A Cowboy in Manhattan

by Barbara Dunlop

  “Yes. I mean, no. I’m not apologizing.” Exactly. “I’m telling you it wasn’t my fault.”

  His body rumbled with laughter, and his lips brushed the top of her head. “You don’t understand men at all.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” The man was exasperating.

  “Yeah?” His tone turned serious. “Well, listen up, Katrina. Because I understand men perfectly.”

  “Bully for you.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong.”

  “I’ve got what all wrong?”

  “How I’m feeling. What I’m thinking.”

  “Okay, what are you feeling and thinking?”

  He seemed to choose his words, his tone deep near her ear. “I’m feeling privileged and proud. I’m thinking someday, a long time from now, when I’m very old and very tired, and there’s nothing left of my life, I’ll be remembering this night, and you, and that I was the first.”

  Something flip-flopped Katrina’s stomach. She drew back, tipping her chin so that she could gauge his expression. “That’s a really great line, Reed.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Ever used it before?”

  “Of course not. How can you ask that?”

  So he was serious? He’d be thinking of her on his deathbed? She had no idea how to respond, so she laid her head back down on his shoulder and just breathed for a few minutes.

  Reed spoke first. “But is there something wrong with all the men in New York City?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Because I was with you all of five minutes before I realized I’d never be able to keep my hands off you.”

  “Five minutes?” She couldn’t help but be pleased to hear that.

  “Did they ask you on dates and you turned them down?”

  “Five minutes?” she repeated.

  “Focus, Katrina.”

  “I am focusing.”

  “The men? In New York City?”

  She gave up. It was really just her ego that wanted him to admit it anyway. “Some asked for dates,” she admitted. “Most I turned down. The others didn’t really work out. And Quentin Foster, well he just skipped right to the proposition.”

  “Quentin Foster.”

  “Just a guy,” said Katrina, regretting even saying the man’s name out loud.

  “Did you meet him at one of your fancy parties?”

  She shook her head. “He’s on the board of directors for Liberty. I’ve known him for a while. He’s a big contributor, and people kowtow to him. I don’t think he has much of a life outside the ballet company, because he’s always hanging around. He comes to rehearsals. And he’s forever closeted with the ballet company director discussing… I don’t know what they discuss, funding, I guess.”

  Reed came up on his elbow. “And he propositioned you?”

  She scrunched her face up in a grimace. “Yes.”

  “As in solicited sex?”

  “Is there another kind of proposition?”

  Reed blinked several times. “A man in a position of power over you actually asked you to sleep with him?”

  She came up on her elbow, mirroring his posture. “Is there something confusing about the way I’m putting this?”

  “You said no,” Reed confirmed.

  “Absolutely. Quentin had hinted around for months, and I tried to ignore him and avoid him. But then one day, he cornered me, and came right out with it, and I said no.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What did he do then?”

  She dropped her head back down on the pillow. “He was upset.”

  Reed waited.

  Katrina didn’t feel like lying, and she didn’t feel like dressing it up, so she told Reed the truth. “He told me he could be a valuable friend, but I didn’t want him as an enemy.”

  “When was this?” Reed’s voice had gone cold.

  “About three weeks ago. And then those strange things—” She caught herself. It was wild, paranoid speculation. It didn’t even deserve to be said out loud.

  “Strange things?” Reed’s voice went cold. “You’re talking about the cables and your ballet shoes.”

  “No,” she lied.

  “Then what?”

  “I’m not going to tell you. It’s too crazy. I’m too crazy. Everything’s fine.”

  He laid his head down on the pillow, touching his forehead to hers. His voice went low again. “You have to tell me.”

  “Why?”

  “This is pillow talk. All secrets are revealed during pillow talk.”

  “This isn’t a secret.”

  “Good. Then there’s no reason not to tell me.”

  “It’s silly.”

  He shrugged. “Then who cares if you tell me or not?”

  She heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine. But you can’t laugh. And you can’t call me a princess.”

