by Joanne Rock
Maybe what she’d said resonated for him, because the condescension in his expression gave way to something else. Something hotter and more complex. At the same moment, she realized that she’d arrived a foot away from him. Closer than she’d meant to come.
She couldn’t have said which was more unnerving: the sudden lifting of a mental barrier between them that made Miles Rivera seem more human, or her physical proximity to a man who...stirred something inside her. Good or bad, she couldn’t say, but she most definitely didn’t want to deal with magnified emotions right now. Let alone the sudden burst of heat she felt just being near him.
Telling herself the jittery feelings were a combination of justified anger and residual anxiety from her snooping mission, Chiara reached for her silver purse on the desk. Her hand came close to his thigh for an instant before she snatched up the handbag.
She didn’t look back as she stalked out the office door.
* * *
Still shaken by his unexpected encounter with Chiara Campagna, Miles made a dismal effort to mingle with his guests despite the loud music, the crowd that struck him as too young and entitled, and the text messages from the other Mesa Falls Ranch owners that kept distracting him. Trapped in his oversize great room that took “open concept” to a new level of monstrosity, he leaned against the curved granite-topped cabinetry that provided a low boundary between the dining area and seating around a stone fireplace that took up one entire wall. Open trusswork in the cathedral ceilings added to the sense of space, while the hardwood floor made for easy dancing as the crowd enjoyed the selections of the DJ set up near the open staircase.
Miles nodded absently at whatever the blonde pop singer standing next to him was saying about her reluctance to go back on tour, his thoughts preoccupied by another woman.
A certain raven-haired social media star who seemed to captivate every man in the room.
Miles’s gaze followed Chiara as she posed for a photo with two members of a boy band in front of a wall of red flowers brought into the great room for the party. He couldn’t take his eyes off her feminine curves draped in that outrageous liquid silver dress she wore. Hugged between the two young men, her gown reflected the flashes of multiple camera phones as several other guests took surreptitious photos. And while the guys around her only touched her in polite and socially acceptable ways, Miles still fought an urge to wrest her away from them. A ludicrous reaction, and totally out of character for him.
Then again, everything about his reaction to the wildly sexy Chiara was out of character. Since when was he the kind of guy to disparage what someone else did for a living? He’d regretted his flippant dismissal of her work as soon as he’d said the words, recognizing them as a defense mechanism he had no business articulating. There was something about her blatant appeal that slid past his reserve. The woman was like fingernails down his back, inciting response. Desire, yes. But there was more to it than that. He didn’t trust the femme fatale face she presented to the world, or the way she used her femininity in an almost mercenary way to build her name. She reminded him of a woman from his past that he’d rather forget. But that wasn’t fair, since Chiara wasn’t Brianna. Without a doubt, he owed Chiara an apology before she left tonight.
Even though she’d definitely been on his computer when he’d entered his office earlier. He’d seen the blue glow of the screen reflected on her face before she’d scrambled to shut it down.
“How do you know Chiara Campagna?” the woman beside him asked, inclining her head so he could hear her over the music.
He hadn’t been following the conversation, but Chiara’s name snagged his focus, and he tore his gaze away from the beauty influencer who’d become a household name to stare down at the earnest young pop singer beside him.
He was only on site at Mesa Falls Ranch to oversee things for the owners for a few weeks. His real life back at Rivera Ranch in central California never brought him into contact with the kind of people on the guest list tonight, but the purpose of this party—to promote the green ranching mission of Mesa Falls by spreading the word among celebrities who could use their platforms to highlight the environmental effort—was a far cry from the routine cattle raising and grain production he was used to. Just like his modern marvel of a home in Mesa Falls bore little resemblance to the historic Spanish-style main house on Rivera Ranch.
“I don’t know her at all,” Miles returned after a moment. He tried to remember the pop singer’s name. She had a powerful voice despite her petite size, her latest single landing in the top ten according to the notes the ranch’s publicist had given him about the guests. “But I assume she cares about Mesa Falls’s environmental mission. No doubt she has a powerful social media platform that could help our outreach.”
The singer laughed as she lifted her phone to take a picture of her own, framing Chiara and the two boy band members in her view screen. “Is that why we’re all here tonight? Because of the environment?”
Frowning, he remembered the real reason for this particular party. While the green ranching practices they used were touted every time they hosted an event, tonight’s party had a more important agenda. Public interest in Mesa Falls had spiked since the revelations that the owners’ high school teacher and friend, Alonzo Salazar, had been the author behind the career-ending tell-all Hollywood Newlyweds. In fact, the news story broke at a gala here over Christmas. It had also been revealed that Alonzo had spent a lot of time at Mesa Falls before his death, his association with the ranch owners drawing speculation about his involvement with the business.
Tonight, the partners hoped to put an end to the rumors and tabloid interest by revealing the profits from Hollywood Newlyweds had gone toward Alonzo Salazar’s humanitarian work around the globe. They’d hoped the announcement would put an end to the media interest in the Mesa Falls owners and discourage newshounds from showing up at the ranch. There’d been a coordinated press release of the news at the start of the party, a toast to the clearing of Alonzo’s good name early in the evening, and a media room had been set up off the foyer with information about Alonzo’s charitable efforts for reporters.
