It didn’t matter whether she was clad in a short denim skirt and a man’s work shirt, or outfitted in a pretty sundress that bared her silky shoulders and even sexier legs. She was five foot nine inches of curvy woman, one who knew what she wanted and was determined to get it.
Matt respected ambition. Strength of purpose. And iron will.
What he could have done without, besides her showing up here in that pathetic old white van, was her sass.
Jen Carson had a mouth on her that just would not quit.
To the point she was already getting under his skin.
And she had barely entered their lives.
Matt could only imagine what would transpire if Emmett got his way, and Jen was soon ensconced with him.
Matt worked to rein in his disdain. Nothing would be gained by him losing his cool. He needed to stay calm to outmaneuver this pretty little protégée.
He headed around to the passenger side of her van. “I’ll escort you to the ranch house, to meet my father.”
Long lashes fluttered briefly. “Wow, this is my lucky day.”
Matt moved the remains of a take-out lunch from Sonic, set them carefully on the floor and slid into the passenger seat. “Are you this rude to all your potential customers?”
Jen’s jaw set. “You’re not my customer.”
Nor was he ever likely to be.
Still…
He couldn’t say he minded looking at her.
Or inhaling her sweet womanly scent, a mixture of lilac, fragrant grass and summer air.
Jen discreetly tugged the hem of her dress down as she settled in the driver’s seat, cutting off his glimpse of silky thigh. “Don’t feel you have to stay with your father and me while we talk.”
Matt ignored the tightening in his torso, the one that reminded him he hadn’t had sex—or intimacy of any kind—in way too long. “Are you kidding?” he drawled, just to get her goat. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
Jen sent him another annoyed glance, then turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. Flushing, she turned it again.
Still nothing.
He couldn’t say he minded her humiliation, given the havoc she was about to wreak on his life. Trying not to think how chivalrously his father would react to this situation, Matt reached for his cell phone and punched in the number for the bunkhouse.
She tried again. The third time was the charm.
Crisis averted. For now, anyway.
Resisting the urge to say something about her vehicle, he gestured toward the wrought-iron arch at the head of the drive. “The house is at the end of that.”
Her eyes flashed as she slid him a look. “Good thing you told me,” she quipped. “I never would have found it.”
There she went with that mouth again.
Jen shifted into Drive and hit the accelerator. To Matt’s surprise, the van edged forward smoothly and almost soundlessly. It glided onto the road, and then a hundred feet later, onto the paved lane.
She was silent as she drove down the shady, tree-lined drive toward the cluster of buildings a half mile back from the road. He could see that she liked what she saw. And why not? The white limestone ranch house was stately and expensive-looking. So was the adjacent glass-walled garage, which showcased all ten of his father’s cars and trucks.
Jen’s eyes slid to the Lamborghini.
“A memento from marriage number two,” Matt said. “Dad rarely drives it anymore.”
“What does he drive?”
“These days, mostly his Lincoln Navigator or his Cadillac Escalade. But that could change.” Matt tilted his head toward the collection, not above testing her at every turn. “What’s your favorite ride?”
Jen rested her surprisingly delicate hands on the steering wheel. “Couldn’t say.”
Matt wondered how she kept her hands so soft looking, given the nature of her work. He lifted his gaze back to her face. “Noncommittal, hmm?”
“About some things.” She looked him right in the eye. “Others, not so much.”
Meaning she had already decided she didn’t like him. Fair enough, given the fact that the distrust went both ways.
He swiveled toward her on the uncomfortably worn bench seat, his knee landing just short of her thigh. For some reason he wished he had an excuse to make physical contact, see if she was actually as soft and warm and womanly as she looked. “It’s not too late to change your mind, you know. And just forget it.”
Jen scoffed and gave him a classic don’t-mess-with-me expression. “After a four-hour drive? I don’t think so, cowboy.”
