The Boss, the Bride & the Baby

Chapter Two

Jason had barely returned to the Leaning R and gone though a couple of cupboards when his office called with a list of several critical issues he needed to handle. He dealt with each one, which took no less than an hour.

When a pause sounded on the line, he realized that the last crisis had been averted—for the time being, anyway—so he adjusted the cell phone pressed against his ear, sat back in his desk chair and blew out a sigh. This was why he needed extra help on the ranch. He couldn’t run a company and get the place ready to sell, even if he could get his siblings to agree. Not by himself.

“By the way, Mr. Rayburn,” Marianne, his executive assistant, said, “we received a billing from a company called DII, which stands for Discreet International Investigations. They’re charging over three thousand dollars in services, plus fifteen hundred in expenses.”

Jason stiffened. “What in the hell was that for?”

“From what I understand, it’s a private investigation firm that did some research for your father in Mexico about four months ago. Braden had them send the bill to the office and told me that it was a legitimate expense.”

“Who gave Braden the right to authorize a payment like that?” And even more importantly, why had his father hired a PI? Did that have anything to do with his reason for being in Mexico when he died?

“I’m not sure, sir. That’s why I didn’t want to forward it to the accounting department without running it by you first.”

“Thanks, Marianne. Put a hold on it for now. I need to check into this.” After the line disconnected, Jason called his brother’s cell phone. The unusual ringtone indicated Braden was still in Mexico, but he didn’t answer.

For the next couple of hours, Jason continued to sort through cupboards while stopping every so often to try his brother’s number with no success. By the time a car drove up and parked near the front of the house, he was madder than hell and ready to fight at the drop of a hat.

Funny how just being in this house had him lapsing into the Western vernacular. He’d be saying “Howdy” and “y’all” if he didn’t get back to the city soon. He glanced out the window, only to spot an attractive redhead climbing from a white Honda Civic.

Juliana.

His frustration dissipated as he left his work in the kitchen, as well as the mess he’d strewn about the living room, and met her on the front porch.

An attitude change wasn’t so difficult once he saw her face-to-face, though. How did a woman become prettier in a matter of hours?

She’d shed her apron, for one thing. And she looked a lot less frazzled, for another. Maybe that’s because he was seeing her in the light of day instead of the diner.

The afternoon sun glistened off the gold strands in her copper-colored hair, which hung loose about her shoulders. Her eyes, a caramel shade of brown, glimmered under a fringe of long, dark lashes. She still bore a light scatter of freckles across a turned-up nose. But in a most attractive way that made a man want to memorize each one.

She wore a cream-colored gauzy top, and while it wasn’t the least bit formfitting, he found it sexy in a feminine way.

Rounding off her ensemble was a pair of shorts and sandals that revealed neatly manicured toenails.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his gaze traveling up—taking in her pretty face, then tempted to travel back down again.

Damn, get a grip. He was glad to have her here. He needed the help. But he didn’t need her to realize that she’d also brought in a ray of sunlight to what had started out as a dreary day.

“Here,” he said, “let me take your bag.”

“It’s not heavy.”

“Maybe not, but for some reason, I’ve been doing quite a bit of reminiscing these past few days. I think it’s a side effect of being here at the ranch. And I can’t help but hear Granny’s voice urging me to remember my manners.”

“Then by all means,” she said, handing over her suitcase while hanging on to her purse and a small canvas tote bag. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”

His movements stalled for a moment, long enough for Granny’s voice to hover in his memory. You’re a good boy. You know right from wrong, Jay-Ray. Don’t disappoint me like your daddy did.

But he shook it off as quickly as it came. He’d done his best to make both his great-grandmother and his father proud. Trouble was, he wasn’t so sure he’d pleased either one.

He led Juliana through the living room, winding through the mess he’d made, and into the hall. He’d thought about giving her one of several guest rooms, but decided upon Granny’s bedroom, which was bigger and had a private bathroom.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable in here.” He placed her suitcase on the lavender floral quilt that draped the queen-size bed.

“Thank you. This will be fine.” She set her purse and the tote alongside her bag. Then she glanced around the room, which he hadn’t entered in years—until he’d come in last night to change the sheets, dust and air things out.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t come into Granny’s room before then. Too many memories, he supposed. Even the furnishings, the white eyelet curtains, the embroidered throw pillows, still held a whiff of Granny’s powdery lavender scent. It was enough to draw a boy farther inside—and to make a man withdraw.

Juliana walked toward the south wall, which displayed a gold-framed portrait of Granny that appeared to be fairly recent. She’d only been gone for three years, and it couldn’t have been painted too long before that.

“That’s a perfect likeness,” Juliana said. “She looks just as I remember her—the eyes, the nose, the smile.”

Jason followed her, taking note of the expression that had been caught on canvas and thinking the same thing. “It’s like looking at a photograph, yet it’s softer. And almost real.”