But there was something the owners weren’t saying. While it was true a share of the book profits had benefited a lot of well-deserving people, a larger portion had gone to a secret beneficiary, and no one could figure out why.
“So the threat of global warming didn’t bring you here tonight,” Miles responded with a self-deprecating smile, trying to get back on track in his host duties. He watched as Chiara left behind the band members for one of the Mesa Falls partners—game developer Alec Jacobsen—who wanted a photo with her. “What did? A need to escape to Montana for a long weekend?”
He ground his teeth together at the friendly way Alec placed his hand on the small of Chiara’s back. Miles remembered the generous cutout in her dress that left her completely bare in that spot. Her hair shimmered in the overhead lights as she brushed the long waves over one shoulder.
“Honestly? I hoped to meet Chiara,” the singer gushed enthusiastically. “Will you excuse me? Maybe I can get a photo with her, too.”
Miles gladly released her from the conversation, chagrined to learn that his companion had been as preoccupied with Chiara as he was. What must life be like for the influencer, who’d achieved a different level of fame from the rest of the crowd—all people who were highly accomplished in their own right?
Pulling out his phone, Miles checked to see if his friend and fellow ranch owner, Gage Striker, had responded to a text he’d sent an hour ago. Gage should have been at the party long ago.
Miles had sent him a text earlier:
How well do you know Chiara Campagna? Found her in my study and I would swear she was riffling through my notes. Looking for something.
Gage had finally answered:
Astrid and Jonah have known her forever. She’s cool.
Miles knew f
ellow partner Jonah Norlander had made an early exit from the party with his wife, Astrid, so Miles would have to wait to check with him. Shoving the phone back in the pocket of his tuxedo, Miles bided his time until he could speak to Chiara again. He would apologize, first and foremost. But then, he needed to learn more about her.
Because she hadn’t just been snooping around his computer in his office earlier. She’d been there on a mission. And she hadn’t covered her trail when she’d rushed to close down his screen.
Somehow, Chiara Campagna knew about Zach. And Miles wasn’t letting her leave Mesa Falls until he figured out how.
Two
Chiara grooved on the dance floor to an old disco tune, surrounded by a dozen other guests and yet—thankfully—all by herself. She’d spent time snapping photos with people earlier, so no one entered her personal dance space while she took a last glance around the party she should have left an hour ago.
Normally, she kept a strict schedule at events like this, making only brief appearances at all but the biggest of social engagements. The Met Gala might get a whole evening, or an Oscar after-party. But a gathering hosted by a Montana rancher in a thinly disguised PR effort to turn attention away from the Alonzo Salazar book scandal?
She should have been in and out in fifty minutes once her spying mission in Miles Rivera’s office had proven a bust. Finding out something about Zach had been her real motive for attending, yet she’d lingered long after she’d failed in that regard. And she knew the reason had something to do with her host. She knew because she found herself searching him out in the crowd, her eyes scanning the darkened corners of the huge great room hoping for a glimpse of him.
Entirely foolish of her.
Annoyed with herself for the curiosity about a man who, at best, was keeping secrets about Zach and at worst thought her work shallow and superficial, she was just about to walk off the dance floor when he reentered the room. His sudden presence seemed to rearrange the atoms in the air, making it more charged. Electrified.
For a moment, he didn’t notice her as he read something on his phone, and she took the opportunity to look her fill while unobserved. She was curious what it was about him that held her attention. His incredibly fit physique? Certainly with his broad shoulders he cut through the guests easily enough, his size making him visible despite the crowd around him. Or maybe it was the way he held himself, with an enviable confidence and authority that implied he was a man who solved problems and took care of business. But before she could explore other facets of his appeal, his gaze lifted from his device to land squarely on her.
Almost as if he’d known the whole time she’d been watching him.
A keen awareness took hold as she flushed all over. Grateful for the dim lighting in the great room, she took some comfort in the fact that at least he wouldn’t see how he affected her. Even if he had caught her staring.
Abruptly, she stepped out of the throng of dancers with brisk efficiency, determined to make her exit. Heels clicking purposefully on the hardwood, she moved toward the foyer, texting her assistant that she was ready to leave. But just as the other woman appeared at her side to gather their entourage, Miles intercepted Chiara.
“Don’t go.” His words, his serious tone, were almost as much of a surprise as his hand catching hers lightly in his own. “Can we speak privately?”
It might have been satisfying to say something cutting now in return for the way he’d behaved with her earlier. To hold her head high and march out his front door into the night. She looked back and forth between Miles and her assistant, Jules Santor, who was busy on her phone assembling vehicles for the return to their nearby hotel. But the reason Chiara had come here tonight was more important than her pride, and if there was any chance she could still wrest some clue about Zach’s death from Miles after all this time, she couldn’t afford to indulge the impulse.
