One-Click Buy: March 2009 Harlequin Blaze

by Alison Kent

  He ran a finger down the line of her body he’d tried to capture in his sketch. She smacked her lips and cuddled against him. He was so damned happy.

  What about when the ranch was finished? There was another couple of weeks’ work on the addition. Callie would shake down the operation for a few weeks more. The new casitas and landscaping the surrounding acres weren’t finished. She wouldn’t have to be on-site to manage that. She’d hired a good assistant Deck knew she hoped could take over when she left. He’d said he’d stay on as field manager for a while.

  Unless she stayed. She could manage the resort. Surely she had a personal investment in what she’d built. She said she missed New York, but she didn’t act like she did. She acted…happy. She was coming around to it in her mind, he believed. That’s what the long looks were about, the silences. She was working it out in her mind, trying it on for size.

  He could push the issue, but Callie had to figure it out for herself. She already knew he wanted her here. He told her with every gesture, every kiss, every night out.

  She would come around. Maybe she already had.

  THE DAY OF THE OPENING Callie was in constant motion. So much hung in the balance. She couldn’t miss a detail. She had help, of course, but she was the only person who knew all the pieces to the puzzle. When she wasn’t advising employees, confirming the jazz trio she’d booked, making sure the guest rooms were in perfect shape, she was directing delivery people with potted plants, area rugs, flowers, food and wine.

  The annex wasn’t quite finished, so they’d had to fake a few things. At noon, she saw the furniture truck pull in with the beds, tables, chairs and sofas that would give the place the appearance of being ready. They’d have to haul the stuff away after the weekend, so the workers could put in windows and other finishing work.

  She waved the truck toward the spot and dashed inside to make sure the annex was cleared and prepped for setup. The place reeked of the newly applied varnish. Four open cans with brushes sat in the hallway. Damn. The crew did not work neat.

  They’d worked hard, though. Everyone had. And been ingenious while they were at it. When the electrical circuits for the annex kept blowing, Callie brought out kerosene lanterns, enlisting everyone to hammer up small wooden ledges in every guest room and down the hall, so that the rustic flair looked deliberate. She’d pulled out strings of twinkle lights from the ranch’s holiday decorations and with a few strategically placed extension cords managed to create an elegant, festive effect.

  She told the delivery crew what went where, then hastily moved the varnish cans into an alcove, blocking them from view with a decorative vase of pampas grass, getting her hands sticky in the process. She hoped to steal a moment to clean up.

  She called Rosa to get the housekeeping staff to throw spreads on the temporary beds and add decorative touches.

  Luckily, the refurbished ranch house rooms and the five casitas would be enough to house the travel writers and the Valhalla people. Finn had nearly canceled the trip, only coming through at the last minute. That worried her. Had they lost interest in the project? She expected him to bring the Phase Two check so they could start the new casitas and finish the landscaping. Already, Garrett had extended her credit for supplies and for clearing the lots.

  With the annex more or less ready, Callie headed to the kitchen, where Cooky wanted her to taste the final versions of his appetizers, as well as his wine pairings. The man had become a manic foodie. But that was all to the good. He loved the new grill and wood-fire stove they’d installed.

  After that, she would meet with the staff, including the nervous new employees, for a final pep talk and rundown. Caroline and Anita were sharing hosting duties, freeing Callie to tour the writers and do interviews.

  She’d prepared media kits with photos and a dozen story ideas. If all went well, she’d have seeded travel magazines and newspaper travel sections with stories that would appear off and on throughout the year, leading to the steady increase in reservations she needed.

  The travel writer weekend was the linchpin in her marketing campaign, which included direct mail, targeted print ads and a sponsorship on the Travel Network. She was close to being featured on an episode of a popular travel show, too.

  In short, the renovation was Callie’s best work. If she could pull off the launch it would be green lights all the way. Once the casitas were started and she had the kinks out of the operation, Callie could safely return to New York, checking in by phone and visiting every few months. If her plan worked, Rancho de Descanso would turn a profit before year’s end.

