by Kadi Dillon
Did he even think about inviting me to San Francisco? Lane wondered dispassionately. No, he wouldn’t.
“Send Mother my love as well as Aunt Kate and Susanne. Leave the Morgan’s to me.”
“I’ll fax over the flight information to your office today. Tell whoever you’re sending it’ll take about a week, maybe two to get projections and documents drawn up. And I want them there until the contracts are signed and the checks are written.”
“I’ll go,” Lane decided. No way was he letting this get away.
“Well, good then. I know I can count on you, son. Take care.”
Lane ended the call and sat back in his chair. For years his father had always said those same words. I know I can count on you. And he had always been able to count on Lane. Everyone had.
From the time Lane was a young boy, he had strived to earn his father’s approval. Whether it was by earning perfect grades throughout school or choosing to dive into the family business, nearly every aspect of Lane’s life was centered on his family.
And had he ever heard the words he had worked for for twenty-eight years now? I’m proud of you, son. No, he had not. Instead, he was acknowledged with rewards or criticized with lectures.
A good grade when he was a boy would mean a bump in his allowance. When Lane was sixteen, he was accepted into Harvard University and was rewarded with a brand new Lincoln. After graduating top of his class from Harvard, Lane received access to one of his trust funds.
Now, when he was successful with contracts or projections, he was rewarded with a grunt of approval or a slap on the back. Never “I’m proud of you, son.”
Lane came to attention as his fax machine hummed behind him. He retrieved his flight information and a copy of the preliminary contracts. They would change of course, depending on how much the Morgan’s wanted to negotiate. He read and reread the contract before slipping it into his briefcase and leaving the office.
After slipping his tall frame under the steering wheel of his jag, he gunned the engine and pulled out onto the highway.
Where his family had preferred to be chauffeured, Lane had a need for speed and control. He purchased his newest toy before the ink on his divorce papers had dried and he had more affection for the vehicle than he did for his wife.
A humorless smile crossed his face as he punched the gas pedal. His wife had more affection for his bank account than she did for him. Not that he could blame Roxanne for that. She had never claimed to love him, or need him. Together they had decided their ambitions and goals meshed and they should tie together the Tanner and Whitcomb names.
His father had been pleased to have such a wealthy merger. That was his own definition of what Lane and Roxanne had. Lane could have disagreed, but it would have been pointless.
Two years into the marriage, Roxanne had altered from an affair with his bank account to an affair with their pool boy. Deciding his name and pride were too important to him, Lane had divorced Roxanne without a second thought. The divorce was polite, civilized, and cold—an exact likeness of their marriage.
Lane slipped the valet a bill and his keys. He rode the elevator to the penthouse floor and strolled straight into his spacious three bedroom domain.
Full of rich, dark colors, Lane’s apartment was kept neat and tidy, just as his life was. Overstuffed furniture showed his preference for comfort and style. His kitchen was the only part of his apartment that was an illusion. One look at the spacious counter tops and stainless steel double ovens, one would assume the tenant enjoyed cooking. Lane could hardly heat up take out without causing some damage.
It was no matter when a gourmet meal was only a phone call away. With that in mind, Lane dialed the number for a five star restaurant down the block and ordered his usual. With a promise for delivery within half an hour, Lane strolled into his bedroom and flipped on his thirty-two inch plasma television for background noise while be packed his suitcases.
Oklahoma, he mused as he began to pack. It would be warm, as it was now in L.A. It would be humid. He knew virtually nothing of country living, but he decided absently to invest in a pair of boots anyway.
He had six days to draw up plans in case the Morgan’s would be interested in what they are selling their land for. Already, his sharp mind was overcrowded with ideas and hopes for the six-hundred acres. He had only to put them on paper.
When the buzzer dinged at the elevator doors, Lane allowed entrance, tipped the delivery boy, and took his meal in the kitchen.
He ate with little interest while his mind worked on possibilities and projections. This was his project now, he thought as he topped off his wine. He was going to bring this home and make it a success.
Tanner Enterprises had hotels, resorts, amusement parks, and theaters all over the United States and Europe. But a dude ranch would be a first for the entire company let alone for Lane himself.
Unique for the area, he mused as he continued to jot down plans and notes. Not many people need a fake ranch simply because in Oklahoma, they either had their own or knew someone who had. But for people from the coasts, people from the cities who didn’t have those connections, this theme park would be a vacation for them. They could stay in cabins on the ranch and be able to participate in country-centered activities.
It was great, Lane decided smugly. It was perfect, and it was all his. So, the Morgan’s hadn’t made a definite decision as of yet. A little green would sway them, no doubt. Money talked and if their financial history was any indication, money would talk loudly to the Morgan family.
They had come a long way, he realized as he thumbed through his reports. In six months, they had gone from owing thousands of dollars with the land as collateral for loans taken out prior to Joshua Morgan’s death.
After selling off half of their land and various equipment and livestock, they had gotten out of serious debt, but had no income. Now, as far as Lane could tell, it was hit or miss. No doubt the harsh summer in Oklahoma hadn’t been in their favor. But if it would help him gain a signature on his contracts, then it was in his.
