magic wand that got me into this mess!”
CHAPTER THREE
“BUT I DON’T want to have lunch with you Friday,” Katy declared. “I’m too busy. I have places to go and people to see. I don’t have time. I lack the inclination.”
Dylan leaned his hands flat against her desk and waited for her to run out of steam. Then he said, “I don’t care about any of that. If we’re gonna make this work, we have to be seen together. Friday’s the only time I can make it. I have to come in anyway for supplies so I can kill two birds with one stone.”
“I’m not particularly fond of being likened to a dead bird,” Katy sniffed. “If you think…” Her indignation wound down and she sighed. “Do I have to?”
“Yeah, you have to.”
“All right.” She gave in ungraciously, punctuating her words with a condemning glance. “What time and where?”
“I’ll pick you up at—”
“I’ll meet you.”
“Noon at the Rawhide Café.”
“That should guarantee an audience, all right. Okay, I’ll be there.”
“Great.”
“You don’t have to get sarcastic.”
“Maybe I do.” For a moment he looked down at her with a slight frown. Then he straightened and walked out of the room without another word or even a glance.
Katy gritted her teeth in annoyance, but she didn’t have time to ponder. She had a story to write, a story questioning expenditures by the Rawhide Chamber of Commerce.
This turned out to be harder to do than she’d expected. Sure, the story was going to tick off chamber officers and members alike but as a reporter, it was Katy’s job to print the truth and raise hell without fear or prejudice. No, something else was on her mind, making it hard to concentrate….
Seeing Dylan so early in the day really messed with her mind. That kiss in the parking lot had proven impossible to forget. Over and over again she reminded herself that it was only Dylan. But she didn’t seem able to talk herself out of the thrill she’d felt when he took her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers….
“Katy!” John stood before her desk, his thick white hair sticking out in all directions and a frown on his round face. “Am I going to get that story or do I have to find something else to fill the hole on the front page?”
“Sorry.” She pulled her thoughts up short and hunched dutifully over her computer screen. “I’m hard at work, see?” And she was—hard at work trying to forget the unthinkable.
Dylan rode the big bay gelding up to the corral behind the Bear Claw ranch house and stepped down out of the saddle. A big black Mercedes was parked in front and he wondered who’d come to visit.
Whoever it was could wait while he took care of his horse. Quickly he stripped off saddle and bridle before reaching for a currycomb. When he heard footsteps, he glanced over his shoulder without pausing in the long, precise strokes, then did a double take.
Brandee Haycox’s father, Edgar. Now what?
“Edgar,” he said in greeting.
“Cole.”
The man’s face was even more florid than usual. Dylan led the horse to the gate of the corral and turned him loose. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?” he inquired, knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.
“This!” Edgar waved a newspaper through the air with angry swipes. “That woman has gone too far!”
Dylan suppressed a groan. “What woman?” Like he didn’t know.
“That Andrews woman, who else? Always out muck-raking and rabble-rousing. She’s got to be stopped!”
Dylan wasn’t too crazy about the way this conversation was shaping up. “I don’t see how you can fault her for raking muck if it’s there for the raking,” he said reasonably. “I also don’t see why you’re telling me all this. Shouldn’t you talk to her, or to her editor?”
“John won’t listen to a word against her,” Edgar grumbled. “And when I try to talk to her, she just starts writing down every word I say and egging me on to say more.”
Dylan stifled a smile. He’d seen Katy do that: deflect angry criticism by offering—some called it threatening—to quote the speaker verbatim. The easiest way to hang a man, she once said, was to do it with his own words exactly as he said them.
But he wanted to sooth Edgar Haycox, not stir him up even more. “That still doesn’t explain why you came here to shout at me,” he said reasonably. “Why don’t we go inside and I’ll make a pot of coffee. Then maybe we can talk.”
“No time,” Edgar said impatiently. “As to why I’m here—well, the whole town knows you’re dating that—that journalist.”
“That hardly makes me her keeper.”
“No, but it implies some influence.” Edgar’s fleshy face set into grim lines. “Tell her to back off, Cole. We know we’ve got…a slight problem with chamber finances, but we’ve got a committee working night and day to set things right.”
“Is that so?” Dylan tried to curb his irritation. “So you’re telling me that she got the story right.”
“I didn’t say that!” the banker blustered.
“You implied it. She got the story right but you and the good old boys at the chamber are working to correct the situation and you’d like to avoid further bad publicity while you do it. Have I got it straight?”
Edgar squirmed. “Just between you and me and the gatepost—yes.”
Dylan mulled over his options. He didn’t need this. He especially didn’t need to offend the man who held the mortgage on the ranch.
But he also didn’t want to have to justify to himself why he’d left Katy dangling in the breeze when she was obviously in the right.
Finally he said, “The lady has a mind of her own and she knows how to take care of herself.” Understatement if ever there was one. “I’m not your messenger boy. Whatever you have to say, say it to her.”
The banker sneered. “You disappoint me. I guess it’s clear who wears the pants in that relationship.”
Dylan counted to ten—then to twenty. “Edgar,” he said, slowly and deliberately, “if you think that’s an insult, think again. Katy Andrews is a match for any man, including me. But I’d advise you not to run around town bad-mouthing her, because if you do, I might just have to take action.”
Edgar took a startled step back. “Are you threatening violence?”
“Hell, no! I’m promising retribution.” Dylan, in control again, winked.
“Drop by any time, but leave the newspaper at home.”
“I—why you—don’t think—” Edgar sputtered a bit longer, threw the newspaper on the ground, turned and stalked away to the big black car.
Dylan called after him. “My best to Brandee.”
That drew no response whatsoever. Before the dust settled in the lane, Dylan snatched up the paper and began to read.
When Katy got home from work that day, Dylan was sitting outside her house in his red truck, obviously waiting. Before she could get the key into the lock, he’d trotted up to the door.
She glanced at him over her shoulder as she opened the front door. “This is a surprise,” she said. “I didn’t expect to see you until lunch, Friday.”
“Yeah, me, too.” He followed her inside.
She tossed her shoulder bag and clipboard onto a chair on her way through to the kitchen. Somehow she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling stealing over her. “So what’s up?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“I don’t have the time or interest to play games,” she snapped, opening the refrigerator. “Want a soft drink?”
“Got a beer?”
“Sure.” She pulled out a can of beer and tossed it to him; he caught it one-handed and ripped off the tab. She took out a can of pop for herself and faced him. “What’s this all about?”
“I had an unexpected visitor at the ranch a few hours ago.”
“Anyone I know?” she asked in a bored tone, her pulse rate already rising.
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