by Cora Seton
“If you’re interested in the artwork,” Bella began. “I can…”
“I’m not.” Madelyn turned to her. “Tell me why you became a vet.”
“Uh…I…” Bella struggled to recite her usual pat answer to this question. It didn’t help that she had an audience of cowboys as well as Madelyn and her assistant waiting to hear what she had to say. “A family pet died when I was ten after being hit by a car. As you might expect, I was quite saddened by the experience. I guess I decided then and there to learn to care for hurt animals.”
She didn’t add that Caramel’s death had been her fault. Or that the incident had also nearly bankrupted her family. She’d been playing with the dog back behind the house near the stables and corrals where her father and his hired hands worked. She’d been told a hundred times to skedaddle when the men were handling the horses, but she hadn’t listened that day. Truth was, she rarely did. As the baby of the family and the only little girl on a ranch full of men, she was spoiled, which drove her older brother Craig wild with resentment. That day Craig was helping the men, though, and he’d lorded it over her that he was big enough to join in while she had to keep away.
Cyclone was a new horse; a thoroughbred stallion her father mortgaged the ranch to purchase with the hope that he could charge exorbitant stud fees and breed new generations of thoroughbreds to sell. Her father was thrilled that he’d landed his first customer, and his voice rang out as he called directions to the rest of the men helping to load the horse.
She’d been far too young to realize how precarious the family’s finances were. The ranch had been owned by Chathams for generations. Chance Creek was her whole world. As she ran and played with Caramel she felt just as safe and loved and carefree as she’d ever felt growing up there.
So she hadn’t stayed in the front yard as she’d been told to do. Instead she brought Caramel out back to play catch. She’d been crouched down beside the dog to congratulate her for returning the ball she’d thrown, rubbing her fur, too absorbed in her fun to hear the commotion behind her. She hadn’t noticed the men trying to load Cyclone into the trailer. She hadn’t seen him break free of his handlers and gallop away.
She didn’t see Cyclone at all until he was almost on top of her, rearing high into the air at Caramel’s sudden barks of warning. She looked up to see his hooves above her, the entire weight of the stallion about to crash down on her head.
That moment drew out impossibly long in her memory. People shouting, Caramel barking, the horse wheeling around, and the sickening crack as its leg shattered when it tumbled down to earth. Her father’s bellow. Another sound—sharp as a slap.
Caramel’s bark of pain.
The dog struck out like lightning across the hard-packed earth of the yard, past the house, past the driveway, and toward the country highway.
Bella leapt to her feet and raced after her. She heard the squeal of brakes and Caramel’s anguished yelp of surprise. By the time she reached the road Caramel was shuddering with pain. With the driver’s angry words in her ears, and tears streaming down her face, she held her dog in her arms as Caramel breathed her last.
Even today she remembered that gut-wrenching helplessness—holding Caramel, feeling the life drain out of her, unable to stop it, knowing it was all her fault…
And then the gunshot.
“We’re on a very tight schedule,” Madelyn snapped. Bella blinked, dragged back to the present too abruptly. “This morning we’ll do an interview and your paperwork. The camera crew will be in to get footage for our opening sequence—the contestants in their milieu.”
“Their what?” Still struggling to catch up, Bella caught Hannah’s eye behind Madelyn’s back and frowned. Hannah shrugged, but Morgan waved her hands at the office as if to say, the place where you live and work, dummy. Well, Morgan probably wouldn’t call her a dummy. Out loud.
“Their home environment,” Ellis explained, gesturing at the cowboys in the waiting room. “Hi, Bella—great to meet you. You’re probably feeling a little overwhelmed right now.” Ellis looked young—twenty-five or twenty-six, Bella guessed, dressed in black jeans and a black turtleneck that must have been hot on this sunny fall day. He gripped a pile of file folders and kept fiddling with his cell phone.