  What about Deck?

  Her mind stalled whenever she thought about leaving him, so she pushed the idea away for now. Maybe they were finished with each other. These things tended to burn out, right? Couldn’t they find a natural stopping place?

  She looked at her watch. Hell, the travel writers were due soon. She’d sent a van to pick them up from their conference hotel. She was about to risk a quick shower when she noticed Taylor had pulled up and was heading toward her.

  She forced a smile. He meant well. “Hi, Taylor.”

  He reached to shake her hand, but she held them up. “Sorry. I’m sticky with varnish.”

  “Things under control for tonight?” he said, scanning the yard, where workers were placing the pots of flowers and plants she’d rented to make up for the unfinished landscaping. “Anything I can do?”

  “We’ve got it handled so far. My guests should arrive any minute, though, so I have to keep going.” Hint, hint. “I want to thank you for helping with those last-minute permits.”

  “Happy to do it. You know that, Callie. Anything for you.”

  She reached into her pocket for one of her complimentary stay cards. “If you and a date want a getaway, we’d be delighted to have you.”

  He gave her a sad smile. “I’m not after a freebie overnight, Callie.”

  “I just want to thank you somehow.” She felt embarrassed.

  “You have. Many times.” Longing crossed his face, but he pushed it away, managing a tight smile. “That’s what friends are for.” He clearly wished for more.

  Uncomfortable in the moment, she glanced past him to where Deck was walking a horse around the corral.

  Taylor followed her gaze, then turned back. “I hear you’re seeing the cowboy.” His words were low, his voice dead.

  How had he found out? She and Deck were careful. There were no secrets in a small town, she guessed.

  “Your boyfriend know?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this, Taylor. I’m in the middle of trying to—”

  “Because I guess I’m old-fashioned that way.” Now he sounded angry. “I respected you. I believed you. If you said you had a boyfriend you were serious about, I wouldn’t violate that. I guess not everyone has that kind of integrity.”

  “Taylor, I…I don’t know what to tell you.”

  He shook his head, finished with the topic. “Doesn’t matter.” He held up his hands. He’d wrapped his hurt up tight. “Garrett says you’ve asked for credit. You overshot your budget?”

  “It’s just a cash flow issue,” she said, wishing Garrett hadn’t been so generous with information.

  “It happens. You get overextended, you let me know.”

  “I appreciate that,” she said. Was he offering her a loan? Did he want to buy in to the project? She did not have time to explore his intentions. She needed to escape.

  “I’m looking out for you, like always,” he said wearily.

  “You’ve been a great help, I know.” She felt bad that he knew about Deck and that she’d lied to him about Stefan. He thought she was a cheater and a liar. Why hadn’t she told him the truth? He’d seemed so vulnerable, so easily hurt.

  He tipped his hat at her, then headed to his car. Opening the door he turned to look at her for a long moment, which made her feel strange. Finally, as if he’d made some decision, he bent into his car and drove away fast.

  The v
an of travel writers arrived then, ending her chance at a shower. Callie met with them over a fresh batch of Cooky’s cinnamon rolls and coffee. She handed out packets, showed them their schedule, which included a sunset wine-tasting horseback ride, an overnight pack trip for the more adventurous, complimentary spa treatments and massages.

  After the meeting, the writers were escorted to their rooms in the ranch house or one of the casitas. Her father came over to speak to her. “Anything I can do?”

  “Nope. Just enjoy yourself,” she said.

  “I hope tonight is everything you want it to be.” He pulled her into a hug, then held both of her arms. “You’ve worked so hard, how could it not be?”

  “I won’t rest until we’re back in the black.”

  “Whatever makes you happy. That’s all that counts.” She thought that was an odd way to put it, but had no time to talk.

