As her comment sank in, he began to laugh. “It already has.” He pressed her against his groin. “As I’m sure you can tell.”
She shook her head and smiled. “Cowboys. Gotta love ’em.”
“I’m glad you think so. And I have a much better treat in mind than strawberry ice cream.”
“No.” She pushed gently on his chest.
He let her go. “You’re not leaving until tomorrow.”
“Actually, I’m leaving in an hour. I’ve decided to spend my last night in Bozeman.”
Pain sliced him to ribbons. “Don’t.”
She gazed at him, her blue eyes cloudy with unhappiness. “I can’t risk another night here. I’m losing myself on this ranch.”
“Or finding yourself.”
“You don’t understand.” She combed her hair back with trembling fingers. “I’m Cleo Griffin, the woman who takes sizzling photos of men. That’s the niche I’ve carved out for myself, and there aren’t that many niches available, believe me.”
“I’ve never asked you to stop doing that.” He didn’t like it, but he knew better than to ask her to give it up.
“I know you haven’t” Her smile was sad. “That would have been easy. I could have laughed in your face and refused to abandon my career.”
“Don’t end what we have, Cleo.” The tightness in his chest threatened to turn into full-fledged panic. She couldn’t be leaving in an hour. Less than an hour now. “We can work something out, something that’s good for both of us. Let’s try at least.”
She shook her head. “I came here on a manhunting expedition. I wanted the calendar subjects, of course, but I also wanted a man who would...give me what I need. And the joke is, I found him.”
“I have a feeling I won’t find this very funny.”
“It is funny, if you just keep your perspective. I went out on a shoot this morning.”
“I know.”
“I’ve lost the ability to shoot sexy pictures, Tom.”
He was ashamed of the selfish joy he found in that fact. “What happened?”
“It was pretty horrible, actually. Here was this gorgeous hunk of a cowboy, Jake Collins.”
“I know Jake.” And he was damn glad he hadn’t realized who her thirteenth cowboy was. Jake was eligible, and he had a hell of a reputation for pleasing women.
“I tried to get into the mood, to create that chemistry that makes my calendar shots special.” She gazed at him. “All I could think about was you.”
Damn, he loved hearing that, but he shouldn’t love it. She was telling him she might have just committed career suicide. That was the term Deidre had used to explain why she couldn’t have their baby. Well, it seemed he’d contributed to career suicide once again. “Maybe...maybe you’ll get the feeling back.” He forced himself to say it because he knew that’s what she wanted.
“That’s why I’m leaving today. The sooner I get away from here, the sooner I can try to find my old self.”
He had no answers for her. Even if he thought she’d be happy as a ranch wife, he was on the brink of losing the Whispering Winds. “What we had was good, Cleo. I refuse to believe it’ll ruin either of us.”
“Let’s hope not.” The white hat he’d loaned her the morning of the cattle drive was hanging from a hook on the barn wall. She retrieved it and held it out to him. “I was going to drop this by your office, but you’ve saved me the trouble.”
He left his hands at his sides. “I don’t want the hat back. I couldn’t let another woman wear it, not considering the way I feel about you. If you don’t want it, drop it in a trash can on your way to the airport”
She lowered her hand to her side. “You’ll receive a check for...for our...photo session.”
“I don’t want a check.”
“But—”
“Don’t you dare send me money, as if what we shared was a business deal. If you do, I’ll tear up the check and send you the pieces.”
She swallowed. “I always knew you were stubborn, cowboy.”
“I always knew you were, too, lady.” He had to give her credit. She was gutting out this final scene like a trouper, even though he knew she must be dying inside, just as he was.
“Well, then, I guess this is it. Goodbye, Tom. Good luck.”
“Same to you.” Watching her walk away was like facing a major operation without anesthetic. He knew he was in for some of the worst pain of his life, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to ease it
A HOME-PREGNANCY test kit might be wrong, Cleo thought She might have flubbed the test she administered to herself early that morning, and she really should see a doctor before going into a panic. Funny thing, though, she wasn’t in a panic. Maybe that would set in later, when she faced the consequences of her behavior. Right now, sitting in her workroom and looking at the contact sheet containing pictures of her potentially viable baby’s father, she was feeling the first moment of joy since she’d walked away from Tom on that warm June afternoon.