“Of course she’s overwhelmed,” Madelyn said. “What does Bella know about being on television? Nothing. So we’ll teach you.” She put an arm around Bella’s shoulders in what she assumed was supposed to be a friendly hug but felt more like a vise grip, and led her to an empty chair in the waiting area. “Have a seat and I’ll quickly explain the layout of the show.”
As Bella sat down she saw Hannah pull out a small notebook and pen. Thank God—she doubted she would remember any of this. Morgan leaned on the counter soaking up every word, too. The cowboys relaxed in their chairs.
“The whole show is shot over seven days, with two days for travel and five days of filming. Once you step on our private jet you will have no contact with anyone except the show’s personnel. At the show’s conclusion we will either deliver you back here or to the home of Evan Mortimer. If you win, we will shoot additional coverage of us presenting you with your winnings, plus a follow-up show in three months’ time to check in on how the money has changed your life. If Mr. Mortimer wins, we will shoot your wedding, of course, plus a follow-up show in three months’ time to see how your marriage is going.”
“Wait a minute,” Bella said. “There’s a question I’ve got to ask. Why would a billionaire want to marry me?”
Madelyn frowned. “Billionaires are not like you or me, Bella. Who knows why they do what they do? But the terms of our contract state that if you lose the contest you will marry him. Do you understand? There’s no surprise here—we discussed this at length in our emails.”
Bella glanced at Hannah again, who chewed on her pen, a sure sign of nervousness. Madelyn must be referring to emails she’d exchanged with Hannah. A momentary urge to throttle her receptionist swept over her, but Bella remained in control. Barely. “Right. I just think it’s strange, that’s all.”
“Moving on,” Madelyn said.
“Can I see him?” Bella interrupted.
“See who?” Judging by the way she tapped her foot on the clinic floor, the director was getting irritated.
“Mr. Mortimer. Can I see what he looks like?”
Ellis juggled through the file folders and pulled out a photograph. “Here he is. Meet Evan Mortimer—billionaire. Must be nice, huh?”
“I guess.” Bella chewed on the end of her hair thoughtfully as she looked over the photograph. It showed a man in his early thirties with dark hair and cool, assessing eyes. He had a strong face that spoke of a sharp mind and decisive personality. He looked to be an impressive adversary.
Suddenly this all felt like a very, very bad idea.
“That ain’t a man, that’s a monkey,” Jamie pronounced, looking over her shoulder. “Look at that getup he’s wearing. No way he can do an honest day’s work in that. You ought to marry a cowboy, Bella. Don’t we know anyone?” He looked meaningfully at Cab, the only single one of the bunch.
“Leave Cab alone,” Ethan drawled. “He’ll get married sooner or later.”
“Emphasis on later,” Rob said. “The man’s slower than molasses.”
“Who you calling slow?” Cab said.
“Time, people,” Madelyn snapped. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”
Bella tried to ignore the cowboys and listen to the woman’s description of the shooting schedule, the types of contests she might face and a list of rules that seemed endless, but her attention kept returning to Evan’s photograph. Despite Jamie’s assessment of his suit, he was very handsome.
What if she lost? Could she really marry this man and spend a year with him? Would he expect her to sleep with him during that time? She felt her cheeks begin to heat—it had been a long time since she’d slept with anyone; she wasn’t sure she knew what to do anymore. He seemed so self-assured, he p
robably knew exactly what to do, and he’d quickly become bored with her limited repertoire of sexual moves.
Whoa. Earth to Bella; you’re not going to sleep with him, no matter what.
She gave herself a little shake. She definitely wouldn’t sleep with someone she married after losing a contest. That was ridiculous.
And besides, if she lost it meant she’d have to close the clinic for good. She’d only been able to open it in the first place because she’d received a small inheritance. That was long gone, so once she shut down—even temporarily—it would be just about impossible to start it up again.
Her stomach sank at the thought. She’d lived through her parents’ money troubles and knew how awful that was. She’d have to go to work for someone else—like her brother, Craig. She’d be an employee rather than her own boss, and if he mandated a time limit that abandoned animals could stay in the pound, she’d have to euthanize the ones that overstayed their welcome. She couldn’t bear that.