  “I’m going to call you a princess whether you tell me what’s on your mind or not.” He brushed a few stray hairs from her cheek. “I like calling you princess. You should take it as a compliment.”

  “It’s not a compliment. You’re telling me that I’m spoiled.”

  “But in a delightful, exotic, sexy way.”

  “Ha!”

  “Tell me the whole story, Katrina.”

  “Fine. He propositioned me a few times. And then he phoned me here and asked me if I’d thought about his offer. I told him I wouldn’t change my mind.”

  “And when did your ballet shoe fail?”

  “Why are you giving me the third degree?” It wasn’t as if she’d done anything wrong.

  “When did you hurt your ankle?”

  “Can we back to kissing or something?” She really didn’t want to talk about this.

  “Give me the chronology.”

  “No.”

  Reed ignored her answer. “First, he propositions you. You say no. You narrowly miss some cables. He asks again. You say no. Your shoe fails and you’re injured. He asks again. You say no…”

  “That’s the most far-fetched theory I’ve ever heard.”

  “No. That’s what you’re thinking yourself.”

  “There’s absolutely no way—”

  “Did someone check the shoes afterward?”

  “I threw them away.”

  Reed raised a meaningful brow.

  Katrina understood his suspicions. “I have a dozen pairs of ballet shoes. Nobody could have guessed which ones I’d use that day.” But she was convincing herself as much as she was convincing Reed.

  He seemed to ponder that information.

  She wasn’t going to buy into any kind of paranoia. “Those were accidents, coincidences.”

  Reed slowly smiled. “Okay,” he agreed.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  She let her body relax, trailing her fingertips across his chest. “I shouldn’t have said anything. We were having fun, and I messed it up.”

  Reed slipped his arms around her, drawing her close, speaking against her ear. “You were right to say something. You should always tell me when something goes wrong. Have I mentioned that I know how to fix things?”

  “There’s nothing to fix.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “Maybe the shoes, if I still had them.”

  Reed chuckled, and Katrina forced the theory from her mind. There was no connection between Quentin and the accidents. He hadn’t even called again. Clearly, he’d given up. She could relax and stop worrying. When she went back to New York City, everything would be fine.

  Seven

  The next day, it took them two hours to make their way back down the washed-out trail. Then it took Reed four hours to dig the truck out of the muddy road. And they had to stop every half mile or so to remove debris from the road or winch the truck across a particularly rough patch.

  All in all, as a “morning after” went, it left a lot to be desired. Though Reed continually told Katrina to wait inside the cab of th
e truck, she donned a pair of leather work gloves and helped as best she could. Her efforts were pathetic, and she ended up with scratches on her arms and a bruised knee.

  It was nearly six in the evening when they pulled the mud-caked truck up to the Terrell ranch house. To Katrina’s surprise, her brother Travis was in the yard with Caleb, loading a couple of horses into a trailer. They both waved a cursory greeting and went back to their work.

  As Katrina jumped from the pickup, Mandy trotted around the barn on horseback, smiling at them as she dismounted.

  “You’re just in time for dinner,” she called, leading the dun mare toward the truck.

  “Were you worried?” asked Katrina, keeping her back to the truck, well away from the big horse.

  “About what?” asked Mandy, glancing at Reed as he rounded the hood.

  “We were only supposed to be gone a few hours.”

  “Did the rain slow you down?”

  “It did,” Reed confirmed, halting next to Katrina.

  “Did you get the pump fixed?” Mandy asked him.

  “Up and running again,” he confirmed.

  “So, that’s it?” asked Katrina. They’d been stranded out in the wilds of the ranch for twenty-four hours, and nobody so much as blinked an eye? What if they’d been hurt? What if they’d been trampled by horses or cattle?

  “You had a phone call from New York City,” said Mandy. “Someone named Elizabeth Jeril.”

  “She’s the director of Liberty,” said Katrina.

