by Anne Carrole
“You know what I mean.”
He stroked his thumb across her smooth back. Just touching her had him hot. He could just imagine what he’d feel if he were inside of her. “What I know is that we have an opportunity to enjoy each other for half a year, at which time you would get to lead the company if I don’t have a better deal on the table by then. Worst case for me, I’d get a larger share of Prescott. So, if selling is such a bad idea…marry me.”
The last two words almost caught in his throat. He’d sworn he’d never say them. Now here he was, asking a woman who didn’t even like him. Desire and money were potent motivators for sure. Made men do crazy things. He was apparently no exception.
“That’s some proposal.”
“Seems your best play.” He counted on her preferring honesty to sweet talking. “I’m willing to abide by the provisions of that bizarre will. But I’m a realist. We will end up in bed. Married or otherwise.”
“You’re awfully sure of yourself,” she challenged. She lifted her hand to smooth down her hair and then returned it to his shoulder. Despite the air-conditioning, the room felt warm.
“We’ve been circling around each other for ten years now. It’s time we tested out what we’d be like together. Hell, marriages have been based on a lot less than the physical attraction we have—and don’t go spoiling my sense of your integrity by lying about what you feel. Your lips didn’t lie.”
She swallowed hard and rested her chin on his shoulder, facing away from him. The fact she didn’t snap right back or refute his assertion about their sexual attraction, he’d take as tacit agreement.
“Can you think of a good reason why we shouldn’t marry temporarily?” he said against her ear. He hadn't closed deals by laying back.
She lifted her head. “You’ll get more shares in the company, and I might never be rid of your interference. If you agreed, in writing, not to sell Prescott, however, I’d be much more interested in marrying you.”
Ty released a smile. This was the oddest negotiation he’d ever been involved with. “No deal on that score. I gave JM my word. I owe it to him to do the best thing for the family. Besides, sounds a little too much like blackmail.”
“Then guess you’ll have to be content with getting the ranch house.” The way she scowled, he knew she hated that idea almost as much as she hated the thought of marrying him.
“I told you before, I’m not interested in the ranch house, Mandy. I’m interested in us being together after all this time.” He held her closer, tighter. He could feel every inch of her body against every inch of his. Damn she felt good in his arms. She’d feel even better in his bed.
“Just for another notch on the old belt?” She looked up at him and thrust out her chin. He admired her fight, but she was choosing the wrong battle.
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a woman I find…challenging. And desirable.”
She blushed, the color suffusing her cheeks with a rosy pink glow, making her look like a cute little Kewpie doll.
“As for the company,” he continued, “after the six months, I wouldn’t own enough shares to sell it or block you in whatever you wanted to do, even if I could make a case that I had ideas for a better use of capital.”
She picked at something on his shoulder. “I don’t trust you, Martin,” she finally allowed.
“No kidding.”
“I guess that’s been obvious.” Her eyes shimmered in the light, like pools of deep water under the moon. There was something about this woman. Something that challenged him to dig deeper, try harder.
He reached for her hand on his shoulder and folded her fingers into his. She was soft and warm, and another jolt of lust zinged him. “I promise I’ll always be straight with you.”
He ran his thumb over her smooth warm hand, making lazy circles. She had pretty hands, small boned and surprisingly soft.
She didn’t pull her hand away. “Being married doesn’t mean I’d go to bed with you,” she said.
If she was asking him to gamble on whether she’d succumb in six months, those were odds he’d gladly take. He was marrying to have a woman he’d wanted for ten years. A woman who had been forbidden fruit by virtue of her being JM’s granddaughter. Now JM had, in effect, given his blessing. And for just six months. And with an added bonus of stock. Hell, why wouldn’t he take that gamble? Because there was no way Mandy was going to be able to hold out for 180 days—and nights. He’d make sure of that.
“I’ll take my chances. Consider if you have more to win or lose if we married. I think the answer will be obvious.”
The song ended. The dancers were leaving the floor, but Ty stood holding Mandy.
She looked up at him as if she was searching his face for an answer to her dilemma.
“I doubt it,” she finally said.
But he heard a distinct quiver of uncertainty in her voice. He’d take that as progress.
* * *
Mandy slid onto the red faux-leather seats of the booth at the local café, where her two girlfriends sat across from her, eyeing her as if she had some strange disease. Maybe she did.
She’d texted them Monday morning on the way home from the rodeo and asked them to meet her at their regular spot. She needed a reality check, and she couldn’t think of any better people to give it.
“Thanks, both of you, for coming on such short notice.”
“You got our curiosity up for sure,” Libby Cochran said, her blue eyes sparkling with impending motherhood, an event she’d announced at their last dinner.
Mandy had met Libby when Libby had interviewed for a public relations job for the Western Stock Show in Denver, where Mandy had represented Prescott Rodeo on the event committee. It turned out Mandy knew Libby’s dad, since Prescott Rodeo had bought several pickups from his dealership. As they had gotten to know one another, they found they had a lot more in common than either might have guessed, particularly in the family dynamics department. Even though Libby had eventually turned down the position, they’d become friends.