And she couldn’t bear being around horses, either—not close up like Craig was on a daily basis. Horses reared and tried to smash you to bits. They bit and kicked and threw their riders. She hadn’t been able to go near a horse since the day Caramel died.
The gunshot rang again through her mind. The bullet that had ended Cyclone’s life. That was her fault, too. If only she had listened to her father, both Caramel and Cyclone would have lived. Her father would have made a mint on Cyclone’s stud fees.
They wouldn’t have had to sell half the ranch that had been owned by Chathams since the 1800s.
“Do you understand what I’ve said?” Madelyn asked, breaking into her reverie, and Bella had the awful feeling it wasn’t the first time she’d repeated the question.
“Yes—of course!”
Madelyn gave her a long look. “Take a minute to read over the contract. One minute—we’re already very behind. Ellis, call the camera crew—see when they’re arriving.”
When Bella glanced over at the receptionist’s desk, Hannah waved her notebook—now full of notes—and Bella breathed a sigh of relief. She had to pay attention from here on in. What happened during the next seven days could determine the course of her life. One thing she knew for sure—she couldn’t become Mrs. Evan Mortimer. Because if she did, most of the animals she loved would die.
* * * * *
“Jasper National Park? In Canada?” Evan said into his cell phone as he pulled together notes for his next meeting.
“Yep. Canada. It’s supposed to be gorgeous,” Amanda said.
“Hell, what’s wrong with Yosemite? I could be there in a few hours.”
“Yeah, and you know it like the back of your hand—unfair advantage.”
Exactly his point. He’d take all the unfair advantages he could get if it meant he could marry Betty Bumpkin the cowgirl and get the board of directors off his back. “So—wilderness challenges, that kind of thing?”
“Most likely. I’ve generated a list of the challenges they’ve thrown at contestants in previous years. There’s nothing here you can’t handle.”
He felt pretty confident about that. He was an expert cyclist, a strong sailor, he’d been skiing since he was ten years old and he was even a fair hand at rock climbing. He hadn’t tackled Half Dome yet, mind you, but he was getting there.
“All right. When are they picking us up?”
“Five o’clock. I’ll have your bags and passport ready.”
“Fine—you’ve made sure my phone has coverage in Canada?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Evan, didn’t you pay attention when I read you the rules? Once you get on their plane, you can’t have any contact with the outside world, remember? That includes me.”
Something in her voice told him she was looking forward to the break, and the thought stung him. He talked to Amanda on the phone far more than he saw her in person, but she was part of his day-to-day life—an invisible genie smoothing the road before him in a million different ways. He guessed he couldn’t blame her for wanting some time off—she was really too old to work as hard as she did, although if anyone said so she’d be the first to eviscerate them. Evan swallowed the feeling of abandonment that swelled his throat for some unaccountable reason.
“All right; I’m heading into my last meeting right now. I’ll be ready to go at five.”
“Go get her, killer. You can take that cowgirl.”
“Damn straight. Get ready to meet the wifey, Amanda.”
“I hate her already. Good luck.”
And she was gone. Evan clicked off the phone and stared out at the view. He’d never been to Canada before—something of an oversight, now that he thought of it. He called up a browser on his computer and checked out the Jasper National Park website. Looked pretty cool. Maybe he’d get some climbing in.
Seven days away from work, without even a cell phone to keep him tied to his desk. Evan straightened with new determination. This would be fun.
Yeah, right.
CHAPTER THREE
Bella climbed out of the SUV and stared at the rustic lodge in front of her. She felt off-balance from the hours of travel behind her. First the plane ride to Calgary and a night spent in a passable hotel by the airport. Next, she’d been hustled into the SUV and driven 298 miles to Jasper, via Banff. The scenery along the Icefields Parkway between the two towns in the Canadian Rockies was jaw-dropping, and she’d wanted to beg the driver to stop at least once at one of the many viewpoint turnouts, but other than a brief layover for lunch at the Num-Ti-Jah Lodge they drove straight through.
