Embarrassing her family was not an option.
To Brock, she’d said nothing he did or would do could hurt her, but if this story blew up, instead of starting her new job today, she’d be put in seclusion. Catherine would once again live in her gilded cage that would only feed the water cooler gossip and embarrass her brothers.
PR was high priority for the Morgans right now. Peter had been on the news talking about how his family represented fiscal responsibility and would never let their personal lives interfere with the banking empire.
Catherine fumed. Brock had probably seen that interview and decided that now was a good time to drag out that old video.
She glanced at her phone and saw multiple missed calls but her ringer had been turned off, maybe when she'd tossed her phone. It rang again and Peter Morgan’s name flashed on the screen.
Her body tensed with the realization that her family was making a place for Catherine, but working at the Morgan bank wasn’t going to make her happy. Now what? She rolled her shoulders and answered, “Hi.”
“Security has been trying to call you.”
“I was telling my roommates what happened.”
Peter cleared his throat. “We’re going to need you to lay low until we’re sure this won’t blow up before my wedding. Rafe told me you already talked to Brock. Don’t do that again. We’ll handle this.”
She had no words. Catherine’s life was always ‘handled’ like she was some porcelain doll that might break. And then her phone beeped. Her chest constricted--Brock. Price is now ten million. If you don’t pay in 48 hours, this and your prom night with Carter releases on air.
She’d dated Carter. How did Brock know him? Her spine was so tight she feared it would snap.
And the worst part that made her stomach flip? She didn’t want the job she’d been given and jumped at the chance to put it off.
Catherine would take her place in the family corporation once the dust settled. She sighed and told Peter, “I don’t want people talking about this when you have your investors from all over the world coming to your wedding. I’ll leave town for a while and disappear until this blows over.”
“I want you at my wedding, Catherine.”
Family was the only thing she understood having loyalty for. “Of course! Don’t worry. I’m sure something political will happen to move any news in a different direction if this comes out. Then I’ll come back and no one will care about the House of Morgan.”
Peter said, “Be safe, sis.” He hung up, like this was the end of a business conversation and not personal.
She shouldn’t have expected more. She put her phone on the table, ignoring the rings from Axel, her rock star brother half the world away. Camila handed her a bowl of ice cream she’d scooped for her with a freshly cooked waffle added to make it breakfast. “Where in the world will you go? Everyone knows you’re a Morgan.”
“I have to find a place no one knows me.” She ate her first spoon of chocolate chip cookie dough.
Being Jess again would be nice. She’d wear a ponytail, no makeup, and not have the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Valentina scoffed as she took her bowl. “Good luck with that. Your face is in the news more than a politician--no one really cares if you’re an account executive when they can discuss the dress you choose to wear.”
Another reason her life was worthless. Camila put the ice cream away. “Head into the country where no one is going to expect Catherine Morgan. I can just see you hiding behind some counter as a waitress serving pie.”
Valentina laughed out loud.
A waitress? Catherine had never liked cleaning up her own kitchen, even before she became a billionaire. She waited for her cousin to sit on the couch and said, “You have an active imagination, Camila.”
“It’s why I write screen plays.” Camila dug into her own ice cream waffle, with none of them caring about their figures right now.
Her phone rang again but this time she just turned off the ringer. It’s not like her wishes were as important as the bank’s and she was sure Rafe and security already had a plan for how to talk to Brock.
For a few minutes the three friends ate the chocolate chip cookie dough in contemplative silence.
The sweet taste helped relax her. Catherine was near the end of her bowl when she said, “I’m thinking somewhere where I won’t run into every local in town.”
"The issue is that you have money, and there is no hiding that. Unless…"Camila and Valentina shared a look. Camila asked, “What about applying for a nanny position, like in that movie?”
“Or a wife.” Valentina ran out of the living room like her legs had caught fire.
Catherine scraped the last bit of chocolate from the bowl, then set it before her on the table with the other empty bowls.
Valentina returned with an open laptop. “Read this.”
"What?" She wasn't suited to be a nanny or a wife as Catherine Morgan wasn’t the laundry type for Sunday mornings.
Valentina sank down next to Catherine on the couch and shoved her laptop in Catherine’s lap while explaining, “We were talking about this in law class yesterday--what are the legal ramifications of getting a child dropped off on your doorstep, and whether it would count as child abandonment. This guy seems to be on the level. His ex, a model, has just left him the baby without question, signing off on all custody with a promise to disappear from both their lives.”
Huh? Catherine read the ad in the social media marketplace with a nice picture of a farm that seemed bought from stock images. “Local farmer seeks wife. Must be good with children, tolerable to look at and decent behind the stove.”
This had to be a joke. Catherine gave the laptop back, but played along. “I used to like baking on my Easy-Bake Oven but I don’t think that counts.”
“Why not?” Camila elbowed her with a smile. “You meet all the qualifications.”
“Huh. Doesn’t matter.” Her brow furrowed. “I’m not getting married.”
