“Photography is my business and . . . and if I’m going to record the workings of the ranch, I’ll need to make friends with everyone here, and that might mean being sympathetic to people. And . . . and I’m glad the city council doesn’t have the same attitude you’ve got about this project.”
“It’s a different project than having you here on my ranch, photographing everything that’s going on,” he pointed out dryly. “And besides, you haven’t met with them yet. They might change their minds.”
“They’d better not,” she retorted hotly. She plopped her hands onto her hips. “Unless they want to be in breach of contract. After all, they contracted with Abbott Photography for this job and just because my aunt can’t be here, that doesn’t mean . . . .”
“Wait.” Cam’s dark eyes snapped as he stared at her. “What about your aunt?”
Billie froze, her eyes on him as she realized how far her annoyance with him had taken her.
“Oh?” she said in a faint voice. Nonchalantly, she touched her fingers to the collar of her shirt. “Didn’t I mention that my aunt, Portia Abbott, was taken ill, appendicitis, very serious. She had surgery yesterday and she’ll be recovering for several weeks. She sent me instead.”
“Nooo,” he responded, dragging the word out and dropping his hands to his hips. “I think you forgot that.”
Billie chewed her bottom lip. He looked plenty intimidating when he stood like that. Not frightening exactly, but plenty intimidating.
“Does the city council know about this?”
“I plan to tell them tonight. The contract is with Abbott Photography, not with Aunt Portia.”
“Then why did you feel that you need to keep your aunt’s illness a secret?”
Billie opened her mouth, then closed it. He had her and they both knew it. Never one to use the wise approach, she went on the offensive.
“Exactly why are you so opposed to me?” She threw her hands wide. “To this whole project?”
His dark brows lowered over his eyes. It was obvious that she was annoying him, but she wasn’t going to back down.
He countered with a question of his own. “How long have you lived in Arizona?”
“Born and raised in Phoenix,” she retorted. “Although I don’t know what that has to do with anything.”
“And in your whole life, what kinds of stories have you heard about Lucky Break?”
Puzzled, she shrugged one shoulder. “There have been stories about the rising water table in the old mine shafts. Most recently, stories about people looking for gold. Stories about you and those three men you rescued from the collapsed mine. . . .”
“Go on.”
“Mostly that there are a lot of . . . unusual, eccentric people who live here.”
“The city of fruits and nuts.”
She couldn’t deny that. With a small twist of her lips she said, “There is that.”
“And that’s what sidetracks every reporter who’s come here, every one I’ve tried to talk to about the environmentally friendly ranching methods I’ve implemented.” He made a wide circle with his hand. “That many of us have implemented around here.”
“I’m sorry. But I’m not a reporter and what I’m here to do can only help.” At least that’s what she hoped. Cam didn’t appear to agree with her.
If possible, his scowl deepened. “Why don’t we save this argument until later? I’m trying to get some dinner ready before we all starve to death around here. Do you plan to help?”
Billie could think of any number of responses, but she decided to keep them to herself. She didn’t want to antagonize him. “Of course,” she said coolly. “I’m actually an excellent cook. In fact, I started a course at the Maricopa Culinary Institute.”
“Started it?” he asked, giving her a skeptical frown. “But didn’t finish it?”
Billie wrinkled her nose in consternation. Why hadn’t she said she’d ‘taken’ the course? “Something came up,” she hedged. Actually, it was lack of funds to finish the course that had made her quit. About that time, her Aunt Portia moved to Phoenix and needed an assistant. Billie had volunteered for the job and had fallen in love with photography.
“Do you often start things and don’t finish them?” Cam asked.
She marched past him and grabbed the stock pot. “Doesn’t everyone?” She set the pot in the sink and flipped on the hot water, filling it with steaming water which she then set on the stove to boil. She could feel his gaze on her as she adjusted the flame.
“Not everyone,” he said. He still stood against the doorframe, though he had turned to face her, his arms crossed over his chest. “Tell me about the other things you’ve started and haven’t finished.”
“Why do you need to know? It won’t affect the photographic essay I’m going to be doing of you and this ranch.”
“Let’s say I’m just curious about what kind of person you are. What kind of worker.”
Her eyes flashed at him. “You don’t have to worry about my work ethic. I’ve worked hard at every job I’ve ever had.”
“How many?”
“What?”
“How many jobs have you had?”
Billie glared at him, blew up a breath that puffed her dark bangs away from her forehead as she fought the urge to snap at him that she wasn’t a fool. However, she also knew that making such a protest would pretty much guarantee that he would think she was. She lifted her chin and tried to appear completely reasonable, professional, and in-control.
”I took college classes in biology and anthropology because I was interested in those subjects. While doing that, I worked as a waitress, as a pet-sitter, in a bookstore, in a picture framing shop.” That’s where she’d first become interested in the beauty of photography and learned to recognize the techniques of some of the most famous photographers like Ansel Adams, Margaret Bourke White, and Ray Manley, who had put Arizona on the map with his photographs. While admiring their work, it had never occurred to her that she could do work like that. But when she had taken her first wildlife photograph of a rattlesnake poised to strike at a packrat, she’d been hooked.
