“So your grandfather is against horse racing?”
She shook her head. “Not against, per se, but he thinks the Quarter horse training should take precedence, or that I should start training Quarter-Racers. But I’m going to put us on the map as more than that.” There was steel in her voice, quickly tempered when she opened her eyes. “Or I was until our…”
“Until our…whatever this is came along and messed up your plans?” Before she could deny it, he waved a hand. Suddenly he couldn’t stand the feminine confines of the room and stood. “It’s okay. We’re here and I’m on-board for the next few weeks. After that, you’re on your own. But that’s how you want it, isn’t it? I’d better get to Mitchum’s study. Which way?”
• • •
Kathleen watched the closed door for several minutes after Jackson left, feeling as if the air had left the room with him. He hadn’t said anything she didn’t already know. This wasn’t a love match. It wasn’t even a like match. It was a please-don’t-ruin-my-plans match. For her at least. She didn’t want to love anyone, especially not Jackson Taylor, who had broken her heart every day her freshman year.
Frustrated with herself she left her chair and began straightening the already pristine room. This was her plan, darn it. Her idea. She could deal with Jackson Taylor now; she wasn’t a simpering eighteen-year-old any longer. He was bailing her out and she should be grateful. She was grateful.
With nothing left to do in the sitting room, she continued into her bedroom and stopped cold. Her hands became clammy as she realized that in just a few hours she would be sharing her bed with Jackson, like it or not. How could she do that?
She couldn’t. Not and keep her heart firmly under control.
Peeking into the hall, she saw it empty and hurried to the linen closet at the end. She grabbed a few blankets and extra pillows before hurrying back inside. Through the sitting room and into her bedroom, she quickly made up a pallet on the floor between her bed and the window — a pallet that no one would see unless they came all the way into the bedroom. If Jackson didn’t want to sleep on the floor, then she would.
Suddenly tired, she twisted the taps on the claw-foot tub in her bathroom and waited as hot water filled the tub and steam filled the room. She felt as if she still had sand in areas where sand should never be. Clipping her long hair at the nape of her neck, she pushed her traveling clothes through the laundry chute and then sank into the blissful heat and bubbles, trying to push Jackson Taylor out of her mind.
Four weeks. If she could just stop worrying for four weeks, everything would turn out as she had planned.
• • •
Jackson made his way to Mitchum’s study, wondering at the seemingly endless hallways, the collection of antique vases filled with fresh flowers, and the Persian rugs covering the hardwood floors. He’d been to enough fashion shoots to know the real thing when he saw it. He had enough money to buy his own expensive rugs to soften the atmosphere of his Greenwich Village apartment, but refused to bother. His apartment was just a place to crash between photo shoots, and if his upcoming show at one of Manhattan’s best museums was successful he would be on the road twice as often. Traveling to the far reaches of the planet, photographing anything that interested him. Never in any one place long enough to get bored or put down roots.
It sounded like heaven, especially with the evidence of the roots he would never have all around him.
Suddenly the life he envisioned didn’t seem quite as bright, but Jackson put his unwelcome thoughts down to too much alcohol and not enough sleep over the past few days. He needed serious sack time if they were going to pull off Kathleen’s big plan to get control of the ranch for her birthday. Before he could get that sleep, though, he had one more hurdle. A confab with Mitchum.
He took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the study.
Bookshelves filled with well-worn, leather-bound first editions covered three walls. The fourth, directly behind Mitchum’s desk, opened on the vast hills of Texas. Wildflowers covered the grass, more horses frolicked in the pastures and he wondered which were working and which were Kathleen’s show horses. Did they all play together, as children did in day-care?
He shook himself. He needed to concentrate or Mitchum would see through their scheme in two seconds flat.
Mitchum motioned him to one of the leather, wing-back chairs facing the massive cherry-wood desk. Papers and old-fashioned ledgers littered the desktop, a gold lamp with a green shade offered unneeded light, and a phone that looked like a relic from the 1950s sat in one corner. No computer that Jackson could see. Just pens and pencils in every known color, and paper.
