Rosie high-fived her before turning to Jordan. “I can’t wait to get all the details. Maybe the night will end with a little romance.”
Jordan nearly choked as she sipped from the coffee cup Ray had placed in front of her a few minutes earlier. “I’m not that kind of girl,” she said defensively.
“Everyone’s that kind of girl,” Lola interjected. “Tell us that after you eyeball him.” Her voice softened to a whisper. “When that man gets a look at those long legs and curly red hair of yours, I guarantee he’ll make a pass, and it will be hard to resist. With that olive skin and those smoky black eyes…” She sighed and rolled her eyes, despite the fact Ray was still sending daggers in her direction.
Jordan smiled. Ray was a retired cop and the resident protector of the group, and he and Lola sometimes acted like teenagers in love. She couldn’t help being envious of the relationship. Since her breakup with Brett after she’d followed him to Dallas several months earlier, she’d basically been “Single, party of one.”
Not by choice. In the small town of Ranchero where over sixty percent of the twenty-two thousand or so residents were women, dating was not a happening thing.
“Speaking of getting lucky, what do you hear from Alex these days?” Ray asked, finally looking away from Lola.
Jordan took in a sharp breath at the mention of the undercover FBI agent who had saved her life on at least one occasion. “It’s been a few weeks since he called. He warned me this might happen, so I’m trying not to worry.” Had things gone as planned the night before he’d left for a new assignment in El Paso, things might have heated up. A candlelight lasagna dinner prepared by the amazing hunk would have had an intoxicating effect on her.
Instead, ending up in the hospital with a concussion put a damper on her plans. Now all she had were fantasies of what might have been. That and his twice-a-week phone calls when he could slip away from his undercover persona and sweet-talk her into imagining all kinds of romantic interactions.
She was jerked from her daydreaming when Rosie sprang from her chair and said, “Let’s get this table cleaned up so I can start taking your money.”
“Not in this lifetime, my dear.” Michael scooped up the dessert bowls and made his way to the kitchen.
Jordan pushed away from the table, anxious to get Screw Your Neighbor underway to take her mind off Alex. She pulled out fifty pennies and laid them on the table, thinking tomorrow night might not be too bad after all if this Rusty Morales guy was as hot as Lola claimed.
“I’ll deal first,” Jordan declared. While she doled out the cards, she mentally added a quick run to the mall to her morning to-do list; she needed to find something special to wear. “Get ready to part with your money, people. I’ve got a dress to buy.”
Jordan’s heart raced as she walked to the door and flung it open. Catching her breath, she stared into the darkest eyes she’d ever seen.
“Hi. I’m Rusty Morales.” The beautiful creature extended his hand.
The minute her flesh made contact with his, a spark of electricity shot up her arm. “Jordan McAllister,” she mumbled, aware he was sizing her up, just as she was doing to him.
“Lucas said you were easy on the eyes, but he never prepared me for this.”
Jordan felt the heat crawl up her face. It wasn’t the first time a man had complimented her, so why was she acting like a teenager on a first date?
“I could say the same about you,” she blurted, mentally slapping her forehead for the lame response. Opening the door wider, she stepped aside to let him pass, rewarded immediately by the view from the back.
Dressed in a well-fitting black tuxedo with a starched white shirt that did nothing to hide the way his upper body narrowed at the waist, Rusty Morales could have stepped off the cover of GQ magazine, cowboy edition.
When he caught her staring, he grinned, and she felt her heart speed up. “Let me get my purse,” she stammered before twirling around and walking toward the kitchen, hoping he enjoyed her back view as much as she’d enjoyed his. She added a wiggle just in case.
As soon as they walked out the front door of her apartment building, Jordan spied a sleek black Hummer limo at the curb. When the driver rushed out to open her door, she felt Rusty’s hand on the small of her back, guiding her as she stepped in.
Chill, McAlister, she scolded herself. This isn’t a real date, so quit acting like it is.