  At two, Finn and two Valhalla partners arrived in an Escalade, bleary-eyed and rumpled. Claiming jet lag, they declined a meeting, but Finn promised they would take one of her tours before the reception. She hoped he had a check with him.

  Shaking off her disappointment, she caught sight of Deck in the corral and went to him. He sent two travel riders off on a trail ride with one of the newly hired hands, then turned to where she stood at the fence.

  “Hey, there, cowboy,” she said. “You look amazing.” He wore the fancy leather chaps and his dressier hat, as she’d asked.

  “I feel like I’m in a rodeo parade, but you’re the one putting on a show, I guess.”

  “I’d like to get you out of those chaps and into something warm and wet,” she murmured. “Me.”

  “Mmm. Better not keep that up or I’ll haul you over that fence and have my way with you in the barn.”

  “I double-dog dare you.”

  “If you meant that for a second, I’d do it.”

  She felt the usual hot shiver when he looked at her.

  “After this is over, I say we sleep under the stars.” His eyes burned at her, promising way more than sleep.

  “I can’t wait,” she said.

  Tonight they’d celebrate her triumph in each other’s arms.

  12

  THE RECEPTION WAS in full and boisterous swing when Callie finally took a breather on a stool at the outdoor bar. She looked around. The place was packed, but the flow was comfortable enough that no one would feel claustrophobic or annoyed. Appetizers circulated, along with plenty of margaritas, and the music from the jazz group created the perfect background for lively talk.

  She prided herself on producing events with the care of a movie director, and this reception had all the signature Callie Cummings elements—great ambiance, plentiful food and drink, careful hosting so everyone felt attended to. Everywhere she looked, people laughed, smiled and happily chatted, completely engrossed in each other.

  The writers had asked tons of questions on their tour. The Arizona media presence had been big, too. Her throat was dry from talking, her legs ached from all the running around and her head still spun after the constant tweaks and behind-the-scenes adjustments an event like this required. She was out of practice, she realized, but she could get back to speed in a quick hurry. Event management was like riding a bicycle.

  She noticed her father and Dahlia heading her way. She’d seen her father hanging with ranch cronies most of the evening.

  “You’re a miracle, Callie,” her father said, hugging her. “This reminds me of one of your mother’s parties. This is what we needed—your hand on the reins.”

  “I’m glad, Dad,” she said. “I wanted to make you happy.” This event meant more to her than all the parties, receptions and galas she’d produced in New York, that was certain, and his pride in her made every frustration worthwhile. “It’s a good sign for the future.” They’d achieved the first benchmark on her timetable. So far, so good.

  “This has been just lovely,” Dahlia said. “So many people took my samples.” She’d circulated a basket with her products.

  “I just wish Colleen were here to see you shine,” her father said, his voice shaky. “She would be so proud of you.”

  “Do you think so?” Callie was startled by the sting of tears.

  “Of course. But I’m proud enough for both of us.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” she said, hugging him, hiding her wet eyes.

  Her father and Dahlia headed up to bed, arms at each other’s waists, and Callie watched them go, her heart full.

  Only one bit of bad news hung in her head. Finn Markham hadn’t brought a check. He’d obviously been trying to avoid her, and she had to chase him down and ask him directly.

  “We’re just a tad off on our funding cycle,” he’d said, changing the subject to how many cute women were at the party.

  She’d explained about the credit Templeton Construction had advanced her toward Phase Two of the build. Finn glanced at his partners, then shot her a showy smile. “Not to worry. Downstrokes turn into upswings quick in our biz. Let it ride a bit. It’ll all come out just fine.”

  Now she’d have to work out something with Garrett, maybe delay the casitas for a few months, seek a loan. Her stomach churned, but she would not allow bad news to ruin her triumph.

  She focused on the party. Guests sat on the curved stone bench around the new fire pit sipping wine, talking quietly, laughter bubbling up frequently. The firelight turned their faces golden, the wood smoke gave off that lovely campfire smell and the piano-and-bass piece the band played floated on the night air, smooth and sexy. Even the stars seemed to decorate the party, twinkling extra bright.