Mitchum was truly old school. He was beginning to understand Kathleen’s fear and awe of the man. This only served to annoy him further. He didn’t want to feel anything for any of these people. He had enough on his plate for the next few weeks without growing fond of Kathleen’s family.
He had a mission — track down Maria. Find out about his past. Close that chapter of his life and continue making obscene amounts of money by taking pictures of beautiful women, gorgeous scenery and seldom visited places.
He wasn’t quite sure what he expected, maybe a request for his Social Security Number, but Mitchum’s, “How do you like the house?” had him stumped for a moment. He offered Jackson a cigar from a box on the desk. Surely the older man wanted more from him than a smoke and a casual conversation about antique vases and flowers?
“It’s a beautiful home, sir,” Jackson managed, taking the cigar and sniffing it. The aroma was sickly sweet but he smiled as if he enjoyed it. Sitting, he crossed his ankle over his knee and tried to look relaxed in the chair. He had the sick feeling Mitchum could see through every expression and word he said. “Kathleen told me about the ranch but I have to confess I never imagined more than a log cabin or simple frame house.”
Mitchum preened. “My granddaddy built this place. His mail-order bride was from Philadelphia society and he thought she’d be more comfortable here than in the homestead. Have Kath show it to you one of these days. What a hoot!” He laughed, lit his cigar, and then got down to business. “Kathy-bean loves it here, you know. Now that I think about it, I don’t recall you ever coming by as a kid.”
He wouldn’t, Jackson thought, because he’d never been invited to his own West Texas home much less been allowed to tag along to dinner parties or barbecues. Even on school vacations he’d been expected to stay on the campus. The one time he’d come back — Jackson pushed the thought away.
Mitchum offered matches and a cigar clip to Jackson but he declined.
Jackson knew the loaded comment went deep for Mitchum. It was his way of telling Jackson he belonged here now. Of telling him not to expect to fly back to New York — or any city closer than Dallas — for more than a few days. Jackson felt the room grow smaller at the thought.
“I know just how important the ranch is to Kath. How important the showing at World’s is — ” Mitchum shrugged at this. Did the man really not understand Kathleen’s need to create something of her own from his legacy? “How important training the working horses is to her. I know all of this is sudden for you, but I don’t have any plans to take Kathleen away from the ranch. It’s her home.” That, at least, was the full truth.
After seeing Kathleen for a few hours in Mexico and now at her home, he could see how much she loved — needed — the ranch and the space it provided. Just another sign that the two of them were ill-matched.
The words were as much for his own benefit as for Mitchum’s. It wouldn’t do to forget this home would never be his. No amount of money could buy the kind of ties Kathleen had. Just like the lack of rugs and plants in his New York apartment reminded him that he had no one to fall back on. No one to disappoint. And that was the way he liked his life.
“You have to be giving up a lot to move out to a Texas
ranch, though,” Mitchum said.
Jackson shrugged. “I’m a photographer. I can work from anywhere that has good light and a subject. From what I’ve seen, the Hill Country has plenty of both.”
“Are you going to see Janice and Ty while you’re here?”
Jackson shrugged noncommittally, resisting the urge to squirm under Mitchum’s direct gaze and the need to move his now-asleep right foot. “Janice and Ty haven’t been interested in my life to this point, I’m not sure why they would want to know anything now.” He flexed his toes, trying to wake his slumbering limb. It was time to cut to the chase, not run from Mitchum’s unsaid questions.
“This can’t be what you expected when Kath left for vacation last week. It isn’t want I expected when I went to Vallarta for an assignment. But as sudden and as unreal as it all seems, I’m not here to hurt your granddaughter or raid the family coffers to fund my life in New York. I own a multi-million dollar photography studio and personally took home a salary in the high-six-figures last year. That may not be a lot to your family, but it’s plenty for me. Any of my photographers can pinch-hit if we’re overbooked or if I’m needed elsewhere.”
