by Joanne Rock
Anticipation fired her movements as she returned one of the ranch’s all-terrain vehicles to an overflow bay in the mansion’s garage. She left the keys in the ignition, noticing that Xander’s pickup was there, but his sports car wasn’t. She hadn’t seen him at all around the ranch during the day, but he’d told her he’d pick her up at the cabin at seven.
Which left her less than two hours to get ready.
At least she didn’t have to spend any time choosing a dress, since she had only one possibility in her closet. Her lone black cocktail dress seemed like a boring option for an event like the gala, but it would have to suffice. Striding across the big horseshoe driveway toward her cabin, she noticed a sleek white Mercedes coupe parked in front of the main entrance of the Currin home.
As she neared the vehicle, the tall oak door of the house opened and Annabel Currin, Xander’s half sister, stepped out onto the porch. She carried an armful of dresses—turquoise silk and emerald satin hems peeking from beneath the plastic bags with the name of a pricey local boutique.
“Those look like some gorgeous gowns,” she called to her. She didn’t know Xander’s sister well, but Annabel had always been nice to her.
Tall and willowy, Annabel had been doubly blessed in the beauty department thanks to her Kenyan mother, Elinah, and movie-star handsome father, Ryder Currin. Frankie had seen photos of the couple before Elinah’s passing, and Xander’s stepmother had been stunning. Annabel favored her mom, with high cheekbones and dark brown eyes.
“Don’t make me second-guess myself!” Annabel warned her with a laugh as she rushed down the steps toward her car. “I decided to keep the yellow one for the gala tonight, but it was a tough call because I love them all. I was just loading these up to donate tomorrow.”
Frankie knew that Annabel was a local fashion and style blogger and often received samples from designers.
“Do you mean to tell me these are the rejects?” Frankie slowed her step as she neared Annabel’s car. A fresh pang of worry about the dress code hit her. “Do you think a cocktail dress will be okay for tonight, or will I feel really underdressed if I don’t have a gown?”
“You need a gown?” Annabel’s eyes widened. “You’re going to the gala?”
Frankie nodded, her anxiety doubling. “A cocktail dress is the wrong choice, isn’t it?”
“You can wear one of these! No need to return it, even. I’ll bet you are exactly my size.” Annabel looked her over.
She felt self-conscious, knowing that she’d never worn an article of clothing as fine as the dresses in Annabel’s arms.
“That’s far too generous,” she demurred. “I couldn’t possibly—”
“Nonsense.” Annabel clamped a hand on her wrist and tugged her toward the steps. “Cowgirl makeovers are my specialty.”
Was she serious? Frankie had seen a few makeovers on the successful blog.
“Annabel, I’m a mess.” Trepidation growing, she followed her onto the porch and through the front door, into the Currin family’s home, which was more like a palatial Western retreat.
“That’s why you’ll make such a rewarding subject.” Annabel headed straight for the grand staircase. “It will be fun.”
“But you need to get ready, too.” Frankie paused. “I don’t want to be in your way.”
“You won’t be. I can get myself ready in ten minutes flat, if necessary.” She shot her a level look. “Trust me, I timed myself and made a video for my beauty blog about paring down a routine when you’re in a hurry.”
Frankie laughed. “That’s impressive. Okay, I’m game if you are. But I should take my boots off.”
A few minutes later, they were in Annabel’s huge suite. Frankie had stepped inside the Currin home before, but she’d never been past the foyer. Now she peered around Annabel’s massive room in dove gray and off-white, the muted color scheme relaxing and peaceful. She listened to Annabel hum softly to herself while she hung the spare dresses on a narrow wall full of antique hooks near an old-fashioned changing screen. Then she reached into a shelf just inside the walk-in closet and emerged with a pink silk drawstring bag.
