by Leanne Banks
She slapped a high five on it. “I’ll be right back.”
He caught her before she could get away. “There’s more we need to talk about.”
“Not until I get the okay from Bee, we don’t.” She glanced down at his fingers wrapped around her upper arm.
He let go. “What will you say to her?”
“That I might have a chance on The Great Roundup, but to try for it, I need to know that she’ll let me have my booth back on August 1.”
“Good. That’s good. Don’t mention the engagement yet. We still need to decide how to handle that.”
She let out another sweet, happy laugh—and then mimed locking her mouth and tossing away the key. “My lips are sealed,” she whispered, then whirled on her heel and headed for the back door.
Five endless minutes later, she returned.
“Well?” he asked, his heart pounding a worried rhythm beneath his ribs.
Her smile burst wide open. “Bee wished us luck.”
“And?”
“Yes, she’ll hold my booth for me.”
He almost grabbed her and hugged her, but caught himself in time. “Excellent.”
“Yeah—and is there some reason we need to hang around out here? Let’s go in. I’ll give you that trim you pretended you needed.”
He heard a scratching sound, boots crunching gravel. “What’s that?”
“What?”
He signaled for silence and stuck his head out of the enclosure in time to see the back of crazy old Homer Gilmore as he scuttled away across the parking lot toward the community center on Main, the next street over.
Brenna stuck her head out, too. “It’s just Homer.”
They retreated together back into the enclosure. He asked, “You think he heard us?”
She was completely unconcerned. “Even if he did, Homer’s not going to say anything.”
“And you know this how?”
“He’s a little odd, but he minds his own business.”
“A little odd? He’s the one who spiked the punch with moonshine at Braden and Jennifer’s wedding two years ago.”
“So?” The wind stirred her hair again. She combed it back off her forehead with her fingers. “He never gossips or carries tales. To tell you the truth, I trust him.”
“Because...?”
“It’s just, well, I don’t know. I have this feeling that he looks out for me, like a guardian angel or a fairy godmother.”
Travis couldn’t help scoffing, “One who just happens to be a peculiar old homeless man.”
“Trav,” she insisted, “he’s not going to say anything. I guarantee it. Now, let’s go in and—”
He put up a hand. “Just a minute. A couple more things. Starting tomorrow night, we’re madly in love. You’ll need to convince a bunch of LA TV people that I’m the only guy for you.”
“Well, that’s a lot to ask,” she teased. “But I’ll do my best.”
“You’ll need to make everyone in town believe it, too—including your family. They all have to think we’re for real.”
“Trav, I can do it.” She was all determination now. “You can count on me.”
“That’s what I needed to hear.”
“Then can we go in?”
“There’s one more thing...”
“What?”
“It’s important tomorrow night that you be on. You need to show them your most outgoing self. Sell your own personality.” When she nodded up at him, he went on, “I did a lot of research on reality shows before I went into this. What I learned is that the show is a story, Bren. A story told in weekly episodes. And a good story is all about big personalities, characters you can’t forget, over-the-top emotions. What I’m saying is, you can’t be shy. It’s better to embarrass yourself than to be all bottled up and boring. Are you hearing what I’m saying?”
“Yes, I am. And let me ask you something. When have you ever known me to be boring?”
Her various escapades over the years scrolled through his mind. At the age of nine, she’d gotten mad at her mom and run away. She got all the way to Portland, Oregon, before they caught up with her. At twelve, she’d coldcocked one of the Peabody boys when she caught him picking on a younger kid. Peabody hit the ground hard. It took thirty stitches to sew him back up. At sixteen, she’d rolled her pickup over a cliff because she never could resist a challenge and Leonie Parker had dared her to race up Fall Mountain. Only the good Lord knew how she’d survived that crash without major injury.
The more Travis thought of all the crazy things she’d done, the more certain he became that Brenna O’Reilly would have no problem selling herself to Giselle and the rest of them. “All right. I hear you.”
“Good. ’Cause I’m a lot of things, Travis Dalton. But I am never shy or boring.”
* * *
The next night, Real Deal Entertainment had assigned Gerry to drive the finalists to the Ace in the Hole.
All except for Travis. They let him make a quick trip to Kalispell in the afternoon and then, in the evening, he drove his F-150 out to the O’Reilly place to pick up his supposed fiancée.
Brenna’s mom answered his knock. Travis had always liked Maureen O’Reilly. She loved her life on the family ranch, and her kitchen was the heart of her home. She’d always treated Travis with warmth and affection.
Tonight, however? Not so much. When he swept off his hat and gave her a big smile, she didn’t smile back.
