- -
- 100%
- +
“Never a client.”
“Well, you’re a better person than most.”
Or maybe she’d just learned to keep her emotions out of her business. And she considered it a shame that someone with Brandon’s impressive people skills would be stuck in a career as a ranch hand. He could do so much more with his life if only he were properly motivated. Now that his reading skills had improved, he could get his GED and go to college.
Not that it was any of her business what he did with his life, she reminded herself. As an image consultant, helping people make serious life changes was a part of her business, and she loved what she did. But as Brandon had clearly stated earlier, he was happy just the way he was. And technically, he wasn’t even her client. He only needed the skills to hold his own at the gala. Beyond that, she had no right sticking her nose into his life. It was just a shame to see all that potential go to waste.
She noticed that Brandon missed the turn back to her office.
“You should have turned there,” she told him, gesturing in the direction of the street they’d just passed. Maybe, being unfamiliar with the area, he’d forgotten which route to take.
“I know where I’m going,” he said.
“But that’s the way back to my office. This route will take you several miles out of your way.” And into one of the slightly less reputable parts of town. And she was on a tight schedule. It was already well after four, but she could probably sneak in a phone call or two before business hours were officially over, then do some internet research on a 60th anniversary party she was planning.
“Maybe I’m not taking you back to your office.”
Her heart gave a sudden start. What was that supposed to mean?
What if getting in the truck with him hadn’t been such a hot idea after all? What did she really know about him? He was attractive and charming, but so was Ted Bundy.
She glanced over at him. He leaned back casually, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other propped in the open window. Not at all like he was about to pounce or pull a gun on her.
Just in case, she slid a little closer to the door, ready to shove it open the second the truck came to a stop if necessary. “Where are you taking me?”
He glanced over at her and grinned. “Relax. I’m not kidnapping you. I just thought I would take you out for a drink. Consider it my way of showing you my appreciation.”
She let out a relieved breath and relaxed back in her seat. “That’s really not necessary. Hannah’s Hope will compensate me for my time.”
“Well, I’d like to do it, anyway.”
“I really need to get back to work.”
“It’s almost five on a Friday.”
Four twenty-seven to be precise. And the longer they drove in the wrong direction, the later she would be getting back. “I planned to work late.”
They stopped for a red light and he turned to her, looking puzzled. “Why?”
Because I have no life, was the first answer that popped into her head. Sad as that was. But that was not the reason. “I have obligations.”
“Which I’m sure can wait until tomorrow.” The light turned green and he accelerated. “Am I right?”
“Technically, yes, but—”
“So, wouldn’t you rather be doing something fun?”
“Work is fun.”
He raised a brow at her.
“You don’t enjoy work?” she asked.
“Not on a Friday night,” he said, giving her a sideways glance. “You look like a woman who knows how to navigate a dance floor.”
Actually, she was a terrible dancer. She was so uncoordinated, she couldn’t even manage simple aerobics. She was always two steps behind the rest of the group. “Well, I’m not. And I really need to get back to the office.”
“No, you don’t,” he said. Just like that. As if she had no say in the matter.
He pulled into the lot of Billie’s, a small, shabby-looking, country-and-western bar that she never would have ventured into on her own. Too many disturbing memories of pulling her mom, who was usually too intoxicated to walk unaided, out of a place just like it in the small Nevada town where she grew up.
And before she could insist that he turn the truck around and take her back to her office immediately, he was out the door and walking around to her side.
He pulled it open and held out a hand to help her down.
“I can’t do this,” she said.
“It’s just one small step down to the ground,” he said with a dimpled grin. “I promise I’ll catch you if you fall.”
The mischief in his eyes said he knew that wasn’t what she meant, and his teasing grin warmed her from the inside out. Did the man have to be so adorable?
“I have a strict policy of not socializing with clients.”
“That’s a good policy. But I’m not one of your clients.”
Damn it, he had her there. “But Hannah’s Hope is my client, and by extension, so are you.”
