The Intriguing Billionaire Cowboy [Wives for the Western Billionaires 8] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Paige Cameron

  She stared at her reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator. After the surgery she wouldn’t have to try and turn her face where the scar didn’t show. She’d be her old self again.

  As soon as she exited the hotel, she got caught up in the crowds of people walking around town. Horns honked, the buzz of conversation was loud, and the air smelled of diesel. The city had its own pulse beat just like Washington, only this one was even faster.

  In one of the dress shops, she bought a garnet-colored gown with a thin shawl to put around her bare shoulders. Instead she tried putting it over her hair and around her neck. She could barely see her scar with it worn that way. After buying the dress, she got a cab back to the hotel. She’d gotten tickets to a comedy and looked forward to the night out.

  Later, standing in front of her mirror, she was pleased with her appearance. The strapless gown hugged all her curves. She put on her highest heels. Then she spritzed a light floral cologne around her, picked up her satin handbag, and headed downstairs to get a taxi to the playhouse.

  Crowds of people stood around conversing as she entered the theatre. She worked her way past the groups until she got to her seat. When she booked her ticket, the man had said it was a sell-out for tonight, but they’d had a late cancellation.

  Gradually people began to take their seats. It was five minutes to curtain time and the place beside her remained empty. A couple must have cancelled.

  The curtain rose and the audience went quiet. The lights dimmed and the play began. Sylvia enjoyed the first half of the play. At some point she noted a man had sat beside her, but she didn’t glance from the stage. As the lights went up for intermission, she looked to the side.

  “Clay?”

  “Sylvia, what are you doing here? I thought you were working in Frontier City. Is Sam here?” He looked beyond her.

  “In response to your questions, I am visiting New York. I quit my job, and I am here alone.”

  “You left Sam?”

  “Didn’t you, like all the others, expect I would break his heart and leave?”

  “No, actually I didn’t. For one, Sam is a strong man. He’ll survive, but I thought you two might do well together, maybe balance my serious, overly focused-on-the-ranch brother and he’d calm down your wandering streak. I’m sorry I was wrong.”

  Sylvia didn’t know what to say.

  “Why did you leave?”

  “I’m not good enough to marry Sam. He’s super, but I’m not a homey type. I’d want to work. We’d have to hire a cook, a housekeeper, and maybe a nanny if we had kids.”

  Clay threw back his head and laughed. “Sam can afford the help, but you’re underestimating yourself. Anyone who could do the job you had will be able to do whatever she wants.”

  “It takes totally different skills.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You have to be able to fill a number of different roles just like you did at work, from wife, to mother, employer, chauffeur, and I’m sure I’ve forgotten a few. But do you want Sam enough to live in his life and learn what might be needed?”

  “I guess I’m hoping to find out the answer back here where I call home. Which has the strongest draw on me, the glittering bustle of big cities and my exciting, dangerous job, or a small town with an interesting, but safer job, and an ordinary life with Sam? The main reason I came back was to get my face fixed. Dr. Dermot Rhodes is touted as the best according to the Internet.”

  “He is. I know him. We met several years ago at a party. You’ll like him. He will tell you the truth about whether he can repair your facial scar.”

  She wrung her hands. Clay put his hands over hers. “Sam will love you regardless.”

  “He thinks he will now, but he may get tired of looking at a scarred woman in the years to come.”

  “Not Sam. He’s like Dad. Dad said he saw Mom and knew right then she was going to be his one and only wife. That’s pretty much the way it has happened for my other brothers. Although they didn’t succumb to marriage easily. Well, Dirk did, but Rand and Graham were hesitant for a short time.”

  “I can’t believe the coincidence of my getting a seat to see this play because whoever you were bringing cancelled,” she said, hoping to change the subject.

  Clay grinned. “I can take a hint. No more talk of relationships except to say mine gave up on me when she realized I meant it when I said I wasn’t a marrying man.”

