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A minute later Candy came back over.
“What did he say?” Taylor demanded.
Candy shrugged. “Nothing much. I told him you were a great girl and he’d been a fool to leave you. He told me, very politely, that it was none of my business.” She popped her gum. “Not exactly the type to unburden his soul to a total stranger, is he?”
“No.” That was an understatement. Jake was a typical cowboy—stoic and silent when it came to matters of the heart. Even when that matter of the heart was a marriage gone bad.
“He wants to talk with you.”
“I know.”
“He wouldn’t tell me what it was about, but it sounds important.”
“I’m sure it is, but I’m not interested.”
Candy chewed her gum. “Talk to the man, Taylor.”
She started to say, “I’m too busy,” but Candy cut her off.
“I’ll cover your section,” the other woman said.
Taylor glanced around the busy restaurant. “Thanks, Candy, but—”
“No buts. The guy’s your husband. At least go hear what he has to say.”
“Steve’s going to kill me if I take an early break.”
“I’ll handle it.”
As if on cue, Sleazy Steve slammed a plate of pancakes down on the service counter. It was Jake’s order.
“Take it over,” Candy said. “I’ll bring you something in a minute. Eggs and toast okay?”
Resigned to her fate, Taylor reached for the order. “Sure, Candy. And thanks. I think.”
Jake watched his wife cross the room, a plate of food in her strong, slender hands. He’d always enjoyed watching her—the unconscious rhythm of her steps, the sway of her hips, the way she carried her head high and proud.
She put the plate down in front of him and then, to his surprise, slid onto the opposite bench.
He watched as she settled herself, her back straight against the cushion. She didn’t look happy to be there.
“Hello, Taylor,” he said.
“Jake.”
“Thanks for coming over.”
She shrugged. “No problem.”
Jake glanced down at his plate, then up at Taylor. He didn’t pick up his fork. A lot was riding on the next half hour. The future of the Cassidy Ranch was in his hands, and in hers.
Taylor looked so different from how she had the summer before. Her expression was wary and uncertain, not at all like the composed, self-possessed woman he’d married. She was too thin, and her skin had a pallor to it, instead of the healthy glow of before.
For a moment he felt almost sorry for her. If the past five months had been hard on him, they’d obviously been harder on her. He’d only lost his heart. She’d lost her whole life-style—the clothes, the fast cars, the parties.
As soon as his mind formed the thought, his pity vanished.
Taylor glared at him from across the table. “How did you find me?”
“I called your father a couple of days ago.” He paused, then added, “I didn’t know, Taylor.” He wondered whether that would make any difference to her. He’d spent the past five months assuming she was living her carefree life in Boston, never imagining the truth.
Hell, he was still her husband. He still had responsibilities toward her that wouldn’t end until the divorce papers were signed.
Divorce papers. Despite his dislike of Taylor’s behavior on the ranch last summer, despite their differences, the thought of signing divorce papers still left him with a hollow feeling in his gut. Since the day she’d stormed off the ranch, he’d been waiting for the papers to show up in the mail, dreading the moment. But they never had.
After talking to her father, though, he thought he knew the reason. Taylor probably hadn’t had the time or the money to find an attorney to file the papers. A nasty job in a dirty restaurant wouldn’t leave her a lot of extra money. Certainly not as much spare cash as she’d used to have.
He planned to use that to his advantage.
“Tell me why you’re here, Jake.”
He took a deep breath. “I need your help.” God, but he hated having to ask her for a favor. He’d much rather have her in his debt than the other way around.
“My help?” Was that a note of surprise he detected? Surprise that he would throw away his pride enough to ask her for a favor?
“Yes,” he answered. There was nothing for it. He made himself say the words. “I need your help to buy a piece of land.”
She blinked. “Jake, I don’t exactly have a lot of spare cash right now.”
“I don’t need your money, Taylor.” This was the crux of it. Even if she still had access to her trust fund and her allowance, it wouldn’t help him at all. Jake had more than enough cash to buy the land he wanted. He just didn’t have...his wife. “I don’t need your money,” he repeated. “I need you.”