It was a flimsy excuse at best, and she could see that he wasn’t buying it. She expected some snappy comeback, but instead he sobered, his eyes earnest.
“The thing is, I don’t know a lot of people in town and it can get lonely sometimes.”
Wow. She hadn’t been expecting that. That kind of brutal honesty. He was making it really hard to tell him no.
“I’m sure there are any number of women in there who would be happy to have a drink with you.” Among other things.
“But I want to have a drink with you.”
She couldn’t deny hearing those words, seeing the earnestness in his eyes, was just a little thrilling. And strangely enough, she wanted to get to know him better. There was something about Brandon that fascinated her. And not just his good looks, although she couldn’t deny she was attracted to him.
How sad was the state of her personal life when a gorgeous, sexy man asked her out for a drink and she wanted to work instead? When had she become so obsessed with success that she couldn’t take a few hours off to have a little fun?
Or, she could look at it from a profession angle. Brandon had so much potential. Maybe if they got to know one another, she could encourage him to do something more with his life.
It was only a drink, right?
“One drink,” she said. “Then you’ll take me right back to the office.”
“I promise.” Wearing a grin that said he’d known all along he would get his way, he held out a hand to help her down. His hand was big, and a little work-roughened. A sturdy, capable hand. And as it closed around her own, she had the strangest feeling of … security. As if she instinctively knew that, while she was with Brandon, he would never let anything hurt her.
How ridiculous was that? She barely knew the man. Besides, she was more than capable of taking care of herself.
As soon as she was on stable ground she let go. But as she picked her way across the gravel lot in her three-inch heels, it occurred to her how inappropriately she was dressed. The older-model cars in the lot said this wasn’t the sort of establishment where business types hung out. In her suit, she was going to stick out like a sore thumb.
“You look nervous,” he said as they approached the door.
“I think I’m overdressed.”
“Trust me, no one will care.”
He reached for the door handle and a rush of memories washed over her. A hazy, smoke-filled room teeming with the sour stench of stale liquor and hopelessness. Country-and-western music blaring at a decibel so loud one could barely think, much less hold a conversation—not that anyone went there to talk. She imagined couples grinding against each other on the dance floor and embracing in dark corners, doing God only knows what.
As Brandon pulled open the door she actually cringed, half expecting to see her mother there, slumped at the end of the bar, hands around a tumbler of cheap whiskey. But what she saw inside wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Despite it’s rundown exterior, it was clean and well-kept. The music was at a respectable level, and the air smelled not of smoke and liquor but smoked meat and spicy barbecue sauce.
Several men sat at the bar watching some sporting event on an enormous flat-screen television, but most of the booths were empty.
“Over there,” he said, gesturing to the area beside the deserted dance floor. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he put a hand on the small of her back to lead her. Did he have to be so touchy-feely? It wasn’t professional.
And having a drink with him was?
She didn’t want to give him the wrong impression, lead him to believe she was interested in anything but a professional relationship. She was sure she’d made that clear.
She slid into the seat of the booth he chose and he sat across from her. A waitress appeared to take their orders. She was an older woman with a pleasant face, wearing an apron that boasted Billie’s ribs were the best in the west.
“Hey, Brandon,” she said with a flirtatious smile. “You want the usual?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
She turned to Paige, giving her a quick once-over. The business suit clearly puzzled her. “And for your lady friend?”
Paige felt compelled to explain that she wasn’t a “lady friend,” just a business associate, although for the life of her she didn’t know why it mattered what a virtual stranger thought. “A glass of Chardonnay, please.”
“House okay?”
“Fine.”
“Comin’ right up,” she said.
When she was gone, Paige said, “If she knows your usual, I guess you spend a lot of time here.”
Brandon shrugged. “I’m in every couple of days. Like I said, it gets lonely.”
“Where is it that you work, exactly?”
“Copper Run Ranch just outside of Wild Ridge.”
“I’ve never heard of Wild Ridge.”
