Backlash

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Backlash Page 16

by Lisa Jackson


  Within minutes a tall svelte blonde with striking dark eyebrows and a midnight-blue dress swept through the doors. Her glossy lips curved at the sight of Denver. “Mr. McLean,” she said, extending her hand, her silver bracelet jangling a little. “I’m sorry but Ross isn’t in right now.”

  Denver took her hand for a second, then let it fall. “This is Tessa Kramer,” he said quickly.

  “Nancy Pomeroy,” the blonde replied.

  “Nice to meet you,” Tessa said woodenly.

  Denver explained, “Tessa runs the ranch.”

  If that surprised Nancy, she managed to keep her face expressionless.

  Denver added, “Yesterday Ross called and said he’d located my brother. I wasn’t at the house and didn’t get the message until this morning.”

  “And you’re anxious to know what’s going on,” Nancy guessed. “I don’t blame you.”

  “When will Ross be back?”

  “Not until late afternoon.”

  Denver scowled, but there wasn’t much he could do, Tessa realized. “We’ll be back,” he said, taking Tessa’s hand again. “Don’t let him slip away.”

  Nancy nodded, her brown eyes twinkling behind thick, mascara-blackened lashes. “I’ll tie him to the desk if I have to.”

  “I’d appreciate it,” Denver said with a lazy smile.

  Inwardly, Tessa groaned. She saw the look of playful longing in Nancy’s eyes and the easy response of Denver’s grin. How many other women did Denver smile for? How many pairs of eyes had gazed longingly into his? Los Angeles was a big city—much larger than Helena—and so near Hollywood, it was practically oozing with beautiful women, actresses and models.

  “Something wrong?” Denver asked as he shouldered open the glass door and squinted against the sunlight reflecting on the sidewalk and windows of the buildings lining the street.

  “Nothing serious,” she replied, fighting to repress the jealousy that coiled around her heart when she considered the fact that Denver might have a dozen women waiting for him in Los Angeles.

  “You’re worried about Colton, aren’t you?”

  “That’s part of it, I suppose.” It wasn’t really a lie. Facing Colton wasn’t going to be a bed of roses.

  “And the rest?” There was a break in traffic and he pulled gently on her hand. They jaywalked across the street to a park.

  “I was just wondering about your life in L.A.”

  “What about it?”

  “I won’t fit in. Not even for a weekend.”

  “Sure you will.” They were walking more slowly now, the branches of the shade trees stirring lazily in the warm summer breeze. The noise of the traffic faded away. Children scampered down the worn paths to a playground and dogs bounded across the grass. She had to ask the question that had been with her ever since seeing Nancy Pomeroy’s response to him. “Isn’t there a woman in L.A.?”

  “Thousands of them.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He laughed loudly, startling a bird in the lacy branches overhead. The jay flapped noisily away. “A woman,” he repeated, amused, “as in a lover?”

  It sounded so childish. She couldn’t meet his eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” she lied.

  “Or mistress? Or fiancée?” he prodded.

  “It was just a question,” she retorted, angry with herself. “Don’t make a federal case of it.”

  One side of his mouth curved upward, and he pulled on her wrist, tugging her off the path and around the broad trunk of a maple tree. “What do you think?” he asked, pinning her against the scratchy bark, his eyes delving deep into hers.

  “I think it would be stupid of me to believe that an attractive man, who’s not quite over the hill—”

  “Over the hill?” he hooted, his blue eyes filled with mirth. “Me?”

  “I said ‘not quite over the hill’. Anyway, it’s very possible that there’s some woman waiting for you back in L.A.”

  “Not one,” he corrected, touching the line of her jaw familiarly. “Dozens.”

  “You’re impossible!”

  “That’s why they all love me.” His arms were on either side of her head, effectively imprisoning her against the bole while the wind sifted through the leaves overhead.

  “Be serious!”

  “I am.” His lips, thin and sensual, twisted in amusement. “Don’t you know me better than to think I’m ready to bed any woman who shows some interest?”