It had been a rough six weeks. Some days she had wondered if life was worth the effort. But she’d had to keep going, trying to sort everything out. Maybe she’d just been waiting for this day, even though she wasn’t sure what to do with her new information.
Bernie knocked on the frame of the open workroom door. “Can we talk?”
Cleo tossed the contact sheet down and swiveled her chair around. “Sure. What about?”
Bernie threw up her hands. “About what, the woman says. Cleo, it’s been six weeks since you came back from Montana. I gave you time to recover from the trip. I gave you time to roam the city thinking up new calendar ideas, although I haven’t heard any results from that search. Besides that, we not only don’t have a cover shot chosen for the Montana calendar, we don’t have a final decision on whether we’re doing twelve months or thirteen. Calvin’s calling here every day wanting a meeting, and we...” She paused and stared at the poster-size nude hanging on the workroom wall. Then she sauntered forward, hands on hips, and peered at it “Sweet heaven.”
Cleo smiled. “That’s not one of the photos I was considering.”
Bernie continued to stare at the poster. “You’ve done some good work, toots, but I gotta tell you, this is beyond good. I didn’t know you took any nudes while you were down there.”
“This was sort of...” She paused to dear her throat. “Serendipity.”
“Photographic genius, is what it is. Gallery stuff. You got any more?”
“That’s the best one, but there are a couple of others I like, too.” Cleo picked up the contact sheet with the shots of Tom on it. She hadn’t been able to look at them until last week, but once she had, she couldn’t seem to look at anything else. She could spend hours, had spent hours, staring at those shots.
She handed Bernie the contact sheet she’d been holding back for weeks, unwilling to let anyone see the pictures of Tom until she’d decided what to do about them.
Bernie glanced quickly over the sheet and back to Cleo. “And who’s this?” she asked softly.
“Tom McBride.”
Bernie reached for Cleo’s arm and hauled her out of her chair. “Come into my office and pour yourself some coffee, girl, while I put the phone lines on hold. Aunt Bernie needs to find out what’s been happening with her Cleo.”
Sprawled in a chair across the desk from Bernie, Cleo sipped coffee that wasn’t half as good as Juanita’s and told Bernie the whole story, right up through the photo shoot with the kids. She’d shown Bernie the pictures of Rosa and Peter before shipping them to Juanita, but she hadn’t made a big deal of them at the time.
She drained the last of the coffee, thinking that she’d have to start cutting back on it now. “I guess the bottom line is that Tom’s was the last calendar session I...enjoyed.” She put the empty mug on Bernie’s desk. “The next day I forced myself to take those shots of Jake, but I loved every minute of shooting the kids. Can you beat that?”
Bernie looked as if she’d gone into s
hock.
Cleo waved her hand in front of Bernie’s face. “Still in there, Bern?”
“My life is passing before my eyes.”
“I know what you mean.” Cleo slouched farther down in the chair. “I’ve been hoping for weeks that the urge to shoot hunks would come back. I even got another idea for a calendar.”
“Yeah?” Bernie’s expression took on more life.
“Fitness instructors, personal trainers.”
“Hey, that’s a dynamite concept, Cleo! Yeah. Sweat, and skimpy shorts, and bulging biceps. Let’s see. We could call it Muscle Men, or Barbell Brawn, or—”
“We’re not calling it anything. I have zero interest in shooting it. I visited some gyms, tried to work up the old enthusiasm, feel the old zing of sexual interest. I struck out, Bernie.”
Bernie sat forward and rubbed her hands over her face. “I feel like the jockey on a Derby contender that just came up lame.”
“That’s why I’ve put off telling you. I’ve been hoping the problem was temporary, but I’m afraid it’s not.”
