Harlequin American Romance October 2013 Bundle: Twins Under the Christmas Tree\Big Sky Christmas\Her Wyoming Hero\A Rancher's Christmas (56 page)

She didn't need to talk to her assistant this morning, but she was used to being busy all the time, and the lack of rushing around and accomplishing things was unnerving. She dialed the office.

“Hi, Marsha, it's Gina,” she told the receptionist. “Please put me through to Carrie.”

“She hasn't come in yet.”

Gina checked her watch. It was after nine in Chicago, well past time to start the workday. “Where is she?”

“Well, she had that dinner date last night. Maybe she stayed out late and overslept.”

Not a good sign.

“Wait, I just remembered something,” Marsha said. “On her way out last night, she mentioned something about stopping at some of the Grant department stores today. Maybe she's at a store right now.”

Conducting a visual check. That made sense. Gina let out a relieved breath—and then wondered what she had been worried about. Carrie was a younger version of herself. As eager as she was to move up the corporate ladder, she wouldn't blow this.

“I've been thinking about you and your family,” Marsha said with sympathy. “How are you doing?”

“It's not easy, but I'm managing,” she said and gave Marsha a few details. “Will you have Carrie call me when she comes in?”

Gina disconnected and made a mental list of what she needed to do this morning. She would start with compiling Uncle Lucky's bank statements and legal documents so that she could take them to the meeting with the attorney. Her uncle's office was even more cluttered than the kitchen, and finding what she needed wouldn't be easy.

She also thought about the funeral tomorrow and all that entailed. Her family expected her to give the eulogy, which she'd started to write in bed last night. Gina didn't plan on taking up too much time because other people also planned to speak, but she still needed to hone her speech and practice it.

At some point she needed to sort through the old papers and junk her uncle had collected. And he'd collected piles of both.

Suddenly, she felt even more tired than she had yesterday. Last night, more than a few people had offered to help her with whatever she needed. After she sorted through everything, she would take some of them up on the offer and ask for help hauling things to the dump or the nearest charity bin.

For now, clearing out the clutter would keep her busy.

At last, the coffee was ready. It didn't smell very good, but beggars couldn't be choosers. She filled a chipped mug and searched the aging fridge for milk.

Casseroles, cheese plates and all kinds of food crammed the shelves. Thanks to the kind people of Saddlers Prairie, there was enough food in there to feed a small army. Even with Uncle Redd, Gloria and Sophie helping her eat it, there were enough meals to last until Thanksgiving.

She took her buttered toast and coffee to the table and sat down. Maybe Zach would help them eat some of this stuff.

Zach. Now there was a man. He was big and super good-looking—every girl's dream cowboy.

Gina frowned and reminded herself that she wasn't into cowboys. She liked ambitious men in well-tailored suits. She hadn't met the right one yet, but she had no doubt that, in time, she would.

The coffee tasted awful. If she hadn't needed the caffeine so badly she'd dump it down the drain. She was revising her eulogy and picking at her toast when someone knocked at the back door.

Pathetically eager for company, she jumped up and hurried to open it. Zach stood on the stoop, his face ruddy from the cold. Against the backdrop of the blue sky, his hair looked almost black and his eyes were the color of liquid silver. His heavy parka was unzipped, revealing a flannel shirt tucked into jeans.

“Morning,” he said, his breath fogging in the cold air. “I finished the chores and thought you might want company.”

How had he known?

“Sure.” She widened the door. “Come in.”

After wiping his boots on the mat he stepped inside, bringing a whiff of fresh air with him. “It's cold out there,” he said, blowing on his hands.

“It's nice and warm in here.”

As Zach shrugged out of his parka and hung it on one of the hooks along the wall near the door, Gina couldn't help admiring his broad shoulders, narrow hips and long legs.

He caught her staring. His mouth quirked and he raised his eyebrows.

