Married To The Cowboy (Love In Collin's Ranch 3)

by Veronica Wilson

  It was him that was missing something.

  The bike slid around tricky corners and dangerous curves. He was still caught up in trying to decide if the woman at the shop was really John Heeden’s kid. Could it be possible? He supposed it could. He did know Heeden had two kids, a son and a daughter. He’d met John Jr. a few times, and the little bastard was just like his dad.

  But Carrie, if she was his daughter, seemed different. She’d looked plain at first, when he’d first stepped into her shop. The kind of woman he wouldn’t normally look at twice. But then, as they’d discussed her art, he’d noticed the depth of green in her eyes, the slightly too-full upper lip, and her skin, as pale and smooth as a sheet of alabaster.

  And God, she was funny—she’d surprised him with that joke. Smart too, by the looks of it. He wasn’t an ‘artsy’ person, but he knew that the things in her shop were incredible. She was interesting as hell.

  And she was a Heeden.

  His grin turned wicked as he wondered whether Dante had any idea whose art it was that he’d bought so much of.

  Maybe it would be fun to tell him.

  **

  Carrie arrived at Rogue Enterprises and stood outside on the sidewalk, the well-wrapped sculpture clutched in her arms. Fear suddenly shot through her. Her father would not approve of her selling stuff to these people, much less delivering it.

  Rogue had blown like a hurricane into a city that her father had practically owned, and he didn’t like it, or them. All the partners were young and ruthless, and they each had made their startup money in ways her father found shady. Dante Sterling had gambled for his. And Brad Draper, he of the tight jeans and motorcycle, had gotten his startup money by winning a series of illegal street races.

  If her father got wind of her being here he’d be very angry, and his anger was something she would much rather avoid if possible. Maybe it would be better to go back to the shop, refund Brad’s money and forget the whole thing.

  And him.

  The door swung open and she sighed. Her father could get angry all he liked. A sale was a sale, and if there was anything he should be able to understand, it was business.

  **

  Inside she was directed to an elevator. A guard accompanied her upward, and when they exited the elevator she was led down a hallway to a series of swanky offices fronted by utilitarian but well-furnished outer offices, manned by an endless procession of doe-eyed blondes with willowy figures and designer clothing. The guard seemed to think she should be impressed, and she had the sudden urge to tell him it wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen way too many times before.

  Dante Sterling’s office finally came up and she and the guard entered. His assistant, a slim young woman with hard eyes and an enviable figure went to the door and announced her.

  Carrie stepped through the door… and paused.

  Aside from who she assumed was Sterling, seated at the desk, Brad stood near the windows, his body now clad in an elegant tailored suit—charcoal-gray and perfectly fitted to that magnificent frame—and his face clean-shaven. He bore so little resemblance to the man who’d walked into her shop that, for a moment, she wondered if it was really him. The man who’d come into her shop had reeked of street cred and power; the one looking at her now reeked of money and power. He didn’t have a single whiff of the streets on him either.

  She nodded coolly and set the sculpture carefully on Sterling’s desk. He was as dark as Brad was fair, and possessed of the same aura. She said, “Thank you for your business,” and turned away before either man could say anything.

  The guard hurried after her as she exited. Her heart pounded furiously as Brad called out, “Hold up a minute,” and followed after her. He dismissed the guard with a curt nod and walked alongside her, his cologne wafting to her nose with every step. Oddly enough, as appealing as his cologne was, she much preferred the smell of wind and leather on his skin.

  He said, “I was hoping to get you to agree to dinner with me.”

  “I’m sorry to dash your hopes.”

  He chuckled. “I’m not so terrible, you know. I’m hardly the outrider of death and pestilence, anyway.”

  “I couldn’t tell.” She stopped walking and turned to face him. Men like him—dark, dangerously sexy and slightly mysterious—were the stuff of romance novels. When they did morph into flesh, as he obviously had, they weren’t interested in plain women who made art for a living. So why was he asking her out?

  There could only be one reason.

  He wanted to piss off her father.

  Well, no thanks. She’d had enough of men who wanted to date her just because of who her father was.

  Brad said, “It’s just dinner.”

  “I said no. Look, I get that you are my father’s competition. I get that I would make a nice little trophy in your collection—”

  His laughter echoed down the hallway. “Jesus, you make it sound like a whole display case of women somewhere, all neatly labeled and stuffed. That’s what serial killers do. I’m not a serial killer; swear.”

  “I’m sure all serial killers swear they aren’t serial killers,” she said.

  She wanted to laugh. God, he was charming. And so good looking! There was an undeniably strong attraction between them, but she knew exactly why she was attracted to him. On the other hand, she just didn’t know why he would want to go out with her, and the only logical explanation was one that would guarantee she had to say no.

  “I’m not leaving this spot until you say yes.”

  “You’re going to get very hungry.”

  She turned and walked off.

  From behind her she heard the sound of his laughter.

  CHAPTER 3:

  Carrie looked up as the bell tinkled, and stiffened at the sight. There he was, bigger than life and twice as hot.

  Dammit!

  She said, “I already said no to dinner.”