“It’s about two hours northeast of here, in the San Bernardino mountains. It used to be a mining town. Pretty as a picture.”
“So you commute four hours every time you have a meeting with your mentor?”
“We meet twice a week, Thursdays and Sundays at the library. I drive in Thursday afternoon and stay in a hotel, then drive back to the ranch after my lesson on Sunday morning.”
“And your boss is okay with you taking all those days off?”
“He’s a generous man.”
More generous than most. “How long have you worked for him?”
“Eight years.”
“Have you ever thought of doing anything … different?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Going back to school, maybe.”
“What for? I like what I do.”
But didn’t he want to better himself? He was obviously an intelligent man. He could be so much more than just a ranch hand.
The waitress returned with Paige’s wine and a beer for Brandon. “Do you need menus?” she asked.
“No, thank you,” Paige said.
“Are you sure?” Brandon asked. “Dinner is on me.”
This was supposed to be one drink. Not a meal. “I really can’t.”
“Holler if you change your mind,” the waitress said.
“Thanks, Billie,” Brandon said as she walked away.
“Billie?” Paige asked. “As in the Billie on the sign outside?”
“That’s right. She opened this place with her husband thirty years ago. They have two sons and three daughters. Their oldest son, Dave, is the cook and their youngest daughter, Christine, tends bar. Earl, her husband, passed away two years ago from a massive heart attack.”
“How do you know all that?”
“I talk to her.” He took a swallow of his beer and asked, “So, where are you from?”
“I grew up in Shoehill, Nevada.” She sipped her wine, surprised to find that it was quite good. Usually “house wine” meant inferior.
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s a tiny, hole-in-the-wall town on the Arizona border. The kind of place where everyone has their nose in everyone else’s business.” And everyone knew her mother, the town lush.
“You still have family there?” Brandon asked.
“Distant relatives, but I haven’t seen them in years. I’m an only child and my parents are both dead.”
“I’m real sorry to hear that. Was it recent?”
“My dad died when I was seven, my mom when I was in college.”
“How did they die?”
He sure did ask a lot of questions, and she wasn’t used to revealing so much of her personal life to clients. Usually they were the ones doing all the revealing. But she didn’t want to be rude. “My dad was in an accident. He was a trucker. He fell asleep behind the wheel and ran his truck off the road into an overpass. They said he survived the crash, but he was knocked out by the impact. He was hauling a tank of combustible liquid and it ignited.”
“Jesus,” Brandon muttered, shaking his head.
“My mom took it pretty hard.” Her entire world had revolved around Paige’s father. And instead of accepting his death and moving on, she’d crawled into a bottle instead.
“What did she do for a living?” he asked.
“Whatever paid the bills.” Although thanks to her drinking, she never held a job for very long. They spent a lot of time on welfare.
“How did she die?”
“Liver cancer.” Exacerbated by years of binge drinking. Not even a cancer diagnosis had been enough to sober her up. She’d given up without even trying to fight. In fact, Paige suspected that it had been a relief. That her mother had slowly been killing herself. That she would have ended it sooner if only she’d had the courage. And in a way, Paige wished she would have. She couldn’t imagine ever being so weak that the loss of the man she loved could make her give up on life, and the welfare of her child.
She loved her mother, but Fiona Adams had been weak and fragile. All the things Paige swore she would never be.
“That must have been tough,” Brandon said.
“I hadn’t seen her in quite some time, and I was so busy with school I didn’t really have time to be upset. I was a junior at UCLA and working to maintain a 4.0 GPA.”
“Lofty goal.”
“I had to keep my GPA up to keep my scholarship.”
“Full ride?” he asked.
“Four years.”
He sipped his beer. “You must be pretty smart.”
He sounded impressed, like maybe he didn’t meet a lot of smart people. “The hard work paid off. I graduated with honors and landed a job with one of the most prestigious event planning firms in San Diego.”
“So how did you end up in Vista del Mar?”