“Come with me.” Annabel waved her toward an open door to the en suite bath. “There’s an extra robe on the back of the bathroom door.” She peeked behind the door to be certain. “And toiletries in here.” She set down the pink silk bag on the marble vanity top. “While you shower, I’ll think about what we can do with your hair. Sound good?”
Touched at the thought of Annabel opening her home to her, sharing an expensive gown with her and walking her through getting ready for such a special night, Frankie found herself at a loss for words. She feared if she tried saying thank you she would embarrass herself by bursting into grateful tears.
Nodding, she took refuge in the giant bathroom, surrounded by sleek white marble and pale gray tile accents. A bouquet of gardenias and white clematis spilled over a pewter vase, filling the air with fragrant notes. She washed up as fast as possible, making sure to remove all traces of Texas dust. When she was certain she was spotless, she toweled off with one of the fluffy bath sheets that Annabel had set out for her. Beside the towels, she saw the pink silk drawstring bag. Inside, she found pretty, barely-there underthings with tags still attached, along with a spare toothbrush and sample-sized toiletries. After brushing her teeth, she slid into the spare white robe.
When she opened the door to Annabel’s suite, the space had been transformed. The recessed lights were on a dimmer, so that the bed and living area were now darkened. The brightest area of the room was now the corner that had been behind the changing screen. The painted screen had been folded aside to reveal an old-fashioned dressing table. The whitewashed French country piece had yellow and blue stenciled flowers on the drawers, and a round mirror was illuminated by wall sconces on either side. A small leather stool sat in front of the vanity.
“Are you ready for your makeover?” Annabel waved her deeper into the suite and Frankie noticed her hostess had applied her own makeup in the interim. “I’ve got your seat ready for you.”
“I can’t believe you’re doing all this for me.” As she dropped down onto the leather stool, she tried to articulate the gratitude that had seized her before the shower. “You’re like a fairy godmother.”
“This is fun for me,” Annabel assured her. “I never really found my place on the ranch, but the style business suits me.”
She talked a little more about her work in fashion and beauty blogging, then chatted about her fiancé, Mason Harrison, an executive at Currin Oil. Frankie found herself relaxing while she let Annabel dry her hair and set it in hot rollers, something Frankie had seen but never used.
“So who are you going to the gala with tonight?” Annabel asked once she’d moved on to makeup.
She tipped Frankie’s face this way and that, studying it in the light before reaching for a palette of colors in shades of cream to dark brown.
“Xander, actually.” She explained about the rodeo and the deal they’d made. “So it’s not like a date or anything. Just his way of making sure I didn’t break my neck, I guess.”
Annabel stiffened, dropping the compact she’d been holding.
“Annabel?” Frankie leaned forward to pick up the pretty red case with all the powders. “Are you okay?”
Had she said something wrong?
“I’m fine.” The other woman seemed to force a smile. “Sorry about that, I just got distracted for a moment. You know, we should choose the gown before we do any more. So I can use the right colors for your face.”
Was it Frankie’s imagination, or had Annabel been in a hurry to change the subject? But since she didn’t want to make her hostess uncomfortable, she hopped out of the chair to try on dresses. While she was in the huge closet—really like a room of its own, with a chandelier and padded window seat—trying on the first one, she could hear Annabel talkin
g in the other room. When she emerged in the turquoise silk, however, Annabel was alone, texting on her phone.
She glanced up and gasped. “Oh, Frankie, that one is going to be the winner.”
“Really?” She couldn’t help a pleased smile. “I tried it on first because it was my favorite.”
“It’s a perfect color on you. I love the way it makes your eyes even greener.” Annabel steered her in front of an antique cheval mirror. “What size are your feet?”
“Nine.” She hadn’t thought about shoes.
“That’s Maya’s size. She’ll have something in her room to go with the dress, but I really think this one is the winner.” She smoothed the hem and frowned down at Frankie’s toes. “We’d better hustle if we want to get those toenails painted. Oh!” She gripped Frankie’s forearm. “I almost forgot. Xander texted me about something else and when I mentioned you were here, he asked me to tell you that he’s sending a car for you. His meeting ran late, but he’ll have your ticket hand-delivered for you, and then Xander will meet you at the gala.”