An inner devil’s advocate chided that she wasn’t fooling anyone. Who spends over a hundred bucks on an outfit for a job assignment? Only this morning, she’d splurged on the slinky black cocktail skirt and the emerald green and charcoal silky top that showed off her eyes. At least that’s what the clerk said, but then she would have said anything to get the sale and her commission.
“Hello, Jordan. I’m so glad you were able to come with us tonight,” an older male voice said. “Remind me to call Dwayne Egan and tell him he needs to have his eyes checked. There’s nothing average about you.”
Turning to face the speaker, she cursed the fact that it took very little to make her blush. “You must be Mr. Santana.” She offered her hand, taking a few seconds to size him up.
Probably in his early sixties, Lucas Santana was exactly what she’d imagined a wealthy Texas rancher would look like—tall and husky with salt-and-pepper hair, dark brown eyes that peered at her from under a Stetson hat that had probably cost as much as her rent.
And those peepers were undressing her right now as Ray’s earlier warning of his womanizing skills popped into her head.
“Call me Lucas,” he said, patting the seat beside him.
Hesitating only briefly before settling in beside him, Jordan attempted a smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” None of it good!
Glancing up, she noticed a woman who looked to be in her midthirties seated across from them and caught a glimpse of her scowl before it quickly disappeared. Even from where Jordan sat, she could see that this woman, with her thick blond hair pulled back in a cascade of curls falling on her shoulders and the ankle-length hot pink and navy evening dress belted with a sequined blue sash that showed off her tiny waist, was what Ray would call a head-turner.
She leaned forward to shake hands. “Maribella Kensington.” Her voice was sexy in that breathy kind of way with just a hint of a southern accent. “But everyone calls me Bella. I’m Lucas’s personal assistant.”
Jordan reached for her hand, aware of the strong grip. Judging by the way the woman was rubbing the fingers of her free hand up Santana’s arm, she decided Bella’s job probably went beyond paperwork and making appointments. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Jordan’s eyes connected with Rusty’s, and she had to look away. She was nervous enough without discovering the sexiest guy in Grayson County still checking her out.
She directed her attention to Lucas. “I appreciate the invite, Mr. Sant… Lucas. I’m looking forward to getting to know all of you.”
“Darling, that most definitely will be the highlight of this evening,” Lucas said, his eyes trailing down to her chest, making her wish she hadn’t spent the extra forty bucks on the Victoria’s Secret push-up bra. “Tonight we’re going to enjoy some great-tasting beef, throw back a Johnnie Walker or two, and dance to the sweet music of Lone Star, the best country band in the Southwest. I’m going to personally enjoy watching Rusty teach you how to do the Cotton-Eyed Joe. I only wish I could be out on the dance floor with you.”
He patted his thigh, and for the first time Jordan noticed he was wearing a leg brace.
“Car accident ten years ago,” he explained, apparently catching the curious look that crossed her face. “Broke my femur so badly the doctors thought I would never walk again. I surprised everyone except Bella.” He shot her a sidelong look. “She was my nurse and insisted I could do it from day one. I couldn’t have made it without her all these years.”
“Jordan doesn’t want to hear all about that, Lucas. She’s probably wondering why she was invited to the ba
ll.” She turned her gaze toward Jordan. “Ever been to one of these shindigs?”
Jordan shook her head. “I do know it’s the biggest fund-raising event in the Texas beef-producing community. People come from all over the state just for the party,” she replied, reciting almost word for word from the article she’d found on the Internet.
Rusty laughed. “It draws a lot of interest from ranchers in Oklahoma and Nebraska, too. The Board of Texas Cattlemen goes all out to make it better every year. And that doesn’t even take into consideration the standing-room-only crowd at the all-day cattle auction and rodeo the last night. You’re in for a treat, Jordan.” His eyes told her he’d like to be part of that treat.
She couldn’t help herself and smiled back before remembering the handsome FBI hunk back in El Paso. “Mr. Egan said all the money goes to charity, right?” She forced herself to look away from Rusty’s mesmerizing bedroom eyes.
“Yes—” Bella began before Santana cut her off.
