by Laura Moore
Now the only question was, how long would it take for Tess to recognize that further resistance was futile?
WHAT COULD SHE do but accept? Tess asked herself. Adele had been so generous in hiring her, a complete unknown, to be her personal assistant. She couldn’t repay that kindness by refusing to work on this upcoming wedding just because she’d grown jaded about the institution of marriage. Surely she could handle the details and pull together a successful ceremony without being reminded of her own disastrous marriage. Plus, she’d be a fool to walk away from the opportunity to work as Silver Creek’s events planner. She’d be acquiring the vital experience to run her own business one day.
“Okay, I’m in.” She just hoped Brian and Carrie wouldn’t be disappointed when they learned she had no previous experience as a wedding planner. She hadn’t even planned her own.
The reaction around the conference table was immediate and unanimous. Even Ward smiled. Well, he would, she thought. The dark prince had once again gotten his way.
Reid’s signature grin was wide. “I should have gotten you a bigger bouquet,” he teased.
Adele, too, looked pleased as punch. “Thank you, Tess. I knew we could count on you.”
Quinn pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. “I owe you big-time for letting me off the hook, city girl. I’ll have to think of a suitable token of appreciation.”
“There’s no need, really.” From what she’d observed, Quinn’s tastes ran in a very different direction from hers.
“It’ll be fun finding the right thank-you present.” Turning to Ward, she said, “I’ll head down to the corral and tack any of the horses still remaining.”
Daniel, too, had risen from his seat. “Let me add my thanks, Tess. With you and Ward working together on the wedding, Adele and I will be able to truly enjoy our vacation.”
Her working with Ward? She’d straighten out that misconception soon enough. The job would be stressful enough without having to deal with him.
Daniel extended a courteous hand to help Adele from her chair. “Darling, I think you and I should go check in on Phil and Macie. She might be getting an earful.”
“Phil did look quite annoyed at Macie’s surprise announcement. I’ll be back in a few minutes, Tess, to do the tour of the public rooms. Then we can start going through the files of vendors and merchants so you have the best addresses. If you could give Roo our feedback on the desserts?”
“Of course.” Tess nodded and then started stacking the empty plates next to her.
Across the table Ward mirrored her actions. Oh, no. She wanted him gone. “You really don’t need to clear the—”
A single look stopped her protest in midstream. How was it that he managed to get his way without even opening his mouth?
“We have to talk.”
That’s what she got for finding fault with his silent commands. Now she’d have to listen to them. It only made her more annoyed that she liked the low timbre of his voice. There was a pleasing texture to it. It made her think of rich caramel sprinkled with grains of sea salt.
It didn’t matter that she’d sampled her fair share of Roo’s baked treats just minutes earlier. It was not a good idea to associate Ward Knowles with her favorite indulgence.
Banishing ludicrous thoughts of how Ward might taste, she made her voice as crisp and businesslike as possible. “Perhaps later. I don’t want to keep Roo or your mother waiting.” She gave him the smile she reserved for obnoxious clients and felt a surge of satisfaction when his eyes narrowed slightly. Score one for her.
“Let me clarify. We need to call Brian and Carrie so that I can introduce you to them. I’ll have time this afternoon, once Quinn and I are back from the trail ride and have tended to the horses. How about meeting at three o’clock?”
“I’m sorry. There’s the Valentine’s Day tea. I told George and Jeff I’d help with the setup and wait on tables.” Which meant she’d have to don a pair of blue jeans. Silver Creek’s waitstaff dressed down, in crisp white shirts, blue jeans, and cowboy boots. This last was where she would draw the line. Self-respecting Italian girls from Queens did not own cowboy boots.
“With so little time until June, I’d expect you would want to meet your clients. You do plan to organize this wedding, don’t you?”