It was a good thing she didn't blush easily. “I was wondering whether I should offer you coffee,” she said. “Lucky's coffeemaker is older than I am, and this stuff tastes pretty bad. But there's plenty to eat if you're hungry.”

Zach glanced at what was left of her toast. “That looks good.”

“I'll slice some for you.”

She started to stand, but Zach gestured for her to stay seated. “Relax—I'll get it myself. I met the woman who made that bread when she brought it by yesterday. Her name is Cora Mullins, and she went to grade school with Lucky.”

He pulled a plate from the cupboard as if he was family. From the way Uncle Lucky had sung his praises, she knew he'd thought of him that way.

“May as well try the coffee, too,” he said, grabbing a mug.

A few minutes later, he joined her at the kitchen table. He sipped cautiously. “Compared to the sludge Lucky makes—made—this isn't half bad.”

He made a face that coaxed a smile from Gina. “Believe me, I tasted his coffee several times,” she said. “I'm surprised I didn't sprout hair on my chest.”

Zach's gaze darted to her breasts. Interest flared in his eyes and her body jumped to life. Maybe he wasn't her type, but she sure was attracted to him.

He glanced at her pad and paper. “Don't tell me you're working.”

“I was trying to revise what I want to say at the funeral.” She bit her lip. “But thinking about that makes me sad.”

“Talk about Lucky's coffee. That'll get a smile out of everyone.”

She hadn't thought of using humor. “Smiling through the tears—I like it.”

Zach wolfed down the bread, obviously famished from whatever he'd been doing outside. “Before I forget, here's the key to Lucky's truck.” He raised his hip and set the key and her uncle's rabbit foot keychain on the table. “He logged over a hundred and seventy thousand miles on it but maintained the engine beautifully. It runs great, but it's a stick shift and doesn't have power steering. Think you can handle that?”

She scoffed. “I learned to drive in that truck.”

“No kidding! So Lucky gave you driving lessons?”

When she nodded, Zach shook his head and chuckled, a nice sound that brightened up the gray morning. “What's so funny?” she asked.

“The man was hell on wheels, pushing the truck so hard, it's a wonder he didn't burn up the engine he took such care with. I was picturing you with the pedal to the metal and the truck churning up clouds of dust. I'll bet Lucky got a big kick out of that.”

“Especially when I pushed the speed up to sixty—which was about as fast as the old truck could go.” She smiled at the memory. “I was fourteen, too young for a driver's license, but Uncle Lucky said I needed to learn in case of an emergency. He took me out on a few deserted roads where the sheriff wouldn't spot us and there were no other cars for me to hit.

“I spent most every summer with him while my parents worked at fairs around the state, trying to drum up business,” she added.

“I'm surprised your dad didn't want to ranch.”

“He, Uncle Lucky and Uncle Redd grew up on the Lucky A, but only Uncle Lucky stayed. Uncle Redd left to run the agricultural department of Spenser's General Store, and my dad went to work at my grandfather's farm equipment business. He said he liked getting paid regularly, but I don't remember that ever happening. But I mentioned that the other night.”

“Yeah. That must've been tough.”

“I was born into it, so I didn't know any better. But my parents did, and their money troubles definitely took a toll on their marriage.” Gina didn't like to think of those times. “That's why I left home and why I work so hard at my job.”

For no reason at all, her eyes teared up.

The concerned look Zach gave her only made her feel worse. “You miss him, don't you?”

She nodded and tried to blink back the tears. In vain.

“Uncle Lucky kept asking me to come back and visit,” she said. “He said he had something to say to me in person. Now it's too late, and I'll never know what it was. Why didn't I make the time to come back?”

Chapter Three

Gina hunched her shoulders and wiped her eyes, and it was obvious that she was racked with guilt for not visiting while Lucky was still alive. She also seemed tormented over not knowing what he'd wanted to tell her. Zach knew, and this seemed a good time to enlighten her.