The rules of the Can You Beat a Billionaire television show forbade her from bringing a cell phone or camera, and it killed her to watch glacier-fed lakes, spectacular mountains and wildlife of every description slip past without snapping a shot. I’ll come here again, she promised herself, and nearly snorted out loud. She was broke—about to lose her business and her home. If she wanted to go sightseeing again in this lifetime, she’d better win the show.
She’d better win if she wanted to stay single.
Her thoughts drifted back to the conversation she had with Madelyn at the airport the night before, and her lips thinned with distaste. Madelyn Framingham wasn’t even human. The way she played with people’s lives and apparently relished pitting them against each other—there was something grisly about that. The director had taken her aside as they waited to board the network’s corporate jet.
“You’ve probably considered throwing the show,” she announced.
“Why would I throw it?” Bella had no idea what she meant.
“Marrying a billionaire? Probably sounds like a dream come true to a girl from the sticks.”
“Uh…not really,” Bella said. “I’m not looking for a husband, I’m looking for money.” Aside from saving her business, she would finally be able to pay her father back for the land he’d lost. Only then would she feel like she’d made up for the damage she’d caused him all those years ago.
Maybe he’d forgive her.
“Right. I don’t believe you,” Madelyn said. “So let me make it clear. If Evan wins, you will sign an ironclad prenuptial agreement so when he divorces you after a year you will walk away just as poor as you are today.” She leaned closer, her scarlet lips inches from Bella’s face. “He’s looking for a prop, not a partner. In order to remain in control of his family’s business he must be married for a year. So don’t get excited…and don’t think you can profit from throwing the show.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Bella said, rounding on her. “You think I’d give up five million dollars to be Mrs. Evan…Whatever his name is? That’s insane!” Even if the man was as handsome as a rugged movie star.
“What’s five million compared with five billion?” Madelyn arched an eyebrow. “Surely you’re smart enough to do the math.”
“I wouldn’t want five trillion if it came with a man attached to it.” Bella shook her head at the woman’s stupidity. And she was the one in
charge of this show?
Madelyn considered her, a calculating look in her eyes. “You’re really that dead set against marriage? Even to a guy like Evan?”
“Hello—if I lose, it’s bye-bye Chance Creek Pet Clinic! What do you think happens to all the animals living there? You think magically they’ll all get adopted? Even the ones missing a limb or an eye or maimed by the neglect of their previous owners? No—they won’t. They’ll be killed. Murdered! And people like you won’t even bat an eyelash. Just another dead kitten—no big deal! Who cares about that puppy—I want more wedding cake!”
Bella knew she was losing it. A number of people in the corporate waiting room had turned to stare at her as her voice raised, but she couldn’t help it. She’d never been away from the clinic for a single night since she’d accepted her first batch of unwanted puppies, and now she’d been gone for eighteen hours. What if something happened and her brother was too busy to come and help?
A wave of panic crashed over her, and suddenly she knew for certain disaster had struck back at home. Hannah couldn’t handle emergencies like she could, and her brother would never prioritize a pet over a useful animal, as he termed horses and cows.
“Give me your phone.” She snatched at Madelyn’s state-of-the-art device. “Give it to me—I need to call the clinic!”
Madelyn looked over her shoulder and made a strange, rolling gesture with her right hand. Bella turned to follow her gaze and was horrified to see that the camera crew had crept up behind her to film this interchange. She looked up and ducked in alarm at the microphone boom one portly crew member dangled over her head.
“What the hell? What are you doing?” Crimson with rage and humiliation, Bella ducked and covered her head with her arms. Damn it, she must look and sound like an utter fool, and they were planning to broadcast that? Now she understood all too well what she’d let herself in for. She would have to be in perfect control for the next seven days and never betray her true thoughts to the show’s producers or its audience. She couldn’t let them turn her into a laughing stock or ruin in her life.