  “I used to think so.”

  “Don’t you still? Didn’t last night mean anything?” he asked, his smile fading as he touched the end of her braid with his fingers.

  “It meant a lot. To me.”

  “And to me.” His breath was warm against her face, his gaze sincere. She could see the pinpoints of light in his eyes, the perspiration beading on his brow.

  She swallowed hard, and he noticed the movement, his gaze shifting to her throat. “I can’t lie and say there haven’t been other women, Tess. Seven years is a long time. But there haven’t been all that many, and none of them, none, can hold a candle to you.”

  Absurdly, she wanted to cry. But she fought her tears. His lips rubbed lightly over hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, mindless of the mothers with young children in strollers, the adolescents on bikes, the older men and women sitting together, shoulders touching, on park benches.

  His arms circled her and he held her close, the kiss deepening, his lips as hot and hungry as they had been the night before. When he finally lifted his head, his breathing was ragged, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Not that your jealousy isn’t flattering,” he said.

  “Jealousy?” she retorted, wanting to deny what was so patently obvious.

  “Admit it, Tess, you were jealous!”

  “I hate jealous women.”

  “And I love them.” He laughed again and dragged her from the relative privacy of the trees. “How about some lunch?”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  Cajoled out of her worries by his good mood, she laughed. “I am, too.”

  “Good. If things haven’t changed too much, I remember a great little café with a view of Mount Helena.”

  The café was long gone. But they did find a small Italian restaurant not far from the courthouse. As the waiter brought pasta and Chablis, Denver sat across from Tessa at the table and clinked his glass to hers. “Here’s to ... a long and successful business arrangement.”

  Tessa almost choked. “Business arrangement?”

  “Umm. You said you wanted to buy the ranch.”

  “I do.”

  “Well, now that Colton’s been found and you’ve sold your horses—you have sold them, haven’t you?”

  Swallowing with difficulty, she set down her glass. “Nate’s made a generous offer,” she admitted.

  “Then all that’s left is to draw up a contract, sign it and take it to the bank. Right?”

  Suddenly feeling depressed, she nodded. “If Colton agrees.”

  “And if he doesn’t—you still want my half ?”

  “Yes,” she said firmly, though inside she was dying a little. All her dreams of owning the ranch, of being mistress of the McLean spread, seemed to shrivel in front of her very eyes. Without Denver, the ranch meant so little. She shoved her fettuccine around on her plate and tried to eat. Her appetite had disappeared.

  “But first you have to pay off your bet,” he reminded her.

  “And then what happens? When everything’s signed, sealed and delivered, will you just head back to California?”

  “What else?” He eyed her quietly, sipping his wine, his jaw thrust forward.

  “Nothing, I guess,” she whispered, then gave herself a quick mental kick. She wasn’t about to let go without a whimper. “You said last night was something special,” she said, meeting his gaze again.

  “It was.”

  “But it doesn’t have to go on forever, is that it?”

&n
bsp; “I didn’t say—”

  Her anger sparked. “Were we just ‘experimenting’ again, Denver? Seeing if it was as good as when we were kids?”

  “What’re you getting at?”

  “Last night was more than a one-night stand. At least for me. I didn’t wait seven years just to be used and tossed aside again!”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I never intended to use you.”

  “But it happened.” She felt her cheeks flame, but she couldn’t control the rage and hurt deep inside. “I don’t want another affair, Denver,” she snapped. “I had enough trouble living through the last one.”

  “You were only nineteen.”

  “And now I’m twenty-six, but my values haven’t changed,” she said angrily, tossing her napkin into her plate and stalking out of the restaurant. Outside the sun was blinding. She marched down the street, but Denver caught up with her on the second block, grabbed her hand and whirled her around.

  “What do you want from me, Tessa? A marriage proposal?” he fumed.

  Yes! “I’m not trying to manipulate you, Denver.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  She wanted to slap him and tell him to take his hands off her. But her dignity wouldn’t allow this fight to be aired to all the good citizens of Helena. “Leave it alone, Denver,” she said between clenched teeth, wrenching her arm away from him.