I need you. Such a simple phrase, but so devastating to say. All his life he’d done his best to avoid it. And after she’d left he’d sworn he wouldn’t ever say those three words to anyone, wouldn’t ever let himself feel those emotions. But here he was, saying them to none other than Taylor Cassidy.
She leaned back in her chair, a look of disbelief on her face. She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. A rich chocolate brown, it had grown out from the short, stylish cut she’d worn before, now curving just below her jaw.
He liked it. It wasn’t so polished and perfect. And he wanted to sink his hands into that extra hair, to feel it sliding through his fingers.
Even now he fought the urge to reach across the table to feel it, to see if it was still as soft as he remembered. They’d used to be husband and wife, free to touch or caress each other when the mood struck. Now there was a wall between them.
In five months of living alone he’d finally gotten used to not having her around. But being so close to her again threw that all to the wind. He was right back to where he’d been last summer, wanting her so much he couldn’t think straight.
Jake took a moment to calm his senses. He had to be rational today. Totally unlike the man who’d fallen for Taylor like a ton of bricks last summer. His future was on the line; he couldn’t let his past mess it up.
“You need me to do what?” Taylor asked.
“I need you to be my wife again.”
She stared at him long and hard. “Forget it.” She started to slide out of the booth.
“Taylor, sit down. It wouldn’t be real. I just need you to pretend to be my wife. For a week.”
Taylor stayed in her seat. Jake suspected it was because the blond waitress showed up just then with a glass of milk and a plate of eggs and toast, rather than because he’d asked her to.
She picked up her fork. “Let me know when you regain your sanity, okay?”
Jake opened his mouth to explain his predicament, but Taylor held up her hand for silence. He kept his mouth shut while she ate. Jake took a bite of his pancakes. They were surprisingly good, so he ate while he waited for Taylor.
Finally she finished and took a sip of her milk. “I can’t tell you how tired I am of breakfast food.”
Was she just going to ignore his request? “Taylor...”
She straightened. “Right. Back to business.” Shaking her head, she said, “Let me get this straight. You want me—your wife—to pretend to be your wife?”
“Yes. Pretend to be my loving, affectionate, definitely-not-estranged wife.”
“I’m a waitress, Jake. Not an actress.”
“I know it’ll be a challenge, but I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll pay you.”
He’d expected her to jump at the offer, but she didn’t. Instead she waved a hand around the Pancake Hut. “I already have a job.”
He’d noticed. But even though it was just the kind of work she needed to give her a dose of reality, he didn’t like the way her customers leered at her. And he didn’t guess she earned much money for her efforts. “What do you make here?”
Taylor hesitated, then named a ridiculously low figure.
“That’s all?” He didn’t know how she even paid for a place to stay on that kind of money, much less any health insurance. Taylor had some hard lessons to learn, but even Jake didn’t think she should be risking her welfare to learn them. “Including tips?”
“Yes, Jake. This place doesn’t attract big tippers.”
“I’ll pay you four times that for a week in Montana.”
She ignored him and took another sip of milk.
He wasn’t reaching her. She might not make much, but four times that amount was getting to be some serious cash. Obviously she wanted to play hardball.
Well, so be it. “Your father told me you’ve got some debts. I’ll pay them off, help you make a fresh start. And of course you’ll have a free place to stay and all the food you can eat for a week.”
“Free room and board, Jake? For your wife? How generous.”
Another sip of milk. Jake watched her small pink tongue dart out to dab her lip and felt an unwanted resurgence of desire.
He grimaced unhappily. “Taylor...”
She speared a pancake off his plate and put it on hers. “Getting back together is not a smart idea.”
“It’s only for a week. We can tolerate each other that long, can’t we?”
Unfortunately it wasn’t just an issue of tolerating each other. They also had to keep their hands to themselves, too. With the chemistry between them still as strong as ever, it might be a big challenge.
“When exactly do you need me?” Taylor asked.
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, tomorrow.”
“Kind of short notice, don’t you think?”
“The situation came up quickly.”