  “Oh, you should never say that out loud. Every woman who hears you will want to try and win you. The temptation is too great.”

  “Maybe we should marry. We wouldn’t bother each other at all. Still, I wouldn’t live long. Sam would shoot me, and I wouldn’t blame him.”

  The music started, and they turned back to the play. Sylvia leaned toward Clay quickly and whispered. “Don’t tell Sam where I am, or where I’m going.” Then she sat back and enjoyed the rest of the program.

  Clay helped her into a cab afterward and waved her off. She didn’t mention the hotel’s name until he shut the door and walked off.

  At the hotel, she dressed for bed, and packed her clothes, so she’d be ready to leave for the airport by midmorning. Tomorrow she’d find out whether her face was fixable or not. She squirmed around in the bed and sleep eluded her. When she closed her eyes, she saw Sam’s face.

  Why hadn’t she fallen in love with Clay? They were similar types. A marriage to him would be less confining, more like companionship. He’d appreciate that she looked good on his arm, and she’d like the freedom to go and come with few if any questions. Yes, he’d be the better choice for her.

  If there wasn’t Sam. Sam demanded all of her, and when she was with him, that was what she wanted to give him.

  She burrowed her head into the pillow. Her body ached, and she wanted Sam to hold her. She wanted his comfort, his body wrapped around hers, and him to tell her everything would come out all right tomorrow.

  * * * *

  Sylvia sat nervously in the chair waiting to be called to see Dr. Rhodes. Her hand rubbed across her face and she recalled Sam saying she did that when she was anxious. Where was Sam? Did he think about her, or had he gone straight to his old girlfriend and rekindled their past feelings for each other? Camille’s affections wouldn’t have to be aroused. She’d let Sylvia see her desire to take Sam back.

  The receptionist called Sylvia’s name and led her into a large, plush office. The man standing behind the desk was tall, well-built, and had dark hair graying at the temples. He put out his hand and greeted her.

  “Please have a seat, Miss Rufus.” He came around the desk and tipped her face up to the light. “I understand from what my receptionist told me that you want to have this scar removed.” He leaned closer and ran his finger across the slightly raised ridge of skin. “Do you mind telling me how you got this injury?”

  She told him about being a prisoner and how she was cut. “I didn’t get any immediate care for it. I’m surprised it didn’t get badly infected.”

  “Under those conditions I’d say you healed very well. But your expectations may be more than I can deliver. First, how long ago did you receive this injury?”

  Sylvia told him about being rescued and about her recovery from her ordeal. “My wrist is much better but not at full capacity and probably won’t ever be.”

  “So it hasn’t been a year yet. I’d advise waiting at least that long to allow the body enough time to heal fully. Your facial scar doesn’t affect any movements of your face. You were fortunate in that aspect. I’m really amazed at how well it has healed and how it looks. You are still very attractive. But I suppose to you it stands out and looks ugly.”

  “I’d begun to get used to it, and then someone who knew me before mentioned how it ruined my looks.”

  Dr. Rhodes smiled. “I imagine the woman was jealous of you and how attractive you still appear. With confidence and savoir faire you can make others intrigued by how you got your scar, and by how you manage to still be beautiful.”

  “I believe
, Dr. Rhodes, that you are a counselor and doctor.”

  “In my practice I have to be a little of both.”

  “If I understand you right, you are saying you can’t help me.”

  “Not like you want to be helped. The scar will not go away completely. I’d suggest you go home and come back in six months or so. I can do some laser resurfacing. The scar will become smoother and less visible.”

  Sylvia stared at him. Her hopes had been dashed. There were other doctors she could see. As though he could read her mind, Dr. Rhodes spoke up.

  “You may want to get a second opinion. I can give you a list of other doctors in the area. But if you find one on your own, and he agrees to do the surgery, beware. You may come out of it more damaged. A reputable surgeon will tell you the truth, as I have.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Rhodes. I appreciate your forthright analysis of my condition. I will consider what you’ve recommended and your warnings.” Sylvia shook his hand and left the office on automatic.