Lane readied for bed still dreaming. His father had given him this responsibility and he intended to see it through. Maybe it wouldn’t make a difference to his old man, but for the first time in Lane’s life, he was doing something for himself.
Chapter Three
Alex grunted as she thrust her shovel down into the earth. What in the world possessed a cow to run through a barbed wire fence was beyond her. All she knew is that she had three uprooted t-posts and she had to fix them before more cows got out.
She’d removed her button up shirt and wore only a tank top with her denim jeans—now stained from being dragged on the ground by the crazy cow. Her hair was pulled up on the top of her head tied with a string.
Sweat rolled down her back. She noted absently that the sun was high and it was close to noon. She decided against breaking for lunch when she noticed the cows getting closer to the fence. Even a temporary fence wouldn’t be sufficient. She would have to finish it before anything else was done.
On that note, Alex picked up a post, slid it into the ground, then hefted the t-post driver up to work the post into the ground. She repeated the process three times before she was satisfied enough to run the barbed wire.
When the fence seemed to withstand the weight of her backside leaning on it, she was done. She picked up her shirt and tugged it on, not bothering with the buttons.
“Looks all right to me.” Jack Manning, the Morgan Ranch foreman strolled up to her. “Did it hurt the cow any?”
“No. M.C. is fine.”
“You named the cow?” Jack spit tobacco on the ground and helped haul the t-post driver into the bed of the ranch truck.
“M.C. stands for Mad Cow. After the idiot drug me across twenty acres, I think she deserves the name.”
Jack chuckled at Alex’s scowl and shut the tailgate. Alex walked over to where her horse was tied and stroked her hand down his neck.
“Hello, Pri
nce,” she said and was rewarded with a head bump.
“Figured I’d take the truck on back if you want to take this here devil.” Jack commented coming up beside her. “Monster gave him a good grooming today.”
“That’s fine. I may take him for a run in the one-eighty,” she decided thinking of her favorite pasture. It was one hundred and eighty acres of flat grass. Her skin tingled in anticipation of feeling the wind rushing against her.
“He’ll like that.” Jack patted the horse’s neck. Alex noticed the worry in his gray eyes and the strain in his voice. Knowing that a woman would never be equal to the men on Morgan, she had always stayed out of their business. But when it was just Jack, Alex could pry.
“Everything all right, Jack?”
He took his time to answer which had Alex biting her lip. Overhead, a hawk called out as it soared through the brilliant blue sky. A rabbit skidded through the clearing and back into the woods. And Jack sighed.
“There’s a rumor. Is your mother really planning on selling?”
Alex’s eyes widened in shock and the breath she’d been holding whooshed out. “She hasn’t told you anything?”
“No, she hasn’t told anyone anything.”
Alex huffed out a breath. “All I know is that she’s considering it. A rep from a company is coming… today,” she realized with a jolt. “But I’m not letting it go without a fight.”
“It would be nice to know if I need to be looking for another job.”
“Oh, Jack.” Alex closed her eyes tight and wished Tanner Enterprise and her mother to hell. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“You’ve got a lot going here too. You’re a fine cowboy.”
“Thanks, I think.”
Jack smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Go on for your ride, Alex. I’ll get this equipment back to the barn and I’m getting me some dinner.”
“Dinner?” Alex frowned. “What time is it?” Had she worked the entire day away?
“Nearly six.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.” With that, she mounted Prince and took off toward the one-eighty pasture.
Besides the barn, the one-eighty pasture was Alex’s playground. It was used primarily for hay, but Alex rode her horses there and rode them often. There was a small pond big enough to swim in, small slopes and inclines to make the runs fun for her and her horses, and it was a beautiful view from Highway Seventeen.
The sun was setting earlier each day, Alex noticed as she brought Prince to as gallop. Soon, winter would hit Oklahoma. It would be a relief before it would become a nuisance.
She slowed Prince to a trot and untied her hair. It fell in loose waves just past her shoulders. Now, she would feel the wind on her skin and the thunder of hooves below her. Now was the part of the day when work was done and it was time to just be.
She kicked Prince twice to send him off in a run and for that moment, she was free.
Oklahoma—to Lane—was a beautiful state. So far, he had noticed clean air and a welcoming breeze when he stepped off the plane. The sun was just beginning to set.
It was a big orange ball in the sky and cast hues of brilliant colors. Pink, purple, and red lit up the horizon. As Lane studied the colors, he almost wished he could paint. He would paint the sunset and the planes in front of it with its gentle slopes and green prairie.
Just as he thought that what he was seeing was the most beautiful scene he’d ever witnessed, a figure emerged from atop the hill. It blocked the sun and was cast in shadow, but Lane instantly made out a horse and rider.
The horse stopped at the top of the hill and the rider reached up and untied her hair. It fell down dark and long as she shook it out. With a couple gentle kicks, the horse took off again and charged down the hillside.
As the horse and rider changed angles from the sun, Lane saw that the horse was white as snow with tiny specks of black throughout his body. And he saw that the woman atop of the horse was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
Was it a trick of the light? he wondered, squinting out the window. Or was this woman truly as magnificent as she seemed? She was slight in build. He wouldn’t even try to guess her full height as she was leaning forward on the horse as it raced across the plane.
