The Rancher's Marriage Pact

by Kristi Gold

  After pulling her hair back into a low ponytail, Paris carefully folded her suit, shoved it into the bag and then headed toward the luscious scents wafting through the hallway. Once there, she found Jenny standing at the massive six-burner stainless stove, flipping pancakes, surrounded by a chef’s dream kitchen. She had finally uncovered the one place that shouted ultramodern, not macho rustic.

  “Good morning, Jenny,” she said as she sent her a somewhat self-conscious smile.

  The friendly stepmom favored her with a bright grin. “Good morning to you, sugar. Did you sleep well?”

  “Like a rock.” Like a drunken sailor. “The mint juleps saw to that.”

  Jenny pushed the spatula under one cake and slid it onto a plate. “I am so sorry, sugar. I didn’t know you were such a lightweight.”

  Paris leaned against the cabinet adjacent to the huge fridge and rested an elbow on the gray quartz countertop. “I really don’t drink too often. Just the occasional glass of wine.”

  Jenny sent her a sideways glance. “Would you like a mimosa? Or perhaps a screwdriver. Nothing relieves a hangover better than that old hair of the hound dog.”

  The thought twisted her stomach into a knot. “Heavens no. I mean, no thank you. I wouldn’t mind some orange juice, without the champagne or vodka.”

  Jenny retrieved a pitcher of juice from the refrigerator, poured Paris a glass and handed it to her. “You’re not from the South, are you, sugar?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Because good Southern girls like their toddies now and again.”

  Now and again could possibly be an understatement when it came to Jenny. “I’m not really from anywhere. My family traveled all over the country during my youth.”

  That earned Paris a sympathetic look. “Everyone should have a place to call home, honey. Mine was the New Orleans area, until I moved here.”

  Paris had fond memories of New Orleans, the place where she’d headed her first hotel design project. Little had she known that a few years later, she would suffer a major fall from grace. “Do you miss Louisiana?”

  Jenny shrugged. “At times, but I can always go back whenever I choose.”

  She gestured toward a small bistro table set near a bank of windows at the end of the expansive kitchen. “Have a seat, sugar. How many slices of bacon with your pancakes?”

  Apparently Jenny had forgotten the meal she’d prepared the night before. “None, please. And only one pancake.”

  The woman looked as if Paris had uttered the ultimate blasphemy. “Oh, that’s right. You’re a vegetarian.”

  After setting her glass on the round table, Paris pulled back a cute red chair and sat. The color definitely indicated a woman’s touch, and most likely an unwelcome concession on Dallas’s part. “I do eat eggs and some seafood. I just avoid pork, poultry and beef.”

  Jenny slid a plate piled high with the cakes onto the table in front of Paris. “You’d have a hard time living here, honey. Beef is a mainstay with almost every meal.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Sounds like a cholesterol catastrophe to me.”

  After claiming the chair across from her, Jenny smiled. “You’d be surprised how good old hard work keeps that in check. I tell you, Dallas is in prime shape and in perfect health.”

  From what she’d seen, Paris wouldn’t debate the prime shape part. She grabbed the pitcher of warm syrup and poured only a small amount, ignoring the pats of butter to her right. “Is Dallas not joining us for breakfast?”

  Jenny laid a hand on her throat. “Oh, sugar, he gets up with the chickens. He ate at five a.m.”

  Paris couldn’t imagine dragging out of bed at that hour, much less eating a full breakfast. “What exactly does he do at that time of the morning?”

  “He tends to the ranch,” came from behind Paris. “He’s a rancher and that’s what they do.”

  She didn’t have to turn around to recognize the voice, but she did glance over her shoulder to see Maria Calloway pouring a cup of coffee from the carafe on the counter. “I guess that makes sense,” Paris said. “I’m surprised it requires working sunup to sundown.”

  Maria took the chair next to Jenny and leveled her stare on Paris. “Have you ever lived on a large parcel of land?”

  Paris swallowed the bite she’d just taken and rested her fork on the plate. “No, I’ve never lived on a farm or a ranch.”

  “She’s never really had a home, Maria,” Jenny said sympathetically. “Isn’t that just so sad?”

  Maria appeared unaffected by the revelation. “Then you’re not accustomed to working with your hands?”

  She didn’t understand the reasons behind the obvious interrogation. After all, she’d be leaving in hopefully less than an hour. Then again, Dallas had mentioned a business talk, so she could be coming back to the ranch, if luck prevailed. “Any work I do with my hands involves sketching designs and using a computer keyboard.”

  Maria took a long drink of coffee before speaking again. “It’s a hard life on a ranch. Not for the weak of spirit or faint of heart.”

  “It’s not that bad, Maria,” Jenny said. “I’ve adjusted just fine, but then I did spend several years on a horse farm.”

  Maria turned her frown on the other mother. “You spent those years throwing garden parties, so your opinion doesn’t count. And since you’ve been here, I don’t recall you even picking up a garden rake, much less muck a stall.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Paris,” Jenny said. “I planted the roses in the hedges.”

  “Bully for you,” Maria muttered.

