“I don’t know any Wendell, but I do know the Triple R is holding their ‘Most Outrageous Contest’ tonight.”
“Then where are all the ‘outrageous’ people?”
The woman’s eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
Reality set in, and Monica’s stomach churned. “Rafferty’s Remote Ranch isn’t the Triple R, is it?”
“Afraid not. Randy’s Rowdy Roadhouse is.”
“It’s okay.” Monica reached in her pocket and pulled out a roll of antacids. She was gonna kill Wendell for setting her up. “Just because the neighboring farm is called the Triple C, I shouldn’t have assumed Rafferty’s Remote Ranch is called the Triple R. Stupid mistake.” She shook her head and chewed the chalky tablets. “My stupid mistake.”
“I feel so bad.” The shopkeeper looked ready to cry.
Monica smiled and patted her hand. “No harm done. It doesn’t look like my client is here, anyway. Think I’ll call it a night.” She set her martini on the bar, unable to swallow another drop, then hopped off the stool and headed toward the entrance. Tomorrow would be soon enough to meet Cody Rafferty.
No way was she letting him see her as Peg Bundy.
“Good luck,” the shopkeeper hollered after her.
“Thanks,” Monica said and headed outside, closing the door behind her. Her knees buckled. She’d worked for her father for years but in the art department, never having to deal with the tough situations the ad execs did. She’d feel much better in a power suit, breathing confidence through every pore. The only thing this outfit breathed was humiliation.
She stared off in the distance and inhaled deep, filling her lungs with the crisp, clean, rejuvenating air of the Rocky Mountains silhouetted in the moonlight. Why couldn’t she do what made her happy, like sketching that scene? She closed her eyes. Because her father would lose everything. She had no proof Wendell was up to no good, and since she broke off their engagement, her father didn’t believe her. He thought she was bitter. She was bitter, all right, but he was all she had. No matter what, she couldn’t let Wendell destroy him.
* * *
Cody Rafferty stepped out of the tackroom into the barn, the smell of wood and hay thick in the air. He tried to keep his mind on his work, glancing at the clock. Midnight. He should be in bed, but after the run-in with that glittering peacock earlier, he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t say he found the woman attractive, dressed like that, but for some reason he couldn’t forget the picture she made.
He chuckled, thinking about how she stood with one heel stuck in the gravel, trying to look nonchalant about it but failing miserably. His life sorely lacked amusement these days. The damnedest thing was when he’d held her in his arms, he’d felt a spark. He hadn’t expected that, but something about her intrigued him. He smiled, thinking about the goofy things she’d said, but then plump lips flashed before his eyes, and he remembered how they had moved when she spoke.
He frowned, running a brush over his stallion’s black coat. He’d spent the past couple hours repairing broken harnesses and oiling saddles, trying to forget about her. But he couldn’t escape another thought chasing around in his brain. His new ranch hand started tomorrow. New ranch hand? He grunted. What a joke.
A yahoo city slicker had no business working on a ranch. The guy dreamed up slogans for a living, for crying out loud. Shoot, the tenderfoot probably didn’t know a horse’s head from its hindquarters, but Cody had no choice. After what Hammond had done for his father, Cody owed him a huge favor, he thought with a grimace. He just hadn’t expected the favor to involve some phony ad campaign. He hated being involved in deception.
“What kind of father names his kid Mo?” he asked his horse.
Babe tossed his head back, whinnied, and then huffed out a breath through his flapping lips that sounded remarkably like the raspberries.
Cody chuckled and gave the stallion a pat on his muzzle. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, partner. At least this guy’s only here for the summer.”
The horse twitched his ear with obvious displeasure.
Cody nodded. “I’m not looking forward to this any more than you are.” Giving the horse’s mane a final stroke, he headed into his office to tackle some paperwork. As he sat in the chair behind his desk, the springs squeaked. He picked up his pen, made a note to oil them, and then stared down at the long list of things needing fixing or replacing. He threw down his pen. The ranch was long overdue for a face-lift he could finally afford, but all that had to be put on hold so he would appear “needy.”
