The truth was, it worried Hope, too. When it came to preserving appearances, and/or doing something just because it would look good to outsiders, Garrett had not exactly proved cooperative thus far.
“Have you been able to speak to him yet?”
Guilt flowing through her, Hope shook her head.
Lucille studied her a long moment, which made Hope wonder what the woman sensed. Something, clearly. “Any particular reason why not?” Lucille asked.
Because I was too busy leaning on his big, strong shoulders and making love with him, Hope thought. She drew a deep breath. “I just haven’t found the right time to bring it up.”
“Laying the groundwork?”
“Trying to develop a rapport.”
Lucille considered that. “Makes sense.”
Did it?
Up until now, Hope hadn’t considered her attraction to Garrett would make it impossible for her to do her job well. But that was exactly what was happening.
Fortunately, she could fix that. “I’ll find the right way to broach it with him, if and when the time comes,” she reassured Lucille.
She was still hoping it wouldn’t, because the Lockharts had been through enough.
“See that you do,” Lucille said. “Because the future of the foundation and our family are depending on both of you.”
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, Sage and Adelaide had departed for Dallas. Chance and Wyatt had also gone back to their ranches—but not before Garrett asked them for a favor that he hoped would be well received by Tank and his wife.
In the meantime, he needed to find out what was going on with Hope. She hadn’t looked him in the eye since she had left the emergency board meeting and gone off to confer with Lucille in private. “What were you and my mother talking about for so long?” Garrett asked.
Hope carried her laptop over to the table and powered it on. “Plans to rehabilitate the foundation’s reputation. How and when we’re going to announce our findings. What comes next, once all previous commitments have been met.”
He sat down opposite her at the table and kicked back in a captain’s chair. “What does come next—especially if half the money is gone? Has my mom told you what her plans are?” She hadn’t told any of them.
Hope paused. A-ha, Garrett thought. She did know something she was reluctant to share.
Finally she looked up from the computer screen. Her green eyes lasered into his. “There are too many variables right now to figure that out. What we do know is that anything could happen, and most of it will likely be extremely damaging, at least initially. Which is why I’m staying behind to put together a film that will introduce your mother to the public.”
Hope wasn’t easy to read when she was in work mode. “What do you mean? My mother’s been a fixture on the Dallas social and philanthropic scenes for years.”
Hope made a note on the pad next to her, then tucked the pen behind her ear. She leaned back in her chair. “But that’s all they know about her, Garrett. What they see in news clips on TV or in the papers.” She paused to let her words sink in. “They see photos of Lucille stepping out of a limousine, or pictures of her gorgeous mansion in Dallas. They don’t know how the family charity came about, or why she and your father wanted to do this in the first place.”
Hope shook her head in mute frustration.
“They don’t know where your mother and father grew up, or how life was for them in the beginning. Or how generous and loving your mother is—deep down.” She leaned forward urgently. “We need to shed light on that so people understand that none of this was deliberate, that Lucille’s heart was, and still is, in the right place.”
“So your primary goal remains...?”
She regarded him stoically. “To do what I was hired to do and save the foundation first.”
Which meant what, exactly? Garrett wondered, growing alarmed. His family and his mother were second? All he knew for sure was that once again Hope wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. Never a good sign. He stood, shoving the chair back so abruptly it scraped across the wood floor. He stood, legs braced apart, hands on the table in front of him. “Tell me you’re not planning to throw my mother under the bus.”
“The media and gossip sites have already done that.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she lifted a staying hand. “However, at the end of the day, the only people who should bear the brunt of the blame for this are CFO Paul Smythe and banking VP Mirabelle Fanning. Before all that information is made public, though, we have a lot to do. Which is why,” Hope persisted, all kick-butt scandal management expert once again, “I need the complete cooperation of you and your brothers for the next few days.”
* * *
FOR GARRETT, THAT started with a trip to town to meet with Bess Monroe the following morning. To say the West Texas Warrior Assistance organizer had mixed feelings about receiving a check for only five thousand—instead of the agreed-upon five hundred thousand—dollars was an understatement. So Garrett did what he could to make the situation better, which in his view wasn’t nearly enough. He stopped by the grocery store, got plenty of milk for Hope and enough food for a few more days, then headed back to the Circle H.
Hope had Max in her arms, her phone headset on. She was pacing back and forth on the porch, trying to keep Max entertained while she spoke.
“...That’s right. It’s not common knowledge...Because Lucille Lockhart doesn’t want anyone to know. But I know how fair you are in your reporting, and I thought you should be aware...As we speak! Yes, the checks are going out...No. Lucille doesn’t want to formally announce until every organization has been paid...Of course. I think a sit-down could be arranged here at the family ranch. Maybe the day after tomorrow?...Thanks. You, too.”
Hope swung around to see him standing there. A guilty flush crossed her face.
He had only one thing to say to her.
“What’s going on, Hope?”