Jake explained about Henry Hankins. Back in Montana, Hankins owned the land adjoining Jake’s ranch. He’d leased it to Jake for the last six years, providing some much-needed grazing space. The Cassidy Ranch was doing well—expanding, in fact—and land was hard to come by.
Now Hankins, who normally resided in Dallas, had decided to liquidate his assets. He wanted to sell, and Jake was the obvious buyer.
Especially since he was married.
Hankins said two other men had made high offers, but one of them was divorced and the other was a freewheeling bachelor. It hurt Hankins’s upstanding heart to think of his land going to a man who couldn’t live with decent values.
And, he said, he adored that “perty little gal” Jake had married. That was the deciding factor.
Hankins had met Taylor last summer when he’d gone for a visit. He’d been so taken with her that he hadn’t noticed she was a pampered debutante, totally unsuited to ranch life. He couldn’t wait to see that “perty little gal” again when he came to close the deal.
Just a few days ago he’d called Jake to say he’d set aside some vacation time and planned to bring his grandchildren to show them Montana. Even though it was the dead of winter, they’d all have a big old blast.
To Jake it had sounded like a big old nightmare.
“Look,” he said to Taylor, “I hate dishonesty as much as the next guy, but if I lose this land to someone else, I’ll have to restructure my whole operation. I’ll probably have to lay off some of my ranch hands. You remember Reid, right? He and his wife just had a baby. And then there’s Dusty, who sends two-thirds of her paycheck to her grandmother.” He paused, watching her expression. “But I don’t expect you to do this out of altruism,” he continued. “Let’s make it a straightforward business deal. You play the role, and I’ll pay you well, plus take care of your debts.”
Still no response. He was getting frustrated, so he played his final card. “And when the week is over, I’ll arrange our divorce. Trouble-free, plenty of alimony.”
Taylor tucked her paper napkin under the edge of her empty plate and repositioned her glass of milk. Her movements were precise, almost uncomfortable. She didn’t meet his eyes. “So Hankins arrives tomorrow?”
He nodded. He wasn’t sure how to read her, but it sounded as if she was actually considering coming to Montana. “With his three grandchildren. Irma’s tidying up his cabin as we speak.”
At the mention of his housekeeper’s name, Taylor’s expression grew warm and a little wistful. “How is Irma?”
“She’s fine.” He shouldn’t be surprised that Taylor remembered Irma fondly, when the woman had spoiled her rotten.
He’d never understood why Irma had doted on Taylor so much, fixing all her favorite meals and picking up after her without the slightest complaint. She’d happily acted as the handmaid Taylor expected.
Maybe it was because it had been so long since a woman had lived in the Cassidy ranch house. Thirty-six years, to be exact. Since Jake’s mother had left, abandoning her husband and newborn son.
Jake cut off that line of thought. Wallowing in the distant past wouldn’t change anything. He focused on the problem at hand. “Well, Taylor, what about it?”
Her wistful expression faded. “Can’t you just tell Hankins I went to the city for a week of shopping? He won’t miss me.”
Jake shook his head. “I know Hankins, and he’s not going to sign off on the land until he sees you again.”
“So you’re stuck.”
“Yes, I’m stuck.”
She glanced up at a clock on the wall. “And I need to get back to work.” She took a long drink, finishing off her milk. She stood.
“Dammit, Taylor.” He reached out to capture her wrist. “Will you do it?”
She stared down at his hand on her warm skin.
Jake followed her gaze, wishing he hadn’t touched her. Currents of electricity rocketed up his arm and spread through his body. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see sparks flying from the point of contact.
Five months, he thought, and the effects were still the same.
He released his grasp slowly, trying to make it look casual. As if he’d felt nothing at all.
“Sorry,” he said under his breath.
Taylor drew herself up. “As I said, I have to get back to work.”
“And the plan?”
“Jake, I swore I’d never set foot on your ranch again.”
“I remember.”
“But I’ll think about it. Meet me outside at three o’clock.”
Chapter Two
She didn’t really have a choice. Only spite and false pride would have kept her in Boston. Jake’s employees needed her help. Jake needed her help. She wasn’t someone who turned her back on people. Not anymore.