“Hello, Travis.” Maureen pulled back the door and then hustled him into the living room, where she offered him a seat on the sofa. “Brenna will be right down.”
“Great. Thanks.”
She leaned toward him a little and asked in a low voice, “Travis, I need you to be honest with me. What’s going on here?”
Before he left Brenna at the beauty shop yesterday, they’d agreed on how to handle things with her parents and his. Right now, Maureen needed to know that there was something going on between him and her middle daughter. The news of their engagement, however, would come a little bit later. “Brenna and I have a whole lot in common. She’s agreed to come out to the audition at the Ace with me tonight.”
“What does that mean, ‘a whole lot in common’?”
“I care for her. I care for her deeply.” It was surprisingly easy to say. Probably because it was true. He did care for Brenna. Always had. “She’s one of a kind. There’s no other girl like her.”
Maureen scowled. She opened her mouth to speak again, but before she got a word out, her husband, Paddy, appeared in the archway that led to the kitchen.
“Travis. How you doin’?”
“Great, Paddy.” He popped to his feet, and he and Paddy shook hands. “Real good to see you.”
“Heard about you and that reality show.”
“Final audition is tonight.”
“Well, good luck to you, son.”
Maureen started to speak again, but Brenna’s arrival cut her off. “It’s show business, Dad,” she scolded with a playful smile. “In show business, you say ‘break a leg.’”
Travis tried not to stare as she came down the steps wearing dark-wash jeans that hugged her strong legs and a sleeveless lace-trimmed purple top that clung to every curve. Damn, she was fine. Purple suede dress boots and a rhinestone-studded cowboy hat completed the perfect picture she made.
Again, Travis reminded himself that she was spunky little Brenna O’Reilly and this so-called relationship they were going to have when they got on the show was just that—all show. Brenna didn’t need to be messing with a troublesome cowboy like him.
And he knew very well that Maureen thought so, too.
Still, he could almost start having real ideas about Brenna and him and what they might get up to together pretending to
be engaged during The Great Roundup.
Brenna kissed her mom on the cheek and then her dad, too. She handed Travis her rhinestone-trimmed jean jacket and he helped her into it.
They managed to get out the door and into the pickup without Maureen asking any more uncomfortable questions.
“It’s time,” she said in a low and angry tone as he turned off the dirt road from the ranch and onto the highway heading toward town. “Scratch that. It’s past time I got my own place.” Rentals in Rust Creek Falls were hard to come by. A lot of young women like Brenna lived with their parents until they got married or scraped together enough to buy something of their own. “Bee offered me her apartment over the beauty shop. She’s been living in Kalispell, anyway, with her new guy. So when we win The Great Roundup, I’m moving. I love my mom, but she’s driving me crazy.”
“When we win. That’s the spirit.” As for Maureen, he played the diplomat. “Your mom’s a wonderful woman.”
Brenna shook her head and stared out the window. He almost asked her exactly what Maureen might have said to upset her—but then again, it was probably about him and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
The rest of the ride passed in silence. Travis wanted to give Brenna a little more coaching on how to become a reality TV star, but the closer they got to town, the more withdrawn she seemed. He started to worry that something was really bothering her—something more than annoyance with her mom. And he had no idea what to say to ease whatever weighed on her mind.
The parking lot at the Ace was full. Music poured out of the ramshackle wooden building at the front of the lot. They were playing a fast one, something with a driving beat. Travis drove up and down the rows of parked vehicles, looking for a free space. Finally, in the last row at the very back of the lot, he found one.
He pulled in and turned off the engine. “You okay, Brenna?”
She aimed a blinding smile at him. “Great. Let’s get going.” She opened her door and swung those purple boots to the dirt and got out.
So he jumped out on his side and hustled around to her. He offered his hand. She gave him the strangest wild-eyed sort of look, but then she took it. Hers was ice-cold. He laced their fingers together and considered pulling her back, demanding to know if she was all right.
“Let’s do this.” She started walking, head high, that red hair shining down her back, rhinestones glittering on her hat, along the cuffs, hem and collar of her pretty denim jacket.
He fell in step with her, though he had a scary premonition they were headed straight for disaster. She seemed completely determined to go forward. He was afraid to slow her down, afraid that would finish her somehow, that calling a halt until she told him what was wrong would only make her turn and run. Their chance on The Great Roundup would be lost before they even got inside to try for it.
They went around to the front of the building and up the wooden steps. A couple of cowboys came out and held the door for them. Both men looked at Brenna with interest, and Travis felt a buzz of irritation under his skin. He gave them each a warning glare. The men tipped their hats and kept on walking.