Even now she was beautiful, her eyes a soft green through the bright sheen of tears. She bit her bottom lip, and then freed it. Full again, it looked pink and soft and warm....

Zach tore his gaze away. He had a job to do, and he wasn't going to think about his strong attraction to her. She was mired in the corporate world and he wanted to stay as far away from that as possible.

He handed her a paper napkin to blow her nose. “Don't beat yourself up over what you can't change,” he said, giving her the same advice Lucky had given him. “Your uncle knew you loved him, and that's what counts.”

“But I'll never know what he wanted to talk to me about.” She brushed crumbs from the tabletop into her hand and dumped them on her plate.

“I think I do.”

“Oh? Tell me.”

Her mouth opened a fraction, and from out of nowhere, Zach had the crazy urge to taste those lips.
Down, boy.
He raised his gaze and gave her a level look. “Lucky wanted to talk to you about his decision to leave you the Lucky A.”

She blinked in surprise. “That can't be right. Uncle Redd is his brother. The ranch is supposed go to him.”

“Lucky and Redd discussed it, and they both felt it should pass to you.”

“But Uncle Redd never said a word about that over the phone or last night. I think you misunderstood.”

Having sat in on the conversation, Zach shook his head. “I know what I'm talking about, but if you don't believe me, you'll find out when you meet with Matt Granger this afternoon.”

“But I don't want this ranch,” Gina said, looking stricken.

“All the same, it's yours.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

Zach figured that was a rhetorical question, and in the silent moment that passed, he could almost see her mind work—and it worked fast.

“I guess I'll sell it,” she said.

Not if Zach could stop her. “That's one option, but Lucky wants—wanted—to keep it in the family.”

“Then he shouldn't have left it to me,” she muttered, pushing her hair behind her ears. “I've had a lot of good times here, but I saw my uncle struggle every year. I know how hard it is to work from dawn to dusk, sometimes longer, all the while praying that Mother Nature behaves so that you can make a profit and survive another year. Sorry, but I'll pass.”

She wore a stubborn look that reminded Zach of Lucky. With that and the defiant lift of her chin, Zach knew she'd made up her mind. Still, he had a promise to keep. “At least think about it for a few days. For Lucky.”

“You're playing the guilt card. That isn't fair.” Once again, she caught her lip between her teeth. “Even if I wanted to keep the ranch, and believe me, I don't, I don't see how that's possible. I live in Chicago. That's where my job—my life—is, and where I want to be. I'm a city girl now. Lucky's known for years that I wasn't coming back here.”

“He left you the ranch anyway.” Zach let the words hang there for a moment. “Ranching is good, honest work,” he added.

“And for the most part, ranchers are good people—I know that. But it doesn't pay, not for the Lucky A. I don't have to look at my uncle's bank statement to know that he doesn't have two dimes to his name. He always struggled to keep his head above water. I decided long ago that this wasn't the life for me.”

“Lucky used to talk about how you helped with the chores around here and how you enjoyed taking care of the animals and being outside.”

“When I was little, I did.”

Zach tried a different tack. “Can you honestly say you're happy with your life?”

“What are you, my psychiatrist?” she quipped, but she looked like a deer in headlights. “I'm a creative person, and I get to use that creativity in my work.”

She hadn't answered the question, which in itself was an answer. “You didn't look like you were being creative when you walked off the plane last night,” Zach said. “You looked ready to drop.”

“I don't mind the long hours because it means that I'm successful and productive. And FYI, I happen to thrive on stress and a big workload.”

Having been there, Zach understood. He also knew that that kind of adrenaline never resulted in long-term satisfaction. “So you enjoy life on the human hamster wheel.”

“Sometimes it does seem like that, but... You couldn't possibly understand.”

“Because I'm a ranch foreman.” Stung, Zach crossed his arms. “You don't know anything about what I understand. You don't know anything about
me.
” He considered explaining about the company he'd once owned, the things he'd done for the bottom line and the terrible price he'd paid. But that was his business. Besides, it was behind him now.

