A Cowboy's Temptation

by Barbara Dunlop

  “Well, that was fun,” Seth mumbled to her as the commission members gathered their belongings and the staffers rose from the perimeter chairs to talk to the members.

  “I’d say you won that round,” Darby conceded.

  “I don’t think anything will come of it,” he returned easily.

  “What do you mean?” She tucked her papers away, zipping the edges of the folder.

  “They want bragging rights for having convened a commission and interviewed stakeholders. They don’t want to actually go to the trouble of enacting any new regulations.”

  “You mean to say, this was a waste of our time?”

  There was a rebuke in his tone. “Darby Carroll, participating in the democratic processes of your state is never a waste of your time.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Well, I sure wish I’d brought a change of underwear to this particular democratic process.”

  Seth chuckled as he stepped to one side, letting her precede him to the door. “You were that nervous?”

  “What?” Then she realized what he meant. “Of course not.” She frowned at his juvenile humor. “I meant I missed the last flight back to Lyndon.”

  She adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder, tucking the folder under her arm as she stepped through the open doorway. “I’ll have to find a hotel and try to get the flight tomorrow. Did you stay somewhere nearby?”

  “I flew into Denver this morning.” He opened the waiting-room door for her, and they started down the hallway.

  “I didn’t see you on the plane.”

  There were only a few flights a day out of the tiny Lyndon airport. It was odd that she could have missed him.

  “My brother-in-law Caleb was in town. He lent me his corporate jet.”

  Darby sighed in resignation of the way the world worked. “You flew in on a corporate jet, looking like a million bucks, to present to a jury of your clones. Must be nice.”

  “You think I look like a million bucks?”

  “I had to get up at 3:00 a.m. And a baby cried behind me the whole flight. I took a packed shuttle bus from the airport, and there wasn’t a single woman on the commission. Did you notice that?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said simply.

  “It’s not your fault,” she grumbled, suddenly embarrassed by her bad mood. “It’s the lack of sleep. And the shameless waste of my time. I have a new group of guests coming in today, and now Marta has to take care of them until tomorrow afternoon.”

  He pressed the elevator button. “Let me buy you dinner.”

  “I don’t need you to babysit me.” She was a grown woman. While it might be inconvenient, she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself for twenty-four hours in Denver.

  “Okay, you buy me dinner.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  The elevator pinged, and the doors slid open to reveal an empty car.

  Seth put his arm out to keep the door from sliding closed, gesturing her inside. “I’ll make you a deal. I’m starving. You buy me something to eat at the bistro across the street, and I’ll give you a ride home.”

  Darby turned inside the elevator, hoping he meant what she thought he meant.

  “You mean today? In your corporate jet?” That would make her life a whole lot easier.

  He pressed the button for the lobby, and they began their descent.

  “Today. In my corporate jet,” he affirmed.

  “Your brother-in-law won’t mind you picking up hitchhikers?”

  “Of course he won’t mind. The thing has a dozen seats. And you don’t look like you weigh much.” Seth made a show of eyeing her up and down. “I doubt we’ll notice the increase in jet fuel consumption.”

  The doors slid open at the lobby level, and they entered a brightly lit atrium.

  “In that case, I am definitely buying you dinner. Thank you, Seth,” she told him sincerely.

  If they weren’t battling over such an important issue, she would have admired his manners and his class. She also would have admired his public-speaking skills and his overall professionalism. He wasn’t a jerk. He was simply wrong about this one very important issue.

  “You don’t have to buy me dinner,” he said.

  “Yes, I do. That was the deal.”

  “I was only joking. I’m a gentleman. I’ll still buy.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not a date. And I’m paying.”

  “Okay,” he finally agreed as they exited to the sidewalk. “But one dinner doesn’t mean I’ll sleep with you.”

  “Imagine my disappointment,” she returned, even as a glow of awareness came to life inside her.

  “I should tell you I’m still joking.” He paused, tone gruff. “I’d sleep with you if you bought me coffee.”

  The little glow became insistent inside her. She had to struggle to keep her expression neutral. “It would pretty much take a corporate jet to buy your way into my bed.”

  He arched a brow. “That would do it? Because I could probably get a decent price from Caleb.”

  She shot him an exaggerated look of disdain. “And you claim ranchers need a break on transportation costs.”

  He laughed at that.

  The light changed, and they crossed four lanes of traffic, taking a short staircase down to the Tableau Bistro.

  It was dark inside, intimate and mostly deserted, since it was barely past the middle of the afternoon. Yellow candles glowed on each of the heavy wood tables. They were surrounded by high-backed, burgundy upholstered chairs. Pot lighting illuminated rich wooden walls, and a row of ceiling arches shone with burnished copper linings.

  “This is really beautiful,” Darby couldn’t help but comment as the hostess cheerfully showed them to a table.

  “As long as they feed me,” said Seth, apparently willing to let the topic of sleeping together drop.

