by Seton, Cora
“Thanks, Tracey.” Claire waited until the waitress left. “Look, Carl, I know what you’re saying. I don’t mean that I’d use any of the ideas I’ve used for Jamie on your place – I just wanted you to see that I have an eye for style and design. Of course your furnishings and materials will be on a much grander scale, but…”
“What I see is that you have an eye for the safe and pedestrian. Nothing you’ve shown me raises my eyebrows and makes me wonder about the man who owns that house. Nothing impresses me. You've designed an average house for an average man, and that’s fine for Jamie Lassiter. But it ain’t fine for me. Carl Whitfield needs a designer with vision. I agreed to this meeting out of courtesy and because I thought I might be able to throw a tip or two your way, but I’ve already decided who I'll be working with. Daniel Ledstrom of Ledstrom Designs. Now there’s a company with a reputation for fine work.”
“Daniel?” The word came out a squeak. Claire thought fast. “Look, Carl. You’re right – I wasn’t thinking big enough. I knew you were building a large log home, but I had no idea just how large. If you want a spectacular design, I can give you one. I’ll treat you much better than Daniel Ledstrom will.”
Carl sat back. “That’s all well and good, but you’re the sister of my fiancee’s ex-fiance. Do you get my drift? It’s good policy for me to steer clear of you.”
Damn it, this job was slipping away fast. “I know Lacey – I know how she thinks. Daniel Ledstrom doesn’t know you two from Adam. You honestly think he can come up with a plan that will please Lacey as well as I can?” She held her breath – that was a long shot. She and Lacey had never been friends, even when the girl was dating Ethan.
Carl tapped his thick, blunt fingers on the table. “I’m heading to Dallas for the next two months,” he said finally. “The foundation is due to be poured by the time I get back. Let’s say you show me what you’ve got then. I’ll send you over a set of blueprints to work from. You wow me with a plan, and maybe I’ll change my mind.”
It wasn’t much to go on, but it was something. As they shook hands, she vowed right then and there to go him one further. Forget about mockups. Sure, she'd concoct a plan tailored to the Whitfield mansion, but first she'd transform Jamie’s home into a three-dimensional showcase of her talent Carl Whitfield couldn't ignore.
"Say, you getting married?" Carl asked, lifting her hand so her ring sparkled.
"No," Claire said, yanking her hand back.
"That looked a lot like an engagement ring," he said.
"I mean…yes – yes, I'm engaged. Sorry, I'm just so taken by your plans for your house. Tell me more about this imported marble flooring. I really like the sound of it."
She sighed with relief when Carl launched into the virtues of marble, and seemed to forget all about the ring on her finger. One person in Chance Creek didn't know about her engagement to Jamie.
She wanted to keep it that way.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jamie watched the construction crew swarm over the half-finished roof of his new log home. Perched on a rise of ground overlooking the river, it stood about a mile or so northeast of the Big House, and had a view to kill for. Four bedrooms, three baths, an open plan main floor with the kitchen and dining area only separated from the living room by a flagstone hearth open to either side. South facing windows reaching all the way up to the vaulted ceiling. A home he’d be proud to share with his bride-to-be. If he could get her attention.
And convince her to marry him. A week into July, he didn't seem any closer to winning her heart.
It was time to move things forward in his plan. While Claire had pored over his blueprints with him and seemed impressed with the design he'd chosen, she’d been all business so far, and no play. They hadn’t even talked about the other half of the job she was supposed to be taking on – helping him plan activities for the guests.
Today that would change. Claire was off courting her first new client – Carl Whitfield. When she returned she was bound to be full of good spirits. Carl must be planning on spending a bundle on that mansion he was building up the road, and who better than Claire to help him decorate it? He’d tell her they should kill two birds with one stone – she could talk all about her plans for Carl’s house, as long as she did so on horseback, while they inspected one of the riding trails.
He wanted to cross Chance Creek Road and venture out into the rangeland northwest of the Big House, where a trail ran past the pastures to rougher territory. He glanced at his watch. She ought to be getting home soon, and everything looked fine here.
“Keep up the good work,” he hollered to Tom Bends, the construction crew’s foreman.
“We’ll have the walls done by the end of the day. The roof should be on later this week.”
It couldn’t happen too soon for him, especially with Claire raring to go on the interior. He was half afraid Carl would beat him to the punch and Claire would end up spending all her time with him, rather than here where she belonged. He knew she wanted the Whitfield contract – bad – but he needed her to focus on the Cruz spread. He had to get her involved in the guest ranch business. Had to make sure she spent enough time near him for his charm to work its magic on her. He knew she wanted him. Heck, she’d jumped him the other night, hadn’t she? And while she'd consumed some champagne, she wasn’t drunk enough to claim it was the alcohol leading her astray.
She wanted him, but she would spook at his slightest move in her direction. Because of her mother and Mack? Maybe. But there was something else, he’d swear to it. Something about this Daniel business that didn’t add up.
Why was she so intent on revenge against the man?
