Once Tempted (19 page)

Both Ward and Tess smiled, remaining scrupulously polite rather than voicing their skepticism. Destination weddings were sometimes a great draw, with the guests deciding to expand the wedding event into a longer vacation trip. In her excitement over the dresses she’d selected to try, Carrie didn’t notice their silence. “And Mom and Dad think Brian and I should come out to Acacia and meet you, Tess, so we can go over all the wedding details together. My dad is giving us his miles. I’m so happy,” she said and laughed.

“That’s terrific. It will give us a chance to make lots of decisions.” Tess’s mind was already whirring as she compiled a mental list of the essential items she could have them decide on during the visit: the photographer/videographer, the makeup artist and hairstylist, the floral arrangements, and the wedding cake and menu tasting—essentials that couldn’t be properly considered talking over the phone or using FaceTime.

But there was one topic she could address now. And
the sooner she got the specifics down, the sooner she could draft the wedding invitation to send to Carrie and Brian for their approval.

“I did want to float one idea I had,” she said. “I looked up the lunar calendar and it’s supposed to be a full moon on that Saturday. I thought it might be nice if you chose to have the dinner and dancing alfresco. Dancing under the stars with your husband might be a lovely way to celebrate the start of your and Brian’s new life together.”

“Dancing with Brian under a full moon after we’ve just said our vows? I think I’m gonna cry.”

Tess smiled and made a mental note to stock boxes of Kleenex in preparation for Carrie’s visit to Silver Creek. “So do you think you’d like to schedule the wedding ceremony for five in the afternoon?”

“Yes, and I’m sure Brian will love the idea. If we have it at five o’clock we don’t have too long a wait to start celebrating. Brian does love a party.”

“Well, just let me know as soon as you can so I can create a mock-up of the wedding invite for you. The invitations need to go out ASAP.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Carrie replied, saluting. “Mom’s going to love you.”

They said goodbye shortly after that so Carrie could call her mother with the news about the dresses.

“You handled that like a pro, Tess.”

Feeling the weight of his gaze on her, Tess busied herself closing the windows of her computer, staring at the vanishing icons as the screen went blank as if in wonder at such a sight.

“Well, it’d be kind of pathetic if I had no aptitude for my self-professed dream job. And don’t breathe easy yet—there’s still plenty of opportunities for a screw-up of epic proportions.” She certainly didn’t plan to make one, though.

“Duly warned. At least I can rest easy knowing I won’t
have to take Brian out for a midnight ride when he finds out Carrie’s pregnant with his best buddy’s—his ex-best buddy’s—child.”

“Huh?” Then, remembering the staff meeting where Quinn and Reid described one of the previous horrible weddings they’d had to host—or police—she said, “Yeah, you should be spared that fun.”

“Speaking of fun, I was wondering whether you’d like to be responsible for doing the tweets and Pinterest board.”

She rose from her chair, fighting the urge to jump out of it. “I don’t think that’d be such a good idea.”

“Hmm. Why not?” With a lazy kind of interest he watched her pace the confines of her small office.

“Because to do it right, you need people like you or Reid or the guys who work on the ranch to take pictures. It shouldn’t be just the guest lodge.” She paused. “How about Quinn?”

“Not a good risk. Can’t trust her not to tweet something totally inappropriate.”

Damn. She knew that. The first time she’d met her, Quinn was wearing a shirt that had “There are more horses’ asses than horses in the world” emblazoned across it.

“At least she knows something about the ranch—”

“Moreover, Quinn would lose interest in tweeting in about three days, max. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not that technologically oriented a family.”

“Well, what about one of your hands?” She really did not want to take this job on.

He cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was all patience. “The thing about ranch hands is that they’re generally using them—so it would be kind of unreasonable to expect them to carry around iPhones so they could type texts and snap pictures.”

“See, I didn’t know that. That just shows you how ill-suited
I am.” A bit of a stretch, but she wasn’t going to let go of that line of argument. It was her lifeline.

“One of the best ways to learn is by doing.”

So said Mr. Cowboy–Business Executive–Ranch Heir, she retorted silently. She didn’t have to say yes, she told herself.

“Out of curiosity, is there a reason you don’t want to do the job?” he asked.

“Other than the fact that overseeing the event planning for Silver Creek and handling Carrie and Brian’s wedding is already pretty time-consuming?”

“The tweeting one hundred and forty characters and taking pics would take maybe half an hour out of your day—”

“Which is not an insignificant chunk of time when I’m organizing a destination wedding. And if we’re exchanging philosophies here, buster, I’d argue that everyone has their area of expertise. Mine doesn’t cover the great outdoors and four-legged creatures. I have no interest in taking pictures of sheep and cattle.” Her lofty tone told him he could stick that in his pipe and smoke it.

His slow, knowing smile had her stiffening. “I get it. You’re scared of animals.”

Scared spitless, but darned if she was going to admit that. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just don’t know much about them. Not everyone grows up surrounded by animals that bleat and moo, you know.” Or have really big hooves, she added silently.

He cocked an eyebrow. “What about ones that woof and meow? I know you lived in the city, but didn’t your family even have a dog or a cat?”

“We couldn’t. Chris—”

She stopped. Being in Ward’s company was turning into a bare-your-soul fest, except it seemed like she was doing all the baring.

“Chris? Who’s that?”

All right. Maybe this would shut him up. Better still, maybe the pitying look she’d seen on so many other faces would steal over his and she would be the one to stop talking. She quit her pacing and turned, watching him as she presented the bald facts. “My older brother, Christopher, suffers from severe autism. In his case it presents with frequent, uncontrolled outbursts. When Christopher still lived with us, my parents—my mom principally, since Dad was at work for most of the day—couldn’t risk having a pet for fear that Christopher might have an episode near the pet and it would react by trying to defend itself.”

