by Dara Girard
“Something’s bothering you,” Gwendolyn said, coming up behind him.
“I think Jameson is hiding something from me.”
“Why do you think so?”
“I spoke to him about the Palmer land and he didn’t have the answers I’d expected from him.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe for the first time in his life he’s not just thinking about the ranch but something more. He’s a newlywed, remember?”
“I remember.”
“And they look happy.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to fault him for that?’
“No. But at first I thought I had one son who didn’t care enough and another who cared too much.”
“And now?”
“And now I don’t know. I’m glad Wes has found Lydia and I want to believe him about Samara, but I can’t. And although I know Jameson is concerned, he’s not taking the steps I thought he would. Why wait to contact Meredith? Why hasn’t he spoken to any of the buyers to let them know the Palmer land isn’t for sale? He’s usually much sharper than that.”
“It could be he’s in love.”
Steven didn’t reply; he wanted his wife to be right, but something bothered him. Ranching was expensive and seasonal. If the investor didn’t want the land for that, what did he or she want it for, and how would that change the town he loved?
* * *
“What’s wrong?” Brooke asked when they returned home.
Jameson set his keys aside. “Why should anything be wrong?”
“You’re quiet.”
He shrugged and then sat in the living room. “I just don’t have anything to say.”
Brooke took a seat beside him then reached out to touch him but changed her mind. “You’re more quiet than usual.”
He sighed. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Has your family been giving you a hard time about me?”
He turned to her, surprised. “No, you heard my mother. She’s glad you’re part of the family.”
“Does it bother you?”
“It is what it is. We both know what had to be done.”
“But you have regrets,” Brooke said.
“Like I said, I have a lot on my mind, and it doesn’t have to do with you.”
Part of her felt relieved and another part felt hurt. What could be more important than the false marriage they shared? What made him withdraw from her? She knew that a lot weighed on his mind, and she wished he trusted her enough to share his worries with her, but she knew he didn’t, at least not yet. She couldn’t push him because that could draw him further away. She’d felt conflicted about the evening. The Broward clan had been so warm to her and she hated being part of a lie. “Would you like a drink?” she asked Jameson, desperate to fill the silence.
His face brightened. “That’s a good idea.” He stood and grabbed his keys. “I’ll see you later,” he said, opening the door.
Brooke looked at him in dismay. “Where are you going?”
“The Shank.”
Brooke watched him leave. When she’d asked him if he’d wanted a drink, she’d hoped he’d want to stay and have it with her.
Chapter 11
Matthew Rainey hated small towns. What he hated more were small towns located in the middle of nowhere, and Granger, Montana, fit that description. The place likely had more cows than people. He’d seen herds of them on his drive through a countryside that seemed as big and wide as an ocean. He liked the fast-paced life of the city. He knew how to wheel and deal there. An unhurried pace made him nervous. But he was on a mission. He had to make sure he didn’t lose his prize client—Brooke Palmer. He hadn’t taken her for the typical artistic, temperamental type, but her latest behavior had been troubling.
She was a gold mine but didn’t know it. He was already making more money off of her than he should have, and thankfully, she was blind to it. He loved clients like that: individuals who left everything up to him and didn’t ask too many questions. He just needed to stroke her ego a little more and get her back in line. She was his way out, hoping to make enough money off Brooke to ensure he could retire by the time he was fifty.
He drove up the winding driveway in front of the Granger Inn.
“Sorry, we’re full,” the attendant said.
Matthew didn’t find the woman pretty, but she had a big enough chest to make a man forget about her face. If he hadn’t been in such a rush, he would have tried to get her name.
“Enough with the jokes, honey,” he said, lifting his gaze from her most interesting asset. “What are your rates?”
“I said we’re full.”
“How can you be full?” Matthew Rainey said, truly bewildered.
“You must not be from around here.”
The statement didn’t deserve a response. If he looked like he belonged there he would go out and kill himself. “How much do you want?”
“You’re not the first to offer me money and I would take it, if we had a room, but ever since Samara Lionne came to town, it’s been crazy.”
“Samara Lionne, the actress?”
“Yes.”
“What’s she doing here?”
“I think she’s planning to shoot some kind of movie here.”
Damn. “Hmm. So, is there anywhere else I can stay for just one night?”
“Unless you know somebody, you’ll have to find lodging somewhere out of town.”
“Thanks.” Getting out of town was tops on his agenda. Hopefully he could find Brooke fast and then leave. It was late evening, and he hadn’t planned on speaking to Brooke until tomorrow, but maybe he could gain Brooke’s sympathy and spend one night at her place.
Before heading to the address he had for Brooke, Matthew stopped at the Shank of the Evening Saloon. He was hungry and never made key decisions on an empty stomach. He ordered his food then glanced around, wondering how he’d ended up there in the first place. Then he saw another man who looked as out of place as he did. He had a light complexion with dark eyes and was wearing a suit. He looked like an outsider, just like him. Not some ranch hand. He was probably a lawyer or financial advisor, a man of business. He had a dark, ruthless quality to him and Matthew immediately ascertained that he wasn’t a man one wanted to cross.
