Exquisite Acquisitions

by Charlene Sands

  “Good.”

  Macy’s heart raced and her exuberance spilled out. “Carter, I can’t tell you how excited I am about this.”

  He glanced at her lips as she spoke and then pierced her with a solid, no-fooling look. “I got that already.”

  Heat flushed her cheeks. She didn’t often blush, but Carter had a way of awakening emotions that didn’t usually surface.

  His gaze drifted to the mare and her colt. “How about Midnight?”

  “Midnight?” She swallowed. “For what?” Was he making a date with her? Surely, he didn’t want to talk budgets in the middle of the night. After the way he’d kissed her, the direction her mind traveled was X-rated. Then it dawned on her. “Oh, you mean as a name for the colt?”

  He grinned. “What else?”

  He was a tease, a heartthrob and a gorgeous hunk of man. “I like Midnight. It’s sort of…perfect.”

  “Midnight it is.” He tipped his hat and left the corral fence, ushering the horses into the barn for the night.

  When he disappeared through the double-wide doors, she strode into the house. She had an inn to refurbish. She would focus all of her energy on the task and not give Carter McCay more thought than absolutely necessary.

  She clung to that notion for dear life.

  * * *

  Two nights later, Macy sat at a bridge table in the parlor of the inn going over her decorating plans when a knock sounded at the door. She’d locked herself in, as Carter had instructed when the new dead bolts were installed. Glancing at her watch, she noted the time. It was after seven. She’d gotten carried away with paint and floor samples and didn’t realize the late hour. She’d missed dinner at the house with Carter.

  “Miss Tarlington? Are you all right in there?”

  She recognized the man’s raspy voice. She piled her notes and samples in a stack then stepped away from the table and opened the door to face Bill Fargo.

  “Sorry to bother you, miss. I’m doing my rounds, checking on things. And well…”

  “Let me guess. You have orders to check on me.”

  Contrite, he answered her with a quick smile. “Just doing my job.”

  “I’m fine in here. But, wow…I didn’t realize how late it was. Do you have time to come in for a minute? I’ll take a break.”

  He wore a cowboy hat, not the same as Carter’s, but it suited him in slate gray to match the rest of his attire. He looked as if he fit in around here already, though he’d been on the job less time than Macy had been at Wild River. He was the newbie.

  “I have a few minutes.” He stepped inside and took off his hat.

  “I’m working on plans for the house.” He followed her into the parlor just off the entranceway. “Please, have a seat.”

  On a nod, he pulled out one of the four folding chairs around the table and waited for her to sit before he took his seat.

  Gentlemanly charm got to her every time. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Would you like some iced tea? I have a thermos and an extra cup.”

  “That’d be nice. I’m a little thirsty.”

  Macy poured iced tea into two foam cups and handed him one. “So, you know my last name.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I do. I know who you are.”

  “Did Carter tell you?”

  He shook his head. “He told me your first name. I figured out the rest. I’m a drifter, but I’m not a recluse. I guess you could say, I enjoyed your mother’s work. She was a fine actress.”

  Macy had heard that compliment a thousand times. Her mother moved people with her acting ability, but it was her lifestyle and celebrity status that had kept her name in the limelight. “She was a wonderful mother.”

  “I’m sure you miss her.”

  “I do. The heart condition that claimed her life moved fast. One day she was healthy and vital, and it seemed the next she was frail and ill. But it was a blessing that she didn’t linger. I know that in my head, but I wanted more time with her.”

  “That’s understandable.” He sipped his drink and gave her a smile that reached his eyes. They were perceptive eyes, ones that had seen a lot of life. “Mr. McCay said you’re at the ranch for some solitude. I won’t breach that confidence. I keep to myself, too.”

  “Then you do understand.” Macy returned his smile before sipping her iced and then glanced at the paint chips on the table. “I could use a second opinion. I can’t quite decide. Would you mind?”

  “I can’t say I have decorating sense, but I know what I like.”

