In Bed with the Wrangler Page 2
“I’m not sure,” she admitted.
“Well, let me know when you decide.”
If flirting with him wasn’t an accident, it was definitely a mistake. She needed to get herself back under control. “Tell me about Montana,” she tried. “I’ve never been there.”
He drew back, tilting his head to one side for a second, then obviously deciding to let her off the hook. “What do you want to know?”
“Your ranch,” she rushed on. “Tell me about your ranch.”
“We have cattle.”
A cocktail waitress set a small bowl of mixed nuts on the table and took note of their drink levels as Royce thanked her.
“How many?” asked Amber as the woman strode away.
“Around fifty thousand head.”
“That’s a lot of cows to babysit.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Horses?” she prompted, determined to keep the conversation innocuous.
“Hundreds.”
She plucked an almond from the clear bowl. “I took dressage lessons when I was eleven.”
His wide smile revealed straight, white teeth. “In Chicago?”
“Birmingham Stables.” She nibbled on the end of the nut. “I didn’t last long. I wasn’t crazy about sweat and manure.”
“You’d hate Montana.”
“Maybe not. Tell me something else about it.”
“My sister has a horse ranch up in the hills. It has huge meadows with millions of wildflowers.”
“Wildflowers are nice.” Amber was pretty sure she’d like fields of wildflowers. “What else?”
“She jumps Hanoverians.”
“Really? Is she good?”
“We expect her to make the next Olympic team.”
“I bet she loves it.” Amber tried to imagine what it would be like to be so passionate about something that you were one of the best in the world.
Royce nodded. “Ever since she was five.” The glow in his eyes showed his pride in his sister.
Amber sighed and took a second almond. “I wish I loved something.”
He considered her words for a few seconds. “Everybody loves something.”
She dared to meet his eyes and rest there. “What do you love?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Going Mach 1 in a Gulfstream. On a clear night. Over the Nevada desert.”
“Get to do it often?”
“Not often enough.”
Amber couldn’t help but smile. “Are you good?”
His gaze flicked to the low neckline of her dress as his voice turned to a rumble. “I am very, very good.”
“You are very, very bad,” she countered, with a waggle of her finger.
He grinned unrepentantly, and the warmth sizzled up inside her all over again.
“Your turn,” he told her.
She didn’t understand.
“What do you love?”
Now, there was a question.
She bought herself some time by taking a sip of her drink.
“Designer shoes,” she decided, setting the long-stemmed glass back down on the table.
He leaned sideways to peer under the table. “Liar.”
“What do you mean?” She stretched out a leg to show off her black, stiletto sandals.
“I’ve dated women with a shoe fetish.”
“I never said I had a fetish.”
“Yours are unpretentious.” Before she knew it, he’d scooped her foot onto his knee. “And there’s a frayed spot on the strap.” His thumb brushed her ankle as he gestured. “You’ve worn them more than twice.”
“I didn’t say I was extravagant about it.” She desperately tried to ignore the warmth of his hand, but her pulse had jumped, and she could feel moisture forming at her hairline.
“Try again,” he told her.
“Birthday cake.” She was more honest this time. “Three layers with sickly, sugary buttercream icing and bright pink rosebuds.”
He laughed and set her foot back on the floor.
Thank goodness.
“How old are you?” he asked, scooping a handful of nuts.
“Twenty-two. You?”
“Thirty-three.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Why?”
She shrugged, hesitated, then plunged in. “Hargrove is thirty-three, and he seems a lot older than you.”
“That’s because I’m a pilot—daring and carefree. He’s a politician—staid and uptight. No comparison, really.”
“You’ve never even met him.” Yet the analysis was frighteningly accurate.
Royce’s expression turned serious. “Why are you hiding out?”
“What?”
“When I first saw you over at the bar, you said you were hiding out. From what?”
What, indeed.
Amber took a deep breath, smoothing both palms in parallel over her hair. She scrunched her eyes shut for a long moment.
She was hiding out from the glowing bride, the happy guests and the pervasive joy of happily-ever-after.
But even as she rolled the explanation around, she knew it wasn’t right. She didn’t begrudge Melissa her happiness.
Truth was, she was hiding out from herself, from the notion that she was living a lie, from the realization that she’d wrapped her life around a man she didn’t love.
The truth was both frightening and exhausting, and she needed time to figure it all out. More than an evening. More than a day. Even more than a weekend.
She needed to come to terms with the colossal mess she’d made of her life and decide where to go next. Ironic, really. Where Royce dreaded his ranch in Montana, she’d give anything—
Her eyes popped open, and she blinked him into focus. “Take me with you.”
His brow furrowed. “What?”
“Take me with you to Montana.” Nobody would look for her in Montana. She’d be free of dress fittings and florists and calligraphers. No more gift registries or parties or travel agents.
No more Hargrove.
The thought took a weight off her shoulders, and the knot in her stomach broke free. Not good.
“Are you joking?” asked Royce.
“No.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Maybe.” Was she crazy? This certainly felt insane. Unfortunately, it also felt frighteningly right.
