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Authors: Cathy Gillen Thacker

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BOOK: A Cowboy's Woman
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“Sounds nice.”
“Thanks.” Greta beamed.
“Place looks nice, too.” Shane said, impressed and not afraid to show it. “You've done a heck of a lot with it.”
Greta nodded. As a delivery truck pulled up at the service entrance, she went to the door, braced it open and motioned the delivery man in. “We've got a ways to go before Saturday night,” she told Shane.
He watched her sign for a shipment of plantation shutters for the interior windows. “Nervous about the grand opening?”
Greta smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “A little.”
It was all Shane could do to resist taking her in his arms. A surprise, since by nature he wasn't exactly a warm and fuzzy kind of guy. “You'll do fine,” he said firmly.
Greta's pale-blue eyes lit up. “How do you know?” Greta asked, drawing herself up to her full height.
“Just a feeling.” Shane continued to hold her gaze.
The moment drew out. “Hard to believe we're both back in Laramie, isn't it?” Greta murmured, after a moment.
Shane nodded, feeling just as momentarily spellbound as she looked. “But it's time. For me, anyway.”
Greta stepped back to let the deliveryman bring the first of the dozen or so, long, rectangular boxes inside. “You won't miss the rodeo?”
Shane shook his head. About that he had no regret. “I got tired of a life lived solely on the road, going from one competition to the next. It was time to call it a day.”
Greta smiled as she showed the deliveryman where she wanted the boxes stacked. “I felt the same way about dancing. As much as I loved it; I got tired of never knowing where or when my next job was going to be. It was time to build more of a future for myself and—” her luscious breasts rose and fell as she let out a wistful sigh “—I really wanted to come back to Laramie, which is why I'm braving the constant interference of my parents.”
Shane tore his glance from her tempting curves, returned it to her face. Damn, but she was pretty, he thought, even when she'd bitten off all her lipstick, was covered with some sort of dust and had a pencil stuck in her hair.
He wondered if she knew how well her snug-fitting T-shirt and vest defined her breasts, or how great she looked in a short skirt and cowgirl boots. He wondered if she knew he got a hard-on just looking at her long, sexy legs.
Probably not, given the innocent glimmer in her gaze.
Aware they were supposed to be talking about their parents—and that the deliveryman was headed for them, his dolly packed with another load of boxes, Shane said, “Your folks seem to want a hand in your life as much as mine do. Hopefully, though,” Shane paused significantly, “that will change.”
Greta rolled her eyes. “One can hope.” She looked at Shane. “Anything else?”
Shane nodded and tipped his hat back with one lazy poke of his index finger. “I wanted to tell you I'm headed out to my ranch.” He reached into his pocket and gave her a sheet with a hand-drawn map and directions. “I'm buying the old Riley place. Do you know it?”
Greta nodded. “It's not too far from your brother Travis's ranch, is it?”
“No, it's not.” Although, after all of Travis's smart remarks that morning—many of which had been right on target—Shane was beginning to rethink that decision, too. “I'm meeting someone from the bank, and we're having a final inspection and appraisal of the place,” he continued telling Greta. “If all's in order, the attorneys will meet us out there with the paperwork, and the closing will be held at four this afternoon. I figured—us being married and all—that I better show you around. Gotta keep up appearances you know, at least for a few days, and people would think it odd if you hadn't even seen the place.”
Greta chuckled. “People probably think our whole relationship is odd.”
Shane laughed softly, too. “You're probably right about that.”
Greta took the pencil from her hair and pensively rubbed the eraser end of it across her lower lip, drawing his gaze once again to the pouty pink softness.
Pressure started in the front of his jeans.
“But you don't mind, do you?” Greta said.
Shane shrugged. Willing the flow of blood to dissipate—immediately—he rolled forward on the balls of his feet. And involuntarily became aware just how well someone as tall as Greta fit against his frame. “I stopped caring what people thought about me a long time ago.” Shane glanced away briefly, pushing the image of their two bodies, intimately intertwined, from his mind. “Anyway, I thought maybe we could have dinner someplace in town before we went back to Wade's ranch for the night.” The more public they were in this relationship of theirs, the better.
As the pounding and drilling started up again, Greta leaned closer. “How much longer are he and Josie going to be gone?” She cupped her hand around her mouth and directed her voice to his ear.
Shane told himself he was unaffected by the warmth of her breath flowing over his skin. He cupped his hand around his mouth, leaned down and spoke directly in her ear, too. “They weren't real specific when they left for their honeymoon, but Wade did promise they'd be back in plenty of time to see my folks renew their marriage vows next week. So meantime we've got the Golden Slipper Ranch to ourselves.” And though there were two bedrooms there, Shane couldn't help but hope he and Greta might end up sharing a single bed for an entire night, perhaps even seeing just how potent the chemistry between them was, before the week—and their sham marriage—was through.