Valentina closed her laptop. “The public wouldn’t be so hard on you if you were engaged. Brock would be seen more as a youthful mistake. You’ve been known for saying you’re staying happily single, which I get because let’s be honest, with the Morgan fortune, it’s hard to find a sexy equal who doesn’t want your bank account more than you. The public doesn’t understand this feeling we have of never finding the one.”
Catherine’s throat itched and she tried to laugh but it sounded more like a cough. “So I should just show up at this man’s farm and say ‘I’m here for the wife position.’”
Camila picked up the bowls. “You can’t go as Catherine Morgan.”
Catherine took hers and Valentina’s so Camila didn’t serve and clean. “This is silly.”
Valentina followed them as they went into the kitchen and Camila said, “Or brilliant. I couldn’t make this stuff believable in a movie script.”
Valentina retorted fast, “That’s because you write sci fi and not rom coms--anything goes for a romantic laugh.”
Camila turned the water on and let it fill the bowls they stuck in the sink. “True.”
Catherine wasn’t about to jump into some crazy idea because she wanted to hide from the press, but since Peter needed her to lay low, maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. Right? Not the married part, but who would find her on a farm?
Or, she could just hole up in one of her family’s many properties but then, once again, she’d be taken care of, entitled, and worthless. There were days when she hated her own face in the mirror. She kept that shame to herself. “I don’t know how to even hold a baby.”
“What if the kid is ten or something?" Valentina asked. "You know how to talk with anyone as you’re a Morgan and you charm every man or woman you meet.”
Charm wasn’t worth much in the world.
“I thought you checked this guy out.” Catherine, petite compared to tall Valentina, looked up at her for more information.
Valentina tapped h
er finger on her cheek. “There are no pictures of the child, just the guy, who's in a cowboy hat which makes his face hard to see. The ex-girlfriend was blonde, like you, Catherine, so you’re his type. I suppose the baby could be any age.”
Cowboy hat with a model meant his standard of living was better than struggling, and a farm might be nice. Not seeing her overprotective brothers would be nicer.
Catherine, for one minute, imagined herself as a woman who worked with her hands in a garden, growing tomatoes. It seemed peaceful compared to her party circuit and demands on her social schedule.
And peace would be nice.
As Jess, she’d worked with Tanya at the summer cottage gathering string beans and other vegetables they’d planted.
Uncertain, but feeling desperate, she asked her friends, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Valentina held up her right hand and placed it on her heart like she was swearing into court. “Just keep in touch with the two of us. We won’t tell a soul where you went.”
The guy would probably laugh her off the farm the minute she knocked. Or he’d call his security people and have her removed from the property.
But if she went out of town, escaped the job, maybe she scored a chance to figure out what she wanted. But Morgan security didn’t need to find her.
Neither did her brothers. They loved to tell her what to do, but that never helped.
Opinions weren’t going to help her find her personal truth.
If some man showed up at her door, she’d laugh so this cowboy hat man, he’d do the same.
Her mind buzzed. This was a bad, bad, bad idea. However, if she was allowed to stay on his farm, nobody would find her. It was worth at least trying. So she met both of her friend’s gazes and said, “If I go, you cannot tell my brothers or anyone where I am. I want to be on my own.”
Valentina nodded. “My siblings are married to yours so your family doesn’t exactly scare me, Catherine.”
Camila turned off the water from rinsing the dishes. “And even though I’m from the California black sheep side of the family, we're cousins. Just text and we’ll ride to your rescue.”
Valentina opened her laptop and a moment later Catherine’s phone dinged with an address she’d sent that was in the middle of nowhere, north Florida.
She could make it there in a few hours. “Okay. Why not? But if you show up, remember I’m not Catherine.”
“What shall we call you?” Camila asked with big eyes.
Catherine Morgan was the name she was born with and her current name, but when she’d been adopted and lived in a normal, every-day family, she’d been someone else. It would be nice to be simple and uncomplicated again so she lifted her chin and said, “Jess Taylor. I’ll be back for Peter's wedding, but if I do call or text, bring my sister, Tess.”
“On it.” Valentina opened her arms for a hug.
Camila joined and the three of them hugged. As the moment ended, Catherine pushed her hair out of her face and said, “Thanks.”
This plan wasn’t thought out. She hadn’t weighed all her options but she’d go on her instincts. Being Jess again meant none of Catherine’s problems mattered. For now she’d knock on the door of another world and just see what she was capable of--what could happen to her on a farm?
From the comfort of his office, Maverick Appleton rocked the crying baby in his arms as he tried to listen to his crew explain why his mechanical harvester wasn’t properly cutting the cane into 30cm billets. On a normal day, he’d have heard the problem and then been able to give a solution.
But that was before six-week-old, twelve pounds of bald, blue-eyed, crying Carter had showed up in his life.
Desperation had become a serious word around here. For the past week he'd had a crash course in fatherhood as he figured out how to handle a baby boy. The call from his lawyer informing him of his son was never far from his mind. His new routine at seven each morning was reviewing the latest crisis over cold coffee while he worked out a plan with the nanny, which ended in disaster at some point during the day.
Two days ago, the nanny hadn't showed up for work, so he'd pressed the laundress into service.
