Once a Rancher (19 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

J
UST
HER
LUCK
.
When she dashed to the door to answer the knock before Hank could get there, it was the Chinese take-out delivery man. Hank came to the door, anyway, paid for the food and took the bag. Her ex-husband informed her, “Carson and I are not going to decide on pistols at dawn just because you're going to dinner with him. Do I wish it was with me instead? Hell, yes, I do, but the minute I walked into your office I figured you weren't going to change your mind about us. You look fantastic, by the way. He's a lucky bastard.”

At that moment the lucky bastard pulled in. Ryder jumped out of his truck and waved with delighted familiarity at the delivery man, then came inside to head straight for the shower. In passing, he said casually, “Hey, Dad. Hi, Grace. Hey, you look nice.”

The job at the ranch had certainly improved his attitude. She wondered if Hank had any idea what his parents had tried to handle, and the difficult child she'd ended up with when they couldn't do it anymore. She doubted it. Already she could sense that Hank was bored with the visit, unhappy she was involved with someone else. Ryder was probably right; he wasn't going to stick around. If she had to predict, she'd give him about three more days. Luckily, Ryder had Slater, Drake and Mace, not to mention the old cowboy, Red, who seemed to be something of a hero to him. So when Hank came up with an excuse to leave early, he wouldn't be without a father figure.

“Thanks,” she murmured to his retreating back as she reached for her black clutch.

The look on Slater's face was worth the hour she'd spent getting ready. His oh-so-blue eyes widened and he stopped abruptly as he walked up to the door. “I am officially,” he said in a husky tone, “speechless.”

“You just said something, so that isn't true,” she pointed out as she swept past him. “Don't expect salmon tonight, by the way. File all complaints with the management.”

“I'm sure I won't have any complaints at all.” Hurrying to his truck, he made a beeline for her door and got there in time to open it for her. She was nervous for some reason she couldn't fathom. Part of it might be that he looked incredible in his dark suit, and she was simply too susceptible.

She needed to get a grip and remind herself that her life was complicated, but the chaos would pass, and she'd find a steady pace again. For the moment, though, Slater Carson made her feel
unsteady
.

She climbed into his truck, which was a little complicated in her dress. “Keep in mind that Meg's in charge and she's kind of nervous.”

“Gotcha.” His smile was charming as he clasped her elbow and helped her in. “I think my guests will be suitably kind to her, so stop worrying. If anything goes wrong, besides the very minor salmon issue, I'm sure you'll leap up and save the day. Relax.”

Easy for him to say. She wanted to ask if she looked okay, but that was a stupid idea on several levels, one of them being that he would inevitably answer
yes.
The other was that she didn't require his reassurance every five seconds. If he didn't like how she looked, acted or anything else, he was free to move on.

But she was coming to the conclusion that she didn't want him moving anywhere...

However... That meant she had to accept his proposal. Marry him, move to the ranch and hope for happy-ever-after.

He climbed into the driver's side and started the truck. She, in turn, stared out the front window. “I love you.”

He accidentally put the vehicle in neutral and they coasted backward until he found the brake and jerked to a stop. “Mind repeating that?”

Grace still didn't want to look at him so she continued to stare straight ahead. “I think you heard me. And...I've already told you I didn't want to fall in love with you.”

“I remember,” he said in a thick voice. “Quite clearly.”

“You have the right to expect me to jump up and down over your proposal. You have the right to expect tears of joy at the idea of becoming your wife. You have the right to—”

“Remain silent?” he interrupted, and when she glanced at him, she was smiling.

He had a unique way of turning a situation to his favor.

“No,” she said with a sigh. “You can say whatever you want and it won't be held against you.”

“I'm going to respond to that by saying the evening's started out well. Couldn't be better, in fact. You love me, and I love you. When it's time for us to sit down and really talk, let me know.”

“What? We'll have a meeting?”

He laughed, and she said, “The meeting to worry about is the one tonight.”

“Oh, I'm not worried. All the men in that room will look at you, and they won't be able to think about anything else, so everything should go my way. They'll just put up the money and they won't be able to string two words together.”

He was a charmer, and she needed to remember that. “Slater, can we come to an agreement? First, let me make sure David Reinhart is going to either leave me alone or do jail time. Let me get my ex-husband out of my hair. Let me make sure Ryder's adjusted to his new life before I have to decide if a white dress and a change of last name is a good idea.”

He didn't skip a beat. “Take all the time you need, Grace, but maybe you should look at it from my perspective. Let me help you with David Reinhart. Hank Emery won't be around long, as we both know. Ryder's adjusting well, according to my mother. And the white dress is totally optional. I like the black number you're wearing now—a lot. Did I mention that?”

