Stephanie was shaking her head. “They kicked me out years ago.”
“When your horses took over the entire yard.” Royce loosened his tie and moved out of the foyer. He’d changed out of his tux at the airport in favor of a short-sleeved, white uniform shirt and a pair of navy slacks.
Stephanie made to follow him into a massive, rectangular living room with a two-story, open, timber-beamed ceiling and a bank of glass doors at the far end, flanking a stone fireplace. Amber moved with her, taking in a large, patterned red rug, cream and gold, overstuffed furniture groupings and a huge, round, Western-style chandelier suspended in the center of the room.
“You want me to show Amber a bedroom?” asked Stephanie. She was still wearing her bridesmaid dress.
“She’s probably hungry,” Royce pointed out, and both looked expectantly at Amber.
“I’m…uh…” The magnitude of her actions suddenly hit Amber. She was standing in a stranger’s house, completely dependent on him for food, shelter, even clothes. She was many miles from the nearest town, and every normal support system—her cell phone, credit card and chauffeur—were unavailable to her, since they could be traced.
“Exhausted,” Stephanie finished for her, linking an arm with Amber’s. “Let’s get you upstairs.” She gently propelled Amber toward a wide, wooden staircase.
“Good night, then,” Royce called from behind them.
“You look shell-shocked,” Stephanie whispered in her ear as they mounted the staircase.
“I’m questioning my sanity,” Amber admitted as the stairs turned right and walls closed in around them.
Stephanie hit a light switch, revealing a half-octagonal landing, with four doors leading off in separate directions.
“You’re not insane,” said Stephanie, opening one of the middle doors.
“I just abandoned my fiancé and flew off in the middle of the night with strangers.”
“We’re not that strange.” Stephanie led the way into an airy room that fanned out to a slightly triangular shape.
It had a queen-size, four-poster brass bed, with a blue-and-white-checked comforter that looked decadently soft. Two royal blue armchairs were arranged next to a paned-glass balcony door. White doors led to a walk-in closet and an ensuite bath, while a ceiling fan spun lazily overhead and a cream-colored carpet cushioned Amber’s feet.
Stephanie clicked on one of two ceramic bedside lamps. “Or do you think you’re insane to leave the fiancé?”
“He’s not going to be happy,” Amber admitted.
“Does he, like, turn all purple and yell and stuff?” Stephanie looked intrigued and rather excited by the prospect.
Amber couldn’t help but smile. “No. He gets all stuffy and logical and superior.”
Hargrove would never yell. He’d make Amber feel as though she was a fool, as though her opinions and emotions weren’t valid, as though she was behaving like a spoiled child. And maybe she was. But at least she was out of his reach for a little while.
“I hear you.” Stephanie opened the double doors of a tall, cherrywood armoire, revealing a set of shelves. “My brothers are like that.”
“Royce?” Amber found herself asking. In their admittedly short conversation Royce hadn’t seemed at all like Hargrove.
“And Jared,” said Stephanie. “They think I’m still ten years old. I’m a full partner in Ryder International, but I have to come to them for every little decision.”
“That must be frustrating.” Amber sympathized. She had some autonomy with her own credit cards and signing authority on her trust fund. She’d never really thought about independence beyond that.
Well, until now.
“There’s this stallion,” said Stephanie, selecting something in white cotton from the shelves. “Blanchard’s Run, out of Westmont Stables in London. He’s perfect for my breeding program. His dam was Ogilvie and his sire Danny Day.” She shook her head. “All I need is a million dollars.” She handed Amber what turned out to be a cotton nightgown.
“For one horse?” The price sounded pretty high.
“That’s mine,” said Stephanie, nodding to the gown. “You should help yourself to anything else in the dresser. There’s jeans, shirts, a bunch of stuff that should fit you.”
“If it’s any consolation,” said Amber, putting her hand on Stephanie’s arm, “I can’t see Hargrove ever letting me spend a million dollars, either.”
“And that’s why you should leave him.”
“I’m leaving him—” Amber paused a beat, debating saying the words out loud for the first time “—because I don’t love him.”
Stephanie’s lips formed another silent O. She nodded slowly for a long moment. “Good reason.”
Amber agreed.
But she knew her parents would never accept it. And it wasn’t because they had some old-fashioned idea about the value of arranged marriages or about love being less important than a person’s pedigree. It was because they didn’t trust Amber to recognize love one way or the other.
And that was why Amber couldn’t go home yet. Nobody would listen to her. They’d all gang up, and she’d find herself railroaded down the aisle.
As usual, it was frighteningly easy for Royce to slip back into the cowboy life. He’d stretched out on his bed for a couple of hours, then dressed in blue jeans, a cotton shirt and his favorite worn cowboy boots. Sasha had quick-fried him a steak, and produced a big stack of hotcakes with maple syrup. After drinking about a gallon of coffee, he’d hunted down the three foremen who reported directly to McQuestin.