  She told herself she was glad to be back on safer ground. “I hear you,” said Darby as she took her seat. “I skipped breakfast. Hadn’t planned on also skipping lunch.”

  “You’re not one of those women who starves herself.”

  “Hardly. Commercial flights don’t serve food anymore. At least not to those of us who travel in economy.”

  “I wish I could get all affronted and tell you I fly economy all the time.”

  “But you don’t.”

  “I don’t,” he admitted.

  A waitress appeared and handed them each a leather-bound menu.

  “You poor, cash-deprived rancher,” she muttered.

  If Seth heard, he didn’t comment. Instead, he spoke to the waitress. “Do you happen to have Glen Klavit?”

  “We do,” the young woman answered brightly. “A single or a double?”

  “Double.” He looked to Darby.

  “A lemon-drop martini,” she decided. She’d already been up for twelve hours. Under normal circumstances, it would be early evening.

  “That’s the spirit,” Seth approved. He looked to the waitress. “Can you bring us some bread or something to go with our drinks?”

  “Coming right up. Do you need a few minutes with the menus?”

  “We do.”

  With a friendly smile for Seth, she left.

  There was a long moment of silence.

  “You look very nice, you know,” Seth commented, his gaze warm.

  The glow of desire in her stomach moved to her chest, creating a decidedly dangerous tightness. “I thought we’d decided this wasn’t a date.”

  “You told me I looked like a million bucks. I was just returning the compliment.”

  “I meant you had likely impressed the commission because you looked so much like them.”

  “You don’t think you impressed them, too?”

  �
�They took you more seriously.”

  “Why do you say that?” he asked, easing back in the padded leather chair. “I made my points. You made yours.”

  “Familiarity,” she told him, opening the menu as a distraction from looking at him. “People are psychologically predisposed to agree with those who remind them of themselves, whether it’s philosophically or physiologically.”

  “I bet you can’t say that three times fast.”

  She met his gaze. “I’m serious.”

  “So am I. Go ahead, try it.”

  She wasn’t about to take the bait. “When the members of the commission see you,” she said instead, “they see themselves. When they see me, they see, well, not them.”

  “You think they’re that shallow?”

  “I think they, and you, don’t even realize it’s happening. The world is still organized around men: our governments, industry, the judiciary.”

  “There are plenty of female judges.”

  “A few,” Darby allowed. “But trial and incarceration is an adversarial process, and that’s how men typically frame the world. You can only win if the other side loses.”

  His brows drew together in puzzlement. “That’s because one side is right and the other is wrong.”

  “Rarely,” said Darby.

  “We shouldn’t jail convicted murderers?”

  “We shouldn’t jail victims of assault who fight back.”

  “We don’t.”

  “We sure try.”

  Seth’s cell phone rang, and he checked the number.

  “Sorry.” He glanced to Darby. “It’s my brother, Travis.” He answered the call as the waitress set down their drinks, along with a basket of assorted breads.

  Seth’s eyes went wide in obvious shock. “What?” he barked into the phone. “What exactly did you do?”

  He listened, glancing at Darby.

  She wondered if she should give him some privacy.

  “Really? Well, I suppose you didn’t have a choice, then.”

  She started to rise from her chair, but Seth waved her back.

  “No,” he said into the phone. “No, I get it. But I won’t be back in Lyndon until later tonight.”

  Seth paused again. “I guess you will. Hang in there.” He shook his head. “I know you have. Okay. Bye.”

  Darby knew she couldn’t be rude enough to ask what was going on, but she was exceedingly curious.

  “It’s Travis,” Seth offered without any prompting. “He’s in jail.”

  That wasn’t what she’d remotely expected to hear. Then again, she’d heard talk that Travis Jacobs could be hotheaded and impulsive. Of course, she’d never heard of him breaking the law.

  “What did he do?” she asked.

  “Ironically,” said Seth, choosing a French roll from the basket, “he fought back.”

  “Someone assaulted him?”

  “It was started by one of your disciples.”

  “I don’t understand.” She truly didn’t.

  “It seems a woman—I didn’t catch her name—who agrees quite passionately with your perspective on the railway got into it with Joe Harry while having lunch at Maddy’s Café. Joe got agitated. Travis stepped in again to calm him down. Joe swung first, but Travis swung last. And the sheriff locked him up.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Yeah.” Seth sighed, leaning back in his chair. He took a sip of his scotch.

  “Where’s Joe Harry?” Darby asked. One would hope he’d be in jail along with Travis.

  “In the hospital. It sounds like it’s precautionary. The man’s head is as hard as granite.”

  “Do we need to go back to Lyndon right away?”

  “No rush. Travis will survive. Besides, he’s the mayor’s brother. The sheriff will probably let him out before too long.”

  “Is that a perk of being the mayor?” Darby couldn’t help but ask.

  Seth pushed the bread basket toward her. “Getting my brother out of jail?”