Deciding enough was enough, Greta put her hand on his forearm and directed him just outside the Lone Star Dance Hall. The day was sunny and warm, the temperature inching up into the nineties, with nary a hint of breeze at the moment. The sky overhead was a brilliant Texas blue and dotted with fluffy white cumulus clouds.
Her hair sparkling white-gold in the sunlight, Greta regarded him curiously, as light traffic moved by on the Laramie city streets. “You don't want to move our stuff over to your own ranch?” she asked.
Shane wasn't ready to get into that just yet. Better she just see the ranch than he try to explain. He took his sunglasses from his shirt pocket and slid them on. “No,” he answered her question succinctly. “I don't.”
And when you see my place, you'll know why.
He touched the silky skin of her bare arm lightly. “Anyway,
I'll meet you out at my ranch say about six this evening?”
Greta nodded, obviously curious as to what he wasn't telling her, but cooperative nevertheless. She regarded him determinedly. “You can count on it,” she said.
 
GRETA SLAVED AWAY the rest of the day, her thoughts never far from Shane. There were moments when she could swear he was every bit as attracted to her as she was to him. And moments when she was just as sure she was only a means to an end.
Not that it mattered.
Their marriage wasn't real.
Nor was it ever likely to be.
In fact, when this was all over they probably wouldn't be able to so much as look at each other again without setting all the tongues in Laramie to wagging.
And that was a shame.
Part of her wanted to see how her teenage crush on him would weather a foray into adulthood, if only for a little while....
And the other part knew it was too dangerous a proposition to even contemplate. She knew she couldn't risk mixing up her feelings with her fantasies, or her wishes with hard cold reality. No, it was best to remember this was all a ruse, she told herself sternly. A way to get their parents to sit up and pay attention. And nothing more.
At five-thirty, when the sound engineer and electrician finally left for the day, she closed up the dance hall and headed out to Shane's ranch. As she neared the roadside mailbox marking the entrance to his property, she saw four vehicles turning out of the lane, one right after another. She guessed them to be the previous owners—the two Riley brothers, if memory served correct, two attorneys—one
to represent each party, and someone else from the bank. She turned into the lane and drove past pastures grown weedy with neglect. Realizing Shane had his work cut out for him if he wanted to make this rundown ranch something he could be proud of, she continued along the half mile or so to the somewhat dilapidated ranch house and even seedier looking stables. There were two cars in front of the ranch house. Wondering who was still inside with Shane, Greta emerged from the car and dashed up the steps, breezed through the sweltering heat into the open screen door.
Seeing who was with Shane, Greta came to a dead stop.
Shane turned to Greta. “You remember Bonnie Sue Baxter, don't you?”
Chapter Four
I
t would have been impossible to forget the girl who'd been the most popular girl in school the whole time Greta had been growing up, the girl Shane had dated his last two years of high school, and—if the reports she'd heard were true—for four more after that. Head cheerleader, valedictorian of her class, homecoming queen to Shane's homecoming king; University of Texas, Stanford Law School graduate; Bonnie Sue Baxter had won and enjoyed it all. And still did, judging from the pricey ecru silk sheath she was wearing.
Bonnie Sue turned with a dazzling smile and zeroed in on Greta's paint and dust-smeared denim attire. “Oh!”
I get it
, Bonnie Sue's smile said. “Your cleaning woman is here!”
“Bonnie Sue,” Shane's moderately pitched voice carried a warning, “Greta is my wife.”
Bonnie Sue looked at Greta down the bridge of her perfect, slender nose. “Surely you jest, Shane,” she said drolly, not a hint of her former Texas drawl remaining in her perfectly modulated high-priced-attorney tones.
She already knows
, Greta thought, not sure whether she was jealous or just annoyed.
That's why she drove all the way out here.
Bonnie Sue touched a hand to her chin-length ash brown hair. “I thought you were never going to marry.” She looked at Shane steadily.
“Not ever. ”
Shane shrugged. His expression was set, his tone uncaring. “Things change.”
Unable to resist, Greta culled up what local gossip she knew and said, “Come to think of it, I thought
you
were married, Bonnie Sue. To a lawyer out in San Francisco?” Someone very rich and successful.
Bonnie Sue's eyes turned icy as she pivoted back to Greta. “We're divorced.”
Damn
. “That I hadn't heard.” Greta smiled politely.
Bonnie Sue took a deep breath and turned, putting herself directly between Shane and Greta. “So, Shane,” Bonnie Sue began, her back to Greta, “about dinner...”
“Sorry, Bonnie Sue. I already have a date with my wife. Some other time.” Shane wrapped an arm around Bonnie Sue's waist and practically pushed her to the door.