“Like you said, it’s the biggest money-making event in the area with the proceeds slated directly for cancer research. The board made sure most of the cash goes to Southwestern in downtown Dallas.” He poured a Scotch on the rocks and handed it to Rusty. “What can I get for you pretty ladies?”
“A glass of Cristal, Lucas,” Bella said, nodding at Santana before twisting toward Rusty. “Did you tell her we’d like her to write an article about the party and mention the great food?”
“Egan told me,” Jordan answered for him, taking the glass of champagne from Santana.
Despite knowing she’d have a humongous headache in the morning, she took a sip. A few more sips convinced her this wasn’t the kind of champagne you bought at the local liquor store. She could get used to it in a hurry, maybe even give up her preferred margaritas for the classy bubbly.
“Wonderful,” Santana said, throwing back his head and draining his Scotch. “The people of Ranchero need to be reminded now more than ever that beef is the way to go, especially with the falling prices.” He patted Jordan’s knee. “I think you’re just the gal to do it.”
With his hand lingering on her knee and his eyes fixated on the little bit of cleavage peeking over the top of her blouse, he licked his lips.
Feeling his fingers creeping up her leg and his thumb and forefinger stroking her inner thigh, Jordan glanced toward Bella, surprised to see her chatting with Rusty as if she hadn’t noticed. Gently, she removed Santana’s hand, reinforcing the message with her eyes when his finally moved up to her face.
He winked, and she nearly threw up.
This is going to be one long ride to Fort Worth.
CHAPTER 2
Jordan bolted from the limo as soon as they pulled up to the Pavilion Hotel in downtown Fort Worth. After a few more glasses of Scotch, Santana had made another overt attempt to cop a feel, and she was more than ready to put space between her and the old codger. Thankfully, Rusty Morales had come to her rescue halfway there and suggested she change seats with him to get a better look at the Fort Worth skyline.
A hot-looking cowboy with good manners makes for a dangerous combination, she thought before quickly dismissing the notion.
Walking into the Pavilion, Jordan felt like she’d just stepped out of a pumpkin carriage into a marble castle. The only difference was she had on a black cocktail skirt instead of a flowing gown, Rosie’s sequined black heels instead of glass slippers, and her almost-prince was back in El Paso. She glanced up at Rusty, thinking she would be wise to remember that.
Turning her attention to the hotel lobby, she imagined that the price of a room in this swank hotel would gobble up her monthly paycheck.
“This way,” Bella said, leading the group while holding on to Lucas’s arm. For a guy with a brace, he managed fairly well on the slick marble floor.
If Jordan thought the hotel lobby was spectacular, the ballroom was even more impressive. A crystal chandelier the size of her kitchen hung in the center of the biggest room she’d ever seen, its prisms casting sparkles across the dimly lit dance floor. Linen-draped tables set with china and silver circled this area, each with a centerpiece of what looked like at least three dozen yellow roses.
On the stage next to the podium, a large ice sculpture in the shape of a longhorn steer glistened under a smaller chandelier. Jordan had never witnessed such beauty and extravagance in her life. She found herself wondering how much money would actually be left for charity when it was all said and done and that bovine was reduced to a couple hundred gallons of water.
She followed Bella and Lucas to one of the front tables, aware of Rusty’s hand on her shoulder guiding her through the crowd. When he pulled the chair out for her, she realized she’d be sitting next to Bella instead of Santana and said a quick thank-you to the gods.
“Do you know anyone here?” Bella asked when they were finally settled around the table.
Jordan studied the two couples who had joined them and shook her head. “Only you and Lucas.” She turned to her left. “And of course, Rusty.” He rewarded her acknowledgment with a dreamy look that almost made her swoon.
“This is Blake Graham and Cooper Harrison,” Bella said, pointing to the two men seated directly across from her. “I met Cooper about a year ago when he catered one of the charity events I sponsor,” she explained. “Gentlemen, this is Jordan McAllister from the Ranchero Globe.”
Both men stood and shook her hand. The shorter one, Blake Graham, who was decked out in a black tux, a light green shirt, and a tie that was dotted with rust-colored longhorns to match his cummerbund, spoke first. “Nice to meet you, Jordan,” he said, and then, turning to the petite Asian woman seated next to him, added, “This is Amira Lee.”
