I Cross My Heart (7 page)

Besides, rejecting her sexual advances would have hurt his cause, not helped it. A spurned woman wasn’t likely to sell her home with generous terms to the guy who had spurned her. No, the thing that had landed him in this mess was easy to identify.

Toward the end of dinner, they’d both announced they had confessions to make. Being a courteous cowboy, he’d allowed her to go first. Once she’d confessed her interest in him, he couldn’t very well change the subject and offer to buy her ranch. That confession had been shoved to the back burner.

He’d hoped it hadn’t been removed from the stove altogether, but he had to face that possibility. Before dinner, he’d been just a guy with an unspoken desire to buy her place. Now he was the guy who’d given her four orgasms in her childhood bedroom. Selling the ranch to him carried a lot more emotional baggage, and he had to accept responsibility for loading up the suitcases.

“I realize you will have to think about this,” he said.

She nodded and finally she met his gaze. “Yes, I will.”

“I’d like to give you all the time in the world, but neither of us has a lot of time.”

“That’s for sure.”

“I don’t want to pressure you, but whichever way you go will affect how I approach the repairs and whether I do any at all, so I really can’t start until you decide.”

She considered that for a moment. Finally she nodded. “So if you’re buying the place, we’re no longer employer and employee. You won’t need to worry about repairs because you’ll do them later to suit you.”

“Exactly.”

“But if no one knows about our arrangement, you can continue to come over here each night whether you’re fixing the place or not.”

He hesitated. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but yes, I could, if that’s what you want.”

“After what happened in that bedroom? A girl would have to be crazy in the head not to want more of that kind of action.”

He should be flattered, but he had an uneasy feeling about the direction the conversation was taking. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. This is a devilishly clever scheme, Nash. You’ve set it up so that I can either accept you as a buyer and have a fantastic lover for six nights, or reject your offer and pay you handyman wages while hoping there’s time for a quick roll in the hay between carpentry jobs.”

He stared at her and then he looked away, upset with himself for not realizing how his offer could be seen as coercion. “I swear I didn’t intend to use sex as leverage.”

“I believe you,” she said gently. “But whether you intended to or not, it works out that way, doesn’t it?”

He blew out a breath and tried to think how to salvage the situation. “It doesn’t have to. I’ll find you a handyman. He won’t have to know that he’s working for a bestselling author. I’ll get someone who can work during the day. Then everything can be separated out. Whether you sell to me or not is up to you. Whether we have sex is up to you. No catch-22 involved.”

She gazed at him. “You’ll give up income if you bring in someone else.”

“I know. Can’t be helped. I won’t put you in a position where you feel you have to sell to me.”

“If this other handyman makes the place look amazing, he could raise the value beyond your price point.”

“I’ll take that chance.” He hated the thought that came to him next, but he knew it had to be said. “In fact, we can’t have sex anymore, either. Although I wouldn’t mean to soften you up so you’ll sell to me, it could turn out that way. I don’t want you to think back to this sale and wonder if your judgment had been affected by all that good loving.”

“So you’re prepared to give up income and fantastic sex on the slight chance that accepting either of those things would jeopardize your chances of buying the Triple G.”

He nodded. Damn, this week wasn’t going to be any fun at all.

“I’m impressed with your ethics, Nash.” She picked a brownie out of the box. “Please, help yourself.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” A brownie was a poor substitute for six nights in her bed, but it was a safer bet. He took a moist chocolate square and bit into it while avoiding watching Bethany eat hers. Inevitably he’d be turned on if he did, and that wasn’t a good idea now that he’d sworn off having sex with her ever again.

She finished her brownie and dusted off her hands. “Has it occurred to you that by not having sex with me, you might tip the scales the other way?”

He swallowed his last bite. “How so?”

“You gave me a taste of your manly charms, and now you’re proposing to withdraw those charms.”

He groaned. “Are you saying I can’t win?”

“No. I’m saying we have a complicated little deal going on here, and we both need time to think it through. Tell you what. I’ll get a real estate agent out here tomorrow, before anyone does anything to the place beyond the flowers I put out and whatever cleaning I do inside the house.”

“If you call Morgan Chance, don’t tell her you’re thinking of selling to me. I’d rather nobody knows that just yet.”

“Who’s Morgan? I take it she’s connected to the family, but I don’t remember hearing her name before.”

“She’s Gabe’s wife. She has an office in Shoshone, so she could get here quicker than someone from Jackson. And she’s good.”

“Then I’ll call her. Come back tomorrow night and I’ll tell you what she says. Then you’ll have a figure to work with.”

“You could text me the figure.”

“I know.”

“Bethany, you tempt me like no other woman ever has. And so—”

“I do?”