Inside, it was loud and wall-to-wall with partiers. Travis had never seen the Ace this packed. He spotted a couple of cameramen filming the crowd. Over by the bar, he caught sight of Wally Wilson talking the ear off one of the bartenders. And another finalist, that platinum-blonde rodeo star, Summer Knight, was surrounded by cowboys. He knew it was her by the shine of her almost-white hair and that sexy laugh of hers.
“Come on.” He pulled Brenna in closer so she could hear him. “We’ll find the casting director, Giselle. I’ll introduce you.”
She blinked and stared at him through those now-enormous eyes. What was going on with her? She really didn’t look good.
* * *
Brenna was nervous.
Well, okay. Beyond nervous. Actually, she was freaking out. Brenna never freaked out.
And that freaked her out even more.
She’d been so sure she knew how to handle herself. She did know how to handle herself. She was bold. Fearless. Nothing scared her. Ever.
Except this, the Ace packed to bursting, the music so loud. All these people pressing in around her, a casting director waiting to meet her.
And Travis.
Travis, who was counting on her to win them both a spot on The Great Roundup.
Dear Lord, she didn’t want to blow this. She would never forgive herself if she let Travis down.
“There’s Giselle.” Travis waved at a tall, model-skinny woman on the other side of the room. The woman lifted a hand and signaled them to join her. “This way.” His fingers still laced with hers, he started working his way through the crowd, leading her toward the tall woman with cheekbones so sharp they threatened to poke right through her skin.
“Wait.” Brenna dug in her boot heels.
He stopped and turned back to her, a worried frown between his eyebrows. “Bren?” He said her name softly, gently. He knew she was losing it. “What? Tell me.”
She blasted a smile at him and forced a brittle laugh. “Can you just give me a minute?” She tipped her head toward the hallway that led to the ladies’ room. “I’ll be right back.” She tugged free of his grip.
“Brenna—”
“I need to check my lip gloss.”
“But—”
“Right back.” She sent him a quick wave over her shoulder and made for the hallway, scattering Excuse mes as she went, weaving her way as fast as she could through the tight knots of people, ignoring anyone who spoke to her or glanced her way.
When she reached the hallway, she kept on going, her eyes on the glowing green exit sign down at the end. She got to the ladies’ room and she didn’t even slow down. She just kept right on walking down to the end of the hall.
And out the back door.
Don’t miss THE MAVERICK FAKES A BRIDE! by Christine Rimmer, available July 2017 wherever Harlequin® Special Edition books and ebooks are sold.
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Copyright © 2017 by Harlequin Books, S.A.
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A rising star art investigator finds herself captivated by Icon, an enigmatic international art thief whose heists are methodical, daring, baffling. To Zara the case is maddening—bordering on an obsession. She finds distraction in the arms of a magnetic American billionaire but, as she surrenders to his captivating allure and glamorous world, she must determine if it’s the real thing...or just a convincing forgery?
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br /> Enjoy a sneak peek of THE CHASE, the first book in the ICON series by USA TODAY bestselling author Vanessa Fewings.
The Chase
by Vanessa Fewings
My gaze fixed on the living, breathing sculpture.
My heartbeat quickened as I searched my memory for where I knew him from. I was awestruck by this breathtaking Adonis, who was reaching for a white shirt hanging on the back of a chair. He was tall and devastatingly handsome in a rugged kind of way. Thirty, maybe? Those short, dark golden locks framing a gorgeous face, his three-day stubble marking him with a tenacious edge and that thin wry smile exuding a fierce confidence. His intense, steady glare stayed on mine as he calmly pulled his arm through a sleeve and covered that tattoo before I could make out more.
A gasp caught in my throat as it came to me that we’d never actually met, probably because this was Tobias William Wilder, a billionaire. He moved in the kind of refined circles one would expect from a business magnate and inventor who owned TechRule, one of the largest software companies in the world.
And I’d given this playboy mogul his very own peep show.
I’d read an article on him, featuring his Los Angeles–based art gallery, The Wilder. It was an acclaimed museum that was one of the most prestigious in the world.
Although I’d imagined one day I might bump into him with the art world being relatively small, but never had I imagined a scenario as racy as this.
“I’m looking for the stairs,” I managed.
“That way.” His refined American accent felt like another blow to my reason.
That alpha-maleness made him look like he’d just returned from a dangerous adventure in the Himalayas or even the jungles of Peru—
A waft of expensive musky cologne reached me with its sensuous allure and did something crazy to my body.
“You might want to put some clothes on,” I said firmly.
“Well, now I’m dressed.”