  Macy pulled out a string of paint samples that were attached to a metal ring. “I’m leaning toward Stone Mountain. There’s a hint of lavender in the grayish hue. I also like Chocolate Milk and Brown Sugar for the upstairs bedrooms. I can’t decide. I like them all.”

  Bill Fargo took a long time to look them over, his eyes assessing and his gaze thoughtful. “Can you choose more than one?”

  “I could. I was thinking of doing each room differently. Giving them their own personality.”

  “Then I think you’ve made wise choices.” He picked up a sample of Sage. “This one reminds me of the kitchen in the house I grew up in. It’s warm and friendly.”

  Macy grinned. “Really? I think so, too. That was my exact choice for the kitchen.” She leaned her elbows on the table and tilted her head toward him. “Where did you grow up?”

  Fargo’s face tightened a fraction and Macy immediately wished she hadn’t asked. Here she was, trying to keep her own background hidden only to pry into someone else’s life.

  “Oh, I grew up on the East Coast, but I’ve lived all over the country. I can’t say that my life was dull, that’s for sure.”

  There was no ring on his finger, but she wondered if Fargo had been married at one time.

  She commiserated. “Mine sure wasn’t.”

  Fargo’s mouth spread into a smile. “I’ll bet we both have stories to tell.”

  “I’d love to hear yours one day.”

  He rose from the table. “Maybe one day. But right now, I’d better get back to work. Can I give you a lift back to the house?”

  She peered out a slice of window the frayed curtains didn’t cover. “It’s getting dark. Rocky usually leads the way home, but Mara took the poor baby into town today to get his yearly vaccinations. Yes, I’d love a ride home.”

  Macy gathered her belongings, making sure to take the paint samples. Hopefully tomorrow the local painters she’d hired would start work upstairs. Macy didn’t know how long she’d be here at Wild River, but indefinitely wasn’t in the cards. She had a life to return to, but while she was here she wanted to accomplish as much as possible.

  * * *

  Later that night Macy sat up on her bed, tired of tossing and turning. Plaguing thoughts kept her from sleep, and she’d learned not to fight it. She rose from the bed and put on her silk robe. She felt stifled in her room, but it wasn’t the place or the heat that really bothered her. Her future loomed large in her mind tonight.

  She left Rocky soundly sleeping at the foot of her bed and envied his ability to sleep like the dead. What a watchdog. The door creaked as Macy opened it and tiptoed out of the room. The hallway, devoid of windows, was black as pitch. She padded her way down the corridor, feeling her way. Her shoulder bumped the wall with a soft thump. She quickly righted herself and continued, moving with more confidence now.

  She stepped on something. Sharp pain shot through her foot. Her toes curled. Caught off guard, she went down with a loud bang, her body hitting the hard tiled floor. “Ow! Oh, ow! Ow!” Her voice boomed through the hallway.

  Her body folded like an accordion. She grabbed her foot.

  “Macy?”

  Suddenly, Carter was there, bending over her. He came down on one knee and looked her over, searching her eyes first. The hallway was no longer dark as death. Carter was backlit with light coming from the living room. Water droplets covered his chest. He was wet. All over. Only a towel cover
ed him from waist to thigh. Her heart in her throat, the pain in her foot dulled. She stared at him.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I…I stepped on something.”

  Carter reached behind her and came up with Rocky’s rawhide bone. One end was gnawed to an arrowhead point. “Yep, that looks painful,” he said.

  Macy stared at his bare chest. Underneath those cotton shirts he wore lay a plank of hard abs and brawn fit enough for MuscleMag. She’d known he was mouthwatering, but seeing him in the raw was a whole lot better than her imagination had conjured up.

  “Let me take a look.” He lifted her leg and examined her foot. His hazel eyes scoured her from heel to toe as his fingers lightly caressed the pad of her foot. A tremble coursed the length of her leg where he held her firm. As she leaned back to allow his perusal, her robe slipped off her shoulders, trapping her arms. “Looks okay. No blood.” He lowered her foot down carefully.

  “Th-that’s good.”