He’d learned the vet had recommended moving the Bowler Valley herd because seasonal flies were impacting the calves. A well had broken down at the north camp and the ponds were drying up. And a lumber shipment was stuck at the railhead in Idaho because of a snafu with the letter of credit. But before he’d had a chance to wade in on any of the issues, an SOS had come over his cell phone from Barry Brewster, Ryder International’s Vice President of Finance, for a letter from China’s Ministry of Trade Development. The original had gone missing in the Chicago office, but they thought Jared might have left a copy at the ranch.
So Royce was wading through the jumble of papers on the messy desk in the front office of the ranch house, looking for a letter from Foreign Investment Director Cheng Li. Without Cheng Li’s approval, a deal between Ryder International and Shanxi Electrical would be canceled, costing a fortune, and putting several Ryder construction projects at risk.
Giving up on the desk, and cursing out his older brother for falling in love and getting married at such an inconvenient time, Royce moved to the file cabinet, pulling open the top drawer. His blunt fingers were awkward against the flimsy paper, and the complex numbering system made no sense to him. What the hell was wrong with using the alphabet?
“The outfit seems at odds with the job duties,” a female voice ventured from the office doorway.
He turned to see Amber in a pair of snug jeans and a maroon, sleeveless blouse. Her feet were bare, and her blond hair was damp, framing her face in lush waves. There was an amused smile on her fresh, pretty face.
“You think this is funny?” he asked in exasperation.
“Unexpected,” she clarified.
“Well, don’t just stand there.”
“Should I be doing something?”
He directed her to the desktop. “We’re looking for a letter from the Chinese Ministry of Trade and Development.”
She immediately moved forward.
“Do you know what it looks like?” she asked, picking up the closest pile of papers.
He grunted. “It’s on paper.”
“Long letter? Short letter? In an envelope? Attached to a report?”
“I don’t know. It’s from Cheng Li, Foreign Investment Director. I need his phone number.”
She moved on to the next pile, while Royce went back to the filing cabinet.
“Have you tried Google?” she asked.
“This isn’t the
kind of number you find on the Internet.”
She continued sorting. “I take it this is important?”
“If I don’t get hold of him today, we’re going to blow a deal.”
“What time is it in China?”
“Sometime Monday morning. Barry says if the approval’s not filed in Beijing by the end of business today, we’re toast.”
“Their time?” Amber asked.
“Their time,” Royce confirmed. “What the hell happened to the alphabet?”
She moved closer, brushing against him. “You want me to—”
“No,” he snapped, and she quickly halted.
He clamped his jaw and forced himself to take a breath. It wasn’t her fault the letter was lost. And it wasn’t her fault that his body had a hair-trigger reaction to her touch. “Sorry. Can you keep looking over there? On the desk?”
“Sure.” Her features were schooled, and he couldn’t tell if she was upset.
“I didn’t mean to shout.”
“Not a problem.” She turned back.
He opened his mouth again, but then decided the conversation could wait. If she was upset, he’d deal with it later. For now, he had three more drawers to search.
“Something to do with Shanxi Electrical?” she asked.
Royce’s head jerked up. “You found it?”
She handed him a single sheet of paper.
He scanned his way down to the signature line and found the number for Cheng Li’s office. “This is it.” He heaved a sigh, resisting the urge to hug her in gratitude.
Then he took in her rosy cheeks, her jewel-blue eyes, her soft hair and smooth skin. The deep colored blouse molded to her feminine curves, while the skintight blue jeans highlighted a killer figure. There was something completely sexy about her bare feet, and he had to fight hard against the urge to hug her.
“Thanks,” he offered gruffly, reaching for the phone.
He punched in the international and area codes, then made his way through the rest of the numbers.
After several rings, a voice answered in Chinese at the other end.
“May I speak with Mr. Cheng Li?” he tried.
The voice spoke Chinese again.
“Cheng Li? Is there someone there who speaks English?”
The next words were incomprehensible. He might have heard the name Cheng Li, but he wasn’t sure.
“English?” he asked again.
Amber held out her hand and motioned for him to give her the phone.
He gave her a look of incomprehension while the woman on the other end tried once more to communicate with him.
“I’m sorry,” he said into the phone, but then it was summarily whisked from his hand.
“Hey!” But before he could protest further, Amber spoke. The words were distinctly non-English.
Royce drew back in astonishment. “No way.”
She spoke again. Then she waited. Then she covered the receiver. “Your phone number?” she whispered.
He quickly flipped open his cell to the display, and she rattled something into the phone. Then she finished the call and hung up. “Cheng Li will call you in an hour with an interpreter.”
“You speak Chinese?” was all Royce could manage.
She gave a self-deprecating eye roll. “I can make myself understood. But for them, it’s kind of like talking to a two-year-old.”
“You speak Chinese?” he repeated.
“Mandarin, actually.” She paused. “I have a knack.” When he didn’t say anything, she bridged the silence. “My mother taught me Swedish. And I learned Spanish in school.” She shrugged. “So, well, considering the potential political impact of the rising Asian economies, I decided Mandarin and Punjabi were the two I should study at college. I’m really not that good at either of them.”
He peered at her. “You’re like a politician’s dream wife, aren’t you?”
Her lips pursed for a moment, and discomfort flickered in her eyes. “Are you saying I have no life?”