“Anything else?”
She pursed her lips in thought. “I started a real estate course.”
“But didn’t finish it?”
“I’m not assertive enough to be in real estate sales.”
“I haven’t noticed you having any problems being assertive.” His statement ended on a soft chuckle.
Billie, startled by the rich sound, turned to look at him. His gaze swept to linger on her for a few seconds, then away.
Shaken for no good reason that she could determine, she turned to watch the pot of water which was beginning to produce small bubbles. She ripped open the noodle package in anticipation.
“Any other jobs?” Cam asked. He walked up beside her, picked up a wooden spoon and stirred the spaghetti sauce.
“No,” she said brightly. “That’s all.”
“Couldn’t decide what you wanted to do when you grew up?”
“Every job I ever had taught me something which I now use in photography.”
“And how long have you been playing at photography?”
“I started it professionally five years ago. I’m very good and I feel that I’ve found my true calling.” Tired of being on the defensive, she asked, “What about you? Did you always know what you wanted to do?” she shot back.
His shrugged. “I was born into a ranching family. Of course I knew.”
“Well, then you’re one of the lucky ones.” At that moment, the water began to boil. She plunged the noodles in, stirred them carefully, then opened the refrigerator and began searching for salad ingredients.
When Brian returned to the kitchen, she gave him an encouraging smile. Jess followed quickly, removed the french bread from the oven and began taking plates from the cupboard and silverware from a drawer. “Looks like we’re almost ready, boss. What time do you have to leave?”
“Half an hour,” Cam answered.
Cam gifted her with an innocent look. “Oh, didn’t I mention that I’m on the city council?”
CHAPTER THREE
The city council met on the second floor of the local bank, in a room that looked down on DeGrange Avenue, Lucky Break’ main street. The building itself was at least a hundred years old with a worn, but beautifully polished marble entryway downstairs and a narrow flight of wooden steps leading upstairs. There was a creaky old elevator, but Billie had given it one look and decided not to trust it.
The meeting room was big enough to hold the long table where the council members sat and a hundred or so chairs for interested townspeople who wanted to attend the meetings.
Billie was glad to see that there weren’t many interested citizens tonight. Good. Fewer people for her to embarrass herself in front of – not that she usually made a habit of embarrassing herself and not that anyone would probably notice. Lucky Break citizens seemed to be pretty much immune to self-embarrassment. She glanced sideways at an elderly couple who appeared to be dressed as Hansel and Gretel. Across the room, a man sat with six hats stacked on his head.
No, she decided, embarrassment at one’s actions didn’t seem to be a big worry here, but today was some kind of record for her. How was she supposed to know that Cam was on the city council? That his vote might put her out of a job? Sure, he had agreed to let her stay on the ranch and pursue her photographic essay, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t convince the council to find someone else to take the photographs for the calendars.
She knew it was probably too late to make any kind of good impression on Cam, but she had changed clothes, donning a knee-length blue skirt and matching top, along with low-heeled sandals. She had swept her hair up and secured it neatly with a barrette. She knew she looked well-groomed, though she might not be everyone’s idea of a professional photographer. Her aunt Portia usually dressed in a brightly-colored, loose-fitting dress, or one of her flowing print skirts topped by a T-shirt. Billie’s usual work outfit included multi-pocketed khakis, a camp shirt, photographer’s vest, and hiking boots.
She didn’t know what she was worried about, she thought, looking around. The few people in the room were dressed casually – at least the ones who weren’t wearing some kind of odd costume. Even the council members mostly wore jeans and casual shirts, though, like Cam, they seemed to have cleaned up for the meeting. Several people had approached her to say hello. They were mostly men, and she was happy to tell them that she was the one the city council had hired to do the photographs for the calendars. Every time someone spoke to her, she felt Cam’s gaze on her. She wished she knew what he was thinking.
Billie watched him as he leaned over the table to talk to someone who had approached him. He grinned at something the other man said, then laughed out loud. A shiver ran up her arms. He had a wonderful laugh, deep and rich. She had the feeling it was rarely used, which made it all the more precious. And, no doubt, it was something she would never hear in response to anything she said or did – unless she managed to make a fool of herself. Still, she wondered if there was a way to capture that laugh on film.
She wished she had brought her camera to take shots of him involved in deciding the business of the town, but the way Cam was feeling toward her now, that probably wouldn’t have been a good idea. Better to have this job nailed down before she created any further problems. Not that she had created any so far. He simply seemed to take objection to everything she said and did.
When Billie saw that Cam was looking at her, she straightened and smoothed her skirt down over her already-covered knees. He was probably thinking up some objection to her right now. She wished she knew what it was so she could think of a good argument.
* * *
Why did she have to look so good? Cam wondered. And didn’t she notice that most of the people in the room were men and several of them were far too interested in looking at her?