  He leaned closer and used one finger to wipe away a droplet of water at the base of her throat. His slight touch heated her skin. “Didn’t mean to drip on you.”

  Drip all you want. Macy swallowed and forced a glance into his eyes. “It’s okay.”

  On bent knee, his gaze flowed over her like a rapidly moving river, taking all of her in. She was wearing a soft pink nightie that barely covered her thighs. He went there and then farther up to view the cleavage between her breasts. “Macy,” he said, eyes blazing. “Where were you going?”

  “I, uh, couldn’t sleep. I was going to stretch my legs. Maybe get a drink of water.” Thankfully, she was heading in the opposite direction of his bedroom, so he wouldn’t think she was desperate for something erotic and sinful.

  A lock of moist hair fell onto his forehead. A few beads of water ran down his face, and he dripped on her again. Oh wow. On second thought, yes, definitely something sinful. She peered at his chest again. It was hard not to. “What were you doing?”

  “I couldn’t sleep, either. Took a swim.”

  “I gathered. You, uh, you do have swim trunks on under that towel, right?”

  His eyes gleamed. “What if I said no?”

  Macy took a big swallow. “Then I’d know you like to go skinny-dipping in the moonlight.”

  “Nah,” he said, sending her a crooked smile. “Sorry to disappoint you. It’s not fun to skinny-dip without a partner. Ready?”

  Her eyes widened. “For a skinny-dip?”

  Carter winked. “Maybe one day, Hollywood. Are you ready to get up?”

  “Oh, um.” She nibbled on her lower lip, feeling foolish. She had to learn not to make assumptions. “Yeah, I should be okay to stand.”

  Without hesitation, he gripped her hand and put his other arm around her waist. “Easy now.” He bore the brunt of her weight as he set her onto her feet with care. He held her steady, but another spike of pain ran up her limb from the pressure of standing.

  “Oh!”

  Lowering his head to her level, Carter caught her attention. “You okay?”

  She was in his arms again. How could she not be okay? “It’s just a little sore.”

  “Hang on,” he said, then she was lifted up, and immediately her arm wound around his neck. He carried her caveman style to her bedroom. With care, he lowered her onto her bed. She clung to his neck a moment too long.

  It was dark and intimate and they were barely dressed.

  “Macy.” He held warning in his tone. He was half on, half off her bed, and she lay underneath him.

  He hesitated, glanced at her mouth, and she held her breath. Something flashed in his eyes and her desire escalated. What had gotten into her? She wanted to make love with a man she’d known only a few days.

  Carter blinked and took a deep breath before bringing his mouth down to lay claim to her lips. It was sheer heaven, having him kiss her again. Her heart pounded against her chest. His mouth was hot and demanding, but the kiss lasted only a few seconds before he pulled away. Carter rose to full height and stood over her bed. He spoke with a low rasp. “Get some rest, Macy. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She waited for him to walk out and shut the door before she slammed her head into the feather down pillow. Her foot ached, her ego was bruised and now she had nothing but counting ceiling tiles to look forward to tonight. She mumbled, “Yeah right, Carter. As if I could get any sleep now.”

  Seven

  The painters were in and out in three days and Macy was pleased at how the interior of the house was shaping up. It was amazing how much better the inn looked with a fresh coat of paint. The colors she’d chosen were soothing and subtle but with enough character to add charm and a sense of home. It was like putting the first brushstroke on an artist’s canvas. The rest of the picture was hers to create.

  With workmen making repairs, the place was shaping up nicely. Macy was proud of what she’d accomplished in such a short time. By the middle of her second week at Wild River, she had everything under control.

  “How do you like it, Rock?” she asked of her furry blond companion. They stood facing the front of the inn.

  Rocky turned his eyes toward the house and gave a quick little bark. There were times Macy wondered if the dog was half human. He seemed to know what she was saying most of the time.

  “Yeah, pretty great. I think so, too.”

  A team of landscapers were working diligently to tear up the weeds, retill the soil and ready the ground for the white iceberg roses she’d ordered to line the path leading up the house. Masons had already inlaid cobblestones in various areas of the garden.