Sure, it was annoying – well, more than annoying – that he would come home after running off with his secretary and expect her to hand the company back over to him. But like she said, it was his company. Should he have compensated her for her work? Yes. Should he have offered her a prime place in the business? Of course. And instead he'd kicked her to the curb, so he could see why she'd be mad. Even furious.
But it wasn't like she didn't have enough money to start another company. And it wasn't like she even cared all that much about interior design.
Did she?
As much as he hated to admit it, he got the feeling she did care about it, and he'd seen she was good at it. But how could she choose interior design over horses? Was she going to lose more years of her life trying to prove Daniel was wrong when she'd already lost so much trying to prove the same thing to her mother and Mack?
Couldn't she see that in the end she was the only one that got hurt?
He wanted to shake some sense into her. It was time to move on – start enjoying her life. That’s what he’d do. Forget all this interior design stuff, she should get back on horseback – maybe even get back into the rodeo. She’d say she was too old, but plenty of women competed into their thirties, forties and beyond.
He just had to keep her too busy to think until the first guests came to stay at the ranch. Autumn had said something about having a lead. He hoped it panned out and quick. The sooner he could show Claire how rewarding working on the ranch could be, the better.
When he arrived at the Big House, Claire’s Civic was already in the driveway. He prepared his congratulations, but when he walked inside, he was greeted by a disaster area. The blueprints, plans and pages of notes that used to be spread all over the large dining room table now lay every which way across the floor. Claire sat at her laptop, a sketchpad beside her, alternately typing and sketching with frenetic motions.
“Hey – what’s going on?”
She looked up only for a second, dashing her bangs out of her eyes. “He hated it. He said everything I’d done was boring and predictable.”
“That’s bullshit. It was a fantastic design. Carl Whitfield’s an ass.”
“Carl Whitfield’s a millionaire with a mansion that’s sure to end up in the pages of more than one home design magazine. I needed that contract.”
/> “There’ll be other jobs.”
“Not like this one!” She reared up and pushed the laptop away. “I blew it, Jamie. I blew my one chance.”
“Claire…”
“No, just shut up. You don’t know anything about interior design or what it takes to be the best. I should be the one to get this contract, but Carl wants to hire Daniel.”
Shit. No wonder she was in such a state. “Look, I know you’re disappointed, but you still have my contract. That’s something, right?”
She turned a look on him that made his skin crawl. “It’s something.” Her face was pinched with anger and worry. “Small and predictable, but something. I have to start over from scratch – make a whole new plan that transforms its predictability into something breathtaking.”
Jamie stiffened. “He called my place small and predictable? Hell, it’s a beautiful house – you said so yourself. And I don’t want you to change anything. I like what you already designed.”
“It’s beautiful for a little shack." She got back to work, missing his reaction to those stinging words. "Unfortunately, little shacks don’t get you into Western Homes and Gardens, do they? Forget it, I can’t make my name with boring interiors. I’m re-doing the whole plan. Carl's giving me a second chance. I have two months to show him that I can design something spectacular. I might be taking on the impossible trying to transform your place into something awe-inspiring, but I'm going to do my best."
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I came here to ask you to take a ride with me, but I see you’ve got your work cut out for you, trying to salvage my ugly little shack. I guess I’ll leave you to it.”
He walked out and slammed the door.
* * * * *
Claire knew she should go after him and apologize, but she didn’t have time. Besides, he was still keeping up this proposal farce, so didn't have much sympathy for him.
Not that she was getting anywhere with her revenge. Instead of finding ways to torture Jamie, she'd spent every waking moment getting back at Daniel, instead. Jamie would get over her slight against his house. She’d come up with a new plan that would knock his socks off. Then when Carl came home she'd walk him through Jamie's house and wow him with what she'd done.
Her mistake had been relying too much on tradition when she chose materials and furnishings for Jamie’s interior. Sure, wood and slate or river rock were the most common materials used in log homes, and furnishings tended to be solid and rustic. That didn’t mean she needed to be bound by the conventional. In fact, just the opposite. She needed to start by making a list of materials and colors you wouldn’t expect to find in a log home and go from there.
And forget Jamie's pitiful budget, too – she’d never impress Carl by economizing. If Jamie couldn’t afford to spend more, she could. It would be investing in her own future if she spent some of her six hundred thousand dollars on the interior.
What had Carl mentioned? Imported marble flooring from Bologna? She’d go him one better…just as soon as she figured out what that was.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A week and a half later, Jamie checked once more down the line of stalls to make sure each horse he’d hand-picked for the Cruz ranch’s first crop of guests was present and accounted for – as if they’d somehow slip past him out of the barn. He was more nervous than he’d have believed, but then he’d been working harder than he dreamed possible to get ready for this day, along with everyone else on the ranch.
Autumn turned out to be a whirlwind when it came to preparing the spread for its new status as guest ranch, and she also turned out to be a whiz at marketing. He’d bought into the business in early June and now here it was late July and their first guests were arriving. They’d booked their vacation at a deep discount, of course – one of Autumn’s many schemes for getting customers to the table, as she put it, so they could dazzle them with the scenery, the accommodations, the quality of the horses and trail rides, and her home cooking. She would press these guests to post recommendations on all the travel sites at the end of their stay, and hope they’d tell their friends, too.
