He laughed—a deep, smooth sound that oozed confidence. “Surprisingly enough, I feel exactly the same way.” His hand tightened a bit around her waist, and Brooke felt herself slipping off the edge of some imaginary cliff. It should feel scary—it was, in lots of ways—but it also felt like waking up again after years of numb sleep.
He broke his gaze and looked over her shoulder. “Your boss is staring.”
They spun half a turn, and Brooke was able to reply, “So is your grandmother.”
He grinned. “I didn’t tell her a single thing about our conversation in the parlor. Not that she didn’t ask twenty times. I expect she’s dying of curiosity right about now.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I love Gran, but keeping a secret from her is nearly impossible. I figure one hour of mystery is about the best I can hope for. Besides, I think she knows more than both of us put together, don’t you?” He pulled her a little bit closer. “Should I dip you and send everyone into fits?”
“No!” she gasped as he tilted her just a bit off balance. “I don’t have your talent for shock.” The music shifted to a slower tempo, and she felt the pull of his charisma tilt her, as well. “I need to take this a bit slower than you.”
Gunner toned things down for the next minute or so, dancing with her carefully before he asked, “Were you happy with him?”
Of all the questions to pose on the dance floor, she hadn’t expected that one. She knew exactly what he was asking. There was no need to ask who. It felt wrong to bring up Jim here, now. Then again, perhaps it was the most honest and brave thing Gunner could do.
“Yes. We were very happy.”
Brooke waited for the massive lump to rise in her throat, for her chest to pinch and the surge of pain to wrap itself around her. She felt the hollow ache of loss, but not the sharp stab of grief. It felt as if Gunner was holding her up, his arms offering protection rather than invasion. Brooke wanted to lay her head on Gunner’s shoulder—and if not for the crowd of bystanders, she might very well have allowed herself that intimacy. As it was, she simply drew strength from his hand on her back.
“Not enough happy in this world, if you ask me. Does Audie remember him?”
Now, there was a question to raise a lump in her throat. “I make sure she does. I tell her stories all the time, show her pictures. We even have some videos I take out on Father’s Day. Then, of course, I have myself a good cry after she goes to bed.”
The music stopped, leaving everyone standing on the dance floor for a moment. Gunner looked down at her tenderly. “Do we need to go back to arguing about real estate now?” His softly teasing “I don’t want to hurt you” tone unwound her heart more than anything else he’d done.
“No, I’m okay. Well, mostly.”
He nodded toward the huge French doors that opened onto a nearby balcony. It was the perfect spot—away from the crowd but not too private. He guided her by the hand, and she happily followed.
Once out into the night air, Brooke wanted to make him understand how much she appreciated the respect he’d paid her by his honest questions. “Thank you. For daring to ask about Jim, I mean.”
Gunner turned and leaned against the balcony railing, all lanky cowboy despite the crisp tuxedo. “Suddenly, I’m thinking I didn’t do myself any favors here. If you like ’em upstanding and principled, I’m not going to come out looking so good.”
“You don’t think of yourself as having principles?” That surprised her—Gunner’s sense of obligation to his grandmother, Blue Thorn Ranch and the bison seemed to drive everything he did.
“Not so much. Look, I’m sorry I brought it up.” He turned to look out at the splendid scene of Austin’s city lights spread out around them. “It’s just...” His words dropped off.
“No.” She touched his elbow. All this was so awkward and new, a scary-wonderful she didn’t know quite how to handle. “I’m glad you did. He’s a huge part of my life. Of Audie’s life. It’s silly to pretend he’s not there.”
There was a small silence before Gunner asked, “Is he here?”
She knew exactly what he meant. She’d spent so much time thinking DelTex was the big wedge between them that it hadn’t occurred to her that Jim might be the true obstacle. She chose honesty. “I don’t know.”
He sighed. “When two male bison are interested in the same female, they fight it out. Horns and blood and all—sometimes even to the death.”