“I knew something had happened in Montana. You haven’t been the same since you got home.” Bernie sighed and sat back in her chair. “So one night of fantastic sex with Rancher McBride, and every other man is chopped liver to you, is that what you’re telling me?”
“Well, there is one other little detail.”
“I can’t think of anything more catastrophic than this. Hit me.”
“I’m pregnant.”
Bernie rolled her eyes. “That would be it.”
TOM SELDOM DRANK, but the evening seemed to call for a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Feet propped on his desk, he tossed back a shot of whiskey. Yeah, that was just what he’d needed.
“Tom?”
He glanced toward the door to find an amazing sight—Juanita with a tray of sandwiches. She must really be worried about him to break her own rules like this. “I figured the kitchen was closed hours ago,” he said, grinning.
“You’re not eating worth a damn, so I’m bringing you some food.” She stalked into the room, glared at the bottle on the corner of his desk and smacked the tray down next to his booted feet. “And you’d better eat it.”
He took his feet from the desk and surveyed the plate of sandwiches. It would have to be roast beef and cheese, he thought grimly. “That’s pretty nice of you, Juanita.”
She took a photo album from under her arm. “I finally got the pictures Cleo sent me all fixed up nice, ready to mail to my parents. Before I do that, I thought you might like to see.”
“Sure.” That was about the last thing in the world he needed to look at tonight, but he knew how much it would mean to Juanita.
She opened the album and placed it in front of him. “She said she’d never taken pictures of kids before. But she’s a real artist, that lady. I meant to save this for a Christmas present, but I can’t stand it. I have to send them now.”
Tom’s heart swelled with love and pride as he studied each shot and remembered the laughter that had filled the barn that afternoon. Cleo had captured that sense of fun with her camera. Using her professional skill and her inborn talent, she’d recorded the pure joy of being a kid with nothing better to do than turn somersaults in the hay.
“Aren’t they wonderful?” Juanita asked.
“Yes.” Tom’s voice was husky.
“You...haven’t heard from her?”
“No.” He’d been counting the weeks. She’d be sure one way or the other by now, and she’d tell him if there was something he should know about. Her silence meant his instincts had been wrong. So that was that
“I can’t believe she won’t be back,” Juanita said. “She was crazy about this place. You could see it in her eyes, in her face.”
“Maybe it’s just as well she doesn’t come back.” Tom gestured toward a chair beside his desk. “You’d better sit down. We have something to discuss.”
“If it’s about those chili peppers, I know they were too hot. Next time I’ll—”
“It’s not the chili peppers, Juanita. I wish it could be that. I was planning to tell you about this tomorrow, but since you’re here, this is as good a time as any.”
Her plump hands closed into fists. “It’s the ranch, isn’t it?”
“You need to start looking for another job, Juanita. The bank’s set up the auction to take place the day after tomorrow.”
15
AFTER THE INITIAL SHOCK wore off, Bernie sent Cleo back to her workroom with instructions to pick the shots for the Montana calendar, at least. Cleo spent the day wrestling with the question of whether to use a photo of Tom, and by the end of the day she still hadn’t decided. She ducked out of the office while Bernie was on the phone, figuring she’d sleep on the problem.
The next morning she was still undecided, and she fully expected Bernie to be irritated with her. Instead, her assistant suggested they take the day off to go shopping on Fifth Avenue, just as Cleo had talked about during her phone call from Montana.
“I’m not buying clothes now,” Cleo protested.
“Then we’ll buy things for the baby.” Bernie shut down her computer. “Let’s go. Shopping helps me think.”
“I’m not keeping the baby.”
“What, you’re sending it back?” Bernie grabbed her purse and ushered Cleo out of the office. “I don’t think it works that way, toots. No refunds, no exchanges.”
“I’m sending it to Tom.”
“By courier or regular mail? I suppose you can ship anything these days. They probably have a little cardboard bassinet, reinforced, of course, that you can—”
“Oh, for pity’s sake! You’re making it sound ridiculous.”