Frankie hadn’t realized how much she was looking forward to seeing Xander tonight until that bit of news burst a hopeful bubble inside her. It was just as well that she keep in mind her Cinderella moment ended with her fairy godmother makeover. Xander wasn’t really her date tonight, so she needed to focus on making contacts at the gala and enjoying just being there.
Romance wasn’t on the agenda and the sooner she got it through her head, the better.
* * *
Xander waited for the meeting to end inside the specialty golf suite that his father had booked for the Texas Cattleman’s Club VIPs to gather before the gala. He wanted to get out of here and find his date. He was looking forward to the night more than he ought to be, given that it was supposed to be an opportunity for Frankie to network. She had been in his thoughts far too often today.
For now, he was stuck in the golf suite. The Four Seasons in Houston had ballrooms to host the gala downstairs, but Ryder Currin had gathered his powerful friends ahead of time to discuss TCC business. The sports-themed suite upstairs contained a golf simulator like the pros used, and guests who weren’t taking swings could relax on the leather couches or at a small bar. Normally, Xander didn’t care much about golf, but he picked up a club now to try his luck at the simulator while his father continued to discuss last-minute details for the gala. He was restless and wanted to work out the edginess.
Lining up a shot on the green, Xander resented being here and dealing with local politics instead of escorting Frankie to what was most likely the first gala she’d ever attended.
Damn it, he hadn’t wanted to meet her at the event, but he couldn’t very well walk out of a meeting his father had asked him personally to attend. Ryder wanted Xander there in case his archrival, Sterling Perry, crashed the meeting.
The tension in his shoulders made him slice right, the ball bouncing into a water feature on the simulator’s huge video screen. Continuing to play while the meeting got tense behind him, Xander heard his father arguing with someone about Sterling Perry. The two men had a history of enmity that started before Xander was born, so he didn’t pretend to know all the nuances. There’d been rumors that Ryder had had an affair with Sterling’s then-wife, Tamara. But Xander had never bought that. He figured Sterling just hated his dad because Ryder had once worked as a ranch hand for Tamara Perry’s wealthy father, Harrington York, and inherited a small piece of property in that man’s will. The property proved to be rich in oil and made Ryder a very wealthy man.
Sterling had resented the hell out of Xander’s dad ever since, and the feud seemed to have taken on new life with the Texas Cattleman’s Club opening a Houston branch. Both men wanted control, and Ryder’s play to host the fund-raising gala tonight was probably a point in his favor.
Xander took a couple more swings, perfecting the shot he’d messed up the first time. But as he checked his watch and saw the time, he decided enough was enough for playing politics.
He was about to tell his father he was going downstairs to find his date when a woman entered the golf suite.
All of his father’s cronies—eight men and a couple of women including his assistant, Liane Parker—stared as Angela Perry, Sterling’s daughter, strode deeper into the room. Angela wore her long blond hair in a simple knot, her red dress simple and understated. Xander guessed she was under forty, though not by much, and she was already the executive vice president of Perry Holdings.
What the hell was she doing here?
He only had a moment to wonder about it when his father broke away from the rest of the group to stride toward her. He slid an arm around her waist and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.
Well, holy hell.
“You look stunning,” he overheard his father say.
Xander damn near swallowed his tongue, and he guessed the rest of the room did the same. Ryder Currin was dating Angela Perry, daughter of Sterling, the man he hated most in the world? Apparently his dad didn’t practice what he preached about loyalty to blood and putting the family business first.
Returning his golf club to the rack near the simulator, Xander left the room to find his own date. Tonight was already getting off to a rocky start. But he still had something to look forward to this evening. Because he couldn’t wait to see Frankie. He hadn’t felt this pumped about a date since—
His heart hitched at the thought of Rena.