“San Diego was pretty expensive for someone just starting out and my boss happened to own a rental place here. I liked the area so much that when I branched out on my own, I decided to base my business here, too.”
“What made you decide to start your own business?”
She sipped her wine and said, “You ask a lot of questions.”
He fished a nut from the bowl on the table and popped it in his mouth. “I’m curious by nature.”
He was adorable enough to get away with it, and he listened with the kind of earnest, rapt attention that said he really cared. He seemed genuinely interested in knowing more about her.
“I was responsible for bringing in some of the firm’s highest billing clients,” she said. “Yet I was only seeing a fraction of the profit.”
“So it was about money.”
“Partially. I also wanted to branch out into image consulting, as well. And the truth is, I prefer to be in control.” And it sure hadn’t been easy. The high-end clients she was landing in her old job preferred the prestige and reputation of a larger firm. In the two years since she’d started Premier Image and Planning, Hannah’s Hope was by far her largest, most prestigious account to date. The gala would draw in the organization’s wealthiest contributors, including politicians and Hollywood celebrities. If she pulled it off without a hitch, and word got around, it could be the big break she’d been hoping for. So in essence, this single event could shape the entire future of her company.
“Sounds like you’ve done well for yourself,” Brandon said.
“I’ve worked hard.”
“How long have you worked with Hannah’s Hope?”
“Since February.”
“You’re friends with Ana Rodriguez and Emma Worth?”
“No, I met Ana through a business contact. I coordinated a wedding for a friend of hers. She was impressed, and when she was looking for someone to plan the gala she remembered me. Emma I don’t know well at all.”
“How much do you know about Hannah’s Hope?”
“Other than what they do for the community, and the information I need for the gala, not much. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” he said, and gestured to Billie, who was taking an order a few booths down. Several more booths and tables had filled with customers since they sat down. “So, what do you do for fun?”
Hadn’t they already covered this? “I don’t really have time for fun.”
“What do you do on your days off?”
“I don’t take days off.”
His brow rose. “Are you telling me you work seven days a week?”
“Typically, yes.” She lifted her glass and realized she’d already sipped her way to the bottom. She hadn’t meant to drink it so fast.
“Everyone needs a day off now and then,” he said.
“It’s not as if I don’t ever take a day off. It’s just that my business is at a crucial stage right now. The Hannah’s Hope gala could make or break my career.”
That seemed to surprise him. “It’s that important?”
“Absolutely. With Ana’s fiancé, Ward Miller, involved, and his name behind the organization, there will be music executives and Hollywood people attending. That’s exactly the clientele I need to target in order to expand my company.”
“I didn’t realize it would be that big of a deal,” he said, looking like the idea made him a little nervous.
“Don’t worry. You’ll do fine. I’ll have you so well prepared, no one will ever guess you’ve never been in the public eye.”
Billie appeared and set two more drinks in front of them.
“Thanks, Billie,” Brandon said.
When had he ordered these? “You said one drink,” she reminded him, glancing at the time on her phone. She’d already been away from the office longer than she should have.
“You’re not enjoying my company?” he asked.
No, she was definitely enjoying it. For some reason, she felt comfortable talking to Brandon. Maybe because he really listened. She even liked the nervous, fidgety feeling she got when he studied her with those ocean-blue eyes. Even though it was wrong in more ways than she cared to consider. But a girl could fantasize, couldn’t she? She could imagine how it would feel to be close to him. Even if it could never happen.
She had a plan. Her life was mapped out and there just wasn’t a place for a man like Brandon. Although it sure would be fun to squeeze him in for a night or two. But everything inside of her was saying that would be a bad idea.
“I didn’t say that,” she said. “I just have a lot of work to do.”
“What would happen if you didn’t work tonight?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Would your business crumble? Would the world come to an end?”
Now he was being ridiculous. “Of course not.”
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his much larger one, fixing his gaze on her.
Oh, boy.
The look in his eyes, the warmth of his rough palm was doing funny things to her insides. To her head. How long had it been since a man’s touch made her feel this way?