“On second thought,” she told Jules, a very tall former volleyball player who turned heads everywhere she went, “feel free to take the rest of the evening off. I’m going to stay a bit longer.”
Jules bit her lip, her thumbs paused midtext as she glanced around the party. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? Do you want me to leave a car for you?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll text if I need a ride,” Chiara assured her before returning her attention to whatever Miles had in mind.
At her nod, he guided her toward the staircase behind the dining area, one set of steps leading to an upper floor and another to a lower. He took her downstairs, never relinquishing her hand. A social nicety, maybe, because of her sky-high heels, long gown and the open stairs. Yet his touch made her pulse quicken.
When they reached the bottom floor, there was a small bar and a mahogany billiards table with a few guys engaged in a game. He led her past a smaller living area that was dark except for a fire in the hearth, through a set of double doors into a huge room with a pool and floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides. Natural stonework surrounded the entire pool deck, making it look like a grotto complete with a small waterfall from a raised hot tub. The water was illuminated from within, and landscape lights showcased a handful of plantings and small trees.
“This is beautiful.” She paused as they reached two easy chairs flanking a cocktail table by the windows that overlooked the backyard and the Bitterroot River beyond.
Withdrawing her hand from his, she took the seat he gestured toward while he made himself comfortable in the other.
“Thank you.” He pulled his gaze from her long enough to look over the pool area. “I keep meaning to come here during the summer when I could actually open all the doors and windows and feel the fresh air circulating.”
“You’ve never visited this house during the summer?” She wondered if she misunderstood him. The house where he was hosting tonight’s party was at least fourteen thousand square feet.
“I’m rarely ever in Montana.” His blue eyes found hers again as he leaned forward in the wingback, elbows propped on his knees. “Normally, my brother oversees Mesa Falls while I maintain Rivera Ranch, but Weston had his hands full this year, so I’m helping out here for the month.” His jaw flexed. “I realize I did a poor job in my hosting duties earlier this evening, however.”
Surprised he would admit it, she felt her brows lift but waited for him to continue. The sounds of the game at the billiards table drifted through the room now and then, but for the most part, the soft gurgle of the waterfall drowned out the noise of the party. The evening was winding down anyhow.
“I had no right to speak disparagingly of your work, and I apologize.” He hung his head for a moment as he shook it, appearing genuinely regretful. “I don’t know what I was thinking, but it was completely inappropriate.”
“Agreed.” She folded her fingers together, hands in her lap, as she watched him. “Apology accepted.”
He lifted his head, that amused smile she remembered from earlier flitting around his lips again. “You’re an unusual woman, Chiara Campagna.”
“How so?” Crossing her legs, she wished she didn’t feel a flutter inside at the sound of her name on his lips. She couldn’t have walked away from this conversation if she tried.
She was curious why he’d sought her out for a private audience again. Had she been in his thoughts as much as he’d been in hers over the last hour? Not that it should matter. She hadn’t decided to stay longer at the party because he made her entire body flush hot with a single look. No, she was here now because Miles knew something about Zach’s death, and getting to know Miles might help her find out what had really happened.
“Your candor, for one thing.” He slid a finger beneath his bow tie, expertly loosening it a fraction.
Her gaze tracked to his throat, imagining the taste of his skin at the spot just above his collar. It was easier to indulge in a little fantasy about Miles than it was to reply to his opinion of her, which was so ver
y wrong. She’d been anything but truthful with him this evening.
“I appreciated the way you explained your job to me when I made a crack about it,” he continued, unbuttoning his tuxedo jacket and giving her a better view of the white shirt stretching taut across his chest and abs. He looked very...fit. “I had no idea how much work was involved.”
Her gaze lingered on his chest as she wondered how much more unbuttoning he might do in her presence tonight. She didn’t know where all this physical attraction was coming from, but she wished she could put the lid back on it. Normally, she didn’t think twice about pursuing relationships, preferring to focus on her work. But then, men didn’t usually tempt her to this degree. The awareness was beyond distracting when she needed to be smart about her interaction with him. With an effort, she tried to focus on their conversation.
“I’m sure plenty of jobs look easier from the outside. You’re a rancher, for example, and I’m sure that amounts to more than moving cattle from one field to the next, but that’s really all I know about it.”
“Yet whereas you have the good sense to simply admit that, I made presumptuous wisecracks because I didn’t understand your work.” He studied her for a long moment before he spoke again. “I appreciate you being here tonight. I do recognize that our ranch party probably wouldn’t be on your list of social engagements if not for your friendship with Jonah Norlander’s wife, Astrid.”
“Astrid is one of my closest friends,” she said, wary of going into too much detail about her connections to the Mesa Falls partners and their spouses. But at least she was telling the truth about Astrid. The Finnish former supermodel had caused Chiara’s career to skyrocket, simply by posting enthusiastic comments on Chiara’s social media content. Because of her friend, she’d gone from an unknown to a full-blown influencer practically overnight. “As someone who doesn’t have much family, I don’t take for granted the few good friends I have in my life.”