“Did she have it commissioned?”

“I assume she did. I don’t remember seeing it before last night.” But then again, he hadn’t been home for any notable visit in years.

“The artist is quite talented.” Juliana stepped closer and read the signature in the corner. “I used to work in a gallery, but I’ve never heard of Camilla Cruz. I don’t believe she’s local.”

That was odd. Then where had Granny met her? Jason supposed it didn’t matter, so he shrugged it off. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you unpack and freshen up. Afterward, you can meet me in the den—I’ve set up a temporary home office in there. It’s two doors down on the left. As soon as you’re settled, we can go over your job assignment.”

“Sounds great. I won’t be long.”

* * *

True to her word, Juliana only took a few minutes to put away the clothing and toiletries she’d brought with her. Then she met Jason in the oak-paneled room with a bay window that provided a view of the front yard and the big red barn.

He had an all-in-one laser printer, fax and scanner that took up a table near a built-in bookshelf on the far wall, as well as a laptop computer that sat next to an old-style PC with a big, bulky monitor that had been outdated years ago.

“I see you brought your own office setup.”

He glanced up from his work and smiled. “I tried to talk Granny into updating her computer system a couple of years ago, but she refused. My dad bought it for her about fifteen years ago and installed it. She’d gotten so used to that dinosaur that she couldn’t see parting with it. But I need something a lot more high-tech for what I do.”

She nodded then moved into the den. “So where would you like me to start?”

He glanced at the laptop screen and clicked the mouse, just as the printer roared to life. “I created a spreadsheet to inventory the items inside the house. If you make a note of them on paper first, we can input the data into the computer afterward. Some of the items are antiques, so we may need to research their value.”

“What about the sentimental value?”

He looked at her as if she’d uttered words in a foreign language. “Carly mentioned that. I suppose some people are more prone to form emotional attachments to things like furniture, but I don’t. And I doubt my brother does, either.”

“You’re wrong.” She bit her lip, wishing she could take it back. She hadn’t meant to be so judgmental, even if she had wanted to defend Braden. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I don’t think you know your brother very well.”

Again he paused for a beat. “You’re right about that—Braden and I haven’t been close. And if you grew up here in Brighton Valley and heard the local gossip, then you probably know why.”

Not for a fact, but she was aware of the rumors. And Braden had said enough to allow her to come to a few conclusions of her own. Their father, Charles Rayburn, had been married to Jason’s mother when he’d had an affair with Braden’s mom, during which Braden had been conceived. Jason’s mom had sued for divorce, but for some reason, Charles had never married Braden’s mother.

“Your family connection may not be one of your own choosing,” she said, “but you’re brothers just the same. I’d think that would account for something, especially after having that relationship for more than twenty-five years.”

“Believe it or not,” Jason said, “I’d like things to be different between us.”

“Have you told Braden that?”

“If we could find time to spend an hour or two together, I probably would.” He got up from his seat, crossed the den, pulled the empty spreadsheet from the printer and handed it to her. “This is pretty self-explanatory.”

Okay, so he was done discussing his feelings about his brother. That was fine. It wasn’t any of her business anyway. So she scanned the document and nodded. “When do you want me to get started on this?”

“Now, I suppose.”

“Do you plan to break for dinner?”

He glanced at the clock on the desk. “I guess we’ll have to. Sometimes I forget the time and work until my stomach growls, but that’s not fair to you.”

“Would you like me to cook something?” she asked.

“That wasn’t part of the deal, but sure. If you don’t mind. You may have to hunt and peck to find something decent to fix, though. I have some lunch meat and sandwich fixings, but I haven’t done any real grocery shopping.”

“I’ll see what I can come up with.”

“We can trade off kitchen duties,” he added. “But on my nights, we’ll probably call out for pizza. I’m not much of a cook.”

“That sounds fair to me.” She tossed him a smile, then headed for the kitchen.

Before she stepped foot into the hall, he stopped her. “I have a question for you.”

She turned and waited in the doorway.

“How do you know Braden so well?”

“We were neighbors before my grandma’s ranch went into foreclosure. He and I used to be riding buddies back then. I guess you could say we were friends and confidants.”

He merely studied her for a moment, as though he found that difficult to believe. Or maybe as if he might be a bit envious.

But of whom? Her or Braden?

From the way those meadow-green eyes were boring into her, she couldn’t be sure.

* * *

Juliana set out a delicious, mouthwatering spread of tuna rice casserole, sliced tomatoes, homemade biscuits and Granny’s canned peaches. Jason sat in awe at her domestic capabilities, especially when she didn’t look the least bit like a homebody.

She’d probably meant to keep her long, wavy red hair out of the way while she’d cooked, because now she wore it in a sexy topknot, with wisps of escaped curls dangling along her neck and cheeks. He would have guessed that she might have done it on purpose to tempt him—if she’d also changed out of that attractive gauzy blouse and put on a slinky tank top instead.