Bonnie Sue dug in her heels when she reached the portal. She stepped across the threshhold, then, still standing in the open doorway, turned to face Shane. An even tenser silence ticked out between them. “You call me when you come to your senses, Shane.” Bonnie Sue slipped on a pair of movie-star sunglasses. Head held high, nose in the air, she regally made her way to her car.
Shane continued staring after her, visibly upset.
Greta wasn't feeling too calm herself. It had been bad enough competing with Bonnie Sue in high school. She didn't want to do it now. Bonnie Sue was probably just visiting, Greta hoped.
She looked over at Shane, who was busy putting a stack of legal papers in a portable file case. It was easy
to see he didn't want to talk about whatever it was that had just gone on. “Sorry. I seem to have interrupted something,” Greta murmured when Bonnie Sue had gunned the motor on her Mercedes and driven off.
“Nothing that didn't need interrupting,” Shane muttered.
Greta promised herself she would not act jealous or inquire as to the purported reason for the haughty Bonnie Sue's visit. For starters, since Shane wasn't her real husband, just a pretend one for a week or so, it was none of her business. “So did you finish your closing?” she asked, smiling.
Shane nodded, looking happy as could be about that, anyway. “Property's mine, lock, stock and barrel.” He reached out and gave the bandanna holding her hastily assembled ponytail in place a playful tug. “Want me to show you around?”
She nodded. “Please.” Greta tried not to think what a kid-sister kind of gesture that had been. Or how just being around Bonnie Sue Baxter again had brought back all the uncertainty she'd felt—all the yearning to be part of the popular crowd—when she was in high school. Those days were past. As one day her sham marriage to Shane would be, too. All she had was the present, and that she intended to enjoy.
 
“I KNOW IT'S NOT MUCH to look at now,” Shane said, as he walked her quickly through the rustic, two-story, fieldstone-and-cedar ranch house with the aging roof. The interior was coated with at least twenty years of grime. All the wood floors needed a good scouring and maybe some refinishing after that; the walls needed fresh paper and paint. The appliances in the kitchen were ancient, and the two tiny bathrooms—one up and a half
down—were about as appealing as a gas station rest room.
And yet, Greta thought, she saw what he did.
“But it's big,” Shane continued.
“And roomy,” Greta agreed. In fact, once it was fixed up it was the perfect place to raise a family. She turned to Shane with a smile. “It's going to be great when you get it finished.” He grinned at her enthusiasm. Impulsively Greta tucked her arm in his and looked up at him. Maybe allowing Shane to eventually fill the role of her big brother wouldn't be so bad. It was better than having him forget all about her again, anyway. “Want to show me the stables, too?” she asked cheerfully.
“Sure.” Shane covered her hand with his and brought her arm in close to his body. They stepped-into the shimmering Texas heat and walked across the yard, the back of his arm brushing against hers. Deciding this was a little too cozy, Greta let go of his arm as they stepped into the shadowy interior of the stables. “What kind of horses are you going to have here?”
“Cutting horses. I'm going to breed and train them myself.”
Greta remembered how well Shane had ridden a bronc, even back in high school, one hand held high above his head, the other sure and steady on the reins, his body one with the wildly bucking horse. He'd been so athletic, so physically attuned, even then. She could only imagine how good he'd be at it now, after the years of championship rodeo wins under his belt.
Unfortunately the interior of the stables was in as bad shape as the rest of the property.
“Looks like you've got your work cut out for you here, too,” Greta said, being careful to hold her breath as much as possible.
Hands braced loosely on his waist, Shane swaggered up and down the length of the barn. “Fine with me.” His boots echoed on the cement aisle. “I like the idea of more or less building a place from the bottom up. Anyway—” Shane paused, dug in his pocket, and pulled out two sets of keys “—I figured that as long as we're supposed to be making a go of it, you better have keys to this place, too.” He closed the distance between them and pressed one set of keys into the palm of her hand, curling her fingers around them.
Greta looked down at them, stunned. “Are you sure?”
Shane nodded and let go of her hand. “You should keep them however long we're together—it'll help convince our folks we're serious.”
Greta struggled not to show how let down she'd really felt. For a moment there she'd foolishly thought his gesture had really meant something. She should have known, like everything else, that it was just another detail of his latest escapade. If there was one thing Shane was good at, it was playing pranks.
Shane ran a hand along the underside of his jaw, which—despite the fact he'd shaved that very morning—was already starting to sport a healthy golden-brown stubble. “I was thinking, maybe we should stop by the hardware store before it closes and pick up some paint samples and wallpaper books, too. You know, to make it really look good.”
“Sure,” Greta said, feeling her shoulders tense.