  “That’s the problem, Tess,” he said, sighing. “I can’t leave it alone. Just like I can’t leave you alone. But, by the same token, I can’t lie to you or promise you things that just won’t happen.”

  “Look, you don’t have to go on about this. I didn’t ask you to marry me, did I?” She started up the street again and he kept up with her, stride for stride, until they reached the car. At that point she had to stop. The car was locked and there was nowhere she could run—no place she could hide.

  “We need to talk,” he growled, shoving his scarred hand through his ebony hair.

  “Maybe we should’ve done more talking last night!”

  Tense as a panther ready to strike, he paced from one end of the car to the other. “I just don’t know what you want from me—”

  “Denver?” Ross Anderson’s voice boomed over the sound of traffic.

  Denver’s head jerked up. He watched in mild surprise as the wiry young attorney, briefcase tucked under one arm, dashed down the courthouse steps. “We’ll discuss this later,” he said from the corner of his mouth.

  “Right.” Tessa was disbelieving.

  “Later!” Then, forcing a tight smile onto his face, he observed Ross zigzagging through the traffic.

  “I called the office and Nancy said you were waiting for me,” Ross said as he extended his free hand, “but I didn’t think you’d be camping out on the courthouse steps.”

  “We weren’t—we were just having a . . . discussion. Ross, I’d like you to meet Tessa Kramer. Tessa—Ross.”

  Ross grinned, his narrow face cracking with a smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Ms. Kramer. John McLean was one of your biggest fans.” He offered his hand and Tessa shook it. But her gaze traveled past the expensive weave of his jacket to clash with the anger in Denver’s eyes.

  “John was good to me and my family. We miss him.”

  “Don’t we all?” Ross shot a glance at Denver, whose lips had tightened until they were white.

  “Have you heard anything else about Colton?” Denver demanded.

  Ross reached into his pocket and withdrew a long, thin cigar. “Is that what this is all about?”

  “Ms. Kramer, here, wants to purchase the ranch—all of it. We need to talk to my brother, then work out a purchase agreement. Since you’re involved in the probate of his estate, I’d like you to iron out the details.”

  “If Colt agrees.” Ross snapped his lighter over the end of his cheroot and puffed furiously, sending up a stream of small, blue clouds.

  “Even if he doesn’t, she wants my half.”

  Ross squinted thoughtfully through the smoke. “Unless Colt wants the entire place. There’s a provision in John’s will, you know. If one brother doesn’t want his share, the other has the option to buy him out at fair market value.”

  Tessa’s heart sank. Not only was she losing Denver to the bright lights of Los Angeles, but even if she did sell her horses and the bank approved her loan, Colton might want the place! Though he’d been overseas for years, he might want to quit his dangerous job, give up his wanderlust and settle back in the valley where his family had lived for generations.

  “Colton won’t want the ranch any more than I do,” Denver said tightly. “He left right after the fire, too. Hasn’t been back since.”

  “A man could change his mind when he owns the land.”

  “I didn’t.” Denver stared pointedly at Tessa.

  “You’re not your brother. Come on, we can talk more comfortably in my office.”

  Puffing smoke like a steam engine, Ross led the way, and within minutes they were seated around his desk. “So you’re here about Colton.”

  “Have you heard from him?” Denver asked, leaning back in his leather chair and eyeing the attorney.

  Ross shook his head. “Not Colton himself. But the P.I. called again. He’s sure the man he’s seen is Colton—though his looks have changed. He just hasn’t gotten close enough to talk to him yet. It’s touchy, you know.”

  “Touchy?” Tessa asked. “How?”

  “Dangerous. No one wants to blow Colt’s cover,” Denver explained, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair.

  “You make it sound like he’s a spy.”

  “Close enough,” Denver muttered. “Close enough.”

  “I don’t know when we’ll actually hear from Colton,” Ross said, “but the investigator’s supposed to call back in a few days. Hopefully he will have contacted him by then.”