“You did, and thank you for the compliment.”

“I meant a
real
lot.”

“That's not even good English.” She was laughing.

He drove out of the condo complex. “I suspect you're right. So Meg and Mace? Thoughts?”

Now he was a matchmaker, not just a filmmaker? She did think it over. Mace Carson was good-looking but that applied to all three brothers. “Maybe. She has a crush on you, by the way.”

“She's a very nice girl, but I'm kind of taken. I hope.”

How, exactly, was she supposed to survive this evening without falling into his arms? And his bed. She knew full well that he'd booked a room in the resort. “You did hear me a few minutes ago, didn't you? I need more time.”

“Oh, absolutely. That's why we're not talking about us, but about my brother and your assistant possibly hooking up.”

“You should've invited him to the dinner, then.”

“I did. I also invited Drake, since he's a fourth-generation rancher and represents part of what the film's going to be about. Also some of my guests fund animal rights groups, and I think he belongs to most of them, especially the ones that concentrate on endangered species in this area.” He sent her a sidelong look. “Lettie Arbuckle-Calder will be there, too.”

Grace raised her eyebrows. “Should I be afraid?”

He grinned. “No,
afraid
is the wrong word. I actually like the woman, but your problem is going to be that she happens to be fond of me, as well. Since privacy around these parts is pretty much nonexistent, she'll probably pounce on you like a starving chicken on a stray kernel of corn. Uh, this won't surprise you, but she's heard about my proposal.”

He said it in his best cowboy drawl, and she was afraid she'd ruin her mascara, with tears of mirth. “Let me guess. Red?”

“Of course. As I said, Lettie knows
everyone
around here, and she's as impressed with him as the rest of us. That man makes a powerful impact on a person's psyche.” He paused. “Especially a young person's. Who knows what Ryder will pick up next.”

What Ryder seemed to be picking up was a solid work ethic, and she was grateful for that. When his report card arrived, she'd find out more, but there'd been no calls from the school lately—a welcome change. “He's a good influence,” she added with a smile.

“He is that. Shall we?”

* * *

T
HE
ROOM
WAS
elegantly decorated, with white tablecloths and crystal, the music as understated as he'd requested. He hated dinners that had so much background noise, you couldn't hear what anyone was saying, even the people seated beside you. The point of the meeting was to talk about the upcoming film, and his assistant, Nathan, had done an outstanding job with the slideshow that was flashing during the cocktail hour. There were views not only of the Tetons, groves of aspens, meadows with grazing elk, but also old photographs of mining camps, towns founded in the late 1800s, the former hotel and even his family's ranch.

He—or rather, he and Grace—hadn't been able to take their site-scouting trip, due to the attack on Hank Emery. However, Nate had pulled the visuals together, using what they had available from a variety of sources. Everyone was clearly impressed, and the evocative images stirred that needed excitement.

Great start to the evening. Except that Grace was distracting every male in the room. He'd be the first to admit she was stunning, and he also had the feeling she'd dressed like this on purpose to get back at him because of the way he'd arranged for her to be a guest instead of the efficient resort manager. Okay, he'd been a little manipulative, but...

Call it even.

He wasn't trying to be high-handed; he was feeling his way around their relationship. And he really just wanted to spend the evening with her.

The rest of his
life
with her.

One thing he would say, Grace stuck by his side as he moved around the room. She wasn't technically at work, so she did accept a glass of Mountain Vineyards wine Mace insisted she try, since she appeared to be his new favorite critic. She took a sip of the pinot noir, proclaimed it the best yet. Meg bustled in now and again, very competent and unfailingly sweet. At one point Grace murmured, “She's
so
going to replace me one day.”

It was said with affection, and he didn't blame her. Too public a place for his own show of affection? He risked the PDA and put his arm around her waist. “No one can replace you.”

“Carson, you are so transparent it isn't funny.” She leaned toward him and whispered in his ear. “Might be why I'm being won over.”

Now,
that
was the best news he'd had in a long while.

“I'm listening.”

Mrs. Arbuckle-Calder (still generally known as Mrs. A) walked up at that very moment in a waft of some expensive perfume, and dressed as usual in a suit that probably had a Parisian label. She held a crystal glass in her hand. By way of greeting, she said succinctly, “Melody Hogan.”

Slater was used to her imperious manner, so he didn't bat an eye. “Good evening, Mrs. A. Have you met Grace Emery?”

“No.” There was a nod of approval after a sweeping assessment of Grace's person. “You know how to pick them, young man. But back to my original point. Melody Hogan.”