She pulled back, finding that a gruesome metaphor. “Are you saying you’re ready to lock horns over me?” Once the words had left her mouth, she grimaced—her reply sounded as inappropriate as Gunner’s statement. I’m so bad at this, she thought as all the wonder of their dance together tonight seemed to vanish into a series of fumbling missteps.
Gunner’s face reflected the same awkward anguish she felt. She was thankful they weren’t on display back on the dance floor. “I’m saying...” He wiped his hands down his face, reaching for words. “I’m saying I know better than to lock horns with a memory. You said it yourself, no one wins a standoff.”
How had she ever thought of this man as distant and condescending? Gunner showed more wisdom and tender grace than half the men she knew. Attraction warred with caution, making her heart pound and twist at the same time—an overpowering sensation that made it hard to breathe. “So now what?” Why was she always asking that question in Gunner’s presence?
For a heart-stopping moment it looked as if Gunner would lean down and kiss her. The thought terrified her—it felt like such a huge leap to even think about kissing any man since Jim. And yet so much of her wanted to feel that splendor again, to know it was possible again after all that grief.
He took her hand. “So now I think it’s best if I say good-night and thank you, ma’am. I will enjoy your persuasion campaign. But know this, darlin’—I won’t sell. Not now, not ever.” With that, he kissed her hand even as he kept his eyes locked on hers. Despite the challenge in his words, somehow it was the perfect gesture. A kiss and yet not the kiss. He had stated his case right beside hers. Even more unsettling, he had known what she was ready for—and what she wasn’t. “Thank you for the very fine dance, for being straight with me and for being here tonight. You know where I stand, I know where you stand. The rest we’ll just have to figure out later.”
He turned and headed back to the ballroom, leaving Brooke to grip the balcony rail until her breath returned.
Chapter Thirteen
Brooke wasn’t at all surprised to find a note on her desk Monday morning asking her to come see Mr. Markham. She’d managed to restrict the conversation to small talk and leave quickly Saturday night, her thoughts too muddled to face his interrogation at the gala. Now, with the space of time and prayer, she felt better able to face her boss.
“I could ask you how your weekend went, but I have a feeling I already know,” Mr. Markham said with a grin as she entered the office.
“It was a lovely event, Mr. Markham. Thank you very much for including me.”
He rose and poured himself a cup of coffee from the credenza, holding the cup up to ask if she wanted one. In her career at DelTex, it was the first time he’d offered her coffee. “How about we dispense with the Mr. Markham business and you call me Jace.”
All of Mr. Markham’s colleagues called him Jace, but only some of his understaff had been extended the privilege. “Yes, Jace, I’d love some coffee, thanks.”
He set the cups down on the front edge of the desk, choosing the second guest chair beside it rather than his usual position in the massive black leather chair behind his desk. “I take it you’ve made considerable strides in your relationship with the Bucktons.”
She’d given some thought to how to answer that. “I would say I’ve grown closer to the family, yes. They’re wonderful people. They’ve been very kind to Audie, as well.”
<
br /> “Well, now, that’s gratifying to hear.” He sipped his coffee. “As I said, I have always held Adele Buckton in the highest respect.”
Brooke picked up the coffee in front of her. Her office had a coffee machine and a stack of paper cups, but Mr. Markham drank from china cups and saucers. “I’m sure you’d like to hear that I’ve been able to persuade Adele and Gunner to consider an offer from DelTex.”
“Darlin’, it would make my day. It would make my month.”
“You’ll be disappointed, then, sir. You’re right, I have made considerable strides in getting to know the Buckton family. If I were to ever say that I have—” she chose her word carefully here “—influence over Gunner Buckton, it would be now.”
“Delighted to hear it,” Mr. Markham said as he leaned back in satisfaction.
Brooke took a deep breath. “But I can say with certainty that I don’t believe an offer exists that could persuade Gunner to sell that land to DelTex. He won’t sell. Not to you, nor I imagine, to anyone. In my opinion, DelTex would be better served looking at other options.”