The starch went out of her spine. “That was rude, and I apologize.”

Zach nodded. She angled her head and really looked at him. “You're right. I know very little about you, except that you're from Houston. There are ranches all over Texas. How did you end up at the Lucky A in Saddlers Prairie, Montana?”

“I needed a change.” Which was all he was going to say. “You should know that I made a promise to Lucky that I'd convince you to keep the ranch.”

“You're trying to change the subject. Don't tell me—you left Houston because you're a criminal.” Her eyebrows arched and her eyes twinkled, lighting her whole face.

“Very funny. Nope.” Not directly, anyway. In his own eyes, he was. The family of Sam Swain, the man who'd suffered a heart attack and died after Zach had forged the business deal that had undercut what he wanted, probably agreed. But Zach's family and fiancée at the time hadn't believed he'd done anything wrong—except when he'd sold his own company.

“You're going to have to break your promise to Lucky. I can't possibly—”

Not wanting to hear it, Zach held up his hands, palms out. “Just listen.”

She sighed. “All right, but I've made up my mind.”

“You no doubt know that people all over the country, maybe even the world, romanticize cowboys and ranching. Some even dream of living the ranching life. Why not indulge in that dream by offering a working vacation on a ranch?”

“You're talking about a dude ranch.” She was tuned in now, her eyes bright and interested.

“Exactly. A few months ago, Lucky and I started laying out plans for turning the Lucky A into a working dude ranch. Imagine visitors staying for a weekend or as long as two weeks, paying for ‘the ranching experience,'” he said, making air quotes, “and providing free labor. In return, the Lucky A supplies lodging, meals and expertise.”

“Uncle Lucky thought that up?” Gina looked confused.

“Actually, I did, but Lucky jumped at the idea, especially after we penciled out the numbers. We'd have to update the bunkhouse and hire a cook, but if we brought in just twenty people a month between May and October, we'd break even.”

“My uncle has never penciled out numbers for anything.” Gina gave him a shrewd look. “Something tells me you haven't always been a ranch foreman.”

“I've dabbled in a few other things. What do you think about the Lucky A Dude Ranch?”

“I have questions. These days, the crew lives in trailers. The bunkhouse hasn't been used for years, except for storage. Getting it in working order will take a lot of updating. Where does the money to make those improvements come from?”

“We penciled that out, too. The wiring and plumbing are in decent enough shape, but the building needs more insulation and a new furnace and air conditioner, plus paint and new fixtures. I can do everything but install the heating and cooling systems, which will save a bundle. The estimated cost will be roughly twenty to thirty thousand dollars.”

“That's a lot of money.”

Zach put up his hand, palm out, to silence her. “Lucky and I talked to the bank and they were willing to loan him half of that. If beef prices stay high, we figured he'd net the rest by spring. Once the business is up and running and profitable and the loan is paid back, we'll look into adding a couple of cabins.”

Gina stacked her mug on top of her empty plate. “As intriguing as the idea is, you can count me out.”

He'd expected this. “You say that now, but I'm not giving up.” He scraped his chair back and stood. “Thanks for the coffee and toast. Before I forget, the combination to your uncle's safe is his dad's birthday, April 5, zero four zero five one nine. I'll let myself out.”

He left her sitting at the table.

* * *

T
HAT
AFTERNOON
, Z
ACH
, Curly and Bert, two of the crew members, checked the water troughs that provided a steady supply of water to the cattle. Sometime during the night, the heater in the big water tank had failed and the water had frozen in the pipes. Thirsty cattle had ventured onto the ice at the river, which was slippery and dangerous. Pete, a mechanical whiz, was already at work repairing the heater.

Donning safety glasses, the three of them wielded shovels and pickaxes to break the stuff up in the troughs and remove it. Then, with the help of a blowtorch, they began to melt the water in the pipes. For now the cattle would have the water they needed.

