by Leah Vale
Melinda’s brows came together sharply and she uncrossed her arms. “What?”
His little lie couldn’t have been blown so out of proportion so fast, could it? He shook his head, dismissing the notion. “No. It couldn’t be from that.”
She tucked her rapidly drying hair behind an ear and moved closer to him. He stupidly noticed how beautifully formed and delicate her ear was, how it so perfectly matched her dainty jaw and slender neck. No wonder some of the farmers didn’t think she could handle their livestock.
Jack knew, though, that under all that femininity, which somehow, to this point, had been missed by him, was a woman as capable as the next guy. A woman who wouldn’t appreciate being used by him to get out of an uncomfortable situation with another woman.
From low in her throat she said, “What’d you do, Jack?”
For the barest second he considered not telling her about what had happened with Mary Kay. But Melinda would learn of it eventually, or at least some mutated version of it. He pulled in a deep breath. “Remember when Mary Kay came in with Pumpkin earlier?”
She threw out a hip and crossed her arms again, this time unconsciously tucking them beneath her breasts and pushing them upward. He could see the deep cleavage that was formed where the neckline of her pajama top veed and left him with no doubt about the fullness of her breasts.
Jack’s mouth went dry.
“Yes. She sent me schlepping out into the cold for no good reason. There was no icicle threatening my truck.”
He ground his teeth as his previous annoyance with Mary Kay bubbled into something more serious. “I figured as much. She just wanted you out of there so she could try to jump me.”
Melinda’s brows shot up. “Excuse me?”
“She’s trying to snag herself a millionaire. Any way she can. And as you’ve probably noticed, she’s not the only one.” He ran a weary hand through his too long hair. “It was kind of humorous for a little while. A very little while. But they’re taking it too far.”
Thinking of Paula Pratt, he added, “Anyone who would get a pet just to hit on a guy needs to have her head examined.” He blew out a breath. “Anyway, Mary Kay wouldn’t take no for an answer, and short of physically removing her from the premises—not to mention my body—the only way I could think of to put her off was to claim to already be involved with someone.”
Melinda’s cheeks gradually became the same shade as her pj’s. “How’d my name…”
“Mary Kay insisted on knowing who I was involved with.”
“So—so you said it was me?”
Guilt replaced his anger toward Mary Kay. “Yeah. You happened to walk by just then…” He vaguely waved a hand, remembering the moment. “Besides, you’re the only one who made sense. I mean, what other woman do I spend any amount of time alone with?”
She shifted her gaze to the sauce gently bubbling on the stove. “But we’re just working.”
“You and I know that, but Mary Kay was obviously more than willing to believe there’s been more than work going on. And for the record, I only said that we were seriously involved. I never said we were engaged. And I also asked her to keep it to herself.”
Mel made a noise. “Please. When I first moved here it only took me a matter of days to realize if you wanted to keep something a secret, you had to keep it to yourself.”
“I know, I know. I’ll admit I wasn’t thinking much beyond getting Mary Kay to leave me alone.” He gave a slight shrug. “It did work, though.”
“Why didn’t you just tell her you’re leaving town?”
“I doubt that would have put her off. She’d probably be all over the chance to come with me.”
Melinda made a noncommittal noise and picked up the spoon to stir the sauce.
Guilt made his back teeth ache. But what was done was done. “I suppose you’re mad.”
“I just want to know how we’re going to straighten it all out. I mean, it’s not just Mary Kay, anymore. And it’s not just that we’re seriously involved. Everyone thinks we’re engaged.” She looked up at him, her brown eyes soft and reflecting the warmth of the kitchen light. “Engaged, Jack.”
He slapped a hand to his forehead yet again. Suddenly the rest of his day made sense. “Oh, man. Stella and Irene stopped by wanting to know my favorite kind of cake and slow song.”
