Once Tempted (18 page)

It went without saying that using social media to expand their reach was vital in this day and age. But surely his family needed to do more than simply commission a photographer/videographer, make their website as easy to navigate as possible, and then remember to hire the Porter Group to write some excellent ad copy for them, Ward thought.

He reached back to rub the tense muscles of his neck. So far nothing in the presentation was making him optimistic about increasing occupancy and revenue. On the verge of interrupting Michael Parenti, who was presenting this segment of the pitch, Ward caught himself as a new slide flashed onto the screen. The header read: “Definitive Content: Educate Your Guests and Tell Your Story. Be Unique.”

All right. Now they were talking. “Anyone have thoughts on the best way to educate our guests about what makes Silver Creek Ranch special?” he asked.

“Well, that would be in the ad copy we’d put on the website,” Phil said.

“I don’t think that’s enough. We need a more dynamic medium.” It was small of him, Ward knew, but he was happy to shoot Phil’s answer down. He was still royally pissed at the way Phil had treated Tess.

“You might want to consider expanding your social media presence to Facebook and Twitter,” Michael said.

Phil’s expression turned mulish. “Twitter? What, do I look like Justin Bieber?”

Ward heard Reid mutter something under his breath about both Phil and Bieber. It was safe to assume the
comment was not flattering to either man. Then he glanced at Tess. She was busy writing on her notepad. While she might know zip about ranching, she had worked in the service industry in New York City. He was willing to bet she was a little more clued in than Phil. “So what media would you choose, Tess?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Definitely Facebook and Twitter, and I’d also consider Pinterest.”

“Pinterest isn’t a serious revenue driver,” Michael said.

“Maybe not. But you’re looking for ways to show how unique Silver Creek is, right? Pinterest allows you to create great boards. You could make a collage of all sorts of things that make Silver Creek Ranch a wonderful place to visit, whether it’s the cabins, Roo’s pastries, the animals, that sort of thing.” Tess shrugged. “Then it’s a question of people repinning, just as they might retweet.”

“And how do you feel about Twitter?” Reid asked her.

“Well, I’ve noticed you and your family don’t spend a lot of time looking at your cellphones, but a lot of the rest of the world does. Tweets are easy to blast out and can cover a lot of different topics in a day.”

“So, better than blogs in that respect?”

“Well, there’s that guy who did the
Waiter Rant
blog awhile back, which was pretty entertaining, but that’s not what you’re looking for. Twitter and Pinterest are also cheaper than print advertising—not that you want to give up the glossy magazines,” she added with a glance at Phil.

Score another point for Tess, Ward thought with a dose of pride. She’d noticed Phil’s addiction to
Condé Nast Traveler
.

“Okay, so Twitter, Pinterest—these are definitely things we’re going to want to investigate to expand our clientele base,” he said.

Michael cleared his throat. “But unlike the website, where you can have someone manage it, those two media work best if you have someone on the premises handling them.”

“We’ll find someone.” Already Ward was figuring out how best to approach Tess with the idea that she be in charge of tweeting news about the ranch and posting images on Pinterest.

It occurred to him that his mother must have been just waiting for the opportunity to promote Tess. Like him, it would have taken her only a couple of days to appreciate her smarts. And she would have realized, too, that this quality would make Tess a lot more interesting to him than the other women she’d selected in her matchmaking efforts.

He had to give credit where credit was due. His mother had hit the jackpot. Tess was a hell of a woman: sexy and intriguing. The question was whether it would be smart to pursue this growing fascination. A better question was whether he cared about being smart.

Michael clicked to the next image. This one read “Develop Appealing Special Offers and Update Them Regularly.”

Catchy, real catchy, Ward thought. Good thing the ad copy these guys wrote was better than their PowerPoint headers.

It was Ted Dulchek’s turn to speak. “We’re aware of the inroads you’re making with respect to special promotions. Phil told us what a success Valentine’s weekend was and how you’ve already received rebookings from it. The challenge will be to create special offers during nonholiday, off-season periods.”