Mr. Markham’s frown was to be expected—he wasn’t a man who liked to be disappointed. “In your opinion.” He gave the words enough of an edge to let her know he hadn’t asked for her opinion.
“My job involves nurturing DelTex’s relationship with the community. If you press the Bucktons any further, I believe it will backfire on Ramble Acres. To be painfully honest, you’ll cross the line from developer to corporate bully, and I think the consequences of that aren’t worth whatever it is you had hoped to gain from that creek.”
Mr. Markham took another long sip from his coffee. That man wielded pauses like a weapon—the silence unnerved her, as it was clearly meant to. “Ms. Calder, we were prepared to pay a big hunk of money for that creek for a very good reason. The options you referenced are expensive and time-consuming.” He got up and walked to the chair behind his desk, effectively declaring the “friendly” portion of this meeting over.
Brooke had expected his disappointment, but the encounter was fast slipping into a dressing down she hadn’t anticipated. “What I needed,” he continued, “was for you to deliver their cooperation. And from what I saw Saturday night, Gunner Buckton was looking very cooperative.” He leaned over the desk. “Now, you look to me like a woman who knows how to put an advantage into play. May I suggest you play your advantage here? You are in a particular position to be of vital use to this company. We reward our vital players, Ms. Calder. We reward them very nicely.”
Of that Brooke had no doubt. But for the first time since being hired on, Brooke was rethinking her desire to be a vital player for the likes of Jace Markham. What good was a bunch of financial advantages if her conscience paid the price?
Her alarm must have shown on her face, for Markham sat back. “Now, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not suggesting you do anything unprofessional.”
Aren’t you? Brooke wanted to reply. Isn’t that exactly what you’re suggesting?
“No one wants this business with the Blue Thorn to come to unpleasantness. You and I have both agreed in the past that a compromise is our goal here.”
“Yes, sir. But I’m telling you, Gunner won’t compromise. Not on this.”
“Well, you said your little girl is cozy with Adele. Can’t you work on her?”
Work on her? “Even if she were inclined—which I’m nearly certain she isn’t—she wouldn’t cross Gunner.”
Markham spread his hands on his desk. “Well, then, Ms. Calder, I suggest you do whatever is necessary to convince the both of them.” It was the closest thing to a threat she’d ever heard from the man, and it made her blood run cold. If she didn’t need this job so much, she’d be updating her résumé tonight. She might need to update it anyway, given how things were looking.
“I mean no disrespect, but this isn’t really my department. Land acquisition? Sales negotiations? All that’s a far cry from public relations.”
“It became your job when you became the only member of DelTex to win an invitation onto Blue Thorn land. We agreed you would use that invitation to our advantage.”
Markham obviously viewed their initial conversation way back after Daisy’s standoff in the road in a very different light than she had. “I agreed to let the invitation open up possibilities. What you’re asking seems a rather different level of pressure.”
“Not pressure, Ms. Calder, persuasion. And persuasion is very much your department.”
She had to ask, “In the name of persuasion, sir, what exactly are the alternatives DelTex is considering if the Bucktons won’t sell?”
“Now, that truly isn’t in your wheelhouse. You leave that to the legal and government-relations teams. No one wants you to get involved in anything that’s going to get ugly.” Brooke noticed he hadn’t said might, he’d said going to. With a decidedly unpleasant edge. “But if you are looking for incentive, let me say directly that it would be far better for the Bucktons and everyone—” by which he clearly meant for you “—if we did this the friendly way. Like you said, no bullying.”
Did he just threaten my job? Brooke blinked, unable to absorb what she thought she’d just heard. Sure, Markham was no warm and fuzzy guy, and he could be demanding of his staff, but this seemed to be a whole other level of slippery territory.
“Now,” he said, as if they’d simply moved on to the next item of business, “when will those brochures of yours be ready?”