“You don’t think they’re planning our wed—”
He waved her off before she could finish. “No, no. They wouldn’t take it that far.” He silently prayed they wouldn’t. To keep from worrying her further, he said, “I’m positive they only want to make sure that they have all the bases covered.” He gave a rueful laugh. “Granted, they kept interrupting me, but at least they weren’t throwing themselves at me.”
Melinda turned and paced away, shaking her head, her long curls swinging down her back. “What a mess. How are we going to convince everyone it’s all a mistake?”
A mistake that quite effectively got Mary Kay off his back. And front. Would it work as well on Paula and the others? Granted, the existence of Bobby Larson’s wife didn’t keep Paula away from Bobby, but Jack figured the good ol’ mayor had more than a little hand in that illicit relationship. And unlike Regina Larson, Melinda was always around, either handling appointments at the clinic or going to and from calls.
An idea bloomed in his brain. In the past six months, Melinda had proven she was someone he could depend on, and despite his newfound awareness of her physical attributes, he considered her a friend, first and foremost. A friend who might be willing to help him out. And anything would be worth getting at least some semblance of his routine back.
He planted his hands on his hips and watched her pace away. “Who says we have to?”
She stopped dead, but didn’t turn around.
“Since the clock is ticking anyhow on my time here in Jester, what harm would there be in letting this whole misunderstanding ride for a while?”
She turned slowly toward him, her mouth gaping. Hopefully he wasn’t about to send her packing from Jester faster than the chauvinistic farmers ever could. But the chance to be able to end the harassment and unwanted attention he’d received at the hands of the gold diggers in these parts was worth the risk.
Besides, after seeing how angry she’d been over Bud Webster not letting her treat his pigs, Jack figured Melinda sported a hefty dose of stubbornness. She’d want to stick around if only to prove Bud and all the other farmers and ranchers like him wrong.
Jack raised his hands and went to her. “Just hear me out. You know yourself how much the women like Mary Kay have been disrupting things at the clinic. But if we allow them to continue to think you and I are engaged, we can get back to being available to the animals who really need us.”
In the hopes of reassuring her, he moved close enough to gently take a hold of her upper arms, her pajamas silky beneath his palms. He pushed the sensuous feel of the material from his mind, concentrating instead on the strength he knew was in the muscles beneath, on what a good sport—a good friend—he knew her to be. The faint citrus smell of her hair wasn’t as easy to dismiss, though.
“So what do you say, Mel? Will you be my pretend fiancée?”
Chapter Four
Melinda stared into the sweet-grass green of Jack’s eyes and realized she had dreamed of hearing those words from him. In those fantasies, he’d held her gently in his strong arms, kissing his way up her neck to her ear, where he’d paused long enough to ask her to share the future with him. Though her dreams had been minus the word that sent a fence post through her heart.
Pretend.
He wanted her to be his pretend fiancée. Disappointment hit her as if she’d taken a hoof to the gut. He was dangling the one thing she wanted almost as much as she wanted respect for her work as a vet.
He wanted to use her to keep other women from chasing after him, from wanting to be with him. But none of them really wanted to be with Jack. Not the Jack who held tiny kittens in his big, strong hands
, and cooed to them until they fell into a trusting sleep. Or the Jack who would place his muscular body between a frightened foal and the fence it was stuck in to keep the baby horse from further injuring itself.
Those women wanted to be with the hunky, rich, Big-Bucks Bachelor Jack. Or probably more accurately, they wanted to be with Jack’s money. So she couldn’t blame him for wanting to put up some sort of barrier against them, even if was just pretend.
So much wanting. And none of it meshed. She wanted Jack, the other women wanted Jack’s money and Jack wanted to be left alone. It made the backs of her eyes burn.
She blinked fast and pulled away from him, moving closer to the stove. She couldn’t let him see what his idea was doing to her insides.
His deep, soft voice, the voice that could convince a horse tangled in barbed wire to stand still, eased around her. “I swear I won’t let Stella and Irene plan a wedding. And I’ll definitely put the kibosh on any engagement party they might have tucked up their sleeves.”