He drew in a breath, hoping Mitchum wouldn’t have a problem with a fine arts photographer in the family. Even if said fine arts photographer was only around for a limited time. “I’ve also got an art showing in a few weeks. My first. Something I’ve always wanted to do.”
Mitchum inhaled and exhaled several times, each time sinking farther back into his desk chair. Finally, he leaned back and crossed his booted feet on the credenza, for all the world looking like an oil tycoon from the old days. “I already know about your income, your reputation in New York and the upcoming show.” He motioned to a few papers on his desk. “That doesn’t interest me.”
Jackson clenched his jaw, wondering just how far Mitchum’s private detective had gotten while they were flying home. Not that it mattered. Jackson wasn’t proud of his past but he would not run from it, either. He tossed the cigar back on Mitchum’s desk and stood.
“Now don’t get all upset, I was just protecting Kathy-bean,” Mitchum cajoled. His booted feet hit the floor with a thump as he stood. He poked his cigar in Jackson’s face. “What I found is that you’ve built up quite the business since UTEP, despite doing it without the Henderson money behind you. You’ve got a solid reputation and you do good work for your clients. That’s all any man can ask for his family. So, welcome to the family, son,” he said.
Jackson was torn between relief that he had apparently been found worthy of the great Witte family and remorse because deep down inside he knew he wasn’t.
Chapter Six
The rabbit hole was getting larger, thanks to a horse in the swimming pool.
Jackson took a wrong turn shortly after leaving Mitchum’s office. So far he’d found a solarium filled with exotic ferns, bonsai trees, a flower that had to be Hawaiian, and orchids. The different plant species should have looked odd together but instead the room awed him. The kitchen, empty of people but filled with every possible appliance, was massive. A stainless fridge and glass-fronted wine cooler dominated the space.
A fleet of employees had to be needed to keep the ranch running but so far Jackson had met no one but Guillermo. Another staircase, two half-baths, and a gym filled with Nautilus equipment were down another hallway. And now he stood on a lanai with a swimming pool, hot tub, and a lap pool, the kind that pushed water toward a swimmer so he could swim miles in a tiny space. This must have been the pool Guillermo and Kathleen were talking about earlier.
He watched as, near one of the barns, a horse was led into his own private pool. These people needed to get a serious grip. Could horses even swim?
He spotted Kathleen near the barn, supervising the swimming horse and the worker standing over him. Or her. It? Afternoon nap forgotten, Jackson crossed the yard.
“Mitchum just welcomed me to the family,” he said and then, lowering his voice, “but I’m not sure I want to be even a short-term family member to people who build swimming pools for their horses.”
He expected anger to light Kathleen’s eyes but as she turned to him, he saw laughter. “It’s hydrotherapy, not swimming. We use the pool as resistance training for the younger horses but for Trio here, the pool is true therapy. He took a bad fall at a rodeo a few weeks ago. Take him a little deeper, Barney, I’ll be in in a second. See that wrap?” She turned back to Jackson and pointed to the white wrapping that he could barely see around the horse’s lower leg. Barney, the other trainer, led the horse in until the water brushed his undercarriage.
Scooting off the side of the pool, Kathleen joined the man and the animal in the water. Barney quickly jumped up onto the side of the pool, leaving Kathleen alone in waist-deep water with a thousand pound animal. Jackson wasn’t sure how to feel, other than petrified she might get hurt.
She started talking, her voice modulated low. “Using hydrotherapy, we can help him regain the strength in his knee. It’s his best chance at competing again.”
Jackson was surprised at the steel once more in Kathleen’s voice. She’d been so upset in Mexico he had wondered if she were capable of dealing with tough situations. Obviously, she could. At least with situations not involving Mitchum.