The tiny woman glanced up, then quickly lowered her eyes. Jordan couldn’t help wondering if she was perched on a booster seat.
Cooper Harrison, the other guest at the table, was dressed similarly to Blake but without the livestock embellishments. He stared openly at her with a hint of mischief in his eyes, and although she immediately labeled him as a player, she smiled politely as he introduced the blond woman seated next to him. “Jordan, this is Carole Anne Summerville—”
“Her daddy owns North Texas Beef Distributors out by Lake Texoma,” Bella blurted. “They supply most of the restaurants in the metroplex with the finest beef in the state.”
Carole Anne flipped her hand dismissively toward Bella. “She doesn’t care about all that. Tell me, are you the Jordan McAllister who writes the Kitchen Kupboard?”
Not waiting for Jordan’s answer, she rambled on. “I love that column. I even had our cook make the chicken recipe. You know the Spanish one with potato chips?” She paused. “Anyway, it was divine,” she added in a pronounced southern drawl that made the last word sound like a description of some young thing who had just lost her vir-ginity—de-vined.
Rusty put his arm around Jordan’s chair and leaned closer to whisper, “You’ll have to make that for me someday.”
Jordan lowered her eyes, hoping he hadn’t seen the effect of his soft breath in her ear. What was up with her? She was acting like he’d just complimented her on her figure instead of suggesting she cook a casserole for him.
Yeah, like that’s ever going to happen.
“I’m glad you liked it.” She inched her body slightly to her right, toward Bella and away from the goose bumps she got with Rusty so close.
“So, Jordan,” Cooper started, his eyes still sending out signals that must have been apparent to everyone at the table, including his date. “I didn’t realize you and Rusty were an item. Last I heard, he and…” He caught himself before continuing. “Well, let’s just say I didn’t know you two had hooked up.”
“We haven’t,” both Rusty and Jordan said in unison.
“Not that it doesn’t sound appealing,” Rusty continued, his riveting stare making the fine hairs on her arm stand at attention.
“We only met tonight,” Jordan added, deliberately breaking eye contact with
Rusty.
With that bit of news, Cooper’s eyes widened, as if he had just gotten the green flag to go full throttle with his flirting. “Good to know. A girl who looks like you and can cook won’t be on the market for long.”
Jordan’s mouth dropped, and she stole a glance toward Carole Anne in time to see her identical reaction. “I’m seeing someone right now,” she blurted.
Are you freakin’ kidding me?
Why had she felt the need to explain? Her almost candlelight dinner followed by an imaginary romantic evening did not constitute seeing someone.
“He’s on an assignment right now,” she added, deliberately leaving out El Paso and the undercover FBI part.
When will I learn to keep my big mouth shut?
Hearing Rusty take a deep breath, she realized she’d probably led him to believe she wasn’t involved. Well, actually, she wasn’t, so why imply otherwise? Was she afraid she couldn’t handle this cowboy?
When Blake stood to reach for two cocktails from one of the many waiters circling the room with a tray full of every drink imaginable, Jordan could have sworn one of the longhorns on his cummerbund wiggled its tail.
“I don’t see a ring on your left hand,” Blake pointed out in a voice much deeper than Jordan would have expected given his short stature. He handed his date a drink and sat down.
“Like this one.” Carole Anne held up her left hand to display a rock the size of a cherry. “Now if I could only get Coop to set a date.” She squeezed his arm and shot Jordan a glare that clearly warned, Back off—he’s mine.
Cooper’s face registered his obvious discomfort, and he wiggled away from his fiancée as a waiter set a steaming plate of food in front of him. “Best barbecue in town,” he said, clearly thankful for the distraction.
“Damn straight,” Blake added.
Another waiter appeared with a tray of champagne glasses and set one at each place. Jordan waved him off, noticing that his misshapen nose suggested he’d been a boxer at some point in his life.
Beef Stolen-Off Page 2