She turned back to look at him. He kicked up one corner of his sensuous mouth in an it ain’t no big deal, trust me smile. He didn’t have a clue about the kind of power he had over her.
Or how her heart would suffer.
His bright green gaze flicked over her embarrassingly practical pajamas. What a nitwit he must think her.
“It will only be until I leave, Mel.”
Until he left, taking her heart with him.
Well, if she was going to help him, she’d dang sure get something in return.
She cocked her head and tapped a finger on her chin. “Now, let me get this straight. You want me to lie to the good people of Jester just so you aren’t pestered anymore by money-grubbing females. Is that what you’re asking?”
He took a step toward her, unconsciously crowding her senses and effectively pinning her against the stove. A wave of heat that had nothing to do with barbecue sauce simmering in a pot behind her engulfed her and made it hard to concentrate.
“If you strip it down bare, yeah, I guess that’s what I’m asking.” The velvety tenor of his words had her heart galloping around in her chest.
She craned her neck back and stared up at him, unable to keep her gaze from tracing the strong line of his jaw, the defined contours of his cheek, before colliding with his breathtaking gaze. She swallowed hard and forced out, “And then when you up and leave,” her voice hitched slightly, “I get left here looking all pitiful because you decided you didn’t want me after all.”
She shook her head adamantly. “Nope, I won’t do that, Jack. I’ve had my fill of that sort of humiliation.”
His light brown brows slammed together and he opened his sensuous mouth, but she stopped him with a raised hand. “Just hang on. What I will do, is be the one to send you packing. I’ll be the one to end it.”
His grin made her want to weep. “So you’ll do it?”
“With one more condition.”
“Name it.”
“Now, don’t get all excited just yet, Jack,” she warned. “It’s a big one.”
He visibly reined in his relief. “Shoot.”
“In exchange for me pretending to be your fiancée, you have to agree to stick around town until I earn,” she pointed a finger at him for emphasis, “I repeat, earn the respect of the farmers and ranchers like the Websters.”
He tightened his square jaw and crossed his arms over his broad chest, pulling the fabric of his denim shirt tight at his ample biceps. “That might be a long while, Mel.”
She shrugged and agreed. “It’s definitely a risk.” Her emotions were too jumbled to tell if she hoped or dreaded that he would balk at this particular condition. She couldn’t believe she’d had the courage to make it.
He pressed his tempting lips into a thin line, clearly not caring for her stipulation, then he pulled in a noisy, deep breath and gave a short nod of his head. “Since I know how bad you want it, I know you’ll work your tail off to make it happen sooner rather than later. I agree to your condition.”
Melinda was surprised by the lack of satisfaction she received from getting her way. But she didn’t need a degree in human psychology, which she didn’t have, to know why his agreeing to her terms didn’t make her happy. With the realization of one dream, the dream of being respected for what she could do, would come the death of another. The dream of spending her life with Jack Hartman.
After stepping into his home she could no longer entertain the fantasy that he would eventually see her in a romantic light. All she had to do was look around his house to know that Jack was still in love with his late wife. The refrigerator door was covered with photos of the two of them held fast by whimsical goose and chicken magnets. Frilly curtains that had definitely been picked out by a woman graced the windows. Dried flower arrangements in baskets were tucked here and there.
Five years had passed since her death, but it looked more like she had simply stepped out for groceries.
At least pretending to be his fiancée until he left might give her a memory or two of her own to cherish after he was gone.
He extended his wonderfully callused hand to seal the deal, and she slipped her much smaller hand into his, the haven he provided her by the simple act of engulfing her hand in his grasp not lost on her.
Absorbing his strength and confidence, she looked him in the eye and said, “Oh, and one last thing, Jack. If we’re supposedly romantically involved, you’d better stop calling me Mel.”