“I’m sorry about your brother. I’ve read that sometimes animals can help people afflicted with autism.”

Her nod was more a jerk of the head. “I know. Some patients at Chris’s facility get visits from therapy dogs. They tried with him, but it had the opposite effect. He becomes severely agitated. If Chris gets upset for too long, it gets kind of intense and not in a good way, and he has to be given extra medication, which no one wants.” She realized that at some point in her explanation she’d folded her arms across her middle. Her fingers were digging into her elbows. She made herself relax her hands.

“Your brother’s condition must have been rough on your family.”

“Yeah. Sometimes early detection and therapy can really help, though even then it’s a question whether as adults they’ll be able to live independently. Unfortunately with Chris he’ll never be able to live outside an institution. But at least he’s in a good facility and it’s close enough for Mom to visit him every day. When Chris was still at home, keeping him safe was a full-time job for her. Now she can help Dad a little with the bookkeeping for his construction company. It’s a tiny operation, but still.” She shrugged. “So to make a long story
short, the only animal I got to know as a kid was the Angottis’ dog, Caesar. I don’t know what kind he was. He looked like a dirty mop with teeth. Caesar used to hide behind a bush in the front yard, lying in wait as I walked to and from school. Every day, he’d race out, those sharp teeth bared, and try to bite me.”

“We don’t have any dogs of that description on the ranch.”

“That’s good, ’cause that was one nasty, vicious beast. He made Dracula look friendly.”

A grin pulled the corners of his mouth. “Listen, I really want you to do the Twitter/Pinterest posts. I think you could make them fun and appealing, and generate interest in the ranch. How about we make a deal? You do the tweets and take the snapshots, and I’ll look around for a decent used car—one that won’t catch fire after a few thousand miles.”

A car. It would liberate her from those hellish taxi rides with Ralph Cummins. The prospect was so enticing she ditched any snarky replies that contained “car killer” in them. “How about you just give me the money and I find my own car?”

“Nope. I’ll do the looking. You seem to know as much about automobiles as you do animals—barely enough to fill a thimble.”

He didn’t seem fazed when she narrowed her eyes.

“So, how about it? You do the Twitter stuff; I’ll put out some feelers out and find you a decent car.”

When she still hesitated, he added, “I’ll owe you big-time, Tess.”

“Oh, all right,” she said with a show of reluctance so that he wouldn’t think she was the world’s softest touch.

“Thanks. So, we better get you acquainted with the ranch and its creatures large and small. Let’s start with the least scary animals imaginable—the newborn lambs. Before you know it we’ll have you roping steer. Come on.”

She gaped at him. “What, you mean now?”

“No time like the present.” His grin was cheerful and, she thought, evil. “I’d recommend changing into some jeans, though. You want me to pick you up at your cabin?”

“No! No,” she repeated somewhat less hysterically. The last thing she wanted was to have Ward filling her cabin with his presence. “I’ll meet you down at the, uh, barn.”

“Barns,” he corrected. “The sheep are in the smaller one on the right. See you in a few.”

“Yeah, in a few,” she echoed weakly. Oh God, she thought. This was going to be a mistake. A big mistake.

A
STRANGER IN
a strange land, that’s what she was. Tess was on foreign ground. Literally. She had never stepped on a floor covered with inches of straw before, never inhaled the scents teasing her nostrils. She guessed they must be some combination of hay, wool, and manure, this last ordinarily sufficient to revolt her, yet for some reason she didn’t find the scent offensive, just odd. Certainly it was no worse than being passed by a New York garbage truck at high noon during the month of August when the temperatures climbed into the triple digits and the stench of rotting refuse was strong enough to make one’s head spin. Nor was it worse than descending into the bowels of New York and stepping into a crowded subway car full of perspiring bodies. As for the sounds, well, of course, she’d heard them before, but only on TV when she was channel surfing and happened to venture into Animal Planet territory or other stations where nature programs could be found. But the exchange of these lambs’ tiny bleats, answered by the lower, longer ones of their mothers, was like listening to a fascinating if indecipherable conversation.

She loitered just inside the half-lit barn, staring at the different wooden pens that divided the space. Lambs
and sheep slept in some of them; in others the lambs were half-buried under their mothers’ bellies, nursing while the sheep systematically picked at hay out of a feeder—Tess had no idea whether there was a specific name for the contraption. Once again, Ward’s notion that she should be the one tweeting about the ranch’s goings-on struck her as pure, unadulterated craziness.

“There you are. Come over here. I’ll introduce you to the newest members of our flock.”

With a start, Tess looked over to one of the pens at the far end of the barn. She had assumed Ward was elsewhere, doing something in another barn. Only now did she realize that he’d been crouching in one of the pens, tending to a lamb or sheep.

Though his features were indiscernible in the darkened interior, the amusement that laced his voice was clear. “I’ll be right next to you to protect you from the wee vicious beasties.”

“Ha. So funny,” she muttered.

She never should have told him about Caesar, the four-legged fascist. She picked her way carefully toward him. She’d changed into shiny patent leather boots that had the distinct advantage of being waterproof so she could wipe them down once she was safely back inside, but she still didn’t mean to get them covered with sheep droppings.

“Climb over the rail.” He held out a hand. Unthinkingly she grasped it, and the heat of his calloused palm transferred to her and spread until she felt hot and bothered all over. The man was an inferno, she thought dazedly. Suddenly she pictured not only his large hand engulfing hers but his naked body wrapped about her, and more heat flowed through her, as unstoppable as a river cascading down a mountain. What would it be like to have his hard length entering her?

Her cheeks burned. This was too much, she thought,
panicking. One innocent handclasp and she began imagining the two of them having sex? What was wrong with her? She’d gone through sexual droughts before and it had never made her nuts.