Chapter Nine
Garrett set the groceries on the kitchen counter with a thud. He had shaved before going into town, and the tantalizing fragrance of his aftershave still clung to his jaw. His dark hair was tousled. He had on worn jeans and an untucked dark blue shirt that brought out the intense sea blue of his eyes. “I thought you weren’t going to throw my mother to the wolves.”
Determined not to put herself in an emotionally vulnerable position with him, especially when it came to the foundation work, she said, “I’m not.”
He strode closer, clearly trying to intimidate her. “Then?”
She feigned immunity to his disapproval. “Lucille called while you were out. Half an hour ago, the foundation’s attorney received a demand letter from a lawyer representing fifteen of the charities.” Keeping her voice low, she shifted Max a little higher in her arms so he could look out over her shoulder. “They’re threatening to sue.”
Garrett’s gaze darkened as the information sank in.
“Apparently, it’s going to be an exclusive for KTWX on the eleven o’clock news. Which is why I called my contact at rival KMVU, and told her the promised payments had been going out all afternoon at the foundation offices, and would be completed by 5:00 p.m. tomorrow.”
“And my mother approved this.”
“I spoke with her at length, while you were in town. She understands that we have to make it clear she was doing the right thing before she received the threatening demand letter. Otherwise it looks as if she only followed through because she was facing legal action. Which brings me to the next thing we need to discuss...the personal check you wrote to West Texas Warrior Assistance.”
As she moved closer, Max reached out and put a tiny fist in the short sleeve of Garrett’s shirt. Ignoring the tender look he threw her son, Hope swallowed through the dryness of her throat and prodded, “In addition to the five thousa
nd dollar check you were to deliver from the foundation.”
His expression quickly became veiled. He squinted. “How did you know about that?”
Easy. “Bess Monroe wrote your mother an email, thanking her and citing your generosity. Your mom was impressed, by the way.”
So was she.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he told her gruffly. “And don’t even think about putting what I did in any press release.”
Luckily she hadn’t thus far. Mostly because she had wanted to speak with him first and find out what had prompted him to be so generous, when she knew from Lucille that he and his siblings lived only on what they were each able to bring in, which in his case was his military salary. She watched as Max fisted his other hand in Garrett’s shirt. “Why not?” Figuring she might as well let Max have what he wanted, she transferred her little boy to Garrett’s waiting arms.
“Because it’s not really charity if anyone knows about it.” Despite the tension hovering between them, Garrett flashed a heart-melting grin at the baby cuddled against his chest. “It’s grandstanding for attention.”
Tenderness drifted through Hope at the sight of her son’s blond head nestled against Garrett’s chest. “My grandmother used to say that.”
“It’s true.”
Hope began putting groceries away. “That sentiment must put you at odds with the new family business.”
Garrett lounged against the counter. “I think what my father and mother wanted to do was great.”
Spying an opening for the job Lucille wanted her to do, Hope said offhandedly, “Ever thought of joining the foundation? Maybe as the new CEO?”
His brows lowered like thunderclaps over his gorgeous blue eyes. “No.”
“It could help.” She stood on tiptoe to put the cereal on the appropriate pantry shelf.
She felt his glance rove her bare legs, the trim lines of her skirt, blouse. “Ask Adelaide.”
Her body warmed everywhere his eyes had touched. Hitching in a breath, Hope worked to keep her mind on the problem at hand. “Can’t. Optics.”
His gaze locked on hers. “Sins of the father...?”
“Something like that,” she answered, flushing self-consciously. “It’s best, at least for now, that Adelaide stay well in the background of any story on this. The last thing she needs when pregnant with twins, and absorbing her father’s betrayal, is to be hounded by the press.”
“True.”
“So, back to the sit-down your mother is going to do here the day after tomorrow. The bunkhouse is great. We can film in here, but we’ll also be taking a tour of the land, and we can’t have the ranch looking so unkempt overall.”
“It’s already been taken care of,” he informed her. “Chance and Wyatt are bringing over their farm tractors first thing in the morning. Tank and a couple other rehabbing vets are going to mow all the grass and pastures. They need the work and we need it done.”
Wow. He was really on the ball. “Does Bess Monroe know this, too?”
Garrett grimaced. “I didn’t mention it. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make a big deal out of it, either. These guys have had their manhoods wrecked by their injuries. They don’t need anyone painting them as charity cases, because they’re not.”
“Got it, Captain.”
Looking relieved, he turned Max around so his diapered bottom was resting on Garrett’s forearm, his back to Garrett’s chest. His tiny little hands curled around the wrist stabilizing his middle.
Max blinked at Hope. Smiled.
She smiled back at her son.
“Are you done working for the evening?”
Hope shook her head. “As soon as I nurse Max again and get him down for the evening, I’m going to work on the practice Q&A for your mom. She has to rehearse for the TV interview.”
Garrett’s gaze narrowed skeptically. But for once he had no ready remark.
“It will be much easier for her if she feels prepared,” Hope explained.
He quirked his brow. “And to do that...?”