“Some of the guest ranches offer themed stays. Cowgirls’ weekend, tours of local wineries, and the like,” Reid said. “I’m building a relationship with several of the local wineries to see whether we can work out a
mutually beneficial package—something along the lines of a weekend stay here and enology courses.”

Ted nodded. “Both of those could certainly appeal to an important target audience. Women love the idea of getting away with their girlfriends and doing something different, like taking a course in wines. I’m sure learning how to be a cowgirl for a weekend …”

Tess had just finished drawing a box around the words “cowgirls’ weekend,” ready to write down whatever ideas Ward and Reid might fire off about what such a package might include—other than lots of women, horses, and, well, ropes and stuff, when she realized that five pairs of eyes were focused on her. “What? I mean, excuse me. Did someone say something?” She took care to avoid looking in Ward’s direction in case she got distracted by the way his damp hair curled at the ends.

The corners of Reid’s mouth had lifted. “As the only woman present, you’ll have to be our resident expert. How would you feel about you and your best friend coming here for a cowgirls’ weekend?”

She nearly choked on the horrified laugh that threatened to erupt. As if she and Anna would ever want to spend a weekend pretending to be cowgirls. She pressed her lips together until they hurt. Even then it took a few seconds before she could trust her mouth to speak.

“Uh, the wannabe cowgirl thing isn’t exactly my cup of espresso, if you know what I mean, but I’m sure there are plenty of other women who might enjoy it”—next time she went to church she’d confess for that whopper of a lie—“especially if you included a deluxe spa package, and I mean the works, and convinced Roo to do a dessert night where she invited the women into the kitchen and offered some baking demonstrations. Oh, and there’d have to be dancing and drinks.” With those extras, if a girl like her was shanghaied into such a ridiculous
event, she wouldn’t find it a total loss. If the girl had any brains, she might even figure out how to avoid getting on the back of a horse entirely.

Her answer had caused Ward to cough loudly, forcefully.

Okay, did she care that he now realized beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had no clue what cowgirls liked to do—except maybe find handsome-as-sin dark-haired cowboys with gold-flecked eyes—which, by the way, wasn’t exclusive to cowgirls?

It was strange to discover that the answer was yes. She did care what he thought. What had happened to her determined disdain? Had hearing about his rescue of Brian and seeing firsthand how generous he was with his friends obliterated it? That was reason enough for her change in attitude but she worried there was more to it than that.

Luckily she had no chance to analyze her feelings further for Reid spoke. “Your version of a cowgirls’ weekend is”—his face split in a wide grin—“a tad unorthodox, but actually that might work to our advantage. It’d be a distinctly unique take on the theme. We would stand out from the other guest and dude ranches. What do you think, Ward?”

Oh Lord, now she was going to have to look at him. Her pulse quickened.

Ward’s expression was enigmatic. He was not a man she’d ever want to play poker with, especially when her thoughts kept circling back to what it would feel like to thread her fingers through the damp, silky thickness of his hair. She’d lose the shirt off her back to him within minutes—and wasn’t that a disturbingly appealing image?

Blindly she reached for her coffee cup to hide behind, lowering it only when she heard him say, “Phil, how about getting to work figuring out when we can fit a
cowgirls’ weekend into the calendar? Tess, would you mind consulting with Quinn on this? Between the two of you, I bet you’ll come up with a terrific package.”

Good grief. Now she was going to have to hold her own against Quinn, cowgirl extraordinaire.

T
HE MEETING BROKE
soon after. Ward thanked Michael Parenti and Ted Dulchek for coming out to Silver Creek and asked them to draw up an estimate for revamping the ranch’s website. Then he turned to Phil.

“Would you and Reid mind seeing Ted and Michael out? There’s something Reid wants to go over with you before he rides out to check on the cattle. I need to talk to Tess about Brian and Carrie’s wedding.”

Tess, who’d been quietly sidling out of the room, stopped in her tracks and tried to remember how to breathe. Oh Lord, she was going to be alone with Ward.