He didn't dare look over at Grace, afraid he'd shout with laughter at her expression. People not used to the Arbuckle approach were often flummoxed by her, confused about how to respond. Just being called a
young man
at his age was funny enough. He said mildly, “I know Melody. What about her?”

“For the ring.” Mrs. A scowled at him as if he was an idiot for not discerning exactly what she meant.

The light dawned. Melody designed custom jewelry. It was actually a very good idea, much better than walking into some generic jewelry store, squinting at a case of diamonds and randomly selecting one. He could make films and had plenty of other skills, too, but jewelry was not in his area of expertise. However, since Grace didn't want to be pushed, he hadn't taken that step yet.

“That's an excellent suggestion.”

“I'll take care of it. I'm thinking a sapphire the color of her eyes. Yes, that's the ticket. I need more wine.”

Grace was still speechless when the woman walked away. Slater spoke first. “Conversations with Lettie Arbuckle-Calder are never dull. I believe I warned you. They always end the same way, too. When she's finished saying whatever she has to say, she either hangs up or leaves. She isn't being rude, or not to her mind, anyway. The discussion is over, and that's that.”

Grace finally found her voice. “
She'll
take care of it?”

“Look at it like this. You'll have a much prettier ring than if it was me doing the shopping. I might've asked Red to go along with me, and you'd end up with a forty-pound nugget of gold to lug around on your finger.”

“I haven't agreed to anything.” Her eyes flashed, but her mouth twitched.

He looked straight back at her. “Not yet. I'm hopeful, though. The slideshow's over and Meg's having the staff clear off the appetizer table right on cue. She's doing a great job. Let me make my brief speech and then we can relax and have dinner. I'm thinking of ordering salmon, just to see how Meg handles it.”

Grace gulped down a mouthful of wine, no doubt sorely needed after Mrs. Arbuckle-Calder's drive-by visit. “You're impossible.”

He took her elbow. “Get used to it.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

S
HE
WAS
SEATED
next to Drake, which was welcome, since she'd describe him as the quiet brother, and Grace didn't need a lot of questions at the moment. He ordered sea scallops, risotto with a sweet potato puree and an endive and hearts of palm salad.

That would never have been the menu choice she figured a six-foot-plus cowboy with a nonchalant demeanor would select. He'd chosen to wear boots and a denim shirt even to a gathering like this one, but all the pomp didn't bother him, even if he'd picked beer instead of wine, and there was no crystal glass involved, just a cold bottle.

The Carson brothers were an interesting trio.

In an attempt at humor, she remarked, “You do realize I'll have to tell Red about the salad. Hearts of palm does not seem like standard cowboy fare.”

“He won't blink an eye. You'd never guess it but he's kind of an amateur chef,” Drake informed her, his amiable smile surfacing. “I know, he's a wizened old cowhand—and I swear I'm not making this up—but he made paella last week. Borrowed Harry's special pan and everything for the occasion. He scoured the shops in town for the ingredients and drove sixty miles to buy saffron. I was just riding in while it was cooking, and let me tell you, it smelled great. So I stopped and had a plate.”

“And?”

“It was good stuff. Not joking. It would make his day if you asked him to whip some up for you.” Drake brightened. “I'm serious here. Hey, at your reception, you should pit him and Harry against each other. I doubt you'd need fireworks then. Oh, man, toss in Bad Billy, and you could light up the night sky. Those three could be the caterers from heaven if you gave them the chance to compete with each other.”

She was trying to decide how irritated to be at the assumption everyone seemed to have that she was going to marry Slater simply because he'd asked her. Time for a change of subject. Besides, she really did need his help. “I'll think about that, but in the meanwhile, I was wondering if you could do me a huge favor.”

“Yes.”

She looked at Slater's brother with wry amusement. “You don't know what it is yet.”

“Doesn't matter. I'll do it.”

This unswerving acceptance was getting to her. “Ryder's cat—”

“Bonaparte, right? The stray you took in. The kid talks about him constantly. What? Please tell me there's nothing wrong.”

Well, what were connections worth if you didn't use them? Grace explained, “No, not wrong, but we do have a small problem. Slater said you're like a magician with animals. There's no getting that stubborn feline in his crate to go to the vet. The complex won't even let us keep him if he isn't up to date on his shots, and I doubt he's had a single one. I need to turn in the paperwork before someone reports him. Plus, he needs to be neutered. He seems to be able to read my mind whenever I've tried to grab him for an appointment, and then he does a disappearing act, so we've missed at least three.”