“Maybe you could even help me pick out some stuff for the interior of the house,” Shane continued enthusiastically. “I'm no good at that, anyway, and I sure as heck don't want my mother doing it for me.”
How about Bonnie Sue Baxter then? I bet she'd volunteer for the job in a nanosecond,
Greta thought, then
immediately chastised herself for her jealousy, which she had no business feeling. “I understand totally,” Greta said, struggling for outward calm.
“Then you'll do it?” He searched her eyes.
She nodded, telling herself she could do this without getting emotionally involved. After all, it wasn't as if she was going to be living there forever or something. She was just helping out a friend.
“No problem.”
Shane breathed a sigh of relief and swept off his hat. “Thanks.”
Silence fell between them as Shane shoved a hand through the rumpled, sun-streaked layers of his hair. Aware he was watching her closely, his own expression inscrutable, she tucked her hands in the pockets of her denim skirt. Telling herself firmly she was not going to think about kissing him again, she took a deep, bolstering breath. Then, considering the unwashed state of the stables, was immediately sorry. Wrinkling her nose up at the decidedly funky smell, she hurried outside and gulped in several breaths of fresh air.
Shane followed, chuckling, the horsey smell of the interior of the stables clearly no problem for him. “Don't worry, kid.” He patted her consolingly on the shoulder while she struggled to catch her breath. “That's first on my list of things to start mucking out.”
“Good!” Greta said in relief, even as she resented having been called a kid.
She watched as Shane resettled his hat on his head and tugged the brim low over his eyes. “You said you wanted to have dinner somewhere?”
Anything to get them out of here.
Shane brightened at the reminder and angled his head
at his pickup truck and her car sitting side by side in the drive. “And I know just the place.”
 
“JUST THE PLACE” turned out to be the Wagon Wheel Restaurant & Grill, the most popular restaurant in Laramie. They'd almost reached the front door of the large, homey establishment when Greta's glance landed on the newspaper stand beside it. “If you don't mind, I'd like to get a newspaper and check to see if my ad ran okay today,” Greta said. She wanted the biggest crowd possible at the opening Saturday night. She'd even arranged a ribbon-cutting ceremony with the mayor of Laramie.
Shane backtracked to stand beside her while she searched the bottom of her handbag for two quarters. “No problem.”
Greta found what she needed and approached the machine. To her surprise there was nothing behind the glass front. “That's odd.” She frowned, perplexed. “There aren't any.”
“Sold out? By 7:00 p.m.?” Shance glanced at his watch. “That is odd. Usually they have plenty of papers.” He touched Greta's arm lightly. “Let me try the stand up the street.”
“You don't have to do that,” Greta said.
“Now, honey,” Shane chucked her under the chin. With barely a glance at the sidewalk behind her, he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. He drew back slowly and rubbed the moisture from her lips with the pad of his thumb. “What kind of hubby would I be if I let your wishes go unfulfilled?”
Lips tingling, Greta could only stare up at him speechlessly.
Now what had gotten into him?
Before she could ask, Shane had turned and headed for the newspaper stand up the block.
Greta was still watching him and admiring how well he filled out a pair of jeans, when Bonnie Sue Baxter came up to stand beside her. She had an extra-large iced coffee in her hand. “My, you really do have him at your beck and call, don't you?” Bonnie Sue Baxter goaded, animosity radiating from her low voice. She took a long sip of her drink. “I don't ever remember him being that anxious to please me.”
To her satisfaction, Greta couldn't say she had, either. Although she also knew the kiss Shane had just given her had probably been more for Bonnie Sue's benefit than for her own.
She wondered what had broken the two of them up. Would Shane tell her? Would it be pathetic of her to ask? Heaven knew she didn't want to come off like Bonnie Sue.
“You must be very pleased with yourself,” Bonnie Sue continued, angrily glaring at Greta.
As a gangly kid Greta had never been able to stand up for herself with the girls in the popular crowd when they teased her. As an adult it was a different story. Greta propped her hands on her hips. It was past time she put Bonnie Sue in her place. “What did I do to tick you off?” Greta demanded, perfectly willing to have a showdown with her, then and there, if that's what it took to clear the air.
“For starters?” Bonnie Sue arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow. She drained the rest of her icy drink, then pitched the cup in the trash. “Try showing up in his bed last night. Arranging an audience. Playing the helpless victim. Claiming your reputation was ruined. Twisting his arm to get him to marry you!”
Put that way it did sound calculating. Worse, Greta
couldn't exactly say she was sorry about any of it, especially the eloping and kissing part.
“I think you've got it all wrong, Bonnie Sue,” Shane said, as he came up to join them. He looked at Greta, baffled, and spread his hands wide. “No newspapers there, either,” he reported.
BOOK: A Cowboy's Woman
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