  “She seems anxious for you to call back.”

  Katrina’s thoughts went to her ankle. She realized she’d barely thought about it for the past two days. Through all the hiking and climbing, it hadn’t hurt at all. And the dance routines she’d tried yesterday morning had gone exceedingly well.

  She was ready to dance again.

  “I’ll call her in the morning.” Katrina couldn’t help a brief glance at Reed while she spoke. He was so rugged and sexy against the backdrop of the Rockies that her breath left her lungs.

  “I should probably head back home,” she managed, knowing that for the first time in her life she’d have a regret at leaving Colorado.

  “But I’m not ready for you to go,” said Mandy, stepping forward and pulling Katrina into a hug.

  Katrina hugged back, keeping a wary eye on the mare. The animal moved, and Katrina jerked away, coming up against Reed.

  “Chicken,” Reed teased under his breath.

  “She’s scared of those, too,” Mandy pointed out.

  “I’ll take my chances with the traffic and the panhandlers,” Katrina retorted.

  Caleb and Travis approached, stripping off their leather work gloves.

  “I’m about done,” said Caleb, lifting his hat and swiping the back of his hand across his hairline.

  Travis nodded at the muddy truck, and Katrina remembered to step away from Reed.

  “Nice,” Travis noted.

  “Half the hillside came down around it in the storm last night,” said Reed.

  “You stay at the line shack?” asked Caleb.

  Katrina braced herself, unable to look at anyone. Would they guess? Would they ask? What would Reed tell them?

  “We did,” Reed answered easily. “The princess was forced to eat pancakes and maple syrup for dinner.”

  “Hey,” Katrina protested. She hadn’t been the least bit snotty about their dinner last night. All in all, she thought she’d been a trooper.

  “She nearly walked out on me when she discovered there wasn’t a wine cellar,” Reed added.

  She shot him an angry glare.

  Caleb laughed.

  “That’s my baby sister,” Travis added.

  “That’s not why you’re leaving, is it?” asked Mandy.

  Katrina caught something in Reed’s expression, and she suddenly knew what he’d done. He’d deflected any hint of suspicion that they might have done anything other than fight last night. She should be grateful to him, not angry.

  She’d make sure she told him so later.

  She turned back to Mandy. “That’s not why I’m leaving. I have to get back to work.”

  “I suppose you do,” Mandy allowed, her voice tinged with sadness.

  Caleb pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. “I’ll get Seth and Abigail up here. The least we can do is have a farewell barbecue.”

  On the back deck of his ranch house, Reed stood to one side, watching Katrina laugh with her two sisters. She seemed more relaxed on the ranch than she’d ever been, but, ironically, she looked even more untouchable. She’d showered, as they all had, and she’d changed into a simple, clingy, white knit dress. Her legs were bare, and she wore her navy suede ankle boots with a looping, blue-beaded choker and matching earrings.

  Her hair was swept up in a wispy blond knot, and her face all but glowed with carefully crafted makeup. Her eyes shimmered a sexy deep blue in the waning light. If somebody were to snap a picture, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind it would make the cover of Elle or Vogue.

  Still, he couldn’t help but wish she was back in that ugly old boxy T-shirt, in the line shack, in his bed.

  Caleb appeared beside him, and Reed shifted his attention to the river.

  “I hear you’re building a house,” said Caleb, handing Reed a cold bottle of beer.

  Reed accepted it. “You heard right.”

  “Been planning it long?”

  “Working on the drawings for a couple of years now.”

  Caleb nodded.

  “Waylon Nelson,” Reed told his brother into the silence.

  “Come again?” asked Caleb.

  “You should hire Waylon Nelson.”

  “Who is he and why would I hire him?”

  “Ranch manager,” said Reed.

  Caleb straightened in obvious surprise. “You read the résumés?”

  “I told you I would.”

  “I thought you were lying to get me off your back.”

  “I was. But I changed my mind.”