She folded her arms across her chest and wished she’d worn her highest heels so she wasn’t staring up at that squared jaw of his. “I told your parents I would. But I don’t need you to perform the introductions for me. I’m perfectly capable of phoning your friends and discussing their wishes—”
“Which would be fine except that Carrie doesn’t have a lot of experience in this sort of thing. It’ll be easier for the three of you if there’s someone who can translate—”
Tess gave him a look. “She can’t speak English?”
“Mainly she speaks astrophysics. She studies planet systems. Floral arrangements, wedding dresses, and menu selections not so much.”
Tess felt her own universe tilt crazily. Just what had she gotten herself into? “Planet systems?”
Ward nodded. “Let’s see if I remember the title of her dissertation. It was something along the lines of: ‘The DEEP2 Galaxy Redshift and the Role of Environment in Galaxy Formation.’ ”
“Catchy.” She frowned. “I didn’t know we had a deep galaxy. I thought ‘vast’ covered it.”
Ward gave a small smile. “Not that kind of deep,” he corrected. “ ‘DEEP’ stands for deep extragalactic evolutionary probe. She’s doing a postdoc at MIT now.”
“Of course,” Tess said faintly as her mind whirred. And she’d thought she had trouble connecting with Quinn, whose world revolved around the animal kingdom. She always needed to remind herself that when Quinn spoke of kids she was actually referring to baby goats. A good wedding planner had to be able to understand a couple’s vision and turn it into a memorable, beautiful wedding. What would she do if this Carrie person could speak only in quarks and black holes?
Suddenly, brushing Ward off didn’t seem like such a brilliant idea—not until she was confident that she could understand Carrie’s world and envision how she wanted her wedding.
Still, it was important to let Mr. I-Know-What’s-Best Ward Knowles know that she wasn’t a pushover. Nor was he the boss of her—at least not exactly. “Your mother may have suggested that you help me with the wedding details, but it’s not necessary. I work better on my own.”
He tilted his head. “Maybe so, but there’s another reason why you and I will be working as a team on this wedding.”
He really did have the high-and-mighty attitude down pat, she thought with a frown. “And that reason would be?”
“My mother. She’s in matchmaking mode. I don’t want her to suspect I’m on to her.”
“What?” Of all the answers she’d expected, this one hadn’t even made the extended list. “Matchmaking? Are you serious?”
“Afraid so. She can’t help it. Some women needlepoint. Some garden. Others gossip. My mother match-makes. She has a sentimental heart. Her fondest wish is to see her children married and to hear the happy squeals of grandbabies.”
Unfortunately, Ward’s words rang true. Tess had noticed that Adele seemed to get a little misty-eyed over young married couples that stayed at the ranch, especially when the women were expecting. She must not have drunk enough coffee, for the significance of what he’d said only then registered. “Wait, you mean she’s trying to get you and me together? No, she can’t be serious.”
“I’m afraid so. Once she and Dad return from their trip to Spain I’ll break the tragic news that sadly you and I were not to be.”
“You can say that again. Never. Not in a million years.”
Ward’s dark brows rose. “My mother believes I’m a catch.”
“A flaw common to many fond mothers, I’m sure. Much though I hate to disappoint her—”
“Other women do, too.”
She smiled. “They probably haven’t spent enough time
in your company.” The corner of his mouth quirked in amusement. “Probably not. Nevertheless, I’d like my mother to believe there’s no need to trot another female in front of me for a few months. It grows tiresome.”
“Wow. See, it’s like I just said. If you’d only let those women see your extraordinary conceit—”
“Strangely enough many women are happy to overlook my character defects. Do you suppose it has something to do with my family owning a three-thousand-acre ranch?”
Such cynicism. But Tess wasn’t going to be the one to inform him that his chiseled dark looks were far more likely the reason women were willing to put up with his lousy personality. They probably believed they’d be able to “change” him. Women could be so silly when it came to the opposite sex.
Of course, she was hardly one to feel superior to other women who were fools for love. She’d married David believing he was her Prince Charming. The fairy tale had lasted less than a month.