  Feeling the need to play peacemaker, Paris decided to change the subject. “Where exactly is Dallas now?”

  “In the barn, of course,” Maria said. “He told me to send you there as soon as you’re done eating.”

  Wearing a pair of sandals in a barn didn’t seem wise, but anything beat dueling stepmoms. After consuming only half her food, Paris dabbed at her mouth, put the napkin aside, pushed away from the table and stood. “Ladies, it’s been a pleasure meeting both of you, and thanks so much for your hospitality. Now if you’ll direct me to the barn, I’ll be on my way.”

  Maria pointed behind her. “It’s that way. Big building with a big door. Can’t miss it.”

  Jenny rose and took Paris’s hand. “Sugar, I am so glad you showed up here. I know Dallas is, too.”

  Paris only wished she could be sure of that. “Thanks, Jenny, and if we don’t see each other again, I’ll always remember our meeting fondly.”

  “Oh, you’ll be seeing her again,” Maria said from her perch at the table. “Me, too. A lot.”

  She wanted to jump for joy. “Then he’s decided to hire me?”

  Jenny and Maria exchanged a strange look before Jenny regarded her again. “You could say that in a manner of speaking. Now run along, sugar. Dallas doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  If a chance existed that Dallas Calloway would soon be her boss, she would run all the way to the barn.

  * * *

  When he noticed Paris picking her way carefully down the rock path, Dallas propped the shovel against the rough-hewn wall and smiled. His amusement was short-lived when he realized what he was about to do, and what was at stake—his future as the head of the D Bar C Ranch and his project, Texas Extreme.

  If he went through with his plan, some might consider him pretty mercenary. Or insane. Or both. But at the moment, he only cared about the opinion of the good-looking woman entering the barn.

  “Maria said you wanted to see me,” Paris said as she balanced on one foot and shook the sawdust out of her sandal.

  “Yeah,” he told her, although he was seeing a little more than he should, namely a nice glimpse of the curve of her breast when she leaned over and removed the other shoe.

  After she straight
ened and tugged at the hem on the sundress, her attention turned to some focal point behind him. “What a beautiful horse.”

  Dallas glanced over his shoulder to find the black gelding poking his head through the opening in the stall. “That’s Raven. Even though he lost his stud status years ago, he still knows a beautiful woman when he sees one.”

  A slight blush colored her cheeks. “He must not get out much.”

  Dallas still couldn’t get why she didn’t realize her worth. He’d be happy to take a turn at trying to convince her. But not now. Not yet. He had something more pressing that required her consideration. “How was breakfast?”

  She leaned back against the opposite wall. “Wonderful. Maria said you wanted to speak with me.”

  “Yeah. I thought I could show you around.”

  “Around where?”

  “The barn.” Although the bedroom would be better, a thought that luckily hadn’t jumped out of his mouth.

  She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “You’re not going to ask me to be one of your ranch hands, are you?”

  He couldn’t stop a laugh. “Not hardly. Just trying to be hospitable.”

  “Oh. You said earlier you wanted to talk to me about business, so I assumed maybe that’s why I’m here.”

  Obviously she wanted to get right down to it. Normally that would suit him fine, but this proposition would take some time easing into it. “We’ll cover that in a minute. First, I want you to officially meet Raven.”

  She looked almost alarmed. “Is that necessary? I mean, he is rather big.”

  He crossed the aisle and took her hand. “He’s big all right. A big baby. He won’t hurt you.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, a good dose of wariness in her voice.

  “Positive.”

  He guided her to the gelding’s stall, stood behind her and told her, “Just pet him on his muzzle.”

  “Huh?”

  “His nose. Or rub him right between his eyes on that white part, which is known as a blaze. He’ll follow you anywhere if you do that.”

  She glanced back at him and frowned. “I’m not sure I want him following me.”

  “Give it a try, darlin’. You’ll see he’s a gentle giant. Besides, if you’re serious about going on that cattle drive, you better get used to being around a horse before you climb on his back.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Paris reached out and touched Raven carefully, then slowly began to stroke him. The gelding didn’t move an inch, as predicted, and soon began to close his eyes like he’d been hypnotized. Dallas, on the other hand, began to twitch as he followed her movements and imagined her hands on him...

  He had a dirty mind full of devilish thoughts that could land him in trouble, or on his ass if he acted on them. To make matters worse, Paris suddenly turned and ended up way too close for his comfort.

  He figured it would be best if he continued the tour, but when she wet her lips, he could only move toward her, not away. And this time, he took the reins. He lowered his head and kissed her like he hadn’t kissed a woman in years.

  The next thing he knew, he had her spun around and backed up against the wall. She had her hands wrapped around his neck and that sweet little body pressed against his. All thoughts of wedding pacts and proposing to a virtual stranger flew out of his brain in lieu of what was going on below his belt.

  Without warning, Paris broke the kiss and ducked under his arm. “This should not be happening.”

  Dallas braced both palms on the wall and tipped his forehead against the wood. “Maybe not, but it did. Too late to take it back.”