  Things were moving fast.

  If she wasn’t careful, she’d be through here before she was ready to head home to Hollywood. She was almost broke and the thought of what she faced when she returned—life without her mother and without a plan of action, and the relentless paparazzi—was something she didn’t want to dwell on. Not when she found it easier and easier to sink into life at Wild River.

  She strode to the old gazebo. Her heart warmed every time she looked at it. The eternal optimist in her saw this gazebo restored to its one-time elegance. And as long as she was being hopeful, she imagined it as a glorious outdoor stage for a summer playhouse theater with her at the helm. Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake?

  Bill Fargo stepped up. He’d been meeting her at the house every afternoon since that time when they’d shared a glass of iced tea. It had gotten to be such a routine that when Macy packed her small cooler, she always brought enough lemonade, cookies or fruit for two.

  “Ready for a break, Bill?”

  “I am.”

  “I brought Mara’s lemon cookies today.”

  “My stomach’s grumbling already.”

  Macy retrieved the cooler from the house, and they sat on the gazebo’s steps this time. Rocky nuzzled Bill’s knee, and he began stroking the dog’s coat. Rocky liked Bill and so did Macy, though she didn’t know very much about him.

  “Did I ever tell you how I met the woman of my dreams and told her flat out, on that first night, we were destined for each other?”

  Macy shook her head, the whole time smiling. Bill told the best stories. “No, but it sounds romantic.”

  “It was back then. We were both in our twenties. We didn’t know each other at all. I saw her laughing in a group of my friends. I walked right up to her and we were introduced. It was 1972 and I was just out of college. Oh, her laugh was wonderful. I knew then, I was going to marry her. I told her that night. She thought I was crazy.” Bill got a distant look on his face, as if reliving the moment. “When you know, you know.”

  Macy’s encounters with love were nowhere close to that. She’d probably never been truly in love before. She didn’t have a good track record with the few men whom she’d thought she’d loved. She’d forgotten them pretty easily. And her mother? She’d had disastrous results in the love department, so Macy was curious at what Bill Fargo had meant.

  “But how do you know? For s
ure, I mean?”

  But his answer was interrupted when Carter pulled up to the inn and bounded out of the Jeep. Rocky took off, racing toward him, and the cowboy bent to give the dog several loving pats on the head. Then he strode over to them. The sight of him got Macy’s heart pumping hard.

  “Hey there,” he said to them both.

  They returned the greeting and Carter took a seat to the right of Macy, sandwiching her in between the two men. “Thought I’d stop by and see the progress.”

  “It’s coming along,” Macy said.

  “Macy’s doing a fine job. I’ve been checking on the house every day, and the transformation is outstanding,” Bill added.

  Carter nodded, then glanced at the opened cooler. “Those cookies for anyone in particular?”

  “Mara made them. Want one?”

  Carter grinned. “Does the sun shine?”

  Macy handed him a cookie. “The rooms are all painted, and I think you’ll like what you see in there.”

  “Okay.” He didn’t seem all that interested. “Glad you used the McManus brothers?”

  “Yes. They’re very good painters. Thanks for the recommendation.”

  “You’ll find that true of most the workmen in Wild River. They need the jobs. It means putting food on the table and keeping their kids clothed. They take pride in their work.”

  After a few minutes of jawing, as Carter would say, Bill rose and thanked Macy for the cookies then excused himself to get back to his rounds.

  Carter finally bit into his cookie, and his face lit up. “These are better than I remembered.” He finished one and then took another from the batch. Then matter-of-factly, he asked, “You coming to dinner tonight?”

  “Oh, I uh…” With the back of her hand, she brushed curls away from her forehead, buying time to think. She’d deliberately kept her distance from Carter, working late and missing meals with him. Humiliation was a hard thing to recover from, and after nearly throwing herself at him, she’d wanted to dig herself a hole and jump in. But she’d also been a little miffed at him, too. He wasn’t interested in her, and he’d made that abundantly clear. “Why do you ask?”