He finished checking his medical work and then carefully placed the wrapped hoof down. In a fluid movement, he snapped the lead line onto the leather halter and unhooked the crossties. Leading Ace back to his stall, he fished a treat out of his pocket, which the horse happily munched.
After closing the stall door, Jesse led her down the aisle to the wooden door of the barn office. The space was lit by overhead lighting and a blinking Christmas tree in the corner near a sturdy wood desk, scarred from use and full of papers. It had a different vibe than the expertly decorated house and pristine horse stalls. And how ironic that he’d put a Christmas tree in here, but not in his home yet.
She wondered if this might be a peek into his core personality, less constrained, less intent on being analytically perfect in his approach to everything.
He opened a stainless steel refrigerator tucked behind the desk and pulled out two water bottles, one for each of them.
Extending one bottle to her, he leaned on the desk’s edge. “Did you reach your sister?”
“I did. You probably think it’s strange how often she and I talk—given that you said you’re not close to Janet.”
“I think if you’re both happy with your relationship, then that’s awesome.” He gestured for her to sit in the leather office chair. “I wish I’d had a houseful of siblings.”
“And that’s why you’ve got these three blind dates coming to meet you,” she said, trying very hard not to notice how amazing the chair smelled, carrying the hint of him in the leather, like being wrapped in his arms.
“That’s the plan.” He shook his head wryly. “You were not a part of my plan.”
“Sorry?”
“I’m not,” he said enigmatically, continuing before she had a chance to question him. “You were incredible in there with the horses. Thank you, Esme.”
She fidgeted with the bracelet on her wrist. The one from her mom that she couldn’t ever remember being without. A small fidget of comfort. “I only did what was needed.”
“But you knew what was needed, sometimes before I had a chance to ask. That’s impressive.” He nodded. “Yes, I know. You grew up on a ranch, but not everyone pays attention. And it’s not as if you needed to work.”
Helping on the ranch had been yet another way she’d tried to impress her father, only to see he hadn’t noticed because, to her surprise, he didn’t like the lifestyle. He didn’t even like horses, which blew her away because even the city girl in her loved the horses.
All the same, here she was again, still trying to prove she was indispensable. “What’s going to happen with the Houston chapter of the Cattleman’s Club?” she asked, blurting out what was on her mind.
“I can’t predict the election,” he said noncommittally.
“Do you think my dad has a chance?” Was she wasting her time here? What if Jesse said no and she would have to leave the second the rain stopped?
“Sure, he has a chance.”
“But so does Ryder Currin.”
He shrugged.
She sighed, the truth slipping out, frustration and fear of failure weakening her defenses. “I wish someone else was running. If Dad’s going to lose, it’s going to be so much tougher for him to swallow seeing Ryder at the helm.”
“I thought they’d reconciled.”
Had she said too much? Would that ongoing battle be a problem for the charter chapter? “They’re making an effort for my sister. But they’ve hated each other for a long time. It’s tough to believe they once worked together.”
Except her father had known he would marry his boss’s daughter. Which was ironic since her father didn’t even enjoy ranching, not the way Jesse did. The way Ryder Currin did, too, for that matter.
All a moot point. Her father would make a good president for the new club. Winning would also make it much easier for her dad to accept Ryder with Angela.
And if her dad knew the turn things had taken with Jesse Stevens and that kiss?
Even the word flamed through her, leading her gaze to slide back to Jesse. His eyes met hers quizzically, then knowingly. Heat glinted in his expression.
The air crackled with awareness between them and she couldn’t will herself to break away. The tip of her tongue moved over her top lip in an unconscious invitation.
Still seated on the edge of the desk, Jesse angled toward her, his hand sliding to cup the back of her neck. He angled his mouth over hers, and desire radiated through her, driving her to her feet. She looped her arms around his neck and held him close, and somehow, it wasn’t nearly close enough. She ached for more of him, all of him. She couldn’t stop the sigh of desire from escaping her lips.
A low rumble of pleasure vibrated his chest against hers a second before he swept his arm across his desk. Binders crashed to the floor, papers fluttering before they fell to rest. His arms hooked under her bottom, lifting her and setting her on the sleek mahogany surface.
Surprise flickered through her, excited her, spurred her to demand more, to throw caution to the wind and see how far they could take things. An invitation he seemed to understand, since he lowered her against the desk, then lay over her.
Her world narrowed to the music of the moment.
Her heart hammering in her ears.
Rain drumming on the roof.
A car roaring up the drive...
A car?
She froze, her skin chilling with realization. Jesse angled back, his head turning, his brow furrowed. He started toward the window and she bolted to her feet, making it there only a step behind Jesse.
An SUV was racing up the drive, rainwater sloshing from behind the speeding vehicle all the way to the front porch. She took one look at the sensible four-wheel drive with a cowgirl-hat-wearing woman stepping out from behind the wheel, and Esme knew.
In spite of the weather, the first of those matchmaking candidates had arrived.
Five
In all of his imaginings, this was not how he’d anticipated meeting his potential future bride. With the taste of another woman still on his lips, the exotic scent of her clinging to his shirt.
