The Camden Cowboy

by Victoria Pade

  “Too bad…”

  “Nah…” Seth said, even though he recognized that there was a part of him that wouldn’t hate looking out the rear of his house and seeing Lacey Kincaid.

  Still, looking was all he’d do, and he told his brother why. “You know how I feel about workaholics—in the short time we had with Dad we hardly ever saw him. Toss unbridled ambition into that pot, and Charlotte brought it home for me big-time how much I don’t want any part of a woman with drive, drive, drive, who puts her goals ahead of everything else and has a problem with the fact that I don’t. No thanks.” The thought of his ex still rankled.

  “Woo, still a sore subject,” Cade said more to himself than to Seth. “Regardless, you’re letting Lacey Kincaid use the guesthouse?”

  “Like she said, I’ll probably never see her. I’m just thinking public relations and not wanting bad blood again.”

  “Ah,” Cade said, as if he didn’t actually believe that but wasn’t going to argue it.

  And his brother wasn’t too far off the mark in his suspicions, because even though Seth didn’t want to admit it, lurking somewhere underneath everything he’d said was still a touch of eagerness to have Lacey Kincaid move in today.

  But he definitely wasn’t admitting it.

  Instead he changed the subject to ask if Cade had gotten their grandmother a birthday gift yet.

  That topic finished their early-morning conversation, yet Lacey Kincaid continued to be on Seth’s mind long after he hung up.

  Lacey Kincaid and all the reasons he wouldn’t do anything more than enjoy an occasional glimpse of her from the distance.

  He’d meant what he’d said to his brother—he wanted nothing to do with a workaholic or with someone who had the kind of drive he’d already seen in Lacey Kincaid.

  Seth was the oldest of the kids in his family and the oldest of all the Camden grandchildren, so he’d had the most experience, and he had the most memory of his grandfather, his father and his uncle. And no memory of them didn’t involve Camden Incorporated as their number one priority.

  Yes, the intensity of their drive had built the Camden fortune. But that drive had meant that he’d had almost no relationship with a father who had sacrificed everything to his work. It was a drive that had caused no end of rumors that not all the means and methods used by the Camdens were something to be proud of.

  Drive that intense rolled right over other people, and if Seth hadn’t known before not to get in the way of it, he’d had it brought home to him by the last woman he’d had the misfortune of falling for.

  So Lacey Kincaid might be lovely to look at, but that honestly wasn’t why he’d said she could use the guesthouse. He was just being neighborly. Cultivating good relations with the new people in town. That was the reason.

  But Lacey Kincaid was lovely to look at. And okay, that might have played an infinitesimally small role in granting her use of the place. But that still didn’t mean he was interested in her. Or that he would let himself be interested in her.

  And the fact that even at this early hour he’d already rearranged his schedule to make sure that by the time this day was done he would finish work good and early so he could be showered, shaved, ready and waiting for her when she got here?

  That was just being a good host.

  * * *

  It was almost nine o’clock Thursday night before Lacey arrived at the Camden ranch. After turning off the highway she drove down a long road that ran between twin white-rail fences that bordered lush pastures where horses grazed at their leisure beneath tall oak trees.

  At the far end the road circled an enormous fountain. Water cascaded down a rock waterfall into an octagonal-shaped pool encased in a stone wall that matched the stone of the Camden house.

  The house itself was a sprawling two-story with a steeply sloped roof from which multiple chimneys rose. The windows all had earth-brown shutters, and the huge double door entrance sat atop a flight of five wide, semicircular steps.

  Lacey had first seen the place the day before when she’d come to find Seth Camden, and while she hadn’t been surprised that such a place belonged to the Camdens, she had been shocked to find it in the rustic countryside of Northbridge. Among English manor houses in the hills of Wales, or mansions in the most plush, elite estates of Connecticut, maybe, but not Northbridge.

  Since there had been no answer to her knocks or to her ringing of the doorbell yesterday, she didn’t know what the inside of the house looked like, and she didn’t have any idea where the guesthouse she’d asked to use might be or what it might be like. She’d merely been told by one of the contractors for the training center that it existed. But she doubted it was a hovel.

  In fact, she thought it was probably very nice. And maybe her excitement was over getting to see her new place of residence, she told herself. Not over getting to see Seth Camden again.

  Lacey went halfway around the fountain and parked directly in front of the house, turning off her engine. She left her suitcases and the rest of her belongings in her car and went up to the front door.

  A lengthy moment passed after she rang the doorbell and she checked the time on her cell phone. She’d fully intended to get here earlier, but work had kept her away. She hoped she wasn’t so late that Seth had given up on her getting there at all and gone to bed.

  Seth Camden in bed…

  Why was she suddenly wondering what he slept in?

  Then the front door opened and there he was, looking nothing at all like the Lord of the Manor.

  He might not have been in a silk smoking jacket—in fact, he was wearing jeans and a simple white polo shirt—but the shirt showed hints of his muscular chest, and the short sleeves were tight around his mouth-watering biceps. The man still looked good. Really, really good…

  “I was beginning to wonder if you changed your mind about this,” he said in greeting.