Matt knew it wasn’t likely he’d change her mind. When big sums of money were involved, people tended to stick around. “All right then.” He climbed out of the passenger seat and said a silent prayer, bracing himself for the inevitable emotional disaster that lay ahead. “Let’s go. My father is waiting for you.”
Chapter Two
Jen had barely stepped through the front door of the sprawling ranch house when she was greeted by a big, handsome bear of a man. Giving Jen a hint of what Matt would act like if he were actually happy to see her, Emmett clasped her hand warmly. “Miss Carson? Emmett Briscoe! Welcome!”
Jen smiled at her host. His eyes were the same sky-blue as his son’s, his suntanned skin had a weathered appearance and his thick salt-and-pepper hair was cut short and combed neatly to one side. She was happy to note that Emmett was as welcoming in person as he had been on the phone. “Thank you.”
When he released her hand and stepped back, Jen drew a breath and tried to get her bearings. Not easy when Matt was hovering close by.
Working at ignoring him, Jen noted the interior of the ranch house was elegant, and as expensively put together as the stately abode itself.
On the left side of the foyer was a sweeping staircase, to the right, a man-size living area. Two large brown sofas and several upholstered easy chairs formed a conversation area in front of a huge white limestone hearth. The dark oak floor was scattered with beautiful Southwestern rugs. Photos of a much younger Emmett, Matt and a woman Jen guessed was Matt’s mother, graced the mantel.
Emmett walked to the bar and stepped behind it. “Please, sit down. Did you have any trouble finding the ranch?” he asked.
Matt followed with implacable calm.
Feeling anything but tranquil, Jen sank into a chair and crossed her legs at the knee. “None at all.” Deliberately, she ignored Emmett’s son, keeping her gaze on the older man’s face. “Your directions were perfect.”
As if aware that their conversation would continue to be awkward with Matt present, Emmett turned to him. “I can take it from here,” he said easily.
Matt looked from Jen to his dad and back, his glance speculative. “Actually,” he drawled politely, “if Miss Carson doesn’t mind, I’d like to stay and hear what she has to say.”
Realizing it was a test, Jen forced herself to be as gracious as the situation required. Matt wanted to pretend he was willing to give her a fair shake? Well, the least she could do was pretend to play along. “I’d be happy to speak with you both,” she agreed, dipping her head.
“Then it’s settled,” Matt said, his eyes fixed on hers in a way that made her stomach tighten.
Emmett regarded his son for a long moment, and Jen sensed a lot more would be said had there not been a lady present. Wordlessly, the older man added ice to three glasses, topped them off with sparkling water, and passed them around.
He gave Matt another long, warning look, then turned and led the way past the sweeping staircase and down a long hallway lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. “We’ll talk in the gallery,” Emmett said as they passed a beautiful outdoor courtyard, which was flanked by an ivy-covered retaining wall and the rest of the U-shaped, two-story house.
When they reached a big open room, at the rear of the home, Jen looked around in awe, trying to take it all in. There was hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of art displayed, all of it set off by perfect lighting.
Momentarily forgetting the family drama, she moved from one piece to another, studying them avidly.
To her annoyance, Matt followed close behind her, as taut and on guard as his father was relaxed.
Emmett sipped his water, watching them both. “You’ll have to forgive my son. He’s become ridiculously overprotective in his middle age.”
Matt swung back around, his irritation apparent. “Only because I’ve needed to be,” he retorted in a low voice.
Jen sucked in a breath, drawing in the sunshine-soap-and-leather scent of him.
Nerves deep inside her quivered.
Oblivious of her reaction, Emmett arched a brow in reproach. “We’ve both made mistakes when it comes to matrimony, Matt.”
Both of them?
Matt had indicated he wasn’t divorced.
And if he wasn’t divorced…what was he?
“It doesn’t mean there have to be any more,” Emmett continued sternly.
Matt pinned Jen with his gaze. “I don’t want there to be.”
Could you make it more obvious that you think I’m a threat? Jen wondered.