Matthew thought fast. He could be an important ally and Matthew wanted to impress him. He could be involved with Samara Lionne. Matthew liked the thought of having as many important contacts as he could gather. Maybe he could even sell some of Brooke’s pottery to Samara. That would be a great marketing opportunity.
The place was noisy, but he wanted to catch the man’s attention and let him know what a savvy businessman he was. He pulled out his cell phone and called his receptionist. “Yes, I just got here. I’m here to speak to Brooke Palmer,” he said, speaking loud enough for the other man to hear. He shook his head. “I mean Broward.”
“I know that,” she said, sounding irritated. “You told me why you were going there.”
“I have a lot of plans for her. She’s a great moneymaker.” He saw the man’s interest increase. Victory.
“What is wrong with you?” his receptionist said.
Matthew continued hoping she’d soon catch on and just play along. “You’d be surprised. You know how the people out here deal in cattle? Well, she’s my cash cow. She has no idea how much I’m making off of her. Of all my clients, she’s my most prolific and most successful. Before I met Brooke, I had a collection of so-so artists and wannabes. But once I saw her work, I knew I had found a treasure.”
“Who are you trying to swindle now?” she asked with a laugh.
She’d caught on. Matthew saw the other man stand. “Talk to
you soon,” he said, then hung up.
“I couldn’t help overhearing your call,” the man said. Something about his intense stare made a shiver of fear slide up Matthew’s spine, but he knew if he wanted to deal with the sharks of business, he couldn’t show fear. “A man like you doesn’t usually end up in Granger.”
“I go wherever my clients are.”
The man held out his hand. “And you are?”
“I’m Matthew Rainey.”
The man sat. “And you work for Brooke Broward?”
Matthew laughed. “I wouldn’t say I work for her. I’m her broker, but I see it as a partnership.”
“Things must not be very lucrative having to deal with an unknown artist.”
Matthew grinned. “That’s where you’re wrong. For me, she’s my big ticket.”
The man leaned back and smiled. “How did you manage that?”
“She leaves everything to me. The best thing for me is that she is so focused on what she’s making, as an artist, she doesn’t want to be bothered with the business end. Which works for me. I mean, when she signed with me, she didn’t question my rate, and over the years, I’ve increased my percentage and she hasn’t a clue.”
“How’d you manage that?” the man asked with an edge of doubt.
Matthew recognized a challenge and was ready to take it. “Because I’m good. I know how artists are, whether they are singers, painters or potters, like Brooke, they don’t have a mind for business. Now, I’m not totally ruthless, mind you. She’s earning a decent income, and I have played a role in getting her work seen. It’s just that, if she knew how much I get up front from some of the galleries where her work is displayed, she’d probably have a fit.”
“You can’t keep it up.”
“I can and I have. Because she makes a good living, she’s put me in charge of everything else. She even gave me full responsibility for her banking account. I plan to get power of attorney when I see her. Her husband is probably as dense as she is when it comes to dealing with city people.”
“Impressive. So why are you here if everything is working so well?”
“She got married to some cowboy.”
“And he’s a problem?”
“Not yet, but he could be. She canceled a major show because of him. I can’t let that happen again. I didn’t think I’d find a smart and savvy guy like you out here in the boondocks. Are you a lawyer or something?”
“Or something.”
Matthew realized that the man was being cagey, which must mean he was probably connected to the actress or one of the town’s wealthy residents. Matthew handed him a card. “In case you’re interested in a new upcoming talent.”
The man took the card then stood. It was only after he left that Matthew realized he’d never gotten his name.
Later that evening, he found a room in a neighboring town and prepared for his meeting with Brooke. Early the following morning, Matthew drove to the BWB Ranch and whistled at the sight. The grass was an extraordinary green, and he wouldn’t be surprised if they were growing money on the side. The house was even more impressive. He’d been expecting some small homestead, but what he saw looked like a palace. But when he checked it wasn’t the address he was looking for. He drove further and saw another home equally impressive but not as grand. He continued up the long driveway, stepped out of the car and walked to the front door. The housekeeper led him to the main living room. Matthew sat with an anticipation he hadn’t had in years. He knew the idea he had in mind would change his life.
* * *
“Matthew, what are you doing here?” Brooke asked, coming into the room and taking a seat.
“I came to talk some sense into you, but first I’ve got some news for you.”
“What?”
“You know Samara Lionne is here, right?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“Well, that is the kind of thing you should have told me about. But that’s fine. It’s my job to think about the things you don’t. I’m planning on getting her to buy your work.”
