With a Stetson and a Smile & The Bridesmaid’s Bet

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “You know about our circumstances?”

  “Some of it. Listen, is Jo around? I’m—”

  “I know who you are.” The woman’s grin put big dimples in both cheeks. “And I’m tickled spitless to see you. We’d about given up hope. Come in, come in. I’m Emmy Lou, the housekeeper. Have you eaten? I can warm up the leftover chicken.”

  It was a most gratifying welcome. Quinn decided he’d done the right thing. “Chicken sounds wonderful.” He followed the woman into a small entry hall. “I figured Jo would be worried. I came as soon as I could.”

  “Jo has been worried, all right. Poor woman takes her responsibilities very seriously, although between you and me, I think she needs someone to give her good financial advice. Maybe you could recommend someone. But the main thing is, you’re here. I wasn’t sure you’d show up.”

  “Well, a lot is at stake. And a stud deserves to have his last shot count.”

  “Last shot?” Emmy Lou’s smile was coy as she looked him up and down. “I hardly think so.”

  “Well, that’s what Jo said this would be.”

  “How rude of her!” She peered at him. “When did you discuss this with Jo?”

  “In New York.” Quinn was becoming a little confused by the conversation.

  “That little dickens. I need to have a talk with that girl. She may be getting a little too big for her britches.”

  Quinn thought Jo fit her britches just fine.

  “Anyway, you’re here now.” Emmy Lou led him into a country kitchen filled with the scent of chicken and baked apples.

  Quinn’s mouth watered.

  “Sit yourself down and take a load off,” the woman said. “I’ll run and fetch Jo. She’s upstairs. She’ll be so glad to see you.”

  “Okay.” Quinn felt extremely pleased with himself. Maybe this sperm-delivery trip would improve his image after his sorry performance with the snake this afternoon. And if Jo truly needed financial advice, maybe he could help her there, too. He set the cooler on the floor beside his chair. After Jo got over the shock of seeing him, he’d bring it out as a special surprise. He wondered how she’d react. Maybe she’d hug him in gratitude. That was a nice prospect.

  Emmy Lou left the kitchen and walked down the hall. “Jo!” she called up the stairs. “You’ll never guess who’s here!”

  Quinn smiled with pleasure. Despite the snake, he must have made a decent impression on Jo if she’d told her housekeeper all about him. He’d planned to head straight back for New York, but with this kind of welcome he might be convinced to stay a little longer.

  JO CAME to the head of the stairs. “Who?”

  Grinning like a politician at a barbecue, Emmy Lou motioned her down, and Jo descended the stairs, eyebrows lifted.

  When Jo was two steps away, Emmy Lou leaned forward and delivered her news in a stage whisper. “Brian Hastings.”

  “You’re kidding.” Jo’s heart rate kicked up a notch.

  “Nope. Sitting right in my kitchen.”

  Technically it was Jo’s kitchen, but she didn’t correct Emmy Lou. If possession was nine-tenths of the law, Emmy Lou owned the kitchen. “He just showed up at the door? Nobody’s with him?”

  “He probably enjoys getting off by himself once in a while, away from all those screaming women. Why, I decided I wouldn’t even ask him for a button off his shirt. At least not yet.”

  “Go slow on the button thing.” Jo glanced toward the kitchen, and her chest tightened. As much as she’d prayed for this moment, she realized she’d never negotiated a movie contract. It probably wasn’t a job for someone with math anxiety, either. She’d have to concentrate really hard and make sure she counted the zeros, although she had no idea how many there should be when someone wanted to rent your ranch. Lots, she hoped.

  “It’s really going to happen, Jo.” Emmy Lou’s voice trembled with excitement. “The Bar None will rocket to stardom, and we’ll be able to pay the bank. Not to mention having Brian Hastings around for weeks. Do you think I should ask him for a part in the movie yet?”

  “No!” Jo whispered. “And don’t you ask about that darned button, either! This might still be a preliminary visit. We might have made the shortlist or something.” She ran her fingers through her hair and glanced at the torn jeans and old T-shirt she wore. She could either meet a famous movie star looking like this or go upstairs and change, which would keep a famous movie star waiting. She decided to go with the outfit she had on and headed for the kitchen. A man used to starlets probably wouldn’t give an ordinary woman a second look no matter what she had on.