“Nor do I.” Emmett stared at his son over the rim of his glass. “So unless you’d like to discuss this further…”
Seeing an opening, Jen stepped between them.
“What I’d really like to discuss is the reason I’m here.” Certain she had both men’s attention, she said sincerely, “This is an amazing collection.” She walked around, inspecting the shelves holding bronze statues and figurines, as well as the paintings on the walls. She turned and smiled at Emmett. “Whoever put it together has a very good eye.”
He beamed with the enthusiasm of a true collector. “It was started by my grandfather. He was an early supporter of Remington, and countless others, and my father and I have continued the tradition.”
“Well, y’all have done a wonderful job.” Jen moved from one to another. Some of the artists were famous, others more obscure, but each work on display was beautiful, detailed and original. “These are all pieces I would have picked.”
She stopped, seeing one of her own first works, and for a second was speechless with surprise. She turned back to Emmett. “I didn’t know you had any of my sculptures.” Never mind this one.
Emmett inched closer, still sipping his water. “It’s my favorite, to date.”
Jen heard that a lot. The bronze sculpture depicted a small girl having her first horseback-riding lesson, while her doting mother stood nearby, holding the reins.
“There’s a wistful, loving quality about it,” he murmured.
Matt paused beside it, too. His guarded expression slipped just a tad.
“Did you know your subjects well?” he asked, eyeing the bronze, then her. “It seems like a very emotional piece.”
It was, but not for reasons either Briscoe would have assumed.
Wishing he hadn’t noticed that, Jen acknowledged the unexpected compliment with a nod. She was way too aware of Matt’s physical presence, and turned away. So what if he had the kind of hot, powerful body no woman could ignore? He didn’t trust her, certainly didn’t respect her. And without that… There was no way she would let him draw her in.
“I conjured this from my imagination,” she murmured in response to his question. Although she wished it had been real.
Matt studied her, as if seeing beyond what she’d said to the yearning for family she felt inside.
And maybe he did know, at least a little bit, she conceded. Emmett had said Matt’s mother had died years ago. Jen had lost hers, too.
Being orphaned was hard at any age.
But although Matt and she shared that experience, it wasn’t a bond she intended to pursue.
Emmett looked from one to the other. He, too, knew there was more going on than what Jen said, but was kind enough to move on to safer territory. “You often work from photographs, don’t you?”
Jen nodded. “Yes, I do. Particularly with commissioned works.”
These days, she stayed far away from memory lane. Focusing only on the present. Never the past, nor the future.
Inching closer, Matt said, “So you don’t need to see a subject in person to be able to do justice to his or her likeness.”
She acknowledged that fact with another brief nod. Why not just show me the door now, Matt? “Although it helps to at least hear about the personality of the person I’m depicting.”
“Well,” Emmett boomed, “no problem there.”
No, indeed. His personality was very distinct, his ego strong.
“Dad,” Matt interjected, clearly still worried his father was going to be taken advantage of, “are you sure you want to do this?”
“I have to, son.” His voice was suddenly hoarse and unsteady. “Whether you understand or not.” Emmett cleared his throat and turned to Jen, all business once more. “So…here’s the deal. I want ten bronzes to start. All commemorating my life. And I’ll pay you triple your normal rate—on the condition you set up shop here, start right away and do only my work, under my supervision, until we’re done.”
* * *
“YOU DON’T HAVE TO GIVE my father an answer by evening’s end,” Matt told Jen after Emmett had gone off to tend to other business. “Dad won’t make the same offer to another artist.”
She stared at him. “Are you sure about that?” she asked.
He let out a measured breath. The truth was, he couldn’t figure out what his father was thinking, never mind why he was doing the things he was right now. One minute he’d be ebullient—full of dreams that had to be fulfilled right away. The next, he’d disappear, sometimes for a few hours, other times, a few days.
When Emmett did return, he usually seemed fatigued. Pale and almost shaky.