Papers were strewn all over the floor because he’d been a heartbeat away from taking Esme right here, right now, on his desk. Practical plans for his future be damned.
Jesse scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaling hard over the latest arrival. He should be relieved. The woman pulling up to the house could be his wife one day. According to the matchmaker, he had one in three odds this was it.
Yet Jesse couldn’t help but be frustrated over her timing. He’d been enjoying the afternoon with Esme. She’d surprised him again today. Not just with showing up to help, but by being completely unaffected by mud and dung and hard work. He couldn’t deny he’d been very impressed. But he also knew he couldn’t fall for her. She was all about her job, her glamorous lifestyle, and didn’t seem the least bit interested in marriage and children. Or so it appeared from the way she’d reacted to him saying that’s what he wanted, his reason for reaching out to the matchmaker.
“Well,” Esme said, backing away from the window, rain boots squeaking on the floor with a reminder of all her help, “this is awkward.”
Her husky voice turning airy, he could feel the attempt at humor and he appreciated the effort to downplay the situation. But it didn’t alleviate it enough.
And it wasn’t going to get easier.
He looked out the window at the newcomer again. Given the number of paw print stickers on her back window, he guessed, “That must be Amaryllis Davis. She’s a veterinarian, only lives about an hour away.”
“Amaryllis? Her name is Amaryllis?” Esme bit her bottom lip for a moment, scrunching her nose before continuing, “Forget I said that. My name’s Esme, for goodness’ sake. I have no room to tease anyone over what a mama chooses for a name.”
He knew he should say
something to smooth over this moment, but he didn’t have a clue. Never could he have imagined himself in this position. “I’m sorry about the timing.”
It was probably the lamest sentence he could offer her. But no other words formed. Comforting her with his touch would cross a line. Again. And he knew he needed to reel back his emotions. Tuck them away. Focus on the future. On finding his perfect mate.
“You were honest from the start about the matchmaking prospects.” Her beautiful face tensed into unreadable lines. She shook her head, honey-blond hair rippling in the office light.
He stared at her for a handful of heartbeats. Not long really, since his pulse was racing from being near Esme. It was so damn wrong that he wanted to steal one last kiss from her. That he was wondering what might have happened if he’d met Esme before contacting that matchmaker.
Those thoughts weren’t fair to Esme or the woman outside. Or the other two candidates on the way.
Still, he had trouble shutting them down.
With his current luck, they would probably show up early, too.
Esme inched back a step, increasing the distance between them. “You should go meet her without me. I’ll just hang here and text my sister.” She waved him off like it was no big deal, but her eyes told another story. “I need to firm up plans to meet my sisters for brunch with Angela’s friend Tatiana.”
“You’re sure?” he asked one last time. “We’ll talk as soon as... Well, once we see if she’s staying or not. You aren’t going to leave yet, are you?”
A hopeful question. One he shouldn’t ask. One he had to. He straightened the papers on his desk and picked up the binders, looking up at her.
Slender hands twirled her long blond hair. He noticed her chipped manicure. She cleared her throat. “I don’t have a car and I’m guessing you didn’t leave the keys in the old truck.”
Her levity during an awkward moment just made her all the more appealing. And he’d only known her for a day. He told himself it was infatuation. Chemistry. Not the stuff practical unions were made of.
Looking down at the scattered ranch documents, he knew the more practical path was the path that continued forward with his plan. Secure a woman who shared his goal to raise a family. Someone who believed in the legacy he wanted to build.
Steeling his resolve, he nodded and turned to leave. To meet the woman the matchmaker had called his 98 percent perfect mate.
* * *
Grudges were a bitch. And she knew that better than most. Even if she kept a smile on her face so that no one would guess the person behind all the Perry and Currin grief was actually a woman.
How sexist of them to keep assuming only a man could take them down.
She sat at the conference table in Perry Holdings headquarters in Houston and knew she should be content. Happy even. Her job here at Perry Holdings gave her the money and prestige she’d burned for as a child growing up in poverty.
Listening to all of these entitled blue bloods at work made her blood boil with resentment over all they took for granted. Hearing them bandy about plans to spoil their children at Christmas with extravagant gifts and vacations reopened old wounds and depthless anger. It took all her theater training from college to keep her face neutral. To check the fire that burned in her chest. That resentment had become unbearable when she’d learned how the Perrys and Currins had cheated her out of a chance for a better life.
She eased back in the massive conference chair, the offices radiating the aura of elegance-meets-the-West. Perry Holdings had four floors in a downtown Houston skyscraper. But this could have been her father’s business, his success. His power.
Or Currin Oil, with its five floors in an elegant brick office building in a more industrial neighborhood on the outskirts of Houston. At least the meeting was finally shifting from discussion of buying diamond earrings for a baby to starting the business meeting.
Such as it was.