“Done.”

That type of confidence—with a finicky cat—made her blink. “You're sure?”

“Pretty much.” He shrugged, and she believed him. “I reckon I can talk some sense into the critter. Do you love my brother?”

Back to that
and
—he was a straight shooter, too. Got right to the point; she hadn't distracted him one bit.

Grace fought the urge to slug back her wine, but took a deep breath instead. “Wish I didn't.”

“You
should
love him. Not an easy proposition, maybe, and Slater isn't perfect, but he's...great.” Drake smiled again. “Don't tell him I said that. He's loyal to a fault, so he'll never be unfaithful. He's fantastic with Daisy. Which means that when you have kids, you can be sure they'll have a wonderful father. He makes those artsy films, but he can rope a calf with the best of 'em. Family means a lot to him, so I'm afraid the Carson bunch is part of the package. Hope that doesn't bother you.”

“You don't have to sell him to me.” Grace was amused and also touched. Evidently, Slater wasn't the only loyal Carson.

When you have kids
. Yet another assumption.

“Then just say yes.”

That sounded so simple. “Is there a family debate going on?”
Or a bet?

“No, but I think there might be in the future. Wear your nicest nightgown in case we decide to abduct you and haul you in front of the preacher at midnight. This
is
the wild West, after all.”

He looked like the classic romantic cowboy with his tousled curls and ingenuous blue eyes.

“I'll keep that in mind, but doesn't the bride's family usually do the ‘at gunpoint' thing?”

“The Carson family can improvise.”

She was sure that in this neck of the woods the Carson family could do just about anything they wanted. They were unquestionably the royalty of Bliss County. “I promise I'll find a white negligee somewhere,” she said, “if they even make such a thing, but in case everyone has a faulty memory, I've been married before. It didn't work out. And...Slater and I haven't known each other very long.”

“Not a good argument.” Drake shook his head. “The right woman hasn't walked into my line of vision yet. I'll know it when she does.”

“You believe in love at first sight?”

“Damn straight I do, pardon my language.”

He really
was
that romantic cowboy. And she understood what he was saying. The minute she'd hauled Ryder into Slater's office and he'd gotten to his feet, she'd been struck by something hard to define and unique in her experience. When she'd met Hank, she'd been attracted to him—his natural air of command had appealed to her—but there was no lightning bolt.

There was a thunderstorm raging on the Carson front. However, operating from logic rather than emotion was the wisest course in her opinion. She told Drake, “She'll be a lucky lady, whoever she is.”

“I'll do my best to make her feel that way. If my brother loves you and wants to marry you, he'll do the same thing. I'll bring Ryder home tomorrow and take care of Bonaparte. Jax Locke, he's our vet, will see him after-hours. No one understands more than he does that animals don't believe in appointments. He's seen many a sick calf for me in the middle of the night.”

Then he went back to polishing off his risotto.

She had the impression she'd just been given an ultimatum, Wyoming-style.

* * *

E
VEN
WHILE
CHATTING
with the important people who'd help him make this project happen, Slater was acutely aware of Grace. And of course, he noticed his brother talking to her. A lot.

Drake was an action-is-better-than-words sort of guy, so Slater felt a certain amount of trepidation about what their in-depth conversation might be about. Him. That was an obvious conclusion, but Drake was straightforward enough that he was worried she was going to get the full-court press and wondered if he should rescue her.

Oh, wait. She didn't want him to rescue her.

So he should just leave her to Drake's tender mercies?

“Terrific party, and everyone seems on board with the film.” Mick Branson's sophisticated voice came through loud and clear as he walked up. “Great wine, too. I don't need another investment project, but your brother's doing a good job of convincing me without saying a word. Is he open to incorporation? I know a company in California that might be really interested.”

It was Slater's absolute policy never to speak for anyone else. “I don't have any idea, but I can set up a meeting if you're serious.”

Mick looked at him over the rim of his glass. “Slate, when am I not serious? About business, anyway. Your redhead looks gorgeous tonight. Progress?”

Slater didn't really know the answer to that one, either. “Maybe. I might be planning a wedding cake with her—though I have to admit I don't care, even if she wants neon pink—but she might just say no. I don't think we have a ruling yet.”

“Hmm. Sorry to hear that. I can guess you're getting a bit anxious.” What an understatement. Other than his insistence on being part of Daisy's life, he'd never wanted anything more than he wanted this. “I've asked. Like I said, I'm still waiting for an answer.”

“You'll be the first to hear.”

“One would hope,” he said with true humor, “but this is a tough negotiation. How was your dinner? Grace will ask me.”