“I’m not taking an engaged woman with me to Montana.”
“Why not?”
He held out his palms, gesturing in the general vicinity of her neckline and the rest of her dress. “Because…Because…Well, because your fiancé would kill me, for one.”
“I won’t tell him.”
“Right. That plan always ends well.”
“I’m serious. He’ll never know.”
“Forget it.”
No. She wouldn’t forget it. This was the first idea in weeks that had felt right to her.
She pulled off her diamond ring, setting it on the table between them. “There. No more fiancé. No more problem.”
“It doesn’t have to be on your finger to count.”
“Yeah?” she challenged.
“Yeah,” he confirmed.
“What if I wasn’t engaged?” Her words cut to absolute silence between them. The other sounds in the room muted, and time slowed down.
His gaze took a methodical trip from her cleavage to her waist, then backtracked to her eyes. “Sweetheart, if you weren’t engaged, I’d say fasten your seat belt.”
She snapped open her handbag. “Then how about this?” Retrieving her slim, silver cell phone, she typed a quick message and handed it over to Royce.
He squinted in the dim light, brows going up as he read the typed words.
I’m so sorry. I can’t marry you. I need some time to think.
“Press Send,” she told him. “Press Send, and take me to Montana.”
“There you are, pumpkin.” Amber’s father stepped up behind her, and his broad hand came down on her shoulder.
S
hock rushed straight from her brain all the way to her toes. She whipped her head around to look up. “Daddy?”
“The limo’s at the curb.” Her father’s glance went to Royce.
Royce placed the cell phone facedown on the table and stood up to hold out his hand. “Royce Ryder. Jared’s brother.”
Her father shook. “David Hutton. We met briefly in the receiving line.”
“Good to see you again, sir.”
“You’ve been entertaining my daughter?”
“The other way around,” said Royce, his gaze going to Amber. “She’s an interesting woman. You must be proud.”
Her father gave her shoulder a squeeze. “We certainly are. But it’s getting late, honey. We need to get home.”
No, Amber wanted to yell. She didn’t want to go home. She wanted to stay here with Royce and completely change her life. She wanted to break it off with Hargrove and escape to Montana. She truly did.
Royce picked up the phone and slipped it back into her purse, clicking the purse shut with finality then handing it to her. “It was fun meeting you.”
Amber opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Her father scooped a hand under her elbow and gently urged her to her feet.
She stared at Royce, trying to convey her desperation, hoping he’d understand the look in her eyes and do something to help her. But he didn’t. And her father took a step, and she took a step. And another, and another.
“Amber?” Royce called, and relief shot though her. He knew. He understood. He was coming to her rescue.
But when she turned, he was holding out her engagement ring.
“Amber,” her father admonished, shock clear in his tone.
“My hands were swelling,” she answered lamely.
Royce didn’t bother making eye contact as he dropped the diamond into the palm of her hand.
Two
“Who was that?” Stephanie’s voice startled Royce as he watched Amber exit the lounge on her father’s arm.
Tearing his eyes from the supple figure beneath the gold-and-red dress, he turned to face his sister. Stephanie looked young and unusually feminine in her ice-pink, strapless, satin bridesmaid dress. It had a full, flowing, knee-length skirt and a wide, white sash that matched her dangling, satin-bead earrings.
“Are all women crazy?” he asked, trying to recall the last time he’d seen Stephanie in anything other than riding clothes.
“Yes, we are,” she answered without hesitation, linking her arm with his. “So you probably don’t want to upset us. Like, for example, turning down our perfectly reasonable requests.”
Royce sighed, steering her back to the table as he pushed the bizarre conversation with Amber out of his mind. “What do you want, Steph?”
“A million dollars.”
“No.”
“Hey,” she said, sliding into Amber’s vacated seat as the cocktail waitress removed the empty martini glass. She kicked off one sandal and tucked her ankle under the opposite thigh on the roomy chair. “I’m a woman on the edge here.”
“On the edge of what?” He pushed his half-full drink away. Had Amber’s text message been an elaborate joke? If so, how warped was her sense of humor?
“Sanity,” said Stephanie. “There’s this stallion in London.”
“Talk to Jared.” Royce wasn’t getting caught up in his sister’s insatiable demands for her jumping stable.
“It’s Jared’s wedding night. He already went upstairs. You’re in charge now.”
Royce glanced at his watch. “And you think I’m a soft touch?”
“You always have been in the past.”
“Forget it.”
“His name’s Blanchard’s Run.”
“I said forget it.” He had time for maybe four hours of sleep before he had to get to the airport and preflight the jet.
“But—” Stephanie suddenly stopped, blinking in surprise as she glanced above his head.
“I sent it,” came a breathless voice that Royce already easily recognized.
He jerked his head around to confirm it was Amber.
“Sent what?” asked Stephanie.
Amber’s jewel-blue eyes were shining with a mixture of trepidation and excitement.
She hadn’t.
She wouldn’t.
“Where’s your father?” asked Royce. Was this another warped joke?
“He left. I told him to send the limo back for me later.”