Brooke churned through the next four items of business with her mind in tangles. How was she supposed to react to a meeting like this? Had Markham been merely unpleasant, or had he veered into unethical? On the surface his words crossed no lines, but his inflections? His insinuations? They seemed to shout “get a yes from Gunner or clear out your desk” loud and clear.
Her heart wanted to walk right out the door and right onto the Blue Thorn to tell Gunner trouble was coming. This wasn’t the kind of message to deliver over the phone or in a text, and an email was definitely out of the question. Only, a visit wasn’t an option, either. It was ten thirty in the morning and too much of a drive to try to pass it off as a lunch-hour errand. Even at the end of the day, there wasn’t nearly enough time to get out to the Blue Thorn and be back in time to pick up Audie.
As she walked back to her desk, Brooke could think of only one option that her heart, her conscience and her boss could swallow. She pulled up Gunner’s cell number in her phone and typed Come for dinner tonight?
* * *
Gunner had just come in from installing a new fail-proof latch on the northwest gate when his cell phone beeped with an incoming text.
Come for dinner tonight?
He had intentionally left the next move up to Brooke—half because he thought she needed to set the pace given his declaration, and half because he didn’t himself know what the next move ought to be.
He was staring at the screen when he noticed Gran at his side sneaking a peek. Feeling a schoolboy’s urge to hide some note passed in class, he tilted the phone toward his chest and gave his grandmother a narrow-eyed look. “What’s got you peeking?”
“Maybe the question ought to be ‘what’s got you grinning’?” Gran’s smile was teasing but kind. “As if I even need to ask.”
“Text messages are private.” Gunner thought he ought to at least try to put up a defense, pointless as it was.
“Waltzing in front of half of Austin is not. If you wanted to stake your claim on that woman, I expect you succeeded.” Gran filled the teakettle and set it on the stove. “And I haven’t asked about it, have I?”
Gunner nearly laughed at the pronouncement. While Gran hadn’t asked a verbal question, she’d been teeming with curiosity the whole ride home and all day Sunday. “But you sure enough wanted to.” He shouldn’t have enjoyed keeping her in the dark like that, but a man couldn’t
squander the rare chance to stump the legendary Adele Buckton, now, could he?
She planted a hand on one hip. “How much longer are you gonna hold out on me, boy?”
Gunner sat down, ready to talk about it—needing to talk about it, as a matter of fact. “Yes, I like her and it’s mutual. And complicated.”
Gran waved away the facts. “Pshaw. Simplest thing there is.” When Gunner shot her a look, she amended, “Well, maybe not always. But I sure hope you’re not going to let that business with Ramble Acres get in the way of something good.”
Gran had hit the issue right on the head—or at least part of the issue. “I want to think there’s a way through this, but I can’t see it. It’s a mess.”
“What did she tell you in the parlor? Y’all sure looked like things had changed when you came in for dinner at the gala.”
How could he describe the whole slew of emotions Brooke had shown him then? Her honesty deserved some privacy, but he wanted to make Gran understand. “I believe her when she says Markham didn’t put her up to the whole bit with Daisy and Audie and even the field trip. She said it was partly professional but mostly personal—and all her own doing.”
Gran sat down at the table, resting her cane against the chair back. “And you didn’t believe her before?”
No sense lying now. “No.”
“Well,” Gran sighed, “I suppose you’ve earned the right to be gun-shy on women and truth.” She looked at Gunner. “But don’t you let what Kayla did to you paint your whole world with suspicions. Sounds like she’s being honest. Brooke isn’t Kayla. Not by a long shot.”
“You thought Kayla was good for me, too.” In truth, Gran had been highly in favor of his relationship with Kayla. She’d been as hurt by Kayla’s betrayal as he was—almost.
“I did. But a person can be wrong without being wrong all the time.”
“I want to get to know her better. She’s—” he struggled for a way to describe what he found so attractive about Brooke Calder that didn’t sound syrupy “—smart. Clever and strong. I mean, after what she went through with her husband, she’d have to be strong to survive.”
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