  “Good. Good. That’s great. Waylon Nelson. Okay. I’ll take another look at him. But if he’s got your vote…”

  “He does. Hire him now.” Reed took a swallow of the beer. “Right now.”

  Caleb’s eyes narrowed in obvious confusion.

  Reed allowed his gaze to return to Katrina. “You’re going to need the help. I’m heading to New York City.”

  Caleb’s head snapped up, and he turned to stare at Katrina. Then, immediately, his attention went back to Reed. He stepped up close, voice lowered to a hiss. “You didn’t.”

  Reed lifted his brow in a question.

  “You slept with Katrina?” Caleb accused. “You slept with Mandy’s sister? What is the matter with you?”

  Reed stared straight into his brother’s eyes. “A, I wouldn’t tell you if I had. And B, that’s not why I’m going to New York City.”

  “Then why are you going to New York City?” Caleb demanded, clearly convinced his suspicions were correct, and clearly still loaded for bear.

  Reed kept his gaze steady. “I’m a young single guy with fifteen million dollars to spend. There’s a long list of good reasons why I’m going to New York City.”

  And on the top of that list was Quentin Foster.

  Caleb backed off ever so slightly. “You’re looking for business investments?”

  “Maybe,” Reed allowed, though the possibility was exceedingly slim.

  “You need Danielle to meet you there? I can call her.”

  “How about I call Danielle if I need her?”

  “But you will call her.”

  “If I need her.”

  “Don’t go signing anything without her,” Caleb warned.

  “I’ll be fine.” Reed could sign his fist into Quentin Foster’s malicious, conniving nose without any assistance from Caleb’s lawyer.

  “Why don’t you take the jet?” Caleb offered.

  “Sure.”

  “You can drop Katrina off.”

 
; “No problem.”

  Reed supposed a better man would feel guilty about misleading his brother. But he hadn’t technically lied. Whether he’d slept with Katrina was none of Caleb’s business. And Reed certainly wasn’t heading for New York City in the hopes of having a fling with her.

  He was going along to protect her. Nothing more, nothing less. Hell, once they hit the bright lights and big city, she wasn’t going to look twice at a rangy, weather-beaten cowboy like him, even if he did know something about Dior and had once taken a tour of a winery in Napa Valley.

  In the taxi heading into midtown Manhattan, Katrina felt as if two worlds were about to collide. In the backseat next to her, Reed looked relaxed, slouched back, seat belt loosely around his hips.

  “Have you been to New York City before?” she found herself asking. She didn’t think he had, but he didn’t seem at all out of place, and he wasn’t gawking around like a tourist at the tall buildings.

  “Nope,” he answered. “Anything in particular I should see while I’m here?”

  “The Liberty Ballet at the Emperor’s Theater.”

  He smiled at her joke. “Wouldn’t miss that.”

  “What interests you?” she asked. For that matter, what was he doing here? How long was he staying? And what were his expectations?

  When he’d announced he was coming, he’d made some vague statements about seeing the City, maybe doing business even. He hadn’t so much as hinted that he had any intention of continuing their physical relationship. But she couldn’t help but wonder. Okay, she couldn’t help but hope. No. She couldn’t hope. She had to leave it alone.

  “I wouldn’t mind meeting some of your ballet colleagues,” he mentioned evenly.

  “Really?” That surprised her.

  The car came to a smooth halt in front of her apartment building.

  Reed gave a shrug. “If you don’t think I’d embarrass you.”

  She took in his blue jeans, plaid shirt and the folding tool strapped to his belt in a worn leather case. “You might want to rethink the boots.”

  “I promise I’ll clean up.” He leaned slightly forward. “Can you wait a few minutes?” he asked the driver.

  The man nodded as he popped the trunk.

  Reed turned back to Katrina. “I’ll walk you up.”

  So he wasn’t staying. Okay. It would have been odd if he had. She only had the one bedroom. Not that she wasn’t willing to share. Still, he hadn’t asked about being her house guest.