  She never remembered how she got to her condo. She’d been so sure the scar was temporary. She had convinced herself and yet, if she was being honest, deep down she knew it might be with her the rest of her life. But she hadn’t been ready to deal with that reality.

  In her kitchen, she got out an almost-full bottle of Jack Daniel’s from the cupboard and a soda from her fridge. She mixed a strong drink and sat on her small balcony watching the cars drive by. Her life had come to a standstill. What did she do now?

  * * * *

  After two days of looking, Sam had come to a dead end. The doctor’s office wouldn’t give him any information. He’d gone in person and tried to convince the receptionist to tell him if Sylvia had an appointment or was a patient. But the receptionist wouldn’t budge.

  He’d checked hotels. If she was listed it was under a different name, and she had no phone or address that he could find.

  He left the doctor’s office and walked down the street to a little café. Sitting in the corner, for privacy, he called Clay.

  “Hi, where are you?” Clay asked.

  Sam explained his mission.

  “I might be able to help you. I know Dr. Rhodes.”

  “You do?”

  “We met a few years ago. I’ll ask him to talk with you, but whether he’ll give you any information is up to him.”

  “Thanks. Give him my number. I’m in a coffee shop not far from his office.”

  Sam drank two cups of coffee before his cell phone rang. He grabbed it up off the table and said hello.

  “Is this Sam Brodie?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “This is Dr. Rhodes. I understand you’ve been asking questions about a young lady named Sylvia Rufus?”

  “I’d very much like to get in touch with her.”

  “As I told your brother Clay, it has never been my practice to give out information regarding whether a person is my patient or not. But come to my office. I’d like to meet you.”

  “I’ll be right there. I’m just down the street at the local coffee shop.”

  “I’ll tell my receptionist to send you in when you arrive.”

  Sam jumped up, paid for his coffee, and walked briskly down the street. This was his first break. He’d convince the doctor to give him the facts he needed to find Sylvia.

  When he got to the office, the receptionist walked him to the doctor’s door and announced his arrival. Dr. Rhodes came around his desk and shook Sam’s hand.

  “I’d have known you were related to Clay. You two look a lot alike.”

  “All my brothers and I resemble each other.”

  “Sit.” Dr. Rhodes moved another chair where he sat next to Sam and faced him. “Tell me, what is your relationship to Miss Rufus?”

  “I want to marry her if I can only convince her to say yes.”

  “Scars don’t bother you?”

  “If you mean Sylvia’s facial scar, I rarely notice it unless she’s rubbing the side of her face. When she does that, I know she’s worried or anxious. To me, doctor, she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  “Who made her feel that she wasn’t?”

  “Her mother. You have seen Sylvia.”

  “This is going against my best judgment, but I like and respect Clay and I feel you are much like him. I’m worried about her.” He explained about his meeting with Sylvia and what he’d had to tell her. “I think she needs someone right now, but she isn’t the type to ask for help.”

  “No, she’s extremely independent. Still, until her mother arrived we were making progress in that area. Tell me how to find her. I’ll see she’s all right.”

  He walked around his desk and opened a folder. “She gave us an address.” He wrote it down and handed the paper to Sam. “Don’t make me sorry I went against my ironclad rule this one time.”

  “I won’t, and I’ll contact you later to let you know how things are going. Thank you, Dr. Rhodes.”

  “Call me Derm. All my friend do.”

  “Will do.” Sam took the address and headed out of the office. He waved down a cab. Hopefully, she’d given the doctor her real address.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sam paid the cabbie and got out. A tall condo building faced him. Manicured lawns ran around the outside. A doorman stood at the glass door entry. One more hurdle to get through.

  “I’m a friend of Sylvia Rufus’s. I’d like to surprise her.”

  “I have to check with her to see if it’s all right for you to go up.”