His eyes settled on a picture of his father, and he shook his head. He’d only agreed to this favor because of him. Because his old man wasn’t here to grant the favor himself, even if the favor was ridiculous. Hammond could easily fire this Wendell guy, only he’d never find out who the creep was working for. And Hammond said if Wendell thought his kid had a real shot at taking over the agency, then Wendell would show up to try to stop him, giving Hammond the freedom to snoop around.
Meanwhile, Cody was stuck baby-sitting.
Thrusting his fingers through his hair, he stretched his back and rolled his head, feeling a breeze. A movement caught his eye, and he turned to stare out his office door at the swing of white-painted wood. He’d left the barn door open. Since when had he become careless? He ground his teeth. Since he’d agreed to this hare-brained idea, that’s when. He crossed the barn with long, purposeful strides and kicked the door closed.
Bang. “Ow, ow, ow.” Thud.
“What the hell?” He yanked open the door.
A woman lay in the dirt, flat on her back with both hands clutching her nose, moaning something pitiful. A petite thing, she looked as fragile as a dewdrop on a blade of grass at dawn. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t imagine what she was doing in the barn in the middle of the night. His eyes widened. And in her unmentionables?
Peach satin and lace.
She moaned again, and his stomach twisted into knots. Christ, here he was lusting after her, when he should be feeling guilty for bashing her in the face. He glanced down at her soft breasts rising and falling beneath that flimsy excuse for a nightgown, and a usually well-behaved part of his anatomy rose to attention. He gave it a good lecture and reminded himself of all the problems the last woman had caused them.
Now was not the time to be finding a woman attractive, and he didn’t need some gal to fall at his feet, moaning, even if it did make for a nice image. She moaned louder, reminding him he had caused her pain. Still, she had no business being there in the first place. He knelt down, gently pulled her hands from her face, and sucked in a sharp breath.
Her. The strange woman he’d run into earlier. Only now the heavy make-up had been scrubbed off, and her hair lay in silky curls. No peacock in sight. And no serious injuries, thank God. He glanced at her mouth. Damn, she had about the most kissable lips he’d ever seen. Her skin looked smooth, with a dusting of freckles scattered across her small nose. Whipped cream lightly sprinkled with cinnamon came to mind.
He brushed a springy, flaming, reddish-brown curl off her cheek. Her skin felt petal-soft, he thought as he traced a finger over her nose. It was swelling. What had possessed her to come out here alone at this time of night? She obviously didn’t have much sense in that pretty head of hers. Then again, lack of horse sense was a foregone conclusion. That was why he left the dudes to his sister and partner, Cassie. He had yet to meet a city slicker who proved otherwise.
The woman’s eyelashes, lush and spiky without the ridiculous fakes plastered on, fluttered, then slowly opened. Double damn. She had the biggest, most amazing set of doe eyes he’d ever seen. Milk-chocolate brown with jewel-green flecks.
“You okay, lady?”
“Gotcha, Studly.” She winced and rubbed her head.
“Studly?” He arched a brow.
“You’re not getting away this time. I haven’t jumped your bones yet.”
“Jump my bones? Are you serious?�
�� he croaked.
She giggled.
He cleared his throat. “Not that I wouldn’t mind taking you up on your offer, miss, but I don’t think you’re in any condition to--”
“You have a nice set of bones. Did anyone ever tell you that?” Her doe eyes went soft and dreamy.
“Uh, no. Can’t say that they have.”
She stared right at him, but it looked like she saw through him. Her pupils were evenly dilated, so no concussion. The little lady must have been sleepwalking. Until he’d knocked her unconscious like a jackass.
Now, she hovered somewhere between sleep and consciousness, by the sound of it. He tried not to chuckle, but a little one slipped free. She had no idea what she was saying.
“Let’s get you back to your cabin, okay?” He glanced at her nightgown again and swallowed. The flimsy lingerie danced around her curves, which weren’t hidden well in the see-through fabric. But after the outfit she’d had on earlier, nothing this lady wore would surprise him.