If Matt didn’t know better, he’d think his dad was binge drinking. But that didn’t make sense. The man could hold his liquor. He just didn’t choose to drink very often.
Instead, Emmett handled stress by spending. Land, works of art, cattle—it didn’t seem to matter what he bought as long as he enjoyed the wealth he had and purchased something.
The big question was what was causing his dad’s anxiety lately. As much as Matt had nosed around, he still couldn’t figure it out. All he knew for certain was the beautiful thirty-year-old woman in front of him was involved. And given Emmett’s history of chasing younger, completely inappropriate women, that couldn’t be good.
“Earth to Matt. Earth to Matt…”
“I’m still here.”
Jen quirked a brow. “Really? You seemed a million miles away.”
Glad he had been tapped to give her a tour of the property while she made up her mind, he shook off his unease and escorted her through the formal dining room.
He paused near the magnificently carved wooden table, which routinely sat thirty guests, determined to find out as much as he could about the beautiful sculptor. Like it or not, that meant spending time with her. “You’ve probably noticed my dad is a strong-willed guy, with a very healthy ego.”
A hint of cynicism lit Jen’s eyes as she paused by the chair where Emmett generally presided. “Seems to run in the family.”
Trying not to think about how alluring she was, or what reaction the two of them might have had to each other if they weren’t on opposing sides, Matt added, “Dad wants what he wants when he wants it.”
Brushing past him, Jen glided along the length of the table, her hips swaying seductively beneath her sundress. She tossed him a look. “Seems the same could be said of you,” she noted drily.
Matt braced his hands on the ornate scrolling across the top of a mahogany chair, trying not to be fascinated by her. “I know enough to realize when I need to slow down. And reevaluate.” Like right now.
Jen eyed the huge crystal chandelier, then stiffened her spine and compressed her lips. “Your father doesn’t seem likely to do either at the moment.”
Something in the speculative way she was studying him, prompted Matt to be com
pletely forthright, too. “Probably not,” he said, with as much indifference as he could muster. “Which is why you need to think long and hard about just what it is Dad is asking you to do.”
Jen slanted him a pitying look and folded her arms again, which plumped up her breasts. “What is it about Emmett’s offer that you think I can’t handle?”
Lazily, he appraised her pretty dress and sandals. Everything about her was feminine and enticing, from her dainty feet and stunning legs to her slender waist and round, perfect breasts. Nothing about her said ranch-ready. “I think the better question is what part of living out in the wilds of rural Texas could you handle?” he drawled.
She scowled. “Hey. Just because I grew up in the city—”
“And live in Austin now, where the population is a million plus.”
Appearing irritated, she shrugged. “So?”
“Laramie County is thirty-five square miles with one small town and wide-open spaces—”
“Spaces,” Jen interrupted, “peppered with ranches and horses and cattle, and even, from what I saw on my way over here, the occasional donkeys, sheep and alpacas.”
No doubt this area of West Texas had its share of rugged individualists, Matt acknowledged silently. And like it or not, her work as a sculptress put her in that category, too.
The problem, he thought, as he let his gaze roam her once again, was that Jen was incredibly feminine and unconsciously sexy in a way that drove men wild. Every glance, every movement of her hands, every touch of her fingers, was innately artistic, unbearably gentle and sensual.
Matt had noticed this on sight. And that was something they couldn’t have. Not when it made him continually wonder how that overt sensuality would manifest in lovemaking.
Oblivious to the direction of his thoughts, she argued, “Being out here in the Texas countryside is going to help, not hurt, my art.”
He would concede to that. “Even so…the ranch can be a lonely place.” Which made it all too easy to establish intimacy with someone.
His observation earned him nothing but a smile. “Lucky for me, I work best when I’m not interrupted. Although all the bronzes will have to be finished back in Austin, where the foundry and my studio are located.”
The Texas Rancher's Vow: The Texas Rancher's VowFound: One Baby Page 2