He scowled at one of his fellow councilmen. Dave Sandario, owner of two local gas stations, was staring at her as if she was the best thing he’d seen in a long time. If he made a move on her, Cam would have to warn her that Dave had already been married and divorced three times and for her not to take him seriously. Either that, or he’d be forced to break Dave’s arm.
That thought sent a jolt through him. What was the matter with him? He didn’t want to consider the answer, so he settled down to pay attention to the proceedings. He was new at this councilman business, only his second meeting, which was why he hadn’t known about the contract with Abbott Photography, so he’d better learn quick. His goal in running for the empty council seat had been to bring a clearer head to these proceedings. He gave a glance at Billie, who was beaming a high kilowatt smile at Dave Sandario. Grimly, Cam acknowledged that his head would be a lot clearer if he’d quit obsessing over Billie.
He didn’t know her after only one day and he knew he shouldn’t rush to judgment – or judge her at all, but it bothered him that she wasn’t the one they’d hired to do the calendar shoots, not to mention that she’d had so many different jobs. What if she left them in the lurch with the photographs half-done? He wanted to believe she wouldn’t do that, but how did he know? He’d misjudged women before.
Red Franklin, mayor of Lucky Break, owner of Franklin’s Emporium, and the originator of most of the council’s more outlandish public relations gimmicks, called the meeting to order. After disposing of several articles of business, Red looked up from his agenda and said, “I understand that Abbott Photography has arrived to begin taking the photographs for the Lucky Break calendars.” He smiled as he looked around the room. The calendars had been his idea and he’d worked hard to make sure the idea had received the council’s votes.
Taking that as her cue, Billie stood up, smoothed the hem of her top, and gave them a nervous smile. Cam wanted to leap to his feet and tell her not to worry, that she had the job sewn up, that anyone who gave her trouble would answer to him. Shocked at his protective urge which came right on the heels of his own doubts, he scowled, wondering if he was completely losing his mind.
* * *
Why was Cam frowning at her now? Billie wondered in despair. She hadn’t even said anything yet. When the mayor asked her about her plans for the calendar shoots, she began explaining haltingly at first, and then with more confidence, telling how her aunt had become ill and asked Billie to take over the job.
Red Franklin gave her a nervous look. “So you’ve never actually done a project this big?”
She straightened her spine and smiled. “Not of this type because it isn’t the area of photography I usually pursue . . . .”
“What is your usual area, then?” Cam asked.
“Wildlife photography,” she answered, giving him a confident smile. “You can find my work in many major publications. Last February International Explorer magazine featured photos I took of snow leopards in Bhutan. I recently returned from an expedition along the Amazon and when I’ve fulfilled Abbott Photography’s contract with you, I’ll be leaving for several weeks in Borneo. I would be happy to give you the names and numbers of editors I’ve worked with who can vouch for my reliability and professionalism.” She couldn’t resist a look at Cam, along with a superior little smile.
The council members exchanged glances, looking impressed, but Cam’s eyes narrowed. “That’s very different from what you’ll be doing here.”
“Yes, but the point is that I can do it and do it well.” She watched his face and tried to guess what he was thinking. Was he annoyed because she hadn’t told him about her area of real photographic expertise, but what did it matter as long as she got the job done?
“So you’re accustomed to setting your own hours, working whenever you feel like it? he asked.
She raised her eyebrows. “Hardly. I work when the conditions are right.
“Before he could raise an objection, she said, “And on this assignment, I’ll make sure the conditions are right every single day.”
Cam frowned, apparently unhappy with her answer. Red Franklin looked from Cam to Billie and back again. Billie feared that Cam’s unnecessary reservations were creating doubts in Red’s mind.
Red gave quick glances to the people seated on each side of him. “Councilmembers, we need to talk about this. Gather around.”
They all huddled into a group and Billie noticed that Cam seemed to be arguing furiously with them. When they broke apart and returned to their seats, Cam shot her a glance that sent a thrill of apprehension up her spine.
The mayor nodded at her. “It’s been decided that we will, indeed, honor the contract that the city has with Abbott Photography on the condition that Cam Van Peter will act as liaison since you are staying at his ranch.”
Billie shot Cam a glance, but could read nothing in his expression. “Liaison?” she asked.
“Yes, to make sure everything goes smoothly for you,” Red said. “See that you have everything you need in order to maintain your . . . schedule.”
Make sure she didn’t mess up, Billie thought. She didn’t let her thoughts show on her face though. If Cam could maintain a poker face to hide what was really going on in his mind, so could she. “That sounds like an excellent idea,” she said brightly.
* * *
Liaison? Billie wondered. Exactly what was that, anyway? Did it mean that in addition to raising objections to her work here on the Muleshoe, Cam would also be objecting to her calendar photographs?
It was after ten o’clock. The rest of the ranch was asleep – or so she thought because the main house was dark. Billie’s head was too full of everything that had happened that day to even think about sleep. She had showered, put on shorts and a T-shirt, and pulled one of the fifties-style chrome and vinyl kitchen chairs out to the front porch. She would have sat on the porch itself but feared she would fill her backside with splinters.
Here To Stay (Welcome to Lucky Break, Arizona!) Page 4