Bernie punched the elevator button. “That’s because it is ridiculous. You’re a creative, loving person who’s just started to make this little human being. I’ve seen how possessive you are about your photographs, Cleo. What makes you think you’ll be able to ship this kid off to Montana?”
Cleo knew Bernie had a point It was the same point that had been nagging her ever since she’d taken the pregnancy test. She stepped into the elevator. “I can’t raise a kid. I have a career to think about”
“You just said a mouthful there.”
They rode in silence to the street and Bernie whistled for a taxi. “F.A.O. Schwartz,” she instructed the driver as she climbed in.
Cleo followed her into the cab. “Bernie, that’s a toy store!”
“Well, the little tyke has to have something to play with, you know.”
Cleo flopped against the seat “I’m not keeping this baby.”
“Sure you’re not”
Two hours later they sat at a corner deli, bulging sacks taking up most of the booth. Cleo thought it was an awful lot of toys for a baby she wasn’t keeping, but she’d had a terrific time. Her pastrami sandwich tasted delicious, and Bernie seemed to be in a good mood despite the disaster they faced.
Cleo swallowed a bite and glanced at her assistant “I’ll make the decisions for the Montana calendar this afternoon, Bernie. I promise.”
“You can’t decide whether to use Tom or not, right? Considering your rule and all?”
“That’s right.”
“But he said you could?”
“Yes.” She remembered the bleak look in his eyes as he’d offered her the roll of film. “He doesn’t want me to, but the ranch is in financial trouble and the calendar would increase business.” It would also turn a personal moment into a public one, and alert single women all over the country as to his whereabouts.
“Then I advise you to use it, Cleo. The two of you are going to need all the money you can get if my latest brainstorm doesn’t pan out.”
Cleo didn’t know which part of that statement to grab on to first. “It isn’t the two of us. It’s him and me, two separate people.”
“Wrong. For one thing you’re parents of the same child, so you’ll never be separate people again. But more important than the physical matin
g is the psychological mating. You’ve found your man, Cleo, the one you’ve been looking for during all those photo sessions. You didn’t realize it, and God knows I didn’t, either, but this little run was doomed to end. It was just a matter of when.”
Cleo bristled. “The hunk calendars were a creative brainstorm. It had nothing to do with seeking a mate, or whatever Freudian spin you’re putting on it.”
“Then why, after going to bed with this guy and accidentally getting pregnant, did you take the best damn kid pictures I’ve ever seen?”
Cleo stared at her, the sandwich forgotten. “You mean the ones of Rosa and Peter? Those were fun to do, but they weren’t anything special.”
Bernie took a long drink of her iced tea and patted her mouth with a napkin. “Fortunately our publisher doesn’t agree. On the strength of those pictures, the company’s willing to consider a calendar of kid shots next time out”
Cleo’s mouth dropped open.
“You can fire me for this if you want, but when you sneaked out of there yesterday afternoon, I went into the workroom, found the contact sheet for those pictures, and took it over to our friends at Images, Inc. I told them you were headed in a new direction, and it was gonna be huge. They could either come along or we’d look elsewhere.”
“Oh...my...God.” Cleo put a hand over her racing heart. “I’m not a kid photographer. I don’t know the first thing about—”
“Then learn, dammit.” Bernie leaned across the table, her dark eyes flashing. “And it’ll be easy, because that’s what’s in your heart now. I watched you in that toy store, which was my main motivation for going there, to confirm what I already suspected. You couldn’t keep your eyes off all those cute little kids, and I’ll bet your trigger finger was itching. I saw you reach for a nonexistent camera bag twice.”
Cleo blushed. “Come on. That little blonde with the strawberry lollipop stain all over her mouth would make anybody long for a camera.”
“She made me long for a Handi Wipe. Nope, it’s your delicate condition doing this, sweets. You could’ve just adopted a puppy and we’d be into dog calendars, which would have made life much, much simpler. But you got pregnant And you’re in love with the father, which is very convenient, I might add. Doesn’t always work that way.”
Manhunting in Montana Page 17