  Brad drew closer. “I know. I also know I’m turning into something of a stalker here. You have to say yes, and soon, or I am going to start seriously wondering if my soap is failing.”

  “Maybe it isn’t your soap. Maybe it’s your charm.” She set aside her latest work, a lovely carved wooden bowl, and gave him a glare. “I’m a Heeden. You know that. I suspect that is precisely why you asked me out.”

  “No, I asked you out in spite of that fact. To be honest, brutally, I don’t need any more reasons for your father to come after me, and asking you out is guaranteed to do it. I should walk away. But for some reason I can’t.”

  “Maybe you need psychiatric care.”

  Her heart slammed into her ribs as he got closer. He asked, “Is that common?”

  “Psychiatric care?”

  His eyes stayed on hers. A strong and clamoring desire filled her, and she had to squeeze her legs together tightly. “No,” he said, “Do you always deflect everything with sarcasm?”

  Her face burned. She did, and she knew it. She’d learned that as a child and kept the habit as an adult. “Why do you care?”

  He said, “Because I want to get to know you, and I would like to know if that sarcasm is a defense mechanism or just your natural state.”

  She lifted her hands then dropped them. “I don’t know. I mean… do you know what would happen if my dad found out we went out?”

  He nodded. “Yes, and I thought long and hard about just that very thing. I know you’re probably risking a lot by saying yes, but so am I. Hell, I’m risking a lot just asking. But I think you’re worth it.”

  Worth it? Her? She was a minor artist in a city filled with major ones. She was a woman who had never been noted for being beautiful, in a city filled with former models and soon-to-be models and women who looked like they’d stepped off the pages of magazines even if they had never modeled. Why did he want her, when he could have the pick of any of those other women? Yet he did want her, apparently.

  She didn’t know what to say to that. It was flattering, but he was a man used to using flattery to
get what he wanted, and she knew it. She cleared her throat and said, “I don’t eat dinner.”

  “Then I’ll buy you pancakes.”

  Flummoxed and shaken she said, “No.”

  Brad nodded. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Why?”

  “Because I am just going to keep coming back until you say yes.”

  Carrie gawked at him. “Are you insane?”

  “Depends on who you ask, I suppose.”

  He sauntered closer. “Here’s my number. Call me if you change your mind before tomorrow.”

  She glared at him, and at the card he slid across her counter. After he walked away she shook her head and tried to get back to work, but she couldn’t. The man was so irritating! He obviously had some kind of stalking issues. And he was her father’s biggest competitor! Which, obviously, meant he was crazy as hell, to boot, for approaching her. Her father could crush that company, and Brad Draper too!

  So why would he want that?

  Could it be possible he really wanted her?

  She picked up the phone and dialed the number.

  CHAPTER 4

  Brad did answer the phone. He’d turned, went back into the shop, and practically toted Carrie right out of there. They’d spent a night walking on the lakeshore, having a delicious Indian dinner, a very successful date in his opinion. And then she’d bolted. Right before he tried to kiss her.

  That left him scratching his head and confused. He’d never had a woman lean toward him like they wanted a kiss, and then just bolt. Carrie had. She literally blurted out, “I have to go,” and dashed inside her condo, leaving him standing, lips still puckered, right at the front entrance of her building.

  He was still confused about that a day later. He had tried to call her, but she hadn’t answered the phone, and when he went to the shop it was tightly closed, so he got no answer.

  He spent the day trying to work, but his mind kept going back to Carrie and that almost-kiss. Dante stuck his head into Brad’s office and said, “Bad news, buddy. We have to go to a party. In an hour.”

  Brad grinned, “Since when are parties bad news?”

  “When it’s a party that the company we are trying to woo is throwing, and they have also invited Heeden. I think they are trying to get us up to our max dollar amount.”

  “Fuckers.” Brad sighed. “Okay, black tie or business casual?”

  “Black tie,” Dante said grimly. “And stay off the alcohol. We’re wooing these bastards whether we want to or not. We need this.”

  He left, and Brad went to the closet and took out a suit. All the partners had closets and showers in their offices for moments like this one, and for the mornings when they staggered into the offices after a night out partying.

  He showered and dressed carefully. He kept trying to think through the ramifications of their prospective client inviting Heeden to a party and then demanding that they come as well, but the only Heeden he could think of was Carrie.

  **

  The party was a full-on black tie affair. Every high roller and political power in the city was there. The glittering crowd included a few movie stars, a pop singer, a race car driver, and a whole host of businessmen and their arm candy.

  Carrie was overwhelmed before she even walked in the front door.

  She stood, right on the fringes, trying to look like she was taking an active part in the conversation, but what she was really doing was trying to get close enough to one of the huge potted plants to blend in with it and pretending to drink a glass of champagne.

  Her father was going to be both angry and disappointed, and she knew it. He’d sent her brother to tell her that he wanted her to attend, and her brother had been standing in the lobby of her building waiting for her. Thankfully she’d spotted him right before he’d spotted them and, even more thankfully, Brad hadn’t pulled some crazy, attention-getting stunt that would ensure they were caught.