  “I wish I could take it back,” she said from behind him. “I don’t understand what is wrong with me. I see no reason whatsoever why I keep acting this way.”

  That ticked him off a bit and turned him around to face her. “Are you going to try to ignore the chemistry between us? Because I’m sure as hell not going to even try. From the minute you marched into the office, I knew something was brewing.”

  She looked away for a few seconds. “It’s immaterial whether we share chemistry or not. I’ve made it a point not to do anything rash, and I’m not inclined to sleep with someone outside a committed relationship.”

  Hell, not only was she sexy, she could read minds. “I don’t remember asking you to sleep with me.”

  She sent a pointed look south of his buckle. “You might not have verbally asked, but the message was loud and clear.”

  That wasn’t up for discussion. “Hey, I’m a man. We don’t always have control over physical reactions.”

  She gave him a good eye-rolling. “That could be true, but I do have control over mine.”

  “Lady, you could’ve fooled me a few minutes ago. And don’t forget that kiss last night.”

  “Evidently I forgot myself.”

  “Maybe you’ve just forgotten what it feels like to be with a man who really wants you.”

  Her indignant look told him he’d struck a nerve. “Look, I have a few rules. I don’t believe in casual sex, and I don’t become intimate with anyone I’ve known such a short time. Never have. Never will.”

  A good lead-in to his crazy scheme, crazy being the operative word. But for the first time in a long time, he saw a possible end to his dilemma. Not to mention being married to Paris Reynolds carried a couple of perks, the least of which would be some nice, hot lovemaking. First, he had to convince her to give his plan credence.

  He paced down the aisle and back again before he paused in front of her. “No sex outside a committed relationship, huh?”

  “That is correct.”

  He rubbed a palm over his neck and prepared to propose. “Then if that’s the case, I can only see one answer to the problem.”

  “What would that be?”

  “Marry me.”

  Four

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Nope.”

  Paris found it difficult to believe a man like Dallas Calloway—a reputed confirmed bachelor—would blurt out a proposal to a woman he’d known less than twenty-four hours. “Let me get this straight. You’d be willing to marry me in order to sleep with me?”

  “Yep.”

  This simply had to be a joke with an impending punch line. “Shouldn’t we go steady first?”

  “I’m serious, Paris, and I’m not asking just so I can get you into my bed.”

  From the somber look on his face, she could tell he was dead serious. “If it’s not only the sex, then why would you want to rush into a marriage?”

  “Because I need a wife and I need one fairly fast.”

  Her head started spinning from confusion. “Could you be any more vague?”

  “It’s kind of complicated. But I believe getting married would benefit both of us.”

  In what universe? “This doesn’t make any sense to me, Dallas. As I said before, you could probably have any woman you wanted and—”

  “I don’t want any other woman. And in all honesty, I’m running out of time to find a bride.”

  Paris entertained visions of gloom and doom. “Is there something physically wrong with you?”

  “Do you mean a terminal illness?”

  “Yes.”

  “No, but I am suffering from an incurable codicil.”

  “Now I’m really perplexed.”

  “Join the club.” He gestured toward the end of the lengthy barn. “Let’s go into the office. You’re going to need to sit down while I explain.”

  That sounded like a good plan. Her knees were still weak from their mini make-out session and the bombshell proposal. “Lead the way.”

  Paris followed Dallas into the office that was surprisingly simple and blessedly cool. She took a black-and-chrome chair situated in the corner wh
ile he leaned back on the industrial metal desk opposite her.

  Dallas released a rough sigh as he centered his gaze on her. “Before I launch into this mess, I need to know I can trust you with the information I’m about to disclose.”

  She braced for deep secrets, an all too familiar concept. “I promise I won’t say anything. Besides, I really don’t have anyone to tell, at least not around here. And I promise you I have no intention of mentioning any of this conversation to my mother and father.”

  “No best friend?”

  “Not really. I basically lost touch with my friends from college.” A sad commentary on the state of her life.

  “Good, because some of my current predicament involves a scandal.”

  Her curiosity was considerably piqued. “Go ahead.”

  After looking away a few moments, Dallas finally regarded her again. “A few years ago, during the reading of my dad’s will, we discovered he had another family we didn’t know a damn thing about.”

  “You mean Jenny?”

  “Yeah, and the twins.”

  Both shocking and scandalous. “I didn’t realize your dad and Maria divorced.”

  “They didn’t.”

  The cogs started spinning in her head as she added outrageous to the adjectives describing the situation. “You mean he was—”

  “A bigamist.”

  “How did he get away with that?”

  “By leaving the state to screw around on Maria. He bought a horse farm in Louisiana when Maria was pregnant with my half brother Houston. He met Jenny in New Orleans, married her and proceeded to get her pregnant not long after my other half brother Tyler was born. For over twenty years he lived the lie and no one was the wiser.”

  Paris felt as if she’d been thrust into a spaghetti Western soap opera. “I can’t imagine keeping a secret of that magnitude for weeks, much less decades.”

  “J. D. Calloway was a conniving, cheating, lying son of a bitch,” he said, venom in his voice. “Pardon my French.”