  She paused outside the kitchen door and took a deep breath. He was only a man, she reminded herself. But herself wouldn’t listen. Her heart was leaping like a rodeo bronc at the idea of coming face-to-face with the very person commonly referred to as the sexiest man alive. And she couldn’t blow this interview. The future of her ranch might depend on the impression she made in the next minute.

  Closing her eyes, she counted to ten. Then she walked into the room.

  Quinn Monroe smiled at her. “Surprise.”

  “Damn! It’s you!”

  His smile faded.

  “Josephine Sarah Fletcher!” Emmy Lou said. “Is that any way to treat Mr. Hastings? Apologize this instant!”

  “I’m sorry,” Jo said. “In more ways than one. Emmy Lou, this isn’t Brian Hastings.”

  “What do you mean, he isn’t Brian Hastings? You’re talking to a woman who saw The Drifter fourteen times! And this—” she gestured dramatically toward Quinn “—is Brian Hastings.”

  Quinn winced. “As a matter of fact—”

  “I would know this man anywhere.” Emmy Lou marched over to Quinn and took his face firmly in her hand. She lifted his chin. “Look at those sensuous lips.” She brought his chin down again. “Look into those intense blue eyes. And the profile!” She whipped Quinn’s head abruptly to one side. “There! Are you trying to tell me that’s not the profile of Brian Hastings, love god?”

  Jo sighed. “That’s the profile of Quinn Monroe, investment banker. I couldn’t say whether he’s a love god or not.”

  “Only on alternate Thursdays,” Quinn said.

  Emmy Lou frowned and turned his head until she could look into his eyes. She fluffed his hair and stared at him some more. “Smile for me.”

  “I can’t. You’re digging your thumb into my cheek.”

  Emmy Lou released him. “Now smile.”

  Quinn obliged.

  “You see? It’s the Brian Hastings I’m-too-sexy-for-my-shirt smile! Only in real life it’s even better.” She patted him on the cheek. “You should make more public appearances. You look good close up. Not all actors do.”

  While Emmy Lou was talking, Jo’s brain began working overtime. She was fascinated with the housekeeper’s conviction that Quinn had to be Brian Hastings, despite Jo and Quinn denying it. Fascinated and intrigued. She might have been convinced herself if she hadn’t seen him driving a cab, but logic had told her that Brian Hastings wouldn’t get his kicks driving a cab in New York City.

  “I’m here to deliver the sperm,” Quinn said.

  Emmy Lou gasped. “Young man, I know Hollywood’s filled with sin and debauchery, but you’re in Montana now, and we don’t talk like that out here. You work up to that—a few dates, a few stolen kisses, a little fondling. And the term is making love, not delivering sperm.”

  “You brought it?” Jo asked. Now that was something to be happy about.

  Quinn reached beside his chair and lifted the cooler onto the table. “I figured you might still be able to salvage it if I caught the next flight to Bozeman. So I just came. On the spur of the moment.”

  “That’s really…amazing. Thank you, Quinn. Let me stick it in the refrigerator.” Jo’s disappointment that Brian Hastings wasn’t here to rent her ranch dimmed as she realized what a sacrifice Quinn had made. After putting the cooler inside the refrigerator she turned to Emmy Lou. “Remember the cabdriver who was afraid
of snakes? This is him. I just forgot to tell you he looks like Brian Hastings.”

  Emmy Lou crossed her arms and surveyed Quinn. “Maybe Brian Hastings went undercover in New York City in order to get away from the pressures of making movies.”

  Jo shook her head. “Give it up, Em. He’s not Brian Hastings, and all the wishing in the world won’t make it so. But he’s done me a very big favor, and I appreciate it.” She glanced at him nervously as she thought about what a plane ticket had probably cost him. “I need to reimburse you for your ticket.”

  “No, you don’t. I’m the one who made you lose the sperm.”

  “True. Then at least let us put you up for the night.”

  “That would be great. And I’m…sort of hungry.” He glanced at Emmy Lou. “Does the offer of chicken still stand even if I’m not Brian Hastings?”