Royce shook his head, refusing to believe any woman would do something that impulsive. “You did not send it.”
But Amber nodded, then she glanced furtively around the lounge. “I figure I have about ten minutes to get out of here.”
“What did you send?” Stephanie demanded. “To who?”
Amber slipped into the vacant third seat between them and leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I broke off my engagement.”
Stephanie looked both shocked and excited. She reached for Amber’s hand and squeezed it. “With who?”
“Hargrove Alston.”
“The guy who’s going to run for the Senate?”
Royce stared at his sister in astonishment.
“I read it in People,” she told him with a dismissive wave of her hand. Then she turned her attention back to Amber. “Is he mad? Is he after you now?”
“He’s in Switzerland.”
“Then you’re safe.”
“Not for long. As soon as Hargrove reads my text, he’ll call my dad, and my dad will turn the limo around.”
Stephanie’s lips pursed into an O of concern, and her breath whooshed out.
Amber nodded her agreement, and both women turned expectantly to Royce.
“What?”
“We have to go,” said Stephanie, her expression hinting that he was a little slow on the uptake.
“To Montana,” Amber elaborated.
“Now,” said Stephanie with a nod of urgency.
“They’ll never think to look for me in Montana,” Amber elaborated.
“I’m not taking you to—”
But Stephanie jumped up from her chair. “To the airport,” she declared in a ridiculously dramatic tone.
“Right.” Amber nodded, rising, as well, smoothing her sexy dress over her hips as she stood on her high heels.
“Stop,” Royce demanded, and even the laughing women at the table next to them stopped talking and glanced over.
“Shh,” Stephanie hissed.
Royce lowered his voice. “We are not rushing off to the airport like a bunch of criminals.”
Stephanie planted both hands on the tabletop. “And why not?”
“Six minutes,” Amber helpfully informed them.
He shot her a look of frustration. “Don’t be such a wimp. If he yells at you, he yells at you.”
Amber’s brows rose. “I’m not afraid he’ll yell at me.”
“Then, what’s the problem?”
“I’m afraid he’ll talk me out of it.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’re a grown woman. It’s your life.”
“It is,” Amber agreed. “And I want to come to Montana.”
The look she gave him was frank and very adult. Perhaps his first instinct had been right. Maybe there was something between them. Maybe he was the reason she’d made the decision to finally dump the loser fiancé and move on.
He felt a rush of pride, a hit of testosterone and, quite frankly, the throb of arousal. Having Amber around would definitely make Montana more palatable. Only a fool would put barriers in her way.
He stood and tossed a couple of twenties on the table. “The airport, then.”
Since he’d had the martinis, it would be a few hours before he could fly. But there was plenty to do in preparation.
By the time they arrived at the Ryder Ranch, Amber had had second, third, even fourth thoughts. Both her father and Hargrove were powerful men. Neither of them took kindly to opposition, and she’d never done anything remotely rebellious in her life.
Hargrove was probably on a plane right now, heading back to Chicago, intending to find her and demand to know what she was thinking. And her father was likely out interrogating her friends this morning, determined to find out what had happened and where she’d gone.
Katie would be flabbergasted.
Amber had been questioning her feelings for Hargrove for a couple of months now, but she hadn’t shared those fears with Katie. Because, although Katie was a logical and grounded lawyer, she was saddled with an emotional case of hero worship when it came to Hargrove. She thought the sun rose and set on the man. She’d never understand.
Amber had sent her father a final text last night from the airport, assuring him that he didn’t need to worry, that she needed some time alone and that she’d be in contact soon. Then she’d turned off her cell phone. She’d seen enough crime dramas to know there were ways to trace the signal. And Hargrove had friends in both high and low places. Where the police couldn’t accommodate him, private investigators on the South Side would be happy to wade in.
The sun was emerging from behind the eastern mountains as Amber, Royce and Stephanie crossed the wide porch of the Ryder ranch house. She was dead tired but determined to keep anyone from seeing her mounting worry.
In the rising light of day, she admitted to herself that this had been a colossally stupid plan. Her father and Hargrove weren’t going to sit quietly and wait while she worked through her emotions. Plus, she had nothing with her but a pair of high heels, her cocktail dress and a ruby-and-diamond, drop necklace with a set of matching earrings.
And of all the nights to go with a tiny pair of high-cut, sheer panties—sure, they smoothed the line of her dress, but that was their only virtue.
“You heading home?” Royce asked his sister as he tossed a small duffel bag onto the polished hardwood floor, against the wall of a spacious foyer.
“Home,” Stephanie echoed, clicking the wide double doors shut behind her. “I can grab a couple hours’ sleep before class starts.”
Amber turned to glance quizzically at Stephanie. “Home?” She’d assumed they were already there. The sign on the gate two miles back had clearly stated Ryder Ranch.
“Up to my place.” Stephanie pointed. “I’ve got students arriving this afternoon.”
“You don’t live here?” Amber kept her voice even, but the thought was unsettling. Sure, Royce was the brother of her father’s business associate, but he was still a stranger, and there was safety in numbers.