It would be a business deal. A simple, straightforward business deal. An acting assignment. She would leave her heart and her confused emotions out of it. When the week was over she would come back to Boston and make her life better.
Jake’s money would buy her enough time to find a better job when she came back. Maybe in a restaurant where the boss didn’t verbally assault his workers whenever the mood struck. Maybe in a place where the customers actually knew how to tip.
At three o’clock Jake came back to the restaurant. He led her to a rented sport utility vehicle at the curb. She gave him directions to her apartment and he pulled into traffic.
“When’s our flight?” she asked.
Jake glanced over at her. “You’ll help me?”
She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Sure.”
“Thank you.” The words were simple but sincere.
“No problem. I know how much you care about the ranch.” More than he had about her, but she didn’t want to go there. “It would be petty not to help you just because we don’t like each other anymore.” She paused, staring out the window at inner city Boston. “Anyway, this arrangement will be good for both of us, so it’s not like I’m really doing you a favor.”
Jake shook his head. “You’re definitely doing me a favor. Especially on such short notice.”
“When’s our flight?”
“Six a.m. I already bought you a round-trip ticket. And I’ve got a room reserved for you at one of the airport hotels. We won’t have to fight traffic in the morning.”
“You were that sure I’d come?”
“No, just desperate.”
A few minutes later they pulled up in front of her building. The facade was weathered brick, its windows dirty and cracked. She led Jake up the worn staircase and down the hall to her studio apartment.
He stepped into the single room and looked around. She saw it through his eyes: the peeling institutional green walls, the stains and cigarette bums on the vinyl flooring. The battered dresser and wardrobe, the narrow bed. The forlorn jade plant on the windowsill where it could soak up what little light came down between the apartment building and its neighbor.
“It’s not much,” she said, filling the silence, “but it’s home.”
He walked the two steps to the window and peered down into the alley.
Taylor grabbed a duffel bag—her only remaining piece of luggage—and went to her dresser. “We need to talk about money.”
“Right,” he said, turning from the window. “My offer from this morning stands. Four times what you make, plus paying off your credit card bills. And of course I’ll cover any expenses.”
She might be bailing him out of a tough position, but his offer was much too generous. “I’ll come for expenses and a stipend, but I can’t accept the money to pay off my debts. They’re my debts, Jake, and I have to take care of them myself. I don’t need to be rescued, just compensated for my time. And it’s not as if I’m going to be working that hard. A couple of dinners with Mr. Hankins and his grandchildren is not a big deal.”
“It’s a big deal to me.”
“I don’t want charity.”
“Fine. I won’t pay your debts.”
“Good. But there is one other thing we need to agree on. I’m definitely going to lose my job. Sleazy Steve won’t forgive me for skipping off for a week without notice.”
“Sleazy Steve?” Jake asked, sounding mad.
Taylor had gotten so used to her boss’s nickname that she didn’t even think about it anymore. But she realized it might be a little off-putting. “He has a...reputation. But don’t worry, he never tried anything on me. And if he had, he would’ve ended up with a broken wrist. I took a self-defense class when I was living at the YWCA.”
“You shouldn’t be working for someone like that.”
“I couldn’t risk looking for another job. Any interruption in my income would have meant losing this apartment. As for finding a new job, if I can’t find one right away I’m going to have to ask you to pay my rent for a month.”
“That’s fair,” Jake said.
“And I’ll need some clothes. I sold a lot of my things to get back on my feet. My wardrobe doesn’t extend to entertaining dinner guests.”
“We’ll go shopping this evening.”
“Okay. Give me a minute to pack up.” She went into the bathroom for a few things, then stuffed some other necessities into the duffel bag. “All set.”
“Not quite.” Jake reached into the pocket of his shearling coat. He pulled out a small black velvet box.
Her rings. How could she have forgotten about her rings?
A flurry of emotions ran through her, confused her. Regret, excitement, everything in between.
Then Jake flipped back the lid. Her diamond caught the light and flashed. An odd, uncomfortable feeling settled in her stomach.
“An important part of the costume,” Jake said, his tone almost light.
Her tongue seemed frozen. “Yeah,” she managed.