That solution failed as the laundry woman decided to up and quit today at lunch, saying she would rather change her own mother’s diapers than listen to his son’s constant cries.
To top it all off, he had no idea what was wrong with his new avocado harvester. The louder the baby cried, the louder the men's voices ramped up.
His foreman, Bob Hess, knocked on his office door, interrupting the meeting. “Boss, let me call around for a mechanic that specializes in the harvester. There's a woman at the front door for you.”
A mechanic for that machine. He should have thought of that and would have if his mind wasn’t racing. He shifted the baby to his other shoulder. “What kind of woman?”
“A pretty one.” Bob winked and his belly jiggled from his laugh. “Just your type.”
Maverick scowled. Pretty women were how he'd ended up with this baby boy in the first place. Carter's wail pierced his ear drum as if the kid could read his thoughts and didn't approve. Maverick bounced him again as he said, “I’m not looking for pretty.”
“That ad of yours now isn’t just clogging up my emails then. This one shows up out of the clear blue sky.”
He was looking for a solution to at least one of his problems.
Bob patted him on the back as Maverick went out of his office. “May just quit and your baby is fussing. Maybe the woman is your angel who appeared to save you from yourself.”
“As long as you didn’t just buy me one of those Russian brides online to save me and Carter here.”
“You nixed that idea already.”
“So she won’t be some foreigner with a fiancée visa at the door?
“Nope, but from my first impression of her, she’s your type Maverick.”
Or she was the devil, here to collect her due. His son continued to scream his head off. Maverick’s muscles were made for plowing the fields, not jiggling a baby--he pursed his lips and shook his head. “Doubtful. But I’ll go say hello and send her on her way.”
Maverick noticed that the faster he strolled down the hall, the less his son cried. He would remember that trick for later.
He arrived in his living room and came to a complete stop, watching the pretty blonde woman as she looked out his window toward the orange groves.
Her curves were just right and judging by her profile, this woman was prettier than Carter’s mother, who had up and left for a modeling career. Trouble.
His son let out a tired cry and she turned, holding her hands out for the baby. After a slight hesitation, he gave Carter to her, and his son instantly went to sleep on her shoulder as she patted his back.
Clearly this beauty had a magic touch despite the designer silk blouse that cost more than a tractor. She swayed back and forth, her blonde hair down her back as she danced with his sleeping son. “Carter, what do you think of this pretty lady?”
Her sweet smile caught his attention and he wanted to kiss this magical woman for the minute of silence. “Are you Maverick Appleton?”
He put his hands in his pockets and stepped away from her. “Who's asking?”
She stopped swaying and he tensed, but his son remained sleeping like he belonged with this woman and not him as she said, “I’m… I’m here about the wife position.”
His eyes widened. That had been some strange joke Bob had played.
No pretty woman like this needed to stroll on a farm and ask for a husband.
She probably had men lined up for miles around her door.
A continuation of Bob's joke? He eyed her up and down. Her clothes weren’t cheap for some gag Bob could afford as he asked, “You?”
She shuffled on her black heels that had the red bottoms which meant they were expensive and not made for farm life.
The woman continued to softly rock his son. “Look, I know it’s strange that I just
stopped in and knocked on the door.”
Should he grab his son away from her? His muscles enjoyed the respite--he wasn't used to carrying a baby around. And now his mind swirled on a new problem. She had a specific reason for applying for the position--she had money, she had looks, which meant she had a problem. “Are you in some sort of trouble that you just brought to my door?”
Her blue eyes widened and she stopped. Carter whimpered, but she gently patted his tiny back until he calmed down. “Why do you assume trouble?”
Whoever this woman was, she clearly had the magic touch with his son. Maverick crossed his arms and focused on the facts before him. “Why else would a classy woman in fancy clothes show up on my farm? Bob’s ad has already been taken down--it mostly sent me foreign bride options, not that I want a wife at all.”
She averted her gaze, taking little steps to comfort Carter as she paced the room. “I didn’t know there were so many guards on farms these days.”
Huh, so she intended to change the topic. He glanced out his front window and noticed the Mercedes-Benz AMG S65 Cabriolet silver convertible. This woman had money, which was how she'd driven onto his estate, past his guards, in the first place. Bob probably saw the car and approved without seeing more.
He turned toward her. “We need to protect the lands from people who would steal our produce. Most farms in Florida these days have video surveillance and a guard house.”
She studied him too and said, “I see. I’m not here to steal from you.”
Maverick stood between her and the front door in case she decided to bolt with his son--he'd worked so hard to gain custody that he hadn't realized the ramifications once Carter was home.
He needed to return to the point of this conversation. “So what kind of trouble are you in that brings you to my door?”
She bounced on her toes in a rhythmic motion and again evaded the question. “Why did you advertise for a wife? I would have thought you would have your pick of women?”
She stole the upper hand. He kept his position, his arms relaxed at his side but prepared to rescue Carter if needed. “I have bad taste in women, from what I’ve been told. Now that I have Carter, I’ve decided to change how I approach judging.”
Secret Cowboy Page 2