  “Of course! I feed any poor hungry soul who comes through that kitchen door, no matter who it is.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “But I still can’t believe you’re—what was the name?”

  “Quinn Monroe.”

  “Any proof?”

  “As a matter of fact, I have the chauffeur’s license I had to get before I could drive one of Murray’s cabs.” Quinn reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Then he glanced at Jo. “But you have to promise not to laugh. The picture makes me look like an escaped convict.”

  “I’ll bet it makes you look like Brian Hastings.” Emmy Lou studied the license for a long time. Finally she handed it back to Quinn. “Okay, so you’re not him, but you could pass for him any day of the week.”

  “Yeah, I know that.”

  Emmy Lou stood and headed for the refrigerator. “Come to think about it, I read that Brian Hastings is a vegetarian. Are you a vegetarian, too?”

  “Nope. I’d be willing to bet there is almost nothing about me that is the same as Brian Hastings.”

  Emmy Lou shook her head. “What a shame.”

  “Now, Emmy Lou,” Jo said. “You sound as if Brian Hastings sets the standard for all men. That’s a little extreme.”

  Emmy Lou pulled some containers from the refrigerator. “Not for me.”

  Jo sat at the table and smiled at Quinn. “You’ll have to excuse her. She’s been a real fan for ten years.”

  “I’m pretty much used to it by now.”

  “I’m sure you are.” And if you’re so used to it… Jo couldn’t help herself. A plan was forming—a daring, audacious plan. And it just might save her bacon.

  3

  JO DECIDED to wait until Quinn had some of Emmy Lou’s home cooking in his stomach before she hit him with her proposition. Still, she could do some preliminary spade-work. “Is there a problem with you being away from your office for another day or so?” she asked.

  “Not a huge problem. My secretary knows where I am. I thought I’d call her in the morning and see if anything major is going on I need to deal with.”

  “What time is your flight?”

  He hesitated. “I didn’t book a return because I didn’t know exactly how long it would take me to find you. I can take care of it in the morning.”

  Excitement built within her. “Have you ever been to Montana?”

  “Nope. First trip.”

  “Then as long as you’ve come all this way, how about staying for a few days? Spring is a great time of year in this country. You arrived in the dark, so I’m sure you didn’t get the full impact. We have wildflowers galore, and all the trees are greening up. It’s beautiful.”

  He looked interested, but cautious. “I’d hate to inconvenience you.”

  “No problem!” Jo liked her plan more and more. It might save the ranch and give her more time with this guy, and that was a good thing. Physically he appealed to her, but more than that she was charmed by his humanness. He might be afraid of snakes, but he’d traveled all the way to Montana to return a cooler of horse sperm. Although she wasn’t bold enough to say so, Quinn interested her far more than the macho image projected by Brian Hastings.

  Emmy Lou turned from the stove.

  “Betsy and Clarise are fixing to foal any day now.”

  “The miracle of birth,” Jo said. “How many Wall Street investment bankers have seen a mare bring a foal into the world?”

  “Certainly not this investment banker,” Quinn said.

  “You just said he was afraid of snakes,” Emmy Lou pointed out. “They’re starting to come out now. It’s snakes and more snakes this time of year.”

  Jo smiled at Quinn, who was looking doubtful at the mention of snakes. “Will you excuse me a minute?” She walked to the stove, put her arm around Emmy Lou and leaned down to murmur in her ear. “Will you work with me here? I have a stupendous idea. And besides, I think he’s very cute.”

  “I can see that he’s cute,” Emmy Lou said under her breath, “but you need a greenhorn like him around like you need an alligator in the stock tank.”

  “Maybe I should go back to New York tomorrow, after all,” Quinn said.

  “Just taste Emmy Lou’s cooking first,” Jo said. “And then tell me if you wouldn’t like to stay a few extra days. One bite of her chicken, and I promise she’ll have you moaning in ecstasy.”

  QUINN COULD THINK of another scenario that would have him moaning in ecstasy. Not that Emmy Lou’s cooking wasn’t melt-in-his-mouth perfect, especially considering how hungry he was by the time he bit into her fried chicken, but it wasn’t the housekeeper’s skills at the stove that had him considering a stay on the ranch.