It was almost refreshing that she harbored no illusions about Ward’s character. And she far preferred being annoyed with his sardonic attitude than acknowledging the faint twinge of sympathy she felt at his words. How awful to think a woman might be more interested in his wealth than in him. “Even if I didn’t find you utterly unappealing, I make it a rule never to get involved with car killers or—”
“For Christ’s sake. I did not kill your car.”
“Gee, that’s funny, because one minute it was running and the next—”
“It was not running; it was gasping,” he corrected. “The mechanic down at Wexler’s Auto Shop wept when he lifted your hood.”
“Because he was looking at an avoidable tragedy.”
“I’ll say. Try replacing the oil in your car’s engine next time.”
The mechanic in New York had failed to mention her car would guzzle oil the way it did gas, but she wasn’t going to admit the mechanic’s negligence or her own ignorance to Ward. Instead, she glared at him. “So, to recap, even if I were interested in marrying a supremely arrogant, rude, and ridiculously rich man who owned a lot of cows and such, you’d be the last one I’d choose.”
His smile was more a baring of teeth. “Excellent. Make sure you remember that. Let’s plan on FaceTiming with Brian and Carrie after you’ve helped with the high tea.”
THE GRAY MIST had cleared, but the morning was still raw when Ward stepped outside the main lodge and made his way back toward the barns and corrals. Nodding politely at two guests who’d just finished their morning runs and were walking in tight circles, shaking out their legs and stretching as they exhaled clouds of air, Ward turned up the collar of his jacket and tugged the coat closer against his bare neck.
Ward hadn’t had time to check, but he bet that with the cool weather the number of last-minute reservations for the massage sessions and the yoga classes had spiked.
The high tea would be popular, too, with trail riders and yoga lovers alike. Tess Casari was going to have a busy day, he thought, picturing her crisscrossing the lounge and the adjacent bar where the tea would be served. The picture shifted to include the delectable swing of her rounded hips, and suddenly the morning air seemed balmy as his body temperature ratcheted up a few degrees.
He was a guy. Thinking about Tess’s very enticing curves came as no big surprise. What was interesting was that he found her personality just as attention grabbing.
His mouth curved in an unconscious smile as he recalled their latest exchange. It was possibly the lengthiest conversation they’d shared. He was willing to admit he’d been entertained. Entertained, challenged, and intrigued. It was a combination he hadn’t felt in quite some time. It struck him that he’d grown accustomed to women who tried a little too hard to please.
Tess was certainly different in that respect.
He’d decided it was only right to be up front about his mother’s matchmaking plans. Though he didn’t know Tess well, he could guess that she’d appreciate having someone meddle in her love life about as much as he did. Telling a beautiful woman his mother was trying to set them up was damnably embarrassing. It was tricky, too, as said woman might interpret the gesture as a come-on. He’d solved the problem by being about eight degrees more obnoxious than normal.
To his relief, she hadn’t hesitated to point out the flaws many others were willing to overlook. What had she called him? Arrogant and rude.
She’d also called him ridiculously rich. She hadn’t gotten the last bit right, probably confusing the fact that he and his family owned a lot of land with a swollen bank account.
The reality was more nuanced. Yes, the guest ranch was growing more and more popular and turning a profit. But most of the profits were then funneled into improving the lodgings and the ranch itself and paying the staff and wranglers’ salaries.
Tess wasn’t the first to assume Ward and his family were among the ranks of the wealthy. Erica, Ward’s ex-fiancée, had been similarly mistaken. Until that fateful day when Ward decided it might be best to clear the air before Erica’s remarks about how she’d like to start looking for a house on Nob Hill and a pied-à-terre in New York after they came back from their honeymoon reached his family’s ears and they laughed themselves silly.
It had been an illuminating conversation for both Erica and him, one he should have initiated a hell of a lot sooner, but he’d thought she understood his character and what Silver Creek meant to him. But it soon became clear that words such as “heritage” and “stewardship of the land” didn’t impress her nearly as much as “profit margin.”