Taking the horse’s halter in one hand, she guided him forward and then backward through the rushing pool water, whispering as if she could will the horse to a full recovery. Well, she’d talked him into this fake marriage. Willing a horse to recover should be child’s play compared to that feat.
She and Barney worked with Trio in the pool for nearly an hour while Jackson watched. Hands sure, the more they worked the more demanding she was with the animal. Pushing him as if he could understand what she wanted from him. Maybe he could. Kathleen never backed down, even when the horse shied away. She moved in front of him. Sweat broke out on her brow and lines of strain deepened at the corners of her mouth. Her light tee-shirt was plastered to her back, from sweat as much as from the water in the pool.
She kept working, pushing the horse harder and harder until Jackson was certain the horse would revolt or Kath would sink below the water in exhaustion.
Neither happened. A few moments later Barney led Trio from the pool as Kathleen lifted herself from the water. She rubbed down the wet horse, telling him what a good job he did all the while, before Barney took him back into the barn. Jackson helped Kathleen to her feet, ignoring the sparks of electricity passing from her hands to his.
Her shorts and tee-shirt stuck to her like a second skin, accentuating the curve of her hips and the weight of her breasts. Jackson couldn’t breathe.
Kathleen slipped her bare feet into hot pink flip-flops, her blue painted toenails poking between the thongs. Sweat broke out on his palms.
This wasn’t going to work. There was no way he could live with Kathleen for the next four weeks and not make a complete fool of himself. He took a step back as the truth about his decision to come to Texas finally revealed itself. It wasn’t just that he felt guilty for proposing, it wasn’t just that he wanted to help a friend. He’d agreed to this crazy plan because he wanted Kathleen. In his bed. Maybe even in his life, long term.
In his head Jackson knew he had a job to do: convince Mitchum they were in love until Kathleen’s birthday. After that, they would both move on with their lives. Getting attached to Kathleen in the meantime was a colossal mistake which he didn’t want to make but one that his heart was already making.
He had to get out. Get away and get his head on straight before he said — or did — something they would both regret.
Getting to San Antonio tomorrow morning was the first step in remembering why falling for Kathleen would be the biggest mistake of his life. Staying away from her tonight would require some fancy footwork.
“I was…um…just going for a walk. What time does our next act start?”
Kathleen bit her lip, confusion painted on her face. Did she feel this connection, too? Or was she only reliving her college crush? Suddenly Jackson needed to know, but he didn’t know how to ask without implying some sort of future for the two of them.
“Dinner’s at six. I could — ”
Before she could say more, could ask him anything he hurried around the side of the barn.
• • •
He hated her. She should never have suggested this stupid plan. Should never have talked him into playing happily ever after with her, even for just a few weeks. She liked her memories of Jackson the way they were — where he was aware of her, liked her well enough. Where she could pretend that maybe, someday, they would have that perfect first date.
But she had ruined her memories and possibly her future with one stupid trip south of the border. She sat down heavily beside the hydrotherapy pool, dangling her feet in the water. She should let him off the hook. Tonight, after dinner she would help him pack his things. Send him back to New York where he so obviously longed to be.
She would deal with Grandfather, put her plans for the ranch on hold, and find a job with a competing stable operation if needed. She could train horses anywhere, and she was young enough that starting over wouldn’t hurt her prospects. Much.
Mickey, a dun Quarter horse, nickered from across the paddock and her heart skipped a beat. Mickey and Stargazer were the horses she would worry over after Grandfather sold the ranch. She’d rescued them both just over a year ago from an owner who wanted to put them down because they weren’t “breed perfect”. They had a genetic disorder causing tremors and in some cases partial paralysis. For both, the tremors were minor but the owner hadn’t cared about anything except the prize winnings the horses would not bring in for his operation.
Here, the horses had peace and a place to live out their days. Good medical care when needed. There were other horse rescue venues out there, but would she be able to place the horses together? They relied on one another now. Splitting them up would break their hearts. Would break her heart.
Texas Temptation Page 25