“I’m saying he’s going to come after you.” Royce put a warning in his tone. “I sure as hell wouldn’t let you get away.”
She blinked, and humor came back into her blue eyes. “I doubt I’d make it very far from here. After all, there is only one road out of the ranch.”
Royce wasn’t in the mood to joke. “He is going to come after you, isn’t he?”
She sobered. “I don’t think he’ll find me.”
“And if he does?”
She didn’t answer.
“What’s the guy got on you?”
From what Royce could see, Amber was an intelligent, capable woman. There was no reason in the world for her to let herself get saddled with a man she didn’t want.
“Same thing Jared has on you,” she answered softly. “Duty, obligation, guilt.”
“Jared needs me for a month,” said Royce, not buying into the parallel. “What’s-his-name—”
“Hargrove.”
“Hargrove wants you forever.” Royce felt a sudden spurt of anger. “And where the hell are your parents in all this? Have you told them?”
“They think he’s perfect for me.”
“He’s not.”
Amber smiled. “You’ve never even met him.”
“I don’t have to. You’re here. He’s there.” Royce ran his brain through the circumstances one more time. “Your cell’s turned off, right?”
She nodded.
“Don’t use your credit cards.”
“I didn’t bring them.”
“Good.”
“Not really.” She hesitated. “Royce, I have no money whatsoever.”
“You don’t need money.”
“And I have no clothes, not even underwear.”
Okay, that gave him an unwanted visual. “We have everything you need right here.”
“I can’t live off your charity.”
“You’re our guest.”
“I forced you to bring me here.”
Royce set the letter back down on the desktop and tucked his phone back into his shirt pocket. “Ask anybody, Amber. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.” He let his gaze shade the meaning of the words. He’d brought her home with him because she was a beautiful and interesting woman. It was absolutely no hardship having her around.
“I need to earn my keep.”
Royce resisted the temptation to make a joke about paying her way by sleeping with him. It was in poor taste, and the last thing he wanted to do was insult her. Besides, the two were completely unrelated.
He hoped she was attracted to him. What red-blooded man wouldn’t? And last night he had been fairly certain she was attracted to him. But whatever was between them would take its own course.
Her gaze strayed to the messy desk. “I could…”
He followed the look.
“…maybe straighten things up a little? I’ve taken business management courses, some accounting—”
“No argument from me.” Royce held up his palms in surrender. “McQuestin’s niece, Maddy, usually helps out in the office, but she’s gone back to Texas with him while he recovers.” He spread his arms in welcome. “Make yourself at home.”
Three
Several hours later, eyes grainy from reading ranch paperwork, Amber wandered out of the office. The office door opened into a short hallway that connected to the front foyer and then to the rest of the ranch house. It had grown dark while she worked, and soft lamplight greeted her in the empty living room. The August night was cool, with pale curtains billowing in the side windows, while screen doors separated the room from the veranda beyond.
Muted noise came from the direction of the kitchen, and she caught a movement on the veranda. Moving closer, she realized it was a plump puff ball of a black-and-white puppy. Amber smiled in reaction as another pup appeared, and then a third and a fourth.
They hadn’t seen her yet, and the screen door kept them locked outside. Just as well. They were cute, but Amber was a little i
ntimidated by animals. She’d never had a pet before. Her mother didn’t like the noise, the mess or the smell.
Truth was, she dropped out of dressage riding lessons because one of the horses had bit her on the shoulder. She hadn’t told the grooms, or her parents, or anybody else about the incident. She was embarrassed, convinced that she’d done something to annoy the horse but not sure of what it might have been. When a creature couldn’t talk or communicate, how did you know what they wanted or needed?
The pups disappeared from view, and she moved closer to the door, peeking at an angle to see them milling in a small herd around Royce’s feet while he sat in a deep, wooden Adirondack chair, reading some kind of report under the half-dozen outdoor lamps that shone around the veranda.
Then the pups spotted her and made a roly-poly beeline for the door, sixteen paws thumping awkwardly on the wooden slats of the deck. She took an automatic step back as they piled up against the screen.
Royce glanced up from the papers. “Hey, Amber.” Then his attention went to the puppies. He gave a low whistle, and they scampered back to him.
“It’s safe to come out now,” he said with a warm smile.
“I’m not…” She eased the door open. “I’m not scared to come out.”
Royce laughed. “Didn’t think you were. Shut the screen behind you, though, or these guys will be in the kitchen in a heartbeat.”
She closed the screen door behind her. “Your puppies?”
He reached down to scratch between the ears of the full-grown border collie sprawled between the chair and the railing. “They belong to Molly. Care to take one home when you leave?”
“My mother won’t have pets in the house.” The puppies rushed back to Amber again.
Royce gestured for her to take the chair across from his. “Is she allergic?”
“Not exactly.” Warm, fuzzy bodies pressed against her leg; cool, wet noses investigated her bare feet and she felt a mushy tongue across the top of her toes. She struggled not to cringe at the slimy sensation. “She doesn’t want any accidents on the Persian rug.”
In Bed with the Wrangler Page 3