And Cowboy Makes Three (Cowboys To The Rescue 2) (12 page)

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Authors: Martha Shields

Tags: #Contemporary, #Romance, #Fiction, #Forever Love, #Adult, #Bachelor, #Single Woman, #Sensual, #Hearts Desire, #Harlequin Treasury, #Series, #Cowboys, #Rescue, #Family Life, #Western, #Millionaire, #Groom, #Wyoming, #Rancher, #Marriage, #Deceptive, #Tycoon, #Relationships, #Marriage Minded, #General Romance, #Silhouette, #1990's

BOOK: And Cowboy Makes Three (Cowboys To The Rescue 2)
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Before Jake could answer, Hank came back on the line.
“Alex says we can come, though I need to see if a couple of the hands will work over the holiday weekend. In fact, she’s excited about coming down.” Hank chuckled. “But she wants to know if Claire’s going to cook the turkey.”
Taking Hank seriously, Jake told Claire, “Alex wants to know if you’re going to cook the turkey.”
Her blue eyes narrowed. “Ha ha.”
His brow lifting at the inside joke, Jake said to Hank, “I don’t think so.”
Hank laughed. “At least I know one thing. You didn’t marry my sister for her cooking.”
“I’ll send my plane to get you on Wednesday. I guess Jackson Hole’s the nearest airport where a small jet can land. Say around two?”
“All right. But I got to tell you one thing. Neither you nor Claire have answered all my questions. Not by a long shot.”
“Can they wait until then?”
“Hell, I reckon. Alex wants to say something to Claire.”
Jake handed the phone over.
Claire jerked it from him. “What? Oh, hi, Alex. Can’t you stop him from—” She sighed heavily. “All right.... I know... Okay... Okay. Bye.”
She threw the phone back in the cradle and spun around to face him. “Are you out of your mind?”
“What’d your sister-in-law say?” he asked, hoping to stave off her attack.
She threw him a withering glare. “That she was going to e-mail me a shopping list. But that’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. How dare you invite my family down?” Her eyes narrowed even more. “And to your ranch, no less. How dare you have a ranch and not tell me about it?”
“Is that a problem? I suggested we go there because they’re ranch people, and I thought they’d be more comfortable. If you think they’d rather be in town, we’ll stay at the penthouse.”
She studied him closely, as if trying to decide if he was telling the truth, then she gave her head a small shake. “I don’t want them here at all.”
“You’re going to have to face them sooner or later. Might as well get the dog and pony show over. At least now you’ll have nearly a week to prepare. Your brother would’ve flown down tomorrow.”
“But he would’ve only stayed for a few hours, maybe overnight. Now we’ll have them for five days.” She threw her hands up. “In five days, they’re sure to realize our marriage is a sham.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Our marriage is as real as anyone else’s.”
“You know what I mean. They’ll see we’re not in love.”
He pulled her against him. “You told your brother you love me. I heard you.”
Pain flashed across her face, and she dropped her gaze to his throat. “What was I supposed to say? They wouldn’t understand about our marriage being just a business arrangement. They married for love.”
He forced her chin up and asked harshly, “So you lied to him?”
She searched his face for a long moment. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them away angrily. “What do you want me to say? That I love you? Well, I won’t. I already told you I refuse to be in love by myself.”
Frustration burned through him. “Damn it, Claire, what more can I do?”
“You can love me.”
“Don’t you understand? I—” Jake spun away from her. Stalking over to the window, he shoved a hand back through his hair. How could he tell her he didn’t begin to know how to love? That there was something so lacking in him that no one had ever loved him? He was afraid she’d walk out on him before she took another breath.
“I do understand,” she said quietly, her voice shaky. “You don’t believe in love. But knowing how you feel doesn’t mean I like it.”
“Call them back, then, and tell them not to come,” he said bitterly.
“It’s too late. Now you’ve got Alex all hyped up about cooking Thanksgiving dinner for you. She’s probably already told the kids.”
Jake rubbed his neck, searching his brain for a solution. In desperation he turned to her. “What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know. What if we... No, that wouldn’t work.”
“What?”
She studied him, as if probing for weaknesses, then shook her head. “You wouldn’t be any good at it.”
Her words stung, though he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Good at what?”
“Pretending.”
“You mean pretend we’re in love?”
She shook her head again. “No, I told you it wouldn’t work.”
Jake’s eyes drifted away from her face. It was the only way to make her happy about her family coming to visit, but he couldn’t pretend to be in love. He didn’t know how.
Then the answer hit him like a smack up the side of the head. He lived in the Information Age. He could find out how people acted when they’re in love. There had to be a hundred books on the subject, thousands of articles on the Internet. He had nearly a week to study. And if all else failed, he could watch her brother and act the same way toward Claire that Hank acted toward Alex.
He turned back to his wife. “We can make it work.”
She watched him dubiously as he walked confidently over and took her hands in his. “How?”
He wasn’t about to tell her he was going to thoroughly research the subject. “People in love desire the object of their affections, don’t they?”
She nodded.
“Then half the battle is won.” He placed a tender kiss on her lips. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any other woman in my life.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and sank against him. “Oh, Jake, what have we gotten ourselves into? You don’t know my family.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “They already think we’re in love, don’t they? They won’t be looking for us to trip up. People tend to see what they want to see.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said with a sigh.
He hoped he was right, too. What would the Edens do if the pretense failed? Would they urge Claire to leave him?
Pain stabbed through his heart, and he tightened his arms around her. God help her brothers if they tried to take her away. He’d never let her go.
 