  “No, I’m sorry I didn’t get here earlier and I’m so glad you’re up—I was afraid you might have gone to sleep,” she answered.

  “Oh, I was betting that evening to you was going to be later rather than earlier, so I was just waiting.”

  Why was he betting that? And why did he sound as if the worst had been confirmed?

  “I got held up in meetings and then still had a dozen things that needed to be done before I could get back to Hutch’s place to load my things, and I lost track of time. When I realized how late it had gotten I thought about calling, but I didn’t have a number to reach you and it seemed like I’d just be wasting more time to try to find one. But I am sorry,” she repeated.

  “No big deal. Like I said, it’s what I expected. I was just doing some paperwork myself.”

  “Paperwork? Did you want me to sign a lease? And we didn’t talk about a damage deposit,” Lacey said, just in case the paperwork he’d been doing had something to do with her using his guesthouse.

  That put a curious frown on his brow, and from there Lacey’s gaze went to his hair. No hat-hair tonight, either. The deep, dark, rich brown locks were neat and clean. There was a casualness to the style, as if all it needed in the way of combing was for him to drag his fingers through it.

  Sexy. It was very sexy-looking.

  And Lacey reprimanded herself for that thought.

  “I honestly wish you’d just be my guest and forget the whole renting thing,” Seth Camden said.

  What might she owe a Camden if she didn’t pay rent—that was what worried her.

  “No, I insist. I did some research on what it would cost to rent a small house in town and came up with an amount—tell me if you don’t think it’s enough…” Lacey took a check she’d already written out of the pocket of her slacks.

  Shaking his head to convey his disapproval, Seth nevertheless took the check, gave it a cursory glance and said, “Fine,�
� before he jammed it into his own jean pocket as if it were scrap paper. “And no, I don’t want a lease or a damage deposit.”

  He gave a slight roll of those amazing blue eyes of his before he added, “Let’s go through here—the guesthouse is out back. I’ll show it to you and then we’ll take your car around.”

  “Okay,” Lacey agreed.

  Seth stepped out of the doorway and motioned for her to come in. He was freshly shaven and smelled of a cologne that was reminiscent of the outdoors itself—woodsy and clear and crisp and clean. Lacey liked it so much she took a small, subtle deep breath as she crossed in front of him.

  And then she was inside of the Camden house.

  Wow! was her first thought as she went into the entryway. Lacey’s father had money, and all the Kincaids lived very well. But it was nothing compared to this.

  The place was as astonishing inside as it was outside. The entry was the size of a small house and reached up past the second floor to an enormous domed skylight that was like the ceiling of a planetarium, except that the stars glimmering beyond it were real.

  Lacey glanced around in awe at this country mansion. Elegance and grandeur literally surrounded her in an opulent staircase that curved from one side of the entry all the way up to the second floor and swept around to the front again in the balustrade that bordered the staircase and the entire upper level.

  From where she stood, Lacey could see a formal living room to the right, and a formal dining room beyond that. Straight ahead was a wide hallway with openings to the left and what she guessed was the kitchen at the opposite end.

  “This place is… Wow,” she said, at a loss for words. “You could probably put all of Northbridge in here.”

  “It’s a little much for me. My great-grandfather had it built to show off. He grew up in Northbridge, got his start here. He wanted the people to know how well he’d done. I think it was an in-your-face kind of thing. I’m the only one here most of the time and I only use a handful of rooms on this floor, so the rest is just a waste unless the whole family comes out for some reason.”

  He didn’t offer to show her any more of the place. Instead he pivoted on the heels of his cowboy boots and led her down the hallway. “I’ve actually considered moving out to the guesthouse myself, but my office would have to stay here so I just do, too.”

  Lacey stole glances into areas they passed along the way. There was a recreation room, a media room, and what she assumed was the office Seth Camden mentioned because an enormous desk was the centerpiece among shelves, file cabinets, three computer stations and various other office equipment.

  “This is the kitchen,” he announced, as they went into the restaurant-sized space that was well-appointed enough to excite a professional chef. But it also had a homey feel to it in the oak pedestal table and chairs that occupied an alcove, and in the six bar stools that lined the granite counter topping the U-shaped island in the center of the room.

  The entire rear wall of the kitchen consisted of a series of French doors. Seth led Lacey through one of these to the outside onto a wide, covered terrace, which stood two steps above a tiled patio that was framed by lavish gardens and more tall trees.

  In the far, far distance Lacey saw the three barns she’d discovered the previous day when she’d been looking for him, and an eight-bay garage. But closer in, just at the edge of the patio, was a swimming pool and a pool house. On the side of the pool was a small structure nestled in one of the stands of trees. It was single-storied and built of the same stone and in the same style as the main house, with identical windows and shutters.

  “Your home away from home,” he told Lacey, crossing the terrace and leading her down the steps onto the patio.