  “She’s upset. We had a lovers’ quarrel. She won’t say yes.”

  “Then I don’t need to call her. Sorry, come another time.”

  “I have to see her. It’s important.”

  “I can lose my job if I go against the rules.”

  “Here’s a little compensation for the risk.” Sam handed him two one-hundred-dollar bills.

  The doorman glanced in each direction. Then Sam heard the door click. He took hold of the door handle and pulled it open.

  “Thanks, you won’t regret it.”

  “You know her number?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t want you wandering all over. Try the eleventh-floor penthouse. But I don’t know her password to get off the elevator. When you get up there, you’ll have to call her.”

  “I’ll manage. Thanks.”

  The personal elevator to her penthouse condo was on the ground floor. Sam got on and punched in the number eleven. He had to figure out what Sylvia would use for a password. He shot up to eleven, leaving his stomach behind. He hated these things.

  Once the elevator stopped, Sam stared at the keypad. There were letters above the numbers. He’d read a book once where the guy found the password by seeing which numbers were used most often. He had to lean close. The letters and numbers were in good shape. Sam ran his finger over them. No luck there.

  He called Graham. Surprisingly the service in this building was good even in the elevator.

  “Graham here.”

  “I’m in an elevator, and I need your help,” Sam said.

  “Where the hell are you?”

  “Washington, DC.”

  “I’d suggest you push the emergency button.”

  Sam chuckled at Graham’s sardonic answer. “I need Sylvia’s password to her condo. I can’t get in without it. She may be in trouble.”

  “What you mean is she wouldn’t let you in, if you called her.”

  “Maybe. Any idea what she might have used?”

  “Let me ask Gina.”

  While he waited, Sam tried punching in the numbers that spelled Gina, four, four, six, two. Nothing.

  “Hi, Sam. I gather you found the mysterious condo. I’ve never even been there.”

  “Then you have no idea what her password would be.”

  “We had some funny names we used for her when she called from undercover. One was especially fun, it was ‘gingersnaps.’”

  “You aren’t putting me on?”

  “Tr
y it.”

  Sam pushed in the corresponding numbers. The elevator door slid open. “Damn, I could have spent a year here and never come up with that combination. Thanks, Gina. I’ll call back.” He clicked his phone off.

  He was standing in a foyer. He tried the front door, and it was unlocked. The apartment beyond was quiet, but he saw the open glass doors and heard the sound of distant traffic.

  Stepping softly, he walked in that direction. Sylvia sat on a chair with her feet against the railing around the small veranda. The bourbon bottle on the floor beside her was a third gone. She held a crystal glass in her hand and was totally unaware of his presence. She was upset, or he’d never have gotten this close without discovery. He didn’t want to startle her too much. Sam cleared his throat.

  Sylvia jumped out the chair. She glared at Sam. “You’re lucky I wasn’t wearing my ankle holster. I might have shot you before I saw who you were. How the hell did you get in here?”

  “With a little help from your sister and your doctor.”

  “I’ll sue him for giving out my private information.”

  “No, you won’t. He’s worried about you.”

  “I usually lock my front door, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. And I never expected anyone to figure out the password to get the elevator to open.”

  She slumped back in the chair and took another long swallow of her drink. “If you intend to sit down, you might as well fix yourself something.” She waved her hand at the bar right inside the glass doors. Then she picked up the bourbon bottle and handed it to him. “Make me a fresh one. The ice has melted in this glass.”

  “You’d do better to get dressed, and let me take you to dinner. Have you eaten at all today?”

  Sylvia leaned back in her seat and stretched her legs out in front of her. “I was too nervous to eat breakfast, and I think lunchtime is over, so no, I haven’t partaken of any food today.”

  Her words were slurring. He was pretty sure she’d wake up tomorrow with a huge headache if she didn’t stop drinking and get some food in her stomach.

  He removed her glass from her hand and put it on the bar counter. Then he picked her up in his arms.