“Very good.”

Mick was conservative when it came to praise, and he'd eaten in high-profile restaurants on most continents. The
very
meant he was impressed. Slater could see that while Grace had to put up with some rivalry between her chefs, there was a reason she tolerated them. The food at both the resort and the spa was excellent. “She'll be glad to hear it. Let me know when I should talk to the writers.” He thought regretfully about his lost trip. “I'm scouting location shots in the next few days, one of which will be right here. As you saw in Nathan's slide show, the old pictures of the hotel are fantastic.”

“Can't wait to see what you do with this.”

That was also high praise. “If I can top the last one, I'll be happy, too.”

“You should be.
160
might make you a household name.”

He wasn't sure about that, but he
was
sure the party was ending, and he was about to make a major play that might decide his future. “We'll see. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think Grace is finally free. Thanks for coming.”

Mick grinned as he waved him on, and that was unusual. Mick did not grin. Slater caught up with Grace by the drinks table where she was doing inventory.

He thought about touching her, but decided to stay hands off. Instead, he said from directly behind her, “Meg gets five stars from me. Tell her thanks. Great party.”

Grace turned. “We have a room, don't we?”

We
sounded promising. “I'd complain to the management if that wasn't true. I reserved one. I'm probably okay to drive, but I'm not taking any chances.”

“Let's go there now. To your room. Do you mind?” She tossed back that gorgeous hair and gave him a challenging look.

Mind? Had the chef put loco weed in her salad instead of lettuce? She didn't have to ask him twice. “No, I sure don't.”

“Don't do it, Carson.” Grace correctly interpreted his urge to pick her up and cart her out the door. “I work here. I'm the boss, remember? You leave first, I'll talk to Meg and the staff and tell them they did a great job, and then I'll join you. Discreetly.”

That was fair enough.

Maybe he was prone to theatrical demonstrations—for obvious reasons—but he understood discreet, too. “I'm in room—”

“You think I couldn't find out?”

Flattering to be informed that she'd paid attention. “Okay. I'll be waiting.”

Then she sweetened the deal. “Not for long.”

He could swear both Mace and Drake were laughing and money exchanged hands, but he'd just kill them later. He made last-minute thank-you rounds and took off his suit coat in the elevator; luckily, he was alone. He loosened another button on his shirt as he practically jumped off on his floor, ran to his room and fumbled with his key card to unlock the door. Dropped the card, laughed at himself and on his second try got it right.

Took a deep breath. Walked in...and waited.

Grace was excruciatingly late—if ten minutes even qualified as
late
.

The light knock finally came and he walked to the door slowly, with dignified restraint. But when he opened it, his first thought was that sexy black dress had to go. He caught her by the waist, pulled her in for a hungry kiss and was happy—no,
thrilled
—when she said, “I guess we'll talk later.”

Perfect. Yes. Later.

She didn't seem to object to the agenda.

A room with a view really meant something when she was part of it. He slipped off her dress and should probably have appreciated her lingerie, but he was in kind of a hurry. Her high heels were tossed aside. He'd planned to mention that she smelled like lilacs, but he was so desperate for her, he doubted he'd make any sense. As they fell onto the bed, he did manage to say, “I love you. I can't believe it.”

“You need to work on that line.”

He gazed into her eyes. “My problem is that it's not a line. I was starting to think this wasn't going to happen in my life.” He kissed her shoulder. “Okay if I don't use a condom tonight? Say the word and I will.”

She was so incredibly beautiful lying beneath him. “Slater, we both know I'm going to marry you.”

He'd felt it, but
knowing
was different. It heightened the moment, and that wasn't what he needed. “You'll have to work on
that
line. I think how it usually works is the proposal's made and then accepted, but...I'll take what I can get.” A flat-out yes seemed to be an elusive goal. “I hoped you'd eventually agree. But have mercy on me here. I want you now. Right now.”

“The condom is optional.” Her voice was soft.

Maybe that wasn't the resounding
yes
he wanted, either, but it was certainly a sign that Grace was looking toward a future that included both of them. Three of them maybe. Plus Daisy, plus Ryder...that was five... And he couldn't forget Bonaparte. Would he live on the ranch? Then his family would be in the mix, too.

This might get a little complicated, but he was ready to handle it.

He slid his hands beneath her and moved forward into her heat, her acceptance. Grace's receptive body told him more than any words that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Making love to a woman you loved, a woman who also loved you, was an unrivaled experience, he decided as pleasure flooded through him. He and Grace had a special communion that shook him, and when her hands tightened on his shoulders he got the message without a single word being said.