  “It’s so cute,” Lacey said spontaneously, as she followed him around the pool to the little bungalow.

  Seth opened the guesthouse door for her and flipped a switch to turn on the lights inside but waited for her to go in ahead of him.

  Lacey did, entering a large, open space. A third of that space was taken up by a kitchenette complete with appliances and a round table with two chairs. The other two-thirds of the space accommodated the living room where a sofa, an easy chair, a coffee table, matching end tables and lamps faced a fireplace and an entertainment center.

  “Those French doors open onto a little private patio in back,” he informed her, raising his chin at the paned glass doors directly across from the front door. “The fridge has some staples in it that are yours for the using. There’s coffee and tea and cereal in the pantry. The key to the lock is on the counter.”

  Then he pointed a thumb over his shoulder at an archway on the other side of the living room area. “There’s one bedroom, one bath through there. The bedroom has a double bed, another television, and a couple of bureaus along with the closet. Sheets and towels are in the linen closet in the bathroom. You should find everything you need, but if you don’t, just let me know.”

  And it was all spotlessly clean, which Lacey appreciated.

  “It’s perfect,” she said truthfully. “Even more than I need.”

  “Great. Come on, then, we’ll pull your car around to the garage and I’ll help you carry stuff in.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to play moving man—”

  “Hey, if the service is good enough, I could get a big tip out of it,” he joked.

  Tipping a Camden—now that would be a novelty. Although the slightly flirtatious way he’d said that could mean he was expecting something other than money…

  Or not. Her imagination was running away with her. And she needed to stop it!

  Then Seth said, “Accept my lugging stuff in as compensation for the oversight of leaving old junk on the property we sold you.”

  Lacey considered arguing. But the tour had been brief, and if she convinced him not to help her, he could very well disappear into the main house and that would be the last she saw of him. So she just couldn’t make herself deny his help.

  They retraced their steps around the pool, through the house and out the front door, where Lacey got behind the wheel of her car and Seth slipped into the passenger side. He stretched a long arm across the back of her seat as if he’d been in her car a million times and pointed to where he wanted her to go with his other hand.

  “Head a little ways farther around the fountain to that clearing in the trees—that’s the drive that’ll take you back to the garage.”

  Lacey did as he instructed without telling him that she’d done much the same thing the day before in her search for him. But when she reached the garage she refused his offer of access to one of the bays. “It’s easier if I just park alongside of it—my hands and arms are usually full when I’m coming and when I’m going, and it’s enough to maneuver the car door without dealing with a garage door, too.”

  “Sure,” he said, as if that didn’t surprise him, either. “But if you change your mind…”

  “Thanks.”

  The man seemed so easygoing and laid-back. Where was that ruthlessness and relentlessness that her college professor had said marked the Camdens? That had given them such success? This guy seemed to take everything in stride.

  Lacey parked and popped the trunk, and she and Seth got out of the car. It took multiple trips to unload her suitcases and two laptop computers, as well as a printer, a fax machine and several cardboard file boxes.

  Seth volunteered to make the last trip alone for what remained of the file boxes while Lacey took her suitcases into the bedroom.

  It was every bit as nice as the rest of the guesthouse; it had its own set of French doors that swung out onto the private patio, which was completely secluded by well-tended hedges and more shade trees.

  After opening those doors to let in the cooler evening air, she went back into the living room just as Seth returned with the file boxes. He held his powe
rful arms straight out in front of him, biceps cut and bulging as they bore the weight of the boxes. The sight made Lacey’s mouth go dry.

  “Just set them down with the others. I’ll organize at some point,” she instructed in a quiet voice, as she tried to focus on the task and not the man performing it.

  “I shut your trunk and locked your car doors—although there isn’t really a need around here,” he informed her as he set the boxes atop some others. Then he faced her and slid a hand into one of his front jean pockets, and Lacey’s gaze just followed without thinking about where her eyes would end up.

  When she realized that she was basically looking at his crotch, she yanked her head up in a hurry.

  “You left these in the ignition,” he said, pulling her car keys from his pocket.

  He was being nice and considerate and thoughtful and conscientious, and her mind was in the gutter.

  Even as she silently chastised herself, Lacey did a frantic search for something safe and bland to say to distract herself and make sure he didn’t know she was thinking about him inappropriately. She settled on “So how is it that a Camden is a cowboy?”

  Had that sounded sort of disapproving? She hadn’t meant it that way.

  Seth Camden arched one eyebrow. “Because the only jobs that matter are jobs that require suits and ties?”

  So it had sounded disapproving.

  “No!” Lacey was quick to respond. “It’s just that the Camdens are…you know—big business. One of the biggest names in business—I even learned about your great-grandfather and grandfather in college. So I was surprised when my father said you had property in a place as small as Northbridge. And then to find you working the way you were yesterday…”

  All sweaty and sun-drenched and sexy…

  Lacey curbed those wandering thoughts, too. “I just didn’t know that any of the Camdens didn’t wear suits and ties on the job.”