When Erica had finally realized that no amount of earnest persuading on her part was going to convince him to lobby his family to make radical and irrevocable changes to the ranch by selling off the cattle and sheep, building some first-rate golf courses, and turning Silver Creek into a premier resort, she’d cut her losses—with the cool precision of a surgeon.
Three months before they were to pledge their love and loyalty in front of a minister and assembled guests, she’d announced she couldn’t marry a man who lacked ambition. By then he understood beyond a doubt that in Erica’s world, ambition and success were judged in dollar signs. Still, it had hurt to know she could walk away from him so easily.
He’d heard through the grapevine that Erica was currently dating a Silicon Valley tech mogul whose company developed apps. Rumor had it he was readying an IPO that might make him one of the Valley’s newest billionaires.
Ward wished her luck. He didn’t blame anyone but himself for not having seen her character more clearly. He’d been fooled by the fact that she was often as sweet-tempered as her stepsister, Carrie. The thing was, Erica’s brand of sweetness lasted only as long as everything went exactly her way. Since he’d believed himself in love with her, he’d done everything he could to keep her happy—that is, until he resisted her campaign to destroy a place and lifestyle the people he loved most in the world cherished.
Though he was grateful to have been saved from what would almost certainly have been a marriage rife with bitter resentment, Erica’s rejection had nevertheless left a wound. Although covered with scar tissue, the pain lingered and was just sharp enough to remind him of the dangers of opening his heart again. He’d judged badly once. Who was to say he wouldn’t be fooled twice?
Besides, the status quo was hardly terrible. He loved his work at Silver Creek, which on any given day entailed doing about a half dozen different jobs, and he enjoyed the company of women—on his own terms. He was looking for good sex and intelligent and fun company … with no strings attached. Admittedly, it was sometimes difficult to convince the woman in question that there’d be no deviating from this last item, but once he had, things went quite satisfactorily for both parties. He saw no reason to tinker with a near-perfect arrangement.
He supposed Tess Casari would label this as yet another example of his rude arrogance. It was a measure of her allure that Ward was even tempted to see whether he could convince her to give it a shot.
His
thoughts had taken him the third of a mile down the ranch’s private road to where the barns, round pen, and corrals were located.
Quinn was already in the corral, saddling Brocco, a dark bay gelding who was one of their beginner horses. Next to him, Gino, a sturdy pinto who was also bombproof—unfazed by anything that crossed his path—was saddled and dozing, his brown muzzle resting on the middle split rail.
“Hey,” he said, unlatching the gate and then shutting it behind him. Balanced on the top wooden rail were three tooled saddles and a matching number of saddle blankets. He chose Aladdin’s and lifted it off. Carrying it over to the flea-bitten gray standing placidly on the other side of Brocco, he shook out the striped saddle blanket and then settled it over the gelding’s back. The saddle followed.
Quinn ducked under Brocco’s neck to stand beside Ward. “Hey, yourself. So don’t keep me in suspense. How’d it go with Tess? Is she really on board for handling the blessed nuptials?”
Ward decided it was only right to prolong her anxiety a few seconds more. It’d be character building—or something like that. Giving the saddle a final adjustment, he grabbed the cinch, drew it under Aladdin’s belly, and then inserted the latigo through the cinch ring. He tightened the leather strap until the cinch was snug, threaded it through the saddle’s D ring, and knotted it.
“Ward!” The pissed-off note in Quinn’s voice was as sharp as the bite of the morning air. One should never overlook the simple pleasures in life. Tormenting younger sisters was one of them.
But Chester and Ion still needed to be tacked. If they didn’t get the remaining horses ready, the trail ride would start late and affect the rest of the day’s schedule. Normally starting a trail ride a few minutes late was no big deal, but with so many extra activities planned, there wasn’t as much flexibility.
“You can breathe easy. She agreed.”