They were almost finished when Zach's cell phone rang. He pulled off a glove and slid the phone from his jacket pocket. He didn't recognize the number, but the 312 area code was Chicago's. Had to be Gina.

He'd been thinking about her pretty much nonstop since that morning. Everything about her both fascinated and irritated him. The cute expression on her face when she told him about the awful coffee she'd made, her pretty smile and the way her eyes had sparked when she defended her career. How her breasts had looked in that sweater.

Zach swallowed. He was way too attracted to her for his own good and was both pleased that she had his number and put out that she'd called.

Curly and Bert eyed him curiously.

“I better get this,” he said. “This is Zach,” he answered gruffly.

A slight hesitation. Then, “It's Gina. Is this a bad time to call?”

Did she have any idea of the knots she'd tied him up in? Yeah, it was a bad time. “I thought you had to meet with Matt Granger,” he said, drawing raised eyebrows from Curly. He knew that Granger was Lucky's lawyer and realized who Zach was talking with. After hearing about her from Lucky for years, the crew had finally met her at the house last night.

“I'm supposed to meet him at three, but I can't find Uncle Lucky's bank receipts or other papers. I thought I'd find them in his desk, but they aren't there. Uncle Redd isn't answering his phone, and neither is Gloria or Sophie.”

“Did you check the safe?”

“Um, I don't know where it is.”

Why hadn't she asked him this morning? As much as Zach trusted the two crew members, he wasn't about to tell her within hearing range of them. “Hang on a sec.” He muted his end of the line so she couldn't hear him. “I need to go to the house and help Gina with something.”

“I'll bet you do,” Bert said, giving him a sly look. “She's a foxy one.”

Zach narrowed his eyes, and the burly ranch hand backed up a step. “No offense meant. What do you want us to do when we finish here?”

“Help Chet with loading the hay onto the flatbed. Make sure none of the herd has wandered off, and feed and water the horses. If you run into problems, give me a call.”

Zach climbed into his truck and drove to the house.

Looking worried, Gina met him at the back door. “I had to call the attorney and reschedule for four. I can't find anything in the desk except junk. Uncle Lucky is—was—such a pack rat.”

Zach eyed the four-foot-high stack of yellowing newspapers against the kitchen wall. “He sure was.” He wiped his feet and stepped inside. “So you don't know where the safe is.”

“I didn't even know he had one until you mentioned it this morning, and I thought...I assumed that the papers I needed would be in the desk.”

“Let's go into Lucky's office.” Zach followed Gina through the kitchen and down the hallway. She was wearing the same sexy sweater and pants as that morning, an outfit that had to cost a mint. Gina had a great ass and hips that swayed naturally and seductively.

By the time they reached the office, he was semihard and not happy about that. Turning away from her, he headed through the room, stopping in front of an oil painting of a cowboy astride a horse that hung opposite the desk. He lifted the painting off the wall and set it carefully down.

Gina's eyes widened. “For as long as I can remember, that painting has been hanging there. I had no idea it was hiding a safe.”

“Now you know. This is where you'll find all of Lucky's important papers, including a copy of the will and our spreadsheet for the dude ranch.”

“See, a word like
spreadsheet—
that wasn't part of my uncle's vocabulary.”

“After we developed one, it was. Try the combination.” Zach stepped back so that she could work the numbers.

She opened the safe and pulled out half a dozen folders. There was no room for them on Lucky's cluttered desk, so she stacked them on the desk chair. “Just look at all this stuff.”

She was definitely unhappy about her uncle's filing system. A lock of hair had fallen over her eyes, but she didn't seem to notice.

“I wish I'd started earlier,” she said. “I'm not going to have time to look through everything, so I guess I'll bring all these folders with me. Thanks for stopping what you were doing and showing me the safe, Zach. I don't know what I'd have done otherwise.”