THE NEXT MORNING, Jack whistled through his teeth as he pushed through the glass-paned mahogany door of the Ex-Libris Bookstore—thirty-year-old Amanda Bradley’s personal rebuttal to the notion that a dinky, rough-hewn town was no place for a classy bookshop. Despite the fact that only a wall separated her half of the large building from the ever rowdy Heartbreaker Saloon—which was exactly the type of joint you’d expect in a town like this down to the paintings of scantily clad ladies—Amanda had taken her space to a much higher level of decorating.
She’d put up wallpaper with stripes of little, light purple flowers—lilacs, maybe—and laid carpet that was a subtle dove-gray to temper the dark mahogany woodwork. In the back of the store was a small sitting area complete with two burgundy leather chairs and matching twin leather love seats, plus a little table covered with a lacy white cloth that usually held a tray of Gwen Tanner’s pastries.
If you got thirsty, there was a small mahogany cabinet stocked with ivory china teacups, which Jack would get his fingers stuck in for sure if he ever dared to use them, along with their matching saucers. The electric tea kettle that sat on top was always good to go. A basket holding all sorts of tea bags never failed to be fully stocked.
Though he’d come in to pick up the books on animal husbandry—and one on how to handle pets turned wild—that he’d had Amanda order for him, Jack’s gaze traveled over the dark mahogany bookshelves and tables piled high with books. He liked to spend his evenings reading everything from the classics to the latest releases, and Amanda’s store was a blessing.
As were Gwen Tanner’s pastries. Taking advantage of the fact that Amanda was busy behind the mahogany counter ringing up Wyla Thorne’s purchase, he made a beeline for the sitting area. Gwen just happened to be unloading a fresh batch of her baked goodies onto the little table.
“Good morning, Jack,” Amanda said as he went by.
“Morning, Amanda. Wyla.” He ignored Wyla’s glare. “And a good morning to you, Gwen. Do I have perfect timing, or what?”
Wyla snorted disdainfully behind him.
Gwen’s pretty, green gaze darted past him, then came back to meet his with an uh-oh look. He shrugged, unconcerned, and snagged a powdered sugar-coated puff pastry. He popped it in his mouth. Wyla had made no secret about her feelings toward him since the win.
Gwen’s expression warmed and she clearly fought a smile. “Say, Jack. I caught the news last night.”
Amanda chimed in, “Me, too. Congratulations, you sneaky devil. I can’t believe you a
nd Melinda were able to keep something that big a secret!”
Wyla snorted again. While she was only in her mid-forties and toothpick thin, she sounded remarkably like a large old man. “Sneaky and thieving,” she grumbled.
“Now, Wyla,” Amanda half soothed, half warned, offering Wyla her books.
The older woman’s thin face reddened until it was nearly the color of her short hair. “Don’t now Wyla me, Amanda Bradley. You and everyone in this town knows his money should be mine. He stole it from me.”
Gwen stepped forward. “Wyla! How can you say such a thing? You didn’t want to play the lottery that week. Jack did. It’s not his fault they won.”
Wyla’s pinched cheeks turned mottled. “I might have changed my mind. I might have! But he took my spot. His share of the win should have been mine,” she ranted, looking from Amanda to Gwen right through Jack as if he weren’t there. “And you know what? I don’t think him and Melinda are really engaged.” Her bright, angry gaze finally connected with Jack’s. “I’m surprised that reporter wasn’t able to figure that out.”
He forced the pastry down and held his breath, hoping his shock that she’d guessed the truth didn’t show on his face.
Wyla narrowed her gaze and pointed her bony finger at him, making Jack hear the witch’s theme music from The Wizard of Oz in his head. “Melinda was out at my place just yesterday and didn’t say a peep about any engagement. And we talked for hours! I can’t think of once when I’ve seen the two of them together outside of their vet clinic. He’s probably just figured out a way to get even more money by claiming to be getting married.” She snatched the books she’d purchased from Amanda’s hand and stormed out of the shop.
Jack blew out the breath he’d been holding as Amanda and Gwen simultaneously apologized for Wyla’s behavior.
“Don’t you pay her any mind, Jack.” Amanda turned to pull a small stack of books from the shelf behind her.