If Libby was Mandy’s newest friend, Cat McKenna was her oldest. Cat’s family had been ranchers for generations, and the two girls had grown up together at county 4-H events, showing off their heifers. Mandy had seen Cat through some difficult times, what with a relationship gone bad, a father who disowned her, and a little boy to care for. But Cat had eventually come home and, with her father’s passing, was running Pleasant Valley Ranch, or at least trying to.
Mandy had introduced Libby to Cat, and they hit it off. The three friends had been meeting periodically for a “girls’ night out” at the local café ever since. Tonight, all three dressed in jeans. Mandy had thrown on a balloon-sleeved turquoise shirt that matched the dyed leather turquoise insert in her squared-toe Tony Llama boots. Libby’s top was a blousy pink number, while Cat’s sleek designer logo shirt was in keeping with her high-end taste.
“Does this have something to do with your grandfather’s will? Did you find out the business is insolvent or something?” Cat bit her lip and squinted her brown eyes as if trying to puzzle out the why and wherefore of the evening.
There would be no way either of them would guess what Mandy had to discuss. And they had to be wondering about the emergency that placed them all here on a Monday night with only a few hours’ notice.
“It has everything to do with my grandfather’s will, unfortunately. And no, the business isn’t insolvent.”
At that moment, a perky young waitress appeared at the table, pad and pen in hand.
They each gave their order, familiar with the menu, seeing as this had become a regular meeting spot to reconnect over a burger and a glass of beer—or in Libby’s case now, a soda. Libby was the only one who was married, having tied the knot in late winter with a handsome bronc rider she had been married to briefly five years earlier and divorced forty-eight hours later—but that was another story.
As the waitress strode away, Cat leaned in, flipping her long brown hair over her shoul
der. “So tell us.”
“First, I want to know how you’re feeling, Libby.”
“Fine, just fine. The morning sickness has finally left—although it should have been billed as all-day sickness. But tell us your news.”
“And your father? How’s he doing?”
Libby huffed and blew a strand of her pageboy length blond hair from her face. “He’s coming along. Chance is doing well on the circuit. We’re all good, Mandy—now dish.”
“And little Jake? How is he doing, Cat?” Jake was Cat’s son, a cute, active four-year-old who made Mandy’s maternal instincts pop whenever she saw the little imp.
“Good. He misses his grandfather though. Strange as it may seem, Jake had become my father’s reason for being. Life certainly takes strange turns.”
That was an understatement.
“And are you still going ahead with that adverse-possession lawsuit?”
“There will be time to talk about my issues another day. You didn’t call us here on a Monday night to find out how we are doing. You could have done that over the phone.”
The waitress was back with a cola and two bottles of craft beer, which she set on the table. Mandy took a swig, enjoying its yeasty taste. She hardly knew how to begin.
“The will was read on Thursday, right before we had to leave for a rodeo. It is a complicated document, but essentially…” Mandy did her best to explain it all. Libby and Cat had tons of questions, but in the end, they seemed to get it just as the plates of burgers arrived.
“I can’t believe your grandfather is trying to arrange your marriage. With a guy you hate,” Libby said. “Although I guess it’s just as bad as a father arranging a divorce from a guy you love.”
“They say love and hate are very closely related,” Cat offered.
“Not in this case.”
“Well, I seem to recall a teenager who thought she was in love with Ty Martin.”
“A lot has changed in ten years, Cat. And no one is talking about love here. This would be strictly a marriage of convenience for just six months. And I am only considering it to get my company back and keep it from being sold.”
“But you said he could sell it in six months, regardless, if he has a buyer.”
“Well, that’s the gamble I would be taking. Given how tight credit is, I think I have good odds of keeping the company. Has to be better odds than if he has a year.” Or two.
“Then why are you hesitating? If you hate him”—Cat put air quotes around the word “hate” as she spoke—“wouldn’t that make it less complicated? Just divorce him after six months, since you said that was what he wants as well.”
Mandy took a deep breath. These were her dearest friends. She would have to be honest. Cat, for sure, would know if she wasn’t.
“I may not like him, but strange as it is, I find myself still physically attracted to him. I don’t know if I can hold out for six months. As part of the conditions…” She paused, not sure how to present the terms of the will. She would just say it out loud. “I have to sleep in the same room with him, and I can’t be away from him overnight. Basically, we have to be living together.”
Libby’s mouth fell open, and Cat chuckled.
Libby recovered first. “Well, take it from me. Even living at Chance’s in separate bedrooms, while I was taking care of him after his accident, didn’t change the inevitable,”
Cat shook her head. “And I can’t imagine anything would stop me if I was twenty-four seven with someone I was attracted to. Although I’d like to try that experiment with the right person.”
“Cody Taylor popping into your head?” Mandy teased.
Cat smiled. “Oh yeah. But he’s the one who hates me, so that’s a nonstarter.”
“You tell your mama this?” Libby asked Mandy.
“I did. And surprisingly, she’s encouraged me to go for it. For some strange reason, she seems to like Ty, and she doesn’t see anything so awful in this. I think she fears this is the only way I’ll ever get married.”