“I’ll write the questions Lucille’s liable to be asked and then print out the answers she needs to memorize.”
“Sure you don’t need to make up some cue cards for her, too?”
Here at last was the sardonic man she had met on the plane. “That will come later.”
He did a double take. “I was kidding.”
“I’m not.” Deciding she had been ensnared in Garrett’s keen blue gaze far too long, Hope turned away. His increasing discontent was not her problem when she had a job to do. “We’re also going to make a short, interview-style video of our own to put up on YouTube and the foundation website. That way we’ll be able to make sure that everything that needs to get said will get said, in exactly the way it should be.”
“And here I thought the overly scripted part of my family’s life was over,” he muttered. He looked at her long and hard. Loathing the suggestion she was somehow creating a fake tableau, she stared right back.
He exhaled roughly. “Guess not.”
Carefully he transferred Max to her, spun around and walked out the door.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, Garrett met his brother Chance at the office building he owned. His younger brother elbowed him in the ribs. “I thought you’d be making time with Hope tonight.”
Garrett flipped him off. “Funny.”
Chance needled him with a long look. “Sure seemed to be something happening between the two of you earlier today.”
There had been. Until Hope had gone back to manipulating events to ensure the outcome she was determined to have.
Then something in Garrett had gone cold.
The last thing he wanted was to spend more of his life worried about how everything appeared on the surface, rather than what should be going on deep inside. He’d had enough of that in his childhood and when he was engaged. He wasn’t going down that road again. Not professionally. And definitely not personally.
Garrett unlocked the door and strolled inside. “Next thing I know you’ll be saying we were communicating without words.”
Chuckling, Chance joined him in the small, outdated lobby. “Weren’t you?”
“Keep it up and I’ll tell you where you can put your asinine observations.” Garrett switched on the lights.
Chance laughed all the more. When Garrett declined to join in, his younger brother finally slipped into general contractor mode. “So, what were you thinking of doing here?”
Garrett was surprised to hear himself say, “Gutting it and renovating it instead of selling it, as is, for pennies on the dollar.”
“Keep going.” Although he made his living raising and investing in rodeo bulls, Chance still earned money on the side, the way he had before he’d gotten into ranching, by doing home repairs and remodeling work.
“I want to take the elevators out of the center of the building and move them over to one side. Have two of them, instead of three. And make them look like the freight elevators you have in lofts, with a cage door on the front.”
Chance made notes. “It could be done. What else?”
“I’d like the first floor to be completely open. On the second and third floors, I’d like to have four private offices and a larger meeting room.”
Chance looked up. “I’m assuming you already have a tenant in mind.”
Which was, Garrett knew, in some respects even crazier for someone who wanted to cut ties with his past in Texas. Being careful to keep a poker face, he nodded. “I know some people who might be interested, if the work was done in advance. So can you get me an estimate?”
“Sure thing. What are you going to do about the Victorian?”
Another dilemma. One he hadn’t expected. Garrett said gruffly, “I have to clean
it up before I can do anything with it.”
Chance’s gaze narrowed thoughtfully. “And then...?”
Garrett rubbed the tense muscles in his neck. “Still thinking.”
“Might not hurt to keep it for a while. As a home base, for when you visit.”
And remember how Hope’s eyes had lit up in wonder and delight the first time she walked through it with him?
Tensing, Garrett said, “Or not.”
“Have you had any offers on that?”
“Just a call from Molly Griffin, that local interior designer and general contractor. She offered to redo it for me, if I wanted to make a little money on it.”
Chance groaned. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Do us both a favor and don’t listen to Molly Griffin.”
“Do I detect a little emotion there, brother?” Now this was interesting...
Chance scowled. “Just take my advice.”
“Why?”
Another grimace. “Because she’s a social-climbing pain in the ass.”
Ah. Garrett shook his head at Chance. “Well, so long as you like her, then...”
“I. Don’t.”
“Now who doth protest too much?”
This time, Chance flipped him off. Garrett laughed despite himself as the two brothers walked out together.
“By the way, that was a pretty nice thing you did for the West Texas Warrior Assistance program,” Chance said, when they reached their pickup trucks.
Garrett bit down on a string of oaths. Was nothing private around here? “How did you hear about it?”
His baby brother grinned and slapped his shoulder amiably. “In Laramie County, good news travels fast.”
* * *
THE LIGHTS WERE on in the Circle H bunkhouse when Garrett turned the borrowed pickup into the driveway around 11:00 p.m. The blinds were pulled.
Inside, Hope was clad in a pair of thigh-length white cotton shorts that showed off her long legs to perfection and a loose-fitting pink cotton camp shirt. The sleeves were rolled up past her elbows. Her feet were bare. A blue cotton burp cloth had been thrown over one shoulder and Max had both his fists resting on her shoulder. Wide awake, with milk bubbles on his lips, he was looking around. He smiled when he caught sight of Garrett and bobbed his sturdy little body up and down excitedly.
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