“Nat always said it would hit me right between the eyes when I least expected it.” The woman touched her nose and then grimaced. “I didn’t think she meant literally.”
“Is that so?” He scooped her carefully in his arms.
“I must be dreaming. The guys I date never look like you; not that I date much. I’m no good at it, you know.” She sighed as her eyelashes fluttered closed. “Gray eyes. They suit you.”
“Really, now.” She didn’t make any sense, but all he could think about was how good she felt in his arms and how sexy her breathy voice sounded. She turned him inside out, and that hadn’t happened in a long time. Too long. He had to get her out of here, fast.
“Yeehaw, cowboy, take me home. I feel like ridin’.” Her voice trailed off, and a soft snore escaped. Sound asleep, thank God.
He glanced down. Every delicious curve of her body lay pliant against him. The outline of firm breasts with dusky nipples strained against the sheer material of her nightgown. No doubt about it, he was a dead man. He could hardly walk.
Down, boy. His body ignored him, so he shifted her to a position with the least amount of contact and ascended the hill. “Little lady, you are nothing but trouble.” She’d wake with one hell of a headache in a matter of minutes, and he didn’t want to be caught saluting her when it happened.
Cody glanced up as he reached the dude cabins, but only one had a light on with the door ajar. Guessing it to be hers, he peeked in the window. Vacant. He slipped inside, shut the door, and laid the sleeping woman on the bed. She stirred, so he took his cue to leave, lifting her eyelids first to make sure she didn’t have a concussion. Relief washed over him.
“Yep, those big doe eyes still have equal-sized pupils. You’ll live, angel lady.” His mind said go. His boots stuck like glue.
He’d gone plumb crazy. He knew he could be intimidating, but even in her semi-conscious state, she’d been bold as brass. He liked that. He liked her. But after his mess of a marriage, he wasn’t about to get involved in another relationship anytime soon. Especially not with a petite city woman, who had birdlike bones and weighed less than his damn saddle.
“I’m not the one for you, sweetheart,” he whispered hoarsely, stroking her jaw, and regret swamped him. Jesus, he had gone crazy. He handled emotion the way he always did, by tossing it behind the wall where he hid his feelings. He couldn’t afford feelings any more than he could afford to play along with this ridiculous charade, but he didn’t have a choice where either was concerned.
“Studly?” she said, her eyes still closed. “I want Studly.”
“Shhh. Studly wants you too.” Boy did he ever, but it wasn’t gonna happen. “Go back to sleep. Studly had to leave.” Cody tucked the blankets around her and then forced himself to do just that. If he were smart, he’d never come back.
Problem was, he’d never been that smart.
CHAPTER TWO
“What a dream.” Monica yawned and stretched. Big hunky cowboy. Deep voice. Bedroom eyes. A body that made her want to go dirty dancing. She shivered, her own body reacting to the mere thought of him. “Get a hold of yourself, Mo.”
Rubbing her head, she winced. She had a whopper of a headache this morning, and a nose the size of Pinocchio’s. She must have banged it on the headboard last night when she was riding ... well, put it this way, she hadn’t been riding a horse. Good God, what was the matter with her? She scoffed. Wasting a whole year on Wendell the Weasel. That’d do it to the best of women.
Their sex life had been pathetic, to say the least. Now, she knew why. Crappy sex for that long would be enough to make any woman request her own cabin. No way could she spend the night in the bunkhouse with cowboys who looked like Studly. No telling what she might do in her sleep.
Climbing out of bed, she got dressed. Thank God the airline had found her luggage. She’d made such a stink at the airport; they delivered it last night during the welcome party.
But today was a whole new day. She gave up on trying to camouflage her swollen nose, and made her way down the hill to the cattle barn to meet Cody Rafferty. Any impression had to be better than showing up as Peg Bundy.
Monica took in her surroundings, now visible in the light of day, and sighed. What she wouldn’t have given to stop and sketch the tall pines and wide, grassy pastures, but she didn’t have time. Sidestepping a tree, she swatted away a fly and then skidded to a halt at the bottom of the hill and stared.