  She sighed. She was utterly and completely out of her element. She didn’t know anyone, and it wasn’t until people found out she was a Heeden that they found her worth talking to. She loved parties and fun, but her idea of fun was hanging out with people she knew and liked, drinking a little unpretentious wine, and just relaxing. She was wearing a gown so costly she was afraid it was going to tear or stain with every movement, and her knees and elbows kept seeming to fly out at random angles too. Normally she wasn’t clumsy, so that caused further irritation.

  A voice spoke in her ear. “If you’re trying to hide, you shouldn’t have worn red. I saw you from across the room”

  She stiffened. Her fingers clutched the stem of the wineglass. Desire spiked through her, sending gooseflesh along her exposed skin. With every word his breath met her flesh, heated and cooled it. Her panties grew sticky and damp and her nipples poked up through the thin fabric of the dress. She took a hasty gulp of the dry champagne and said, “What are you doing?”

  “Same as you. Hiding in a potted plant.”

  “I’m not hiding.” She kept the glass up, realizing that to the casual glance it would appear as if she were talking to herself.

  “Of course you are. And I’m trying to talk to you.”

  “By sneaking up on me like a combat guerilla?”

  Dante and Megan walked by, paused and then turned to face her. Dante said, “Um, Brad?”

  Brad’s chuckles came through the foliage of the plant. “I’m trying to get her to talk to me.”

  “By hiding in a plant.” Carrie smiled at Megan, who smiled back, a genuine and warm smile that made Carrie feel instantly better. “Is he always like this?”

  “Worse,” Dante replied. “You make the art I love so much.”

  She nodded. “I do.” She wanted to add something about her art, but she could feel the heat of Brad’s body behind hers. “I’m glad you enjoy it,” she finally said.

  “Meet me out on the terrace,” Brad whispered. “Dante, you and Megan cover for us.”

  “No,” Carrie said desperately. “My father’s here. He’ll be really pissed.”

  “I’m not leaving this corner until you say yes.”

  She said, “Suit yourself, but you should know that plant has a flower with an effect similar to poison ivy. I sure hope your ass isn’t hanging out.”

  Dante choked. Megan lifted a hand to her mouth to hide the grin there. Brad said, “Uh….really?”

  “Yes, really. Excuse me.”

  She moved away. She heard the plant rustle and she wanted to look back, but she didn’t dare. Her father was looking around the room, obviously searching for her. She headed for him.

  Brad managed to extricate from the plant and gave Dante a sheepish grin. Dante asked, “What the hell are you doing?”

  Brad straightened a sleeve and said, with as much dignity as he could muster, “Trying to get a date, do you mind?”

  Dante said, “You know who she is, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s one thing to buy art from a Heeden, it’s another to date one. You sure about this, Brad? What do you think Max and Hunter will say?”

  Brad looked across the room. Carrie stood with her back to him. The dress bared her lovely shoulders and the slim column of her back. Her black hair, waving around her face, left her neck exposed and the picture was so tantalizing that he nearly lost his breath. “I don’t care what our business partners say, this isn’t business, and I’ve never more sure of anything in my life.”

  “Her father will try to take us down, you know that. It’s not just your company, Brad, so you had better be damn sure.”

  Brad looked him squarely in the eye. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. I’ve always backed your plays, Dante; just back me now.”

  Megan looked away. Dante said, “You barely know her. You can’t risk everything for a one-night stand.”

  “It’s not a one night that I want. I want her. Period.”

  The words hit home. He did want her, and he
wasn’t interested in keeping up his lifestyle or his usual love-them-and-leave-them style either. Carrie didn’t want or need him to help her define her space in the world. She’d done that for herself. She didn’t need or want his money or power. She wanted him, he was sure of it, and the biggest obstacle in their way was the man she stood talking to. Her father. Who hated him, and Rogue Enterprises, because they were new money and because they, all four of the partners, were high risk-takers.

  Well, she was one risk he had to take. The highest risk he had ever taken, and not just because of who her father was either.

  Brad had learned early on that if he left first, he wouldn’t get hurt. It was a rule that applied to most situations, but especially to romance. There was no leaving Carrie, and he knew it. She might walk out on him, though, and if she did she would break his heart.

  But maybe it would be better to just walk now and leave it alone before things got too far out of his control. That last posibility alone was enough to scare the hell out of him.

  He had to control everything. He had to. He had grown up in a house where there was never any control. His father got laid off regularly, and his mother, too. They worked their asses off to keep their kids taken care of and they loved each other like crazy, but it hadn’t been enough. They’d been good to their kids, and yet there was always the sense that things were never controllable, that they were helpless in the face of employers and economic issues and everything else.

  He’d learned to control everything out of sense of self-defense, and his refusal to have a real relationship had been born out of an early, bad relationship that had left him bruised and aching and feeling so out of control he hadn’t been able to handle it.

  But Carrie would never be controlled. She was a whole person, and she didn’t need him to decide things for her, and she wouldn’t let him either. If he was going to be with her he was going to have to acknowledge that, and acknowledge that she could hurt him deeply, then take that risk anyway.