Her hair was black as night and tossed in the wind they created. Dirt and mud flew up behind the hooves of the animal as it effortlessly cleared a rock. The horse landed gracefully, never losing speed or elegance.
Lane realized his mouth was hanging open and he clamped it shut quickly. There was a knot in his stomach that he instantly recognized as desire—hard and strong for a woman that he had no idea who she was. For the moment, he was undeniably speechless—but only for a moment.
“Who is that?” he asked the driver of the cab.
The balding man glanced out the window and grinned. “That’s Alex Morgan.”
“That’s Morgan land? I didn’t see a road nearby on the map.”
“They just put this in there when they cut the ranch in half. Surely you heard about that.” The driver snorted. “Old Man Morgan gambled away all their money and half their possessions. They sold that,” he gestured to the other side of the road. “County bought it and put in Highway Seventeen. End of the road runs straight into the Morgan’s driveway. Probably wouldn’t be on any map yet.”
“You’re probably right.” They were past the pasture where Alex Morgan had been riding. Lane opened his briefcase and made a note of what the driver had told him. Highway Seventeen ending at the ranch was more than an ideal entrance to the dude ranch.
Alex Morgan, Lane mused as the car bumped over a cattle guard with old, weathered iron poles supporting each side. Now there was an unexpected surprise. Pleasant or not, he had yet to find out.
When the car came to a stop, Lane locked his briefcase and stepped out. His first impression of the main house was that of a rustic hideaway. It wasn’t big in size, but where it lacked magnitude, it made up in charm. It was made of red, black, and cream colored bricks checkered throughout the two stories of the outer surface. Attractive shudders hung over the windows and although the paint was peeling, they were painted to match the cream colored bricks.
The house would be perfect for the main office, he decided as the wheels turned in his head. It would hardly need to be changed on the outside. New paint, he scribbled in his notebook he had extracted again from his briefcase. Chain link needs to go, he wrote. Picket fence ideal.
To the right of the house, there was a small, white shed with a single window. Large trees shaded the yard and grew thicker until they blanketed into woods. The foliage was thick and full and matched the shade of his eyes. Beauty, he thought, came in all forms.
He tipped his driver before retrieving his luggage, replaced his notebook, and proceeded to knock on the front door.
It opened and Lane found his gaze lowering until they rested on the woman in a wheelchair. Her honey hair was in a neat bun and her blue eyes were dull and distant.
“Hello. Are you Mrs. Morgan?”
“I am.”
He held out a hand. “Lane Tanner, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you.”
Alex shut the door firmly and hooked the latch that was installed on the top part of the door of the tack room. She had ridden herself into exhaustion and was ready to hit the shower and drop into oblivion.
Her stomach growled as she made her way up the drive, but she ignored it. Sure, she hadn’t eaten since… dinner last night, she realized on a moan. Maybe she could just swipe an apple on the way upstairs.
It was only Tuesday, she thought dismally. She would have to go grocery shopping Saturday after work in order to accommodate for an extra mouth to feed. A city mouth, Alex smirked.
What urban cowboy didn’t dream of owning a ranch and running it? Well, she thought smugly, she would show him just how tough running a ranch could be. She’d bet he would leave before Saturday. She prayed that he would.
Alex slipped around back with the thought of
sneaking through the kitchen to go upstairs. Her mother would be entertaining their guest in the den, more than likely. She could slip right by without being noticed. But when she opened the door, she saw that her mother had decided to conveniently entertain their guest in the kitchen.
They were sitting at the kitchen table. Her mother was laughing.
She took her stunned eyes from her mother and considered the man in the opposite chair. He was tall, even though he was sitting and currently slumped forward, Alex could tell he was long and lean. His black hair was a little too long and curled at the ends. He wore a suit, she noticed with an inner sneer.
She couldn’t see his eyes. He was facing her mother and they had papers sitting on the table between them. Straight to the point.
“I could even set you up to where you own stock,” the man was saying in a deep baritone voice that sent chills down Alex’s spine. She stiffened it automatically.
Her slight movement caused Lane to stop abruptly in the middle of his sentence. His gaze whipped to Alex and what he saw gave his heart rate a need to increase in order to keep the blood running to his brain. Her hair was still down and was still windblown from her ride—making her look like she’d just taken a roll in the hay.
She wasn’t tall, Lane realized. Maybe five feet, three. She had a small, compact body with subtle curves and an almost boyish waste. Her skin was a contrast of pale gold. He wondered if the color on her face was from the wind or from his unrelenting stare.
Very deliberately, Lane rose from the table and stepped forward. Her eyes were crystal blue, the clearest he’d ever seen and they went from critical to wary in an instant. Interesting, he thought as his lips curved. Alex Morgan was very interesting.
“Alex.” Linda wheeled herself closer and stopped at Lane’s side. “This is Mr. Tanner.” Linda’s tone had gone from warm and friendly to cool and dispassionate within the same instant. Lane wondered about that too. “This is my daughter, Alexandra.”