A chill swept through her. The faded red barn looked exactly like the one in her dream last night, with the same beat-up pickup and tractor parked out front. Bordering the forest stood what had to be the bunkhouse and cook shack. At least, that’s how she’d imagined they’d look.
“It’s only a coincidence. It has to be,” she reassured herself. Then how come she recognized everything? She couldn’t have been sleepwalking again, could she? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.
Shaking off the uneasy sensation, she inhaled deep and did a few yoga stretches to clear her mind. The sun peeked over the rugged mountains, bathing the cattle ranch in its morning glory. Wildflowers swayed in the warm July breeze. She sorted through the pitchable attributes and filed them away in her memory. From this point on, she was in “Monica the Advertising Wonder” mode. The strong scent of pine and sweet aroma of hay overrode the awful smell of manure.
Somehow, her dream hadn’t included manure. And somehow, she had to make “manure” sound like a nature smell any New Yorker would crave. “Manure, nature’s remedy for clearing your sinuses.” She grimaced, wondering how best to gloss over that part.
Somewhere behind the barn, chickens clucked restlessly. Muffled prancing and shrill whinnies rang out from within as the ranch came to life. A stocky, dark-haired man with a mustache strode around the side of the barn and stopped to talk to a wiry man with gray hair who adjusted the stirrup on a horse in the corral out front.
She drew close and chanted to herself, “It’s a whole new day. It’s a day to start fresh. It’s ... Oh, no. It’s the old man who thought my eyelash was a bug!”
The old cowboy swept his hat from his head when he noticed her. “Well, howdy, ma’am.” Then he waved it in the other man’s direction. “This here’s Rusty.”
Rusty nodded.
Monica waved.
The old cowboy’s gaze traced over her with curiosity. She watched his eyebrows creep higher, but he didn’t comment on her changed appearance. “What brings you down to this side of the ranch? No offense, ma’am, but a little bitty thing like you don’t belong here. You could get hurt.”
She had to think professional. Think like a CEO. “Don’t worry about me. I assure you, I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. Am I too early?”
“Too early for what, missy?” He fidgeted with his hat.
She hadn’t introduced herself the previous night because, frankly, she hadn’t stuck around long enough. “To work. I’m the new ad exec.”
“You? Boss said the new guy was someone name
d Mo.”
She stuck out her hand. “My name’s Monica Hammond, but everyone calls me Mo.”
He shook her hand. “Name’s Jake. I’m the foreman around here.” His brow buckled. “Gotta say I’m flabbergasted. Boss don’t cotton much to women causing distractions on his ranch, and all. Unless he thinks ....” Jake coughed like he’d swallowed a horsefly.
“What?”
“Sorry, er, Mo. Just remembering a conversation the boss and I had the other day.” He snickered.
“Really.” She clenched her jaw, not in the mood for games. “Where’s Mr. Rafferty? If he thinks he’s going to change his mind, he’d better think again.” She stared hard at Jake, until he pointed to the barn. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him lumber after her, and Rusty followed close behind.
Mr. Rafferty was turning out to be an unexpected obstacle, but he’d made a deal to give her a fair shot, and she intended to hold him to it. Marching toward the barn, she reached the entrance and swung the door open wide. A puff of dust danced in the rays of sunlight, looking like glittering specks of gold, and a whiff of leather drifted across her nose.
Her eyes adjusted, and she scanned the interior as a light flicked on in the back room. She headed in that direction, but a horse nickered on the far right, halting her. A man with a pleasant laugh brushed the mane of a beautiful white horse. His strokes flowed long and even while he murmured soft words. The horse nuzzled him in return, until the man glided around the horse’s body.
Oh, good Lord, not him, too. First Jake and now the younger cowboy from last night. A lodge full of cowboys and the ones she would work with had to be the two who’d seen her make a fool of herself. Worse than that, the younger one was obviously her boss. He had to be Cody. His sister, Cassie, had picked her up at the airport. This guy had the same white-blond hair and pale-green eyes, along with a tall, athletic build.
Destiny Wears Spurs Page 2