Way too long.
“Don’t go back to work,” he said, his eyes so warm and earnest she melted on the spot. “Spend the rest of the evening with me.”
Three
Brandon knew he had her.
When he touched Paige’s hand he could see her resolve draining away. Although he wasn’t sure why he was so intent on getting her to hang around when it was clear that he wasn’t going to get any information out of her in regard to the inner workings of Hannah’s Hope. So why not cut her loose right now?
Because maybe what he’d told her about being lonely wasn’t an exaggeration. He hadn’t had a whole lot of female companionship lately. Hell, he hadn’t so much as looked at a woman since he caught Ashleigh with his now ex-foreman going at it in the stable two days before their wedding last winter.
But he liked Paige. She wasn’t what he’d expected when he first saw her, prim and proper behind her desk in her designer clothes. She was no trust-fund girl. It sounded as if she worked damned hard to be successful. And the fact that she would agree to go out for a drink with a man who was, as far as she knew, poor and uneducated, said a lot about her character. The fancy labels were for her clients, to give the appearance of professionalism, not because she was a snob. And he couldn’t deny that was a refreshing change from women like his ex who spent thousands on their wardrobe for no other reason than to impress their friends. Or simply because they had money to burn. In his fiancée’s case, his money.
Paige even reminded him of himself in a way. Isolated and obsessed with work. After the breakup he’d spent the majority of his time holed up at the ranch, seeing to the day-to-day operations. It was a rare occasion that he made it into town for any reason. Even a beer at the local brewery on a Friday night. He’d shut himself off from the world. And lately he’d been so obsessed with discrediting Rafe Cameron, he hadn’t thought of much else. Only now, after meeting Paige, did he feel the desire for companionship.
But he had to be very careful where and with whom he let himself be seen. He couldn’t risk being recognized and blowing his cover, not when he’d already invested more than four months in his plan. Especially if he planned to blow everything wide open at the gala—although at this point, there was nothing to blow open.
It seemed as if Paige was far enough removed from the people at Hannah’s Hope, and from the rest of the world in general, that there was no threat of exposure when he was with her. And no one was bound to recognize him in this bar. No one he knew as Brandon Worth would be caught dead in a place like this. Personally, he preferred it over the Vista del Mar Beach and Tennis Club where his father and men like him drank eighty-year-old scotch and compared portfolios. Although after fifteen years he doubted anyone would recognize him. Just like he preferred being at the ranch, in the mountains, instead of cooped up in an office. He hadn’t been built for the rat race. A trait he could only assume he’d inherited from his mother.
Paige sat across from him, gnawing the gloss from her full bottom lip, but she didn’t move her hand. Maybe she liked the way it felt wrapped in his. He did. In fact, if he had his way, they would be doing a lot more than just holding hands. Maybe it was finally time to end his self-imposed celibacy.
“I guess it wouldn’t kill me to take one night off,” she finally said. “But I do have to work in the morning so I can’t be out too late.”
“I’ll have you home before my truck turns into a pumpkin, I promise.”
“And just so we’re clear,” she said, easing her hand out from under his, “this is not a date. We can be friends, but nothing more.”
“Friends it is,” he said. The kind with benefits, maybe.
She relaxed back in her seat and took another sip of her wine. The bar was filling up. Soon people would be out on the dance floor, and at seven the band would start playing. And date or not, he had every intention of asking Paige to dance. A few more drinks and he was pretty sure he could persuade her into it. He could tell by her body language that the wine was already relaxing her.
She gazed up at him through the fringe of her lashes. Her eyes were quite extraordinary. Back in her office he could have sworn they were blue, but in this light they looked almost purple.
“You’re staring at me,” Paige said.
He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “I’m trying to figure out what color your eyes are.”
“It depends on my mood. Sometimes they’re blue, sometimes they’re violet.”
“What mood are you in when they’re violet?”
“Happy. Relaxed.”