  “You look happy.” Deck’s voice behind her flooded her with new warmth.

  “I am happy. Take a look.” She gestured out at the crowd. “This is why I love my job. Moments like these.”

  He nodded. “You’re good at this. You’re like your mother. She never knew a stranger.”

  “That’s true.”

  “In a way, you’ve followed in her footsteps. She was a party planner, too, right?”

  “She was. Yeah.” Her mother held frequent parties at the ranch and chaired the committee that put on the town’s Cinco de Mayo fiesta, Easter egg hunt and Fourth of July picnic.

  “I hadn’t put that together.” Her own career was an unconscious attempt to do as her mother had always done. She could picture her in the middle of a party, eyes shining with joy as her guests ate her food, drank her special cocktails and played the unique games she devised.

  Best of all, the memory didn’t hurt. She missed her mother, but she was grateful for the years she had enjoyed with her.

  “Thank you,” she said to Deck.

  “My pleasure. I can’t wait to get you alone.” He brushed her hair back, put his arm behind her back in gentle support. Deck was there. Always there. However she needed him to be. “Meet me after you’ve put your guests to bed.”

  So she did. When the fire was embers, the guests retired, her staff wearily taking out the last of the trash, Callie made her way to the far mesquite grove where Deck waited for her, already in the large sleeping bag. The air was mild, the breeze light and the stars bright in the velvet sky.

  “I brought you a pillow, princess,” he said, patting the white mound beside him. She’d complained of a neck cramp after their last night under the stars.

  She removed her clothes and joined him, warmed by his naked body wrapped around her, pleased by the pillow. They faced each other, braced on elbows, legs twined.

  “You did good, Callie,” he said. “The party was a hit. I don’t know how you manage it. That kind of thing wears me out.”

  “It makes me feel alive,” she said.

  “I can see that.”

  “And you! I saw Sold dots on three of your pieces.”

  “We’ll see if they’re still there when the booze wears off. When can I take my stuff down?”

  “Why would you want to? You might sell more.”

  “I didn’t want them up in the first place. Y
ou twisted my…well you know what part you twisted, Callie.”

  “But look how well it turned out. They look so good on the walls. Besides, I can’t afford to replace them quite yet.”

  “Callie…” He sighed, but he seemed to decide to let the issue pass. “Leave them up for a while more, I guess.” He leaned in to kiss her, urgently, as if to forget everything else.

  She felt the same way. She didn’t want to think of how she would miss him when this was over. They kissed and moved against each other, sliding into position, then joining their bodies, staying right here under the mesquite tree in this sleeping bag, where they belonged.

  “When you’re inside me, I never want you to go,” she said, lifting her hips, inviting him deeper.

  Deeper he went. She had to say more, to tell him what this had meant to her. “You’ve made this place feel like home again, Deck. I’ve loved being here with you.”

  LOVED. PAST TENSE, as in, I’ll soon be gone.

  Despite his promise not to let doubts assail him, Callie’s words hit like a punch in the gut.

  “Deck?” she said, sensing his withdrawal.

  “I’m here,” he said, forcing himself to keep on. He thrust deeper, loving the way she gasped, how her eyes flared hot. All the same, he was backing away. He wanted her too much and she wasn’t his. She had another life she preferred.

  She moved more quickly now, giving the soft sounds that told him she was nearing release. He helped her along, holding her hips, intent on her reactions, breathing her in, pressing his fingers into her soft skin and the firm muscles beneath.

  You’re mine, he told her with every stroke. And I’m yours.

  She shivered and stilled, then cried out.

  He broke open inside her, calling her name, too, embarrassed by how desperate he sounded. He wrapped his arms around her, absorbing her heat and giving her his, holding on. Was this how love felt? Like his insides had been run through a blender? Where was the joy? He felt trapped, tense, braced for it to go to hell.