Jake took the engagement ring and matching wedding band out of their cushion. He held them in his palm.
She held out her own hand, palm up. Jake deposited the rings into her hand.
Without touching her.
Yes, her marriage was definitely over, Taylor thought. Well and truly dead. But that would make the next week easier. Oh, there might still be a physical spark between them, some strange force drawing them together, but on an emotional level there was nothing. Big old nothing.
Slowly she closed her fingers around the rings, pretending to herself that hiding them would make this easier. She certainly didn’t have the strength to put them on again, not yet.
Jake watched her for a long, excruciating moment before picking up her bag. “Let’s go get you some clothes.”
Taylor stared through the windshield of Jake’s truck as they rounded the last bend in the drive and the ranch buildings came into view.
She couldn’t believe she was back.
But here she was, back in Montana. Back at the scene of the most turbulent point in her twenty-two years.
The place looked so different, she thought. The tall grass and wildflowers were gone, obscured by a blanket of snow, and smoke curled from every chimney in the compound. The snow made the rugged Montana landscape seem even more vast, more isolated.
Jake’s parting words from the summer before echoed in her head.
You don’t belong here.
Until yesterday those had been their last words for five months. Every time she’d thought of Montana in the interim, those harsh words had been right there with her.
Looking at the immense emptiness around her, it was easy to imagine he’d been right. Maybe she belonged in the city, despite the unpleasantness of her life there now.
But it didn’t matter if she belonged here or not, she reminded herself. Her contract with Jake was for a week. One single, solitary week. Seven days. She’d do her job and then she’d get back on the plane to Boston.
Jake pulled up in front of the ranch house. She stepped carefully down onto the icy driveway and moved to the bed of the truck, unfastening the tarp to retrieve her suitcase. Last summer she would have stood by while Jake carried her suitcase, but now she wanted to stand on her own two feet.
Jake had a different idea, though. He reached to take the suitcase from her, ignoring her protest. As he did so their hands brushed accidentally and Taylor froze.
Their long day together had done nothing to lessen the awareness between them. By tacit agreement they’d avoided physical contact ever since he’d grabbed her wrist at lunch, and by and large they’d succeeded—except for the time she’d fallen asleep on the plane and woken with her head pillowed on his shoulder.
It was too easy, too seductive, to fall back into the patterns of the summer before, when they’d been so openly and joyfully physical with each other.
But she had to keep her distance—despite the signals her body sent her.
She hung back as they walked to the porch, thinking of the first time she’d come to the ranch, as Jake’s bride. Despite the beautiful scenery, at its peak in the middle of the summer, she’d had eyes only for Jake. She’d studied him as he drove, then sat and watched him as he parked the truck and walked around to her door.
He’d opened the passenger door and kissed her thoroughly before picking her up in his arms and carrying her not just over the threshold, but all the way to his bed. And then he’d carried her somewhere else entirely. Neither of them had given a thought to their luggage until several hours after dark.
Ahead of her on the porch, Jake pushed open the door. It swung inward, revealing the same neat front hall she’d stormed out of five months before.
Her footsteps halted of their own accord. Jake stood by the open door. He watched her without moving. The six feet of porch between them felt like an impassable distance.
She longed for the days when everything had been easy, when she could simply go into his arms and everything would be okay. Those days were gone. So far gone she wouldn’t even get a simple “welcome home” before she stepped into the house they’d shared.
She looked into Jake’s eyes, unable to read his expression. It seemed distant, almost disconnected. Then he surprised her by saying, his voice soft, “It didn’t turn out like either of us expected, did it?”
Regret? It wasn’t an emotion she’d expected from him, and as soon as she recognized it, it was gone. Completely gone. His face was a mask again.
But she hadn’t imagined it. “No, it didn’t,” she said.
She stepped toward the doorway, keeping as far away from Jake as possible. It was easier that way.
As she crossed the threshold the warm scents of baking assailed her. Her mouth watered instantly. It had been so long since she’d smelled that rich, buttery smell...
Jake shut the door firmly behind them. “Irma must have made those fancy cookies you like so much.” His voice was cool.