“We aren’t looking to make much of a profit this year,” she told Jamie one day. “We’re looking to turn visitors into lifelong customers.” Sounded smart to him.
With all hands on deck – well, all hands except Claire’s, since she was too busy making ever more elaborate plans for the interior of his home – they’d scrubbed and polished the Big House until it shone, hauled supplies of every kind in, installed a professional grade washer and dryer in the basement to handle the new laundry load, and made a wheelchair accessible suite on the first floor.
“Why would someone who can’t even ride come to a ranch for their vacation?” he asked Ethan.
His friend shrugged. “For the scenery? Fresh air? Maybe to be close to family who can? All I know is we aren't up to code unless we have one.”
Autumn worked hard to update the landscaping around the house, and Jamie and Ethan tidied the barn and pens enough to look prosperous, if not clean enough to eat out of. Jamie put some thought into daily schedules for the guests and rode all the trails around the spread to make sure they were in good repair. Without Claire. She had moved her things to the bunkhouse now that guests were coming to stay in the Big House, and he barely saw her these days. She’d asked for his credit card and made him up the limit to an uncomfortable amount, then proceeded to order things without even getting his approval. She even had a timeline for the interior, which counted on his contractors having the home built in record time. He had no idea what would happen should something delay progress. The one time he’d balked at Claire's plans, she’d nearly decked him, and for the first time Jamie realized he was a little afraid of the woman he wanted to marry.
He wasn’t making any progress on convincing her to be his wife, either. All in all, a sorry state of affairs.
But now his patience was about to pay off, because the first guests were arriving soon and Claire had to follow through on her promise to him. He planned to take full advantage of the fact they'd be sharing a tent during the campout at the end of their company's stay.
He shifted uncomfortably. Best not to think about that for too long, or he’d be unfit for company of any kind. He'd stuck to his side of the bargain – no outright flirting or touching. Not that she'd notice if he did, she was so hung up on her designs. But she was due any moment, and she’d be working with him for the next seven days. All the time in the world for him – and the horses – to work their magic. He hoped by the end of the week her eyes would lose the frantic look they always seemed to hold these days. He’d make it his business to see they did.
He looked forward to greeting the guests later this morning, too. They should pull in about an hour from now, delivered from the airport, and they would take some time to settle in their rooms and have a light brunch before their first ride. Autumn assured him that everyone in the party had prior experience on horseback.
“It’s a group of friends,” she explained. “Sounds like they do this every year but the lodge they usually stay at closed, so they’re looking for new stomping grounds. I’m counting on you to wow them with the scenery on your rides.”
“You just feed them up good every night, and leave the rest to me,” he assured her. A group of friends sounded great – a bunch of men looking to get away from their normal lives, wanting a break from girlfriends, wives and kids. He could deal with that.
He plotted a fairly vigorous week of riding and chores, banking on the fact these men probably worked jobs that bored them the rest of the year, so he should show them a little excitement. They could help herd cattle from one part of the property to the other, muck out some stalls – just enough to burn off some energy. Hell, maybe he’d let them repair a fence or two.
“Morning,” Claire said behind him, her impatient tone telling him she'd prefer to be back working on his interior design.
He turned and smiled from the sheer joy of seeing her look like hersel
f for the first time in thirteen years. She wore an old pair of jeans that hugged every curve, the same pair of boots she'd worn on Ethan's wedding day, and a plaid shirt that buttoned up the front. She even had her old cowboy hat on. The ring sparkling on her finger made his smile widen.
“Don’t you look a sight,” he said softly and reached for her.
“Uh uh!” she raised a hand. “Remember our agreement.”
Damn. Shrewish as an old maid. Keeping away from women had turned out to be way too damn easy this past month. He was too busy helping Ethan and Autumn and worrying about Claire to even talk to one. What the hell was wrong with her that she couldn’t see he only had eyes for her?
“Can’t blame a man for his natural reactions when you turn up looking like that.”
“What, these ol’ things?” she drawled, finally smiling faintly herself. “I can’t believe they still fit after all these years.”
“They fit mighty well,” he agreed.
“That’s flirting.”
“That’s not flirting, that’s a genuine compliment.”
“Fine, I’ll let it slide, but don’t push it. I’m in no mood for your shit.”
“All right, all right. Give me a second to get my game face on. You might want to relax yours just a bit, you’ll scare the guests away.” He turned around and composed himself. During the next seven days he had to work a miracle. Treat his customers well, do his job methodically, and show Claire every reason she should want to be his wife without using a drop of his manly charm.
Before he turned back, however, he heard the honk of a horn and the crunch of wheels on the gravel track that led up to the Big House.
“What the heck?”
“Crud – they’re early. Autumn’s going to have a fit!” Claire said, hurrying after the airport shuttle van.