He pushed the thought aside. This didn’t have to be complicated. He could just enjoy the moment. The date.
The woman.
Ten minutes later, entering the gala space glowing with candlelight from standing wrought iron fixtures, Xander searched the room for Frankie. He scanned past some of the Perry Holdings bigwigs, including Tatiana Havery and her brother laughing together, and a few ranchers he recognized at the bar.
Xander had almost given up finding her when... He did a double take.
Frankie?
Frankie.
She stood out in her turquoise gown all the more since she lingered with her back to a wall of bright fuchsia orchids. The Flood Relief Gala theme was “Blooming through Adversity,” so flowers of all kinds filled the Four Seasons ballroom, but she outshone them all. Frankie’s dark hair curled in soft waves around her face, so different from the functional ponytail she wore every day for work. Faceted crystals dangled from her ears, almost skimming her bare shoulders. Two delicate straps held up her close-fitting silk gown adorned with sequins, the shape fitted until it flared around her knees, mermaid style.
More beautiful than any woman in the room, she turned heads all around her as the orchestra launched into a slow song. The lights dimmed, and in his peripheral vision, he noticed couples take to the dance floor. But Xander couldn’t take his eyes off Frankie as she clutched a tiny silver bag between both hands. She peered about the gala, as if looking for someone.
Him, no doubt.
He kicked himself for not getting down here sooner.
Pulled to her, he wished he’d brought her flowers. Done anything to make this evening more romantic and memorable for her. Because he couldn’t deny it any longer. He wanted Frankie Walsh, and pretending otherwise wasn’t going to make this keen need to have her disappear.
He snapped off an orchid bloom from a display spilling out of a silver urn near an ice sculpture of the new TCC building. He carried it over to her, his eyes holding hers every step of the way until he reached her.
“You look...incredible.” He lifted her hand and brought it to his lips, lingering while her startled gaze collided with his.
Her eyes were deep green, like a lush field of spring grass. Her mouth was painted a bright shade of rosy pink, making him crave a taste of her. The scent of her skin—peaches and roses—stirred a deeper hunger.
“May I have this dance?” He tucked the bloom behind her ear, wondering how she�
�d managed the transformation from muddy cowgirl to exotic society beauty. He’d always found her attractive, but that attraction had been one-dimensional. Seeing this side of her, too, made her come to life in a multifaceted way that rivaled the earrings grazing her shoulders.
No one would ever guess she’d spent half the day digging out a leaking irrigation system for repairs. Or that he’d had to stop her from entering a bronc riding event just the night before.
How many more hidden depths did this woman have?
“Yes, I’d love to dance.” Her quick agreement, softly spoken, gave no hint of the strong, stubborn will that lurked beneath this delicate feminine guise.
Gratefully, he led her to the dance floor, wrapping her hand in his, stroking his thumb lightly over the center of her palm while they walked. He set her purse on their reserved table along the way.
When he reached an empty corner of the hardwood floor, he took his time skimming his hand down her back until it rested in the center. The back of her gown was low-cut enough that his palm grazed bare skin above the zipper, the tantalizing feel of her filling his senses.
Her fingers rested on his shoulder and she looked him in the eye as he swept them into the dance, moving with her easily. He wasn’t letting her go tonight if he could help it. Frankie Walsh had become too much of a distraction for him to pretend otherwise.
But first, he couldn’t resist teasing her while they swayed together.
“I’ve never seen you here before. May I ask your name?”
Four
Seriously?
Frankie’s step faltered.
She knew that Annabel had transformed her. From the magic of makeup that gave her smoky cat’s eyes complete with winged eyeliner, to the elegant dress and jewelry, the makeover was complete. But she wouldn’t have guessed she’d be unrecognizable. She felt a flare of irritation that Xander would dance with another woman when—as far as he knew—he hadn’t even taken the time to find his date yet.