  Of course there were the snakes to consider, and he still worried about how the town of Ugly Bug got its name. Maybe he could just stay inside a lot. Jo awakened basic urges in him, and basic urges were best investigated inside, anyway. He’d started fantasizing what it would be like to hold her in his arms, kiss those cherry red lips, touch her soft skin. But her physical attributes weren’t the only draw. He was also a sucker for a woman in distress.

  At first he’d only been concerned with getting the horse sperm to her on time, but now that he’d seen the ranch, he couldn’t help thinking what a shame it would be for her to lose it. He didn’t know a damn thing about ranching, but he knew a fair amount about money management. If he stayed a few days he might be able to suggest some things that would get Jo out of the bind she was in.

  He doubted that she’d accept a personal loan, and he didn’t have enough liquid assets to make that sort of gesture, anyway. But he might be able to arrange a new bank loan with one of his contacts or find her some investors. He mainly wanted to loosen the grip of this local guy and set her on a better course than the one that seemed to be leading her into trouble.

  But he’d have to hang around a while and win her trust. The minute he’d seen her walk through the kitchen door, no matter how disappointing her reaction had been, he’d been inclined to do just that.

  While he ate, he answered Emmy Lou’s questions about New York. She’d never been there and had a fixation on the place, apparently. She proudly trotted out all the souvenirs Jo had brought her over the years, and Quinn made a mental note to send her something special when he got back to the city.

  Finally he finished off the chicken and potato salad and pushed away his plate with a sigh of contentment. “That was delicious. Thanks.”

  Apparently his knowledge of New York and his appreciation for her cooking had warmed up the housekeeper considerably. “You have to have a piece of apple pie to top it off,” she said.

  He grinned at her. “Twist my arm, Emmy Lou.”

  She flushed and put a hand over her heart. “Land sakes, but you look like Brian Hastings when you do that. Makes my heart go pitty-pat.”

  “Maybe it’ll also make you serve him some of your famous pie,” Jo said.

  Quinn had noticed that Jo was being terrifically friendly and obliging. He’d love to think it was his manly charm causing her to be so nice, but he also had the feeling she might be fattening him up for the kill. He just wasn’
t sure what sort of kill.

  “Would you like ice cream on top?” Emmy Lou asked as she popped the slice of pie in the microwave.

  “Sure, why not?” A piece of pie à la mode wasn’t going to turn him into a mush brain, he decided. He’d navigated the tricky world of high finance without getting his butt kicked. Surely he could handle whatever this pair of women had in mind.

  Jo watched him eat the pie with far too much interest. And every time she caught his eye she smiled a secret sort of smile. Something was definitely up.

  He glanced at her. “Want a bite?”

  “Oh, no, thanks. I just love to see a man enjoy his food.”

  Quinn polished off the pie. “I’m afraid the show’s over. But I have to say that was the best piece of apple pie I’ve ever had, and I’ve eaten at some pricey restaurants. They could serve this pie with pride at the Waldorf-Astoria.”

  Emmy Lou looked enraptured. “I would love to see the Waldorf.”

  “I’ve offered to take you on my sperm runs,” Jo said.

  “No, no, not like that. It would break my heart to fly in and out on the same day. I want to see the lights, feel the city’s pulse, breathe in the rich aromas.” She closed her eyes and took a deep, dramatic breath.

  “You might want to give the rich aromas a miss,” Quinn said. “New York’s rich aromas can be overwhelming, especially on garbage pickup day.”

  Emmy Lou grinned at Jo. “Spoken like a man who’s never cleaned out a chicken coop. You’d better keep him away from shovel duty while he’s here.”

  “I had no intention of putting him on shovel duty.”

  “Anyway,” Emmy Lou said as she turned to Quinn. “I don’t want to give anything a miss. I want to hear the noise, taste a hot pretzel, mingle with the crowd in Times Square, give my regards to Broadway. I don’t want a tiny bite of the Big Apple.” She spread her arms wide. “I want to have it all.”

  Quinn curbed his impulse to immediately invite her there as his guest. It would be a real kick to watch her revel in the sights and sounds of the city. But he had no business inviting Emmy Lou Whatever to New York. He didn’t even know her last name. The sugar must be affecting his brain for him to even think of doing such a thing.