“Well, you have to admit your choice in men hasn’t been the best, not that I’m one to talk.” Cat grimaced. “Maybe your grandfather will have a better batting average.”
“Highly unlikely. But if I did do this, how can I have any self-respect?”
“Well, what’s more important, your pride or your company? Because that’s what it comes down to, doesn’t it?” Libby said. “Pride can be a big obstacle. I know it was for Chance. I’m just glad he overcame it.” Libby’s smile broadened.
“So you have to decide tonight?” Cat asked.
“Two o’clock tomorrow I have to be in our lawyer’s office either ready to get married or ready to give my company over to Ty for up to two years, shorter if he sells it.”
“That’s some dilemma—either marry a man you don’t love but would like to go to bed with or stand to lose your family’s business,” Libby said.
Mandy shook her head. “And what hurts the most is that this was all my grandfather’s doing. My grandfather, who loved me and loved the company. It boggles my mind.”
“Why do you think your grandfather chose Ty and asked him to look into selling the company?” Libby took a big bite of her hamburger. Considering petite Libby ordered not only a deluxe hamburger platter but a plate of onion rings and a milkshake, it seemed she was already in the “eating for two” mode, even if she was only three months along.
“That is a million-dollar, or more, question. Our lawyer thought he was trying to play matchmaker, which is such an absurd idea. As for selling, I can only assume he had no faith in me.”
“Well, I can relate to family having no faith in you. That’s pretty much how I was raised,” Cat said, taking a swig of beer. “But surely you already proved yourself to your grandfather, and if he had such little faith, why did he allow you to run the company in six months if you married?”
“It makes no sense,” Mandy agreed. “But regardless of why he did it, what am I to do about it?”
“I’d do whatever I had to do to save our family ranch. Kyle Langley, my lawyer, keeps urging me to sell it, but I want it for my son.”
Libby patted her barely round stomach. “I can understand that now.”
“But I don’t have a child—not that I don’t want one but…my mother may be right about my marriage prospects. I seem to scare men away. Maybe I should just let Ty take the company, sell it if he finds a buyer, and take the money and start running the ranch for a living.” Life would be easier if she could convince herself not to care.
Cat snorted. “There is no money in ranching, let me tell you. And it’s damn hard work. Sometimes I question what I’m doing trying to keep it, considering I know next to nothing about running a ranch because no one ever thought enough of me to teach me.”
“Truth is, I know and love rodeo, not ranching. They are two different animals—literally.”
“I think you have your answer,” Libby said. “And worst case, you’ll have a little fun while you’re saving your company.”
Mandy grimaced. “That’s what my mother said.”
Chapter 7
Mandy waited outside the door of Brian’s office, her heart pummeling her rib cage. She was really going to do this? It was still a question. She glanced at her mother, who stood with Harold, watching her as if she were a horse ready to bolt. A realistic fear given how she felt.
“Honey, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Her mother was dressed in a stylish lilac sheath. “I know I was encouraging you, but now that you’ve decided, I’m having second thoughts myself. What was JM thinking, Harold?”
Harold shook his Stetsoned head. For the occasion, he’d donned the same dark suit he’d worn to JM’s funeral, probably the only suit he owned. “Damned if I know. This is the darnedest thing I’ve ever heard of. Sounds like something out of the Middle Ages. Ty’s all right, I guess, but why JM wanted you to marry him in order to run the company, I don’t understand.”
“By the
way, Harold, I didn’t get a chance to say congratulations. Mom told me.”
A slow smile slid across his weathered face. “Thank you, Mandy. Guess that’s gonna make me some sort of in-law to Ty.” His expression turned determined. “I can have a word with him if you want.”
“I appreciate the offer, but it’s not like this is a real marriage. I mean, a lasting one. Six months it will all be over, and this will just be a footnote in my life.” Some footnote.
“I don’t know, honey,” Sheila said. “Marriages are supposed to be happy occasions. You look like you’re going to another funeral, not your wedding.”
Mandy straightened her shoulders and smoothed the skirt of the pastel-blue jersey dress she’d pulled from her closet. Certainly not the Cinderella dress she’d imagined for her wedding. And not the groom either.
This isn’t a real marriage.
What it was, however, had yet to be defined. An affair? An arrangement? An agreement of the personal kind? None of them sounded honorable or even decent.
An indecent proposal, concocted by, of all people, her traditional, conservative grandfather.
“I’ll be fine. It’s not like he’s evil or anything. I just don’t trust him with the company.”
Not a very flattering portrait of the man she was going to wed.
There was still time to back out.
The door opened.
“I thought I heard voices.” Brian poked his gray-haired head out of the door. “All set?” He eyed her like he too expected her to bolt. “He signed the prenup, and I gave him your signed copy.”
Mandy nodded, feeling both a sense of dread and, oddly, anticipation. “I’d like to see Ty first. Alone,” she said, looking at her mother and Harold.
“Traditionally, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony,” Shelia said, placing a protective hand on Mandy’s forearm.
“This is hardly a traditional marriage, Mother.” And it wasn’t like her luck could get much worse.
With an accepting nod, Shelia walked through the doorway, Harold following, as Brian disappeared inside, presumably to fetch Ty.