Schooling her face to feign interest in the outrageously long discussion about the recent fluctuation in stock prices, she drummed her fingers impatiently along her leg under the table. Bracketed by Ethan Barringer and Roarke Perry, she hoped they wouldn’t notice her nerves. She worked to ground herself by fingering the texture of her Chanel linen business suit, the hem just grazing the top of her knees. None other than her boss, Sterling Perry, led the meeting. He was so arrogant, all smiles now that the cloud of suspicion had shifted from him.
But she wasn’t surrendering. Not yet. Not ever.
Understanding about the detriment of grudges didn’t stop the burning need to take down everyone in the Perry and Currin families. And they had no idea how close danger had been, still was. They were all so damned arrogant that way. They didn’t understand what it was like to grow up a joke, her status always one giant step behind that of her so-called friend.
And now, here she sat, right under Sterling Perry’s unsuspecting nose.
He was so arrogant, so full of himself in his expensive suits with cowboy shirts and Stetsons when rumor had it he didn’t really even enjoy ranching. But he was a formidable businessman, smart and intimidating.
She had barely believed her luck when he’d promoted her to the vice president position. Of course, that arrogance of his made him so confident in his decisions that he’d missed the obvious these past months. Even when it was uncovered that Willem Inwood spread the rumors about Perry that threatened to tank stocks, no one had suspected her of playing a part.
It would almost be amusing how little they suspected her, if only her situation wasn’t so dire, her goals finally so close she could almost taste success.
The catalyst for her grudge had come about so unexpectedly, in a quiet moment. She had been nostalgically going through her late dad’s things in her attic when she discovered an old letter, from her father to her mother. He’d promised that he would change, that things would get better. She had been stunned to read that her father planned to ask the dying Harrington York for help. The man had promised him a tract of land on the outskirts of Houston that was reputed to be rich in oil.
Harrington York, whose daughter was married to none other than Sterling Perry.
Once a wealthy titan like Harrington and his son-in-law Sterling, her father drank and gambled and got himself into trouble, losing his fortune. But she’d known her dad wanted to reform and that land would have given him a second chance to do just that. But Angela’s grandfather Harrington must have changed his mind because when he died that land went to Ryder Currin, who’d developed an oil empire from it. Currin, a nobody ranch hand rumored to be having an affair with Harrington’s daughter, Tamara, Sterling’s wife. Such pervasive gossip that Sterling’s youngest offspring, Roarke, had submitted to a paternity test with Ryder Currin.
Negative.
But still.
Good Lord, these people were like an episode of a reality show. And she had paid the price for their selfishness.
Her mother had never reconciled with her dad, and her life fell apart. She’d lost everything because of Harrington’s false promises, and the way the Currins and Perrys had greedily done what was best for them. Her temple throbbed at the thought of how fast her father had been forgotten. How fast her life had taken a downward spiral.
She had even, very reluctantly, given up her baby. She’d had no support system to help her raise her daughter, not like someone at this table would have had. Bitterness soured in her mouth, growing stronger every day.
Within a few years, her father drank himself to death, leaving behind a second wife and a son who she had refused to acknowledge as her brother.
Until this opportunity arose.
She didn’t feel guilty about using him in her scheme. Why should she? He had a similar lack of conscience. Her brother was an easy mark because he’d always wanted the relationship with his sister that she’d denied him since birth. Her half brother ha
d been more than eager to bring down the man “responsible” for destroying their father’s future.
Her hands closed into fists under the table. There was still a chance her carefully laid plans could still unravel. Willem was in jail. Staying silent, sure. For now. Eventually the prosecutor would find the sweet-spot offer that would make Willem sing.
And then it would all be over. Job lost. Friends gone. Possible jail time for her, too, based on the roll of the dice. No amount of deep breaths could will away panic over the undeniable.
Because once they knew it was she—Tatiana Havery, Willem’s half sister, Angela Perry’s “best friend”—who’d orchestrated everything? Her time would have run out to make her enemies pay.
* * *
Esme was running low on patience. With herself, primarily.
She stood at the kitchen island, chopping a salad and wondering why and how she’d assumed control of entertaining matchmaking contestant number one—Amaryllis, the veterinarian, who was likely perfect for Jesse. Esme diced radishes faster and faster, struggling to appear unaffected by the brunette on the barstool.
Would she be the one Jesse chose for his perfect mate? She seemed right on the surface, given her career. Even Amaryllis’s car was a better fit than Esme’s destroyed Porsche.
The knife slipped, barely missing her thumb.
Jesse’s dating life was not her business. It had no bearing on the situation with her father. She’d just shared a couple of kisses with Jesse Stevens, nothing more. Okay, so it had been, quite possibly, the best kiss of her life. All the more reason she should stay in her suite and work since he had plans to marry and propagate with a stranger.
But curiosity had her out here playing chef on the off chance of finding out why this woman was completely wrong for Jesse.
Radishes reduced to edible rubble, she moved on to cucumbers, still trying to study the woman without being obvious. The last thing she wanted was for Amaryllis to notice. Or worse yet, for Jesse to come back inside and catch her in an unguarded moment. He likely wouldn’t be much longer talking to the ranch hands who’d made it back, thanks to their four-wheelers.
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