  Denver’s face muscles were tight. “Tell your man I want to talk to my brother.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “And if by some fluke Colton himself calls, let him know what’s going on; explain about John and the land. Let him know we have a buyer.”

  Ross scribbled himself a note and Tessa’s name leaped off the clean yellow page.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t tell him who wants to buy,” Denver decided, surveying Ross’s notes.

  “Why not?”

  Denver glanced at Tessa. “He and the Kramers have never seen eye to eye.”

  Tessa’s mouth went dry. Dealing with Denver’s accusations had been bad enough. She couldn’t imagine what Colton would say if and when he returned. No amount of arguing had changed his mind before he left Montana. She doubted anything would now.

  Secretly Tessa had wondered if Colton had been behind the accident. Though he was supposed to have been in town with John when the blaze started, he hadn’t been. John had admitted as much later. And Colton had arrived at the ranch quickly—just as the explosion had rocked through the stables. However, she’d kept her thoughts to herself. Pointing fingers without proof was a McLean trait, and she wasn’t about to lower herself to that level. But the thought of seeing Colton again hung like a pall over her. First facing Colton—then watching Denver leave for Los Angeles. Deja vu, she thought wearily.

  “—I’ll let you know the minute I hear anything,” Ross was promising Denver.

  “Good. Just make sure we don’t put Colt in any jeopardy.” Denver stretched his arm toward Ross.

  “I’ll give it my best shot!” The wiry attorney shook Denver’s hand, but looked at Tessa. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Kramer.”

  “You, too.”

  On the way home, she barely said a word to Denver. They stopped for dinner at a restaurant owned by a young couple who served “family-style” meals. The room was crowded, the table big enough to hold four couples, which it did, but there wasn’t one bit of intimacy.

  Tessa ate the chicken and dumplings and didn’t taste a bite. She couldn’t think of anything save the fact that Denver was planning to leave h
er again. Not that he’d ever promised anything else, she knew. And there was some time left—time to be shared here and in California. But the prospect of living the rest of her life without him was more depressing than she’d ever imagined. The past seven years she’d known that somewhere, sometime, she’d see him again, but now it seemed that once he left for Los Angeles, the only contact she would have with him would be quarterly statements about the ranch—property tax statements, income taxes and such—until he was completely bought out.

  And what then? Would he return to the ranch whenever he wanted, to check up on her? Take her to bed for one night only to leave the next day? Her head was swimming, her eyes hot. She could barely breathe.

  Shoving her chair away from the table, she scrambled to her feet. “I need some fresh air,” she explained, not waiting for Denver’s reaction. She struck out through the restaurant’s front door and didn’t stop until she was in the parking lot, breathing in huge gulps, mentally kicking herself for loving him.

  She heard his footsteps thudding on the boards of the front porch. Before she could turn around, she felt his arms surround her waist, his breath on her nape. “I’ve been an ass,” he decided, and she clenched her fists impotently.

  She couldn’t agree more. “This is all coming down too quickly. The ranch, Colton, you. It’s not turning out like it was supposed to.”

  “No fairy-tale ending?” he mocked.

  “I suppose I deserved that.”

  “What is it you want, Tessa?”

  You, her heart thundered. Just you!

  “If you want the ranch, I’ll sell it to you. If you want Colton’s share, I’ll convince him you’re the right buyer. If you need money, I’ll loan it to you. Whatever it is that will make you happy . . .”

  She tried not to shake, Her heart wrenched. “The ranch is all I’ve ever wanted,” she whispered, her tongue tripping on the lie. Tell him! Tell him you love him! a part of her cried, but pride kept her silent.

  “Then there’s nothing to worry about. Let me handle Colton.” He kissed the nape of her neck. A shiver darted quickly up her spine to linger at the spot where he’d brushed his lips across her skin.

  “Let’s go,” she murmured.

  Denver yanked viciously on the tie still knotted at his throat, then threw his jacket into the back seat. After rolling his sleeves over his forearms, he helped Tessa into the car, then slid behind the wheel.

 

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