“Really, I can handle this on my own.” She hoped the asperity in her voice masked the fact that her pulse was beating triple time. Somehow, despite her repeated assurances, Ward had marched her back to her office, a small space that had shrunk two sizes now that he was standing in it. When she breathed she caught the soapy clean scent of him. It was making her lightheaded, and she was terrified she might say something irrevocably stupid, like, “Goddamnit, kiss me.”

Indifferent to her condition, Ward stared down at the row of dresses spread out on the sisal rug. “Of course you can. But the sooner we get Carrie to choose her
wedding gown, the sooner we can move on to the attendants’ dress. So, which one is it? This one?” His booted foot pointed to the one Reid had also unerringly chosen.

It was ridiculous. Was there something in the Acacia water or the vegetables they grew at Silver Creek that was the reason both Knowles brothers possessed good looks and fashion sense? She crossed her arms over her chest and, bristling with defensiveness, demanded, “So why that one?”

“It’s romantic. All that poufy stuff will look good on her.”

“That’s tulle,” she said, happy to be able to tell him something.

He arched a brow. “Tulle, burlap, whatever. It works.” He checked his watch. “Carrie’ll be home from the university by now. Let’s call her.” His tone was brisk and all businesslike as he pulled out his cellphone, so she nearly dropped the photocopies she’d gathered up from the floor when he said, “So your wedding dress, did it look like one of those?” He nodded to the papers fluttering in her hand.

Overcompensating, she tightened her grip and felt the papers crease. With an effort, she made herself relax. “My wedding dress?”

His thumb paused to hover over the keypad of his cell. “Yeah, what was yours like?”

“I, uh, just wore a pretty dress. David and I were married at city hall.”

He looked surprised. “Oh. I’d have thought you’d go for that sort of thing—”

Sadness pierced her that David hadn’t understood that about her, or perhaps hadn’t cared. Yet Ward, who knew her far less well, already did.

“We eloped. There was no need for anything formal.”

He nodded. Perhaps it was because she sensed he
didn’t intend to pursue the topic or press her for answers that she suddenly felt compelled to explain. “David and I decided it would be better if we skipped a church ceremony and save my parents the expense.”

“I’m sure you took his breath away.”

It was she who was robbed of breath. The quietly uttered compliment took her completely by surprise. Luckily she didn’t have to respond. Ward had raised the phone to his ear. His stance relaxed, his expression calm, he betrayed none of his thoughts. But she wasn’t stupid. She knew he was fully aware that she’d just revealed more about herself in the last five seconds than she had in the past six weeks.

She didn’t have the time to worry or obsess about what he might think of the insight he’d gained, however, because Ward began speaking.

“Hey, it’s me. Yeah, everything’s fine here. Listen, is Brian there? Out at the gym? No, that’s perfect. I don’t want him barging in. Guess what—Tess has been searching high and low for wedding dresses and thinks she’s found some you’ll really go for. Yeah, we only hire the best. Care to open your computer? She’s sitting down to send them to you as attachments. Once you’ve got them up on your screen, Tess can fill you in …”

It took only twenty minutes for Ward—with a few carefully inserted suggestions from her—to help Carrie winnow the dresses down to five and drop the subtle hint that the frothy lace and tulle one was extraspecial. “Tess, Reid, and I think you might just look as stunning in it as one of those galaxies you study, kiddo.”

And she’d thought Reid was the one with the silver tongue. It was just one more opinion about Ward she’d have to revise.

“You’ll know which is the gown that’s perfect for you when you slip it on,” Tess said.

“I can’t wait. This wedding stuff is far more fun than I ever dreamed it would be. Of course, that’s largely thanks to you, Tess. And you, too, Ward, for providing Tess as our planner and for giving us such a beautiful place to hold the wedding. I can’t wait to call my mom and see if she can drive up to Boston so we can go shopping on the weekend. Oh! I have some good news: Our minister said he’d be happy to fly out and perform the ceremony. He’s such a great guy. And Mom said she’d send me the list of guests she and Dad want to add tomorrow. She says it probably won’t top forty but she simply must invite them.” As she pronounced the word “must,” Carrie raised her hands to make twin air quotes. “Since it’s a destination wedding she’s sure that many of them will decline.”