“Please don’t. I—”
“Why not? I heard she’s buying up property in the area and may shoot a movie here so why shouldn’t she buy some Western pottery, too? She shouldn’t be too hard to persuade. This is a great opportunity. Think of the publicity. Better yet, don’t think. Just like everything else, leave this to me.”
Brooke looked at Matthew in shock. She’d never seen him act this way before. She heard the front door open and then Jameson entered the room. He had a sharklike grin she’d never seen before. He was wearing his regular cowboy boots, jeans and shirt, but for some reason she imagined him with a gun holster ready to shoot. She glanced at Matthew and saw his eyes widen. She didn’t know what was going on but decided to make an introduction anyway.
“Jameson, this is—”
“We’ve met,” Jameson said, sitting down beside her and resting his arm around her shoulders. It was a gesture of possession she hadn’t expected from him and she found it both thrilling and unnerving. He felt tense, like a predator eyeing its prey.
She turned to Matthew, who looked furious.
“Have you talked to him already?” he asked her.
“What are you talking about?” Brooke asked, confused by the intensity of Matthew’s words and Jameson’s cold gaze.
“You think you can steal one of my clients?” Matthew asked Jameson.
Jameson brushed a strand of hair from Brooke’s cheek. His fingers were hot against her skin, but his eyes remained glacial. “I wouldn’t do that to a smart man like you,” he said in a hard tone. He raised an eyebrow. “You still haven’t figured out why I’m here?” He sighed as if bored. “I can understand your confusion. I didn’t look like this at the Shank because I’d just spent dinner at my parents’ house and they like their guests to dress up. I went there to think about a few family issues. But I couldn’t help overhearing you on the phone, especially since you spoke loud enough for me to. See, you were right to mention Brooke’s name because that certainly got my interest.”
Color drained from Matthew’s face as he finally came to the conclusion Jameson expected him to.
Jameson held out his hand with a smile. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself before. I’m that cowboy you’re worried about. Jameson Broward, Brooke’s husband.”
Chapter 12
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a grown man cry like that before,” Brooke said to Jameson once Matthew had gone.
“You’re not working with him again.”
“He was the first person to show true interest in my work.”
“Good for him, but I’m the second person and I plan to get you better representation. I’ll have my lawyers look over the contract you signed with him.”
“I trusted him.”
“You wouldn’t have known.”
“You did.”
“Only because he made it so obvious. You should have seen him at the saloon puffing himself up like a horny cock.”
“Were you afraid he was here to try to buy some property?”
Jameson paused. Strange, but he hadn’t even thought of that. Only weeks ago that would have been his first assumption. But the sight of a flashy Mercedes-Benz with Colorado plates only made him think of Brooke. The fact shook him. He’d thought of her before thinking of his land or the ranch.
How could he have been so careless? He should guard his heart more. But she’d already slipped inside with her sweet smile, her independent ways and her passion for art. He knew he loved her and that gave her power over him. Power he was afraid to release. She didn’t have to know, and he’d never tell her.
“Jameson? Is something wrong?”
“No, I...uh was just thinking about what I need to tell the lawyer.”
&nb
sp; * * *
Jameson could hardly sleep that night. He didn’t want to be in a one-sided relationship again. Brooke was young and, as agreed to in their agreement, would be free in a year. Based on what he’d heard from her broker, Jameson knew Brooke would be able to manage her homestead from the proceeds of her work. There would be no reason for her to want to stay and continue to work in her studio while teaching their children how to make pottery. Damn, she even had him thinking about starting a family. She’d get bored just like Meredith. He was a rock and she was a cloud and, in time, he knew she’d pass out of his life.
* * *
Brooke couldn’t sleep either. She’d seen Jameson rope a calf, but she’d never seen him rope in a man. She was still amazed by how Jameson had handled Matthew. She could understand why the BWB continued to be so prosperous. The men in charge were smart. But what she found most attractive was the fact that Jameson looked out for her. She liked how he introduced himself as her husband. For a sweet second, it had sounded real. As if he were laying claim. Instead of being offended or feeling sad, she’d felt glad. She only wished it was real.
* * *
Brooke and Jameson were finishing lunch together when they heard a loud squealing from outside. They both looked out the window and saw an old sedan coming up the drive with Cecelia in the driver’s seat. They both went out to meet her.
“I hope you didn’t pay more than a nickel for that thing,” Jameson said as Cecelia locked her car.
“Don’t make fun. I got it for a good price and the man said only a few adjustments need to be made. He’s had this car in his family a long time. His mother used to only drive it to the grocery store and to church.”
“Give me his name.”
“Why?”
“So I can wring his neck.”
Cecelia turned to Brooke. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know much about cars,” Brooke said, not wanting to hurt the older woman’s feelings.
Jameson walked around the car, looking at it as if it were a dead carcass. “I’m surprised you made it up the drive. Why didn’t you call me first before buying this thing?” He held out his hand for the car keys. “And if you say you didn’t want to bother me, you’ll make me angry.”