But she hadn’t. She’d also kept on that pair of knee-length shorts that revealed shapely calves. While they were modest and a far cry from a revealing pair of Daisy Dukes, there’s no way he’d ever call her Bird Legs again.

Now they stood at the sink, washing the last of the dishes, a chore he’d always done while staying on the Leaning R and seemed especially fitting this evening.

“Did I tell you how much I enjoyed dinner?” he asked.

“Yes, several times. And you’re welcome—again.” She tossed him a dazzling smile. “But I’m going to have to go shopping tomorrow to pick up something from the meat market. There wasn’t much to choose from, other than the sandwich fixings you had in the crisper, tuna, biscuit mix and your great-grandmother’s canned goods.”

“Those peaches were a real treat. And I can’t remember the last time I had tuna. To be completely honest, I might have passed if it was offered on a menu. But it was actually really good. Where did you learn to cook like that?”

“My mom taught me. She’s a whiz at making a meal out of whatever she can find in the pantry.”

Jason rarely talked about his past, but for some crazy reason, he found himself saying, “You’re lucky. I lost my mom when I was just a kid.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

“I’m sorry. At least you were old enough to have some memories of her.”

Not too many good ones. The years he’d spent living only with his mom hadn’t been all that happy. She’d been emotionally broken and damaged by his father’s cheating.

When he’d eventually gotten a stepmom and was able to move in with her and his dad, Carly’s mother had been too busy with her singing career to stay home with her own baby, let alone with a boy who wasn’t hers. So Jason had been sent off to an elite boarding school.

But that was okay. It had been good for him. Everyone had said so. Everyone except Granny, anyway. He’d once overheard her tell his father what a mistake he was making. But when that summer was over, he was sent right back to Thorndike Prep as always.

Still, he did have those vacations...

Thankfully, Juliana didn’t ask a lot of questions, and Jason was glad. He’d never been comfortable with anyone expressing their touchy-feely emotions or expecting him to talk about his own, especially when it came to his mother.

Granny had tried to step in and take on a maternal role, but it wasn’t the same. Hell, his mother hadn’t even been a real mom. He supposed he was one of those kids who’d pretty much grown up on his own in a lot of ways. He just hadn’t been without any of the essentials or all the shiny extras—houses all over the place, private school, fancy cars...

But he didn’t want to think about any of those lonely days and crappy memories, not when he had a beautiful woman at his side. So he said, “I have a bottle of merlot in the pantry. How about a glass of wine?”

“I’d rather have a glass of juice, if you don’t mind. And under the circumstances, let’s call it a debriefing. We can also create a game plan for tomorrow—or set up a calendar for trading off meal duties. But to tell you the truth, I don’t mind cooking. I’m not fond of cleaning up, though.”

If he was being honest with himself, as well as with her, he’d rather create a game plan for tonight, complete with romantic music, maybe a slow dance under the stars. But Juliana had put a stop to that by setting them both back on track. And he ought to thank his lucky stars that she had. Sexual harassment training was a priority for everyone in upper management at Rayburn Energy, and he’d best keep that in mind.

He offered her a platonic smile—his best attempt at one, anyway. “You’re right. That’s what I meant. Grab two goblets, then make yourself comfortable on one of those chairs on the porch. I’ll get the wine and juice.”

Moments later, he took the uncorked bottle of wine and a quart of orange juice outside. After filling their glasses, he took a seat, joining her under the soft yellow glow of the porch light.

He took a sip of his merlot and glanced at the barn door with the chipped paint and broken hinge that dusk couldn’t hide. He’d have to ask Ian McAllister, the foreman, to fix that next. Then they’d have to paint it, along with the corral nearest the house.

Juliana glanced out onto the ranch, which still needed so much work to be the kind of place Granny had called home, a ranch she’d be proud of if she were still alive.

He tried to look at the family homestead through Juliana’s eyes. He was going to have to hire more hands than Ian to help out around here. It was going to take an army to get it back into shape, even though they had only a handful of cattle left in the south forty.

So why hadn’t he recruited those extra men yet? Why was he dragging his feet?

“What are you going to do with the Leaning R?” Juliana asked.

“Granny wanted me, Braden and Carly to run it as three equal partners, but I can’t see how we can do that.” Jason reached for the bottle of juice and replenished her glass. “Unlike most siblings, Braden, Carly and I never agree on anything—the food we eat, the clothes we wear, the books we read.”

Even their memories of childhood and Daddy Dearest were as different as the three women who’d given birth to them.

Since Jason was the only one who didn’t have a mother, he’d been closer to their father. Not that he and his dad had done any of the usual father-son activities, like playing catch or going camping. His father had been way too busy with his corporate obligations.