Hearing footsteps coming down the hall, Jake threw the book under the pillow at his side and snatched up the
Wall Street Journal
in his lap.
Mrs. Sanchez stuck her head in the room. “We’re going home now, Mr. Anderson. See you tomorrow.”
“Good night, Mrs. Sanchez.”
As the housekeeper left, Jake tossed the paper aside and drew out the book.
Twenty-One Steps to a Loving Relationship.
Big help.
Jake pulled himself to his feet and dropped the book in the file drawer where he kept the stack hidden from Claire.
Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Love But Were Afraid to Ask and Zen and the Art of Love
were just a couple of the titles.
What he wanted were concrete answers, specific suggestions on how to act, what to buy, what to say, where to take her.
What he got scared his socks off.
According to every expert the bookstores stocked, love wasn’t as easy as A-B-C. It wasn’t even a twelve-step program. He couldn’t use any part of his vast fortune, all he could rely on was himself.
Give of himself, the books said. Share his inner feelings, honestly and frankly and without restraint. And demand the same in return.
Jake spun around and stared blindly out the window at the sprawling city lights below. He’d never opened up to anyone in his life, not to share the deepest, darkest parts of himself. Not even with Alan. He never told Alan how he felt about his father’s harsh treatment. When they were younger they talked about riding bulls or fast horses. In high school they talked about driving cars, and fast girls. Later, they talked about the company.
Could he bare his soul to Claire? How did one begin such a conversation? Did she even want to hear about his sordid childhood or his engagement to Melissa? What would it accomplish? Those things were in the past. Over with. Finished.
Jake wiped a hand down his face. Somehow, someway, he had to dredge up enough courage to try. Otherwise she’d never love him, and he wanted her love more than he wanted to see tomorrow.
 
“That’s
the ranch house?” Claire exclaimed as they rounded the last curve. The two-story white clapboard home sat on a small rise above what was obviously a year-round creek, judging from the curving line of cottonwoods on the other side. A green-roofed porch wrapped around every side she could see, and the steep green roof had two gables on each side. Four brick chimneys poked out the top.
“You don’t like it?” Jake guided his Jeep over the rough gravel road.
“It’s just that I was expecting something different. Something newer. This house is...old.”
“Ninety-seven years,” Jake told her proudly. “My great-grandfather built it.”
Claire frowned. There were generations of history attached to Jake’s ranch, like with her home in Wyoming. No wonder Jake reminded her of Hank. He
was
Hank. Ranch bred and raised, only scrubbed up and dressed in an Armani suit while he rounded up cash instead of cattle.
Dear God, what had she done?
No. She refused to believe it. She did
not
marry a cowboy.
Did she?
He slowed the Jeep down to a crawl half a mile from the house and made a sweeping glance of the rolling grassland surrounding them. “This is where it all began.”
She brought her mind back to the conversation. “Where what began?”
“Pawnee Investments. Alan and I had to do something to save our ranches from bankruptcy. We took a big gamble on our first investment because we used all the money from the sale of beef that year. If we’d lost—”
He didn’t have to finish. The same thing had nearly happened to her own family home in Wyoming’s Wind River Valley. Only her brothers’ hard work, ingenuity and most important—diversification—saved the Garden.
She didn’t like the obvious pride in Jake’s voice. Not one bit. It was one thing to hang on to the ranch for sentimental reasons. Quite another to love the place like Hank loved the Garden. “I thought the Bar Hanging Seven was just another investment. I didn’t realize it meant so much to you.”
His look was clearly amazed. “It’s the most important thing I own. Why do you think I need an heir?”
“For all your money.”
“The money be damned.” His hand made a sweep of the rolling vista. “This has been Anderson land for nearly a hundred years. I couldn’t let the state have it. I thought I made this clear to you. When Alan died, I inherited his ranch because he’d never gotten around to marrying, either. I’m determined that’s not going to happen to the Bar Hanging Seven.”
“No, you didn’t make that clear,” Claire murmured. This sounded worse and worse. She’d married a man who was her brother’s twin, personality-wise. Was he a cowboy on top of that? No, she shouldn’t panic. Just because he had an affection for the place where he grew up didn’t mean he was a cowboy. She’d never even seen him in a pair of jeans, for Pete’s sake.
Jake pulled around to the rear of the house, and they entered through a back hall. As he showed her around the house, her own nostalgia crept up on her. Jake’s home reminded her of the Garden. Though a lot of money had obviously been spent on it during the past few years, the antiquity had been preserved. The hardwood floors had a polished shine. The antique furniture was in mint condition. The pictures on the walls displayed generations of Andersons who built the ranch.
“Who takes care of the place?” Claire asked as they toured the six bedrooms upstairs. “I know you don’t spend much time here.”
“Not nearly as much as I’d like,” he said. “Ray’s wife Diane comes in once a week to clean.”
He’d already told her about the ranch hands. Ray Cooper had five been foreman since Eli Anderson died six years before. “Who cooks for you?”
“I cook for myself or eat with the hands. Diane cooks for them, too.” Jake grinned. “Why are you so surprised? I can cook a steak and potato when I have to.”
“Because you have servants who do everything but scrub your back when you bathe. Mrs. Sanchez won’t let me do anything, either. I haven’t washed a load of laundry or scrubbed a toilet since I married you.”
He shrugged. “That’s what money is for, and the Sanchezes are grateful for the work. But when I come here, I want to be a regular person.”
“Then you’ll cook for us tonight?” she asked with a playful grin.
“You can’t cook at all?”
“My single culinary creation is chocolate chip cookies. I generally whip up a batch when I’m feeling sorry for myself.”
“I’ll take it as a compliment that you haven’t made any since we’ve been married.” He snaked an arm around her waist and drew her close. “Tell you what, I’ll cook the steaks and you provide dessert. Did you order the ingredients when you had the groceries delivered?”

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