  She helped herself to a triangle of herb cheese flatbread. “Having that kind of power.”

  “You think I’m interested in political power?”

  “Many people are. It’s a valid question.”

  “I ran for office to help the ranchers.” Seth tore off a chunk of the roll.

  “By having power as the mayor.”

  “No, by having an additional avenue through which to affect change.”

  “For the ranchers,” she confirmed.

  “For the citizens of Lyndon City.”

  “I’m a citizen of Lyndon City.”

  He flexed a grin. “You’re a misguided citizen.”

  “That’s too simple,” she argued. “‘I’m right and you’re wrong?’ You have to do better than that.”

  “I just presented a compelling case to the commission. You said so yourself.”

  “I said they were biased in your favor. You grew up on one of the biggest, wealthiest ranches in Lyndon Valley. You—”

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “Huh?” The abrupt change in topic surprised her.

  “Where did you grow up?” he repeated, looking genuinely interested in the answer.

  “Why?” She tried to figure out his angle. Was he going to contend that she didn’t know Lyndon as well as he did?

  “Quit being so suspicious. I’m not looking for secret information to throw back in your face. I’m trying to figure out what makes you tick.”

  “Fairness and equitability make me tick, particularly where it comes to gender bias. You had every economic and societal advantage growing up on a significant ranch in Lyndon Valley. Add to that, you’re a man.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Ranches are organized around men, with women taking on supporting roles.”

  “They’re organized around cattle. Where did you grow up? I’m thinking it wasn’t a cattle ranch.”

  “New Jersey,” she answered, seeing no reason to hide the truth. “I grew up in New Jersey.”

  “Not a lot of cows out there.”

  “No.”

  “My sister Mandy herds cattle. My sister Abigail deals with financial statements. And my sister Katrina left home to become a ballerina. Nobody was pigeonholed based on their gender.”

  “That’s not my point.”

  “If your point is that it’s an uneven world, then I don’t disagree with you.”

  “So you admit I’m operating under a handicap?”

  “Your biggest handicap is that more people in Lyndon want the railway than don’t. If that wasn’t true, you’d walk away with it, man, woman or Martian. Now, tell me about New Jersey.”

  She shrugged, letting the argument go. She was used to being able to debate people under the table. But Seth kept showing he had more stamina than she did. She needed to conserve her strength.

  “Nothing much to tell,” she answered. Her upbringing had been monotonous to say the least.

  “What did your parents do there?”

  “It was just my mom and me.”

  “Divorced?”

  She wished. “One-night stand. I doubt he even used his real name. My mother was a cocktail waitress.”

  Seth’s eyes turned sympathetic. “That sounds like a tough way to grow up.”

  “No worse than many other kids.”

  Darby didn’t spend a lot of time dwelling on her childhood. She’d had a place to sleep, enough to eat and had gone to a decent school. She’d always felt a little out of step, especially in high school, when her classmates had decided that attracting boys was the only worthwhile endeavor. It was a relief to join the army, where miniskirts were never part of the dress code.

 
“Any sisters or brothers?” asked Seth.

  “No. My mother got a lot more serious about birth control after I was born.” Darby had been told many times that she was a mistake that had ruined her mother’s life. “It was tough on her, being a single mom, always having to worry about a child. And I didn’t exactly fit her mold. We were very different people, Roxanne and me.”

  “Different how?” His tone had gone unexpectedly soft.

  “I was plain, practical, two feet firmly planted on the ground. She was beautiful, with a flair for the dramatic. I was punctual, good in the morning. She was action-seeking, great until three a.m. I liked order. She liked chaos.”

  Unexpectedly, his hand came out to cover hers. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It was a long time ago.” She couldn’t help glancing at their joined hands.

  “Do you still see her?”

  Darby knew she should break their touch, but there was something strangely comforting in the feel of his warm palm. It wasn’t arousing; simply strong and reassuring.

  “She died last year,” said Darby. “But we hadn’t seen each other in a long time. Something about me going to college annoyed her, especially because the army paid for my education.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “It did in her mind.” It certainly wasn’t Darby’s favorite memory. “She said I should pull my own weight in the world. Like the military was an easy path.”

  “It was probably easier to cut you down than admit her own failings,” Seth speculated.

  “Roxanne Carroll, a failure? No. She had it all figured out. It was the rest of the world that didn’t get it.” Darby paused. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

  She straightened and pulled her hand out from under his. She wasn’t sure how the conversation had gotten so intimate. She liked to leave the past in the past.

  The waitress appeared. “Are you ready to order?”

  “I’d like a cheeseburger,” said Darby, deciding that drinking a martini on an empty stomach wasn’t going to turn out well. She didn’t need to make any more childhood confessions to Seth.

  “Sounds good,” Seth echoed. “I’ll take one, too.”

  With a quick check of their drinks, the woman left again.

  “Sometimes it’s good to get things off your chest,” he offered.