“Yes, so if I have to swear off having sex with you, I’d rather not meet face-to-face anymore. It’s easier that way.”

She smiled. “Like
no other woman?
Nash, you must have had lots of women in your bed.”

“A few.”

“Don’t be modest. I’ve heard the rumors. I don’t understand why I would affect you this way. Maybe it’s because you were unhappy in your marriage, plus your abstinence these past months, because I’m not that special.”

“You’re extremely special, but that doesn’t explain my reaction. You’re beautiful, but I admit I’ve been with beautiful women before. There’s something about you—the way you move, the way you smell, the sound of your voice—the total package jacks me up something fierce. So text me, okay?”

She shook her head. “I want you to come over. Neither one of us should be kept dangling this week. I’ll let you know my decision tomorrow night, and we can take it from there.”

He studied her while he tried to figure out what she was saying. In the end, he couldn’t. “What do you mean by
take it from there?
”

“If I decide to sell you the ranch, we can have sex. If I decide not to sell you the ranch, we can have sex. In other words, once the decision is made, we can have sex.”

“Oh.” His cock twitched. He cared which decision she made, of course. He cared a whole hell of a lot. But either way, he’d be assured of another night with her. Six more nights, in fact, unless he loused this up somehow. “I can live with that.”

“Good. Now go home before I jump your bones.”

“I need to load up that chair first.”

“No, leave it. I sort of like looking at it now.”

“Why?”

“Ever since I set fire to that recliner, my life has become a lot more interesting.”

“Mine, too.” He stood and grabbed his hat from the back of a chair. “See you tomorrow night. What time?”

“Make it eight. I don’t want to waste time on dinner.”

He sucked in a breath as his cock responded further.

“See you later, cowboy.”

Not trusting himself to stay another second, he walked out of the house, down the porch steps and over to his truck. The fire retardant he’d sprayed on this morning had dried on the black mound that used to be a recliner, and it gleamed in the moonlight. Funny how something so ugly had the power to change his life so much.

7

M
ORGAN
C
HANCE
SHOWED
UP
right at ten the next morning driving a dark green SUV with mud spatters on the fenders. Bethany went out to meet her because she’d discovered the doorbell didn’t work. Besides, she wanted to take Morgan on a tour of the outbuildings before bringing her into the house.

Although Bethany had been up early cleaning, the place still didn’t meet her standards. The outbuildings were old and dilapidated, but their appearance didn’t embarrass her the way the house did. Maybe that was because her mom had been such a neat freak and while she’d been alive, she’d kept everything scrubbed even if it was worn. Her mother would have hated for a stranger to see the neglect that had set in during the past eighteen months.

Morgan turned out to be a buxom redhead with a great smile. A couple of car seats in the back of the SUV suggested she and Gabe had kids. Bethany was used to meeting women her age with kids because so many had them by now. She was the exception—a single lady with no children.

Maybe she never would have kids. First she’d have to find the right guy, and so far he’d been AWOL. An image of Nash flashed into her head, but that meant nothing. Images of Nash had been interrupting her thoughts every waking moment since he’d left the night before. He was one hot dude.

Morgan climbed out, large sunglasses perched on the bridge of her freckled nose, a purse over her shoulder and an electronic gizmo in her hand. It looked like the newest tablet, maybe even the one Bethany had been considering but hadn’t bought yet. Morgan extended her free hand and introduced herself.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice.” Bethany liked Morgan’s warm, firm handshake.

“No problem. I’ve discovered in ranching country the sales are few and far between, but when they come, they’re substantial.”

“Not if you’re talking about the Triple G, I’m afraid. It’s seen better days. And it’s small.”

“Yes, but the view is wonderful and lots of clients prefer something smaller.” Morgan glanced around, pausing briefly at the large black lump that used to be the recliner. But she didn’t comment and her gaze moved on. “I see what you mean about the upkeep, but it’s possible someone would buy it for the land alone.”

Bethany’s stomach flipped. If someone bought it for the land, it went without saying that they’d tear down the buildings and start over. Although such a plan was completely logical, the concept made her queasy. Apparently she cared about this old wreck of a place, after all.

Morgan pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. She had gorgeous eyes, a startling turquoise color. Her expression softened in understanding. “You grew up here, right?”

Bethany nodded. Silly, but her throat was too tight to speak.

“Are you sure you want to sell it? Because I can’t guarantee that the new owners will leave the buildings intact.”

Bethany cleared her throat. “I have to sell it. I have too much going on in my life to worry about maintaining this ranch.”

“You could hire somebody.”

Once again she thought of Nash. If she didn’t sell it, would he consider living here and keeping it up for her? No, that wouldn’t work. She and Nash had different dreams and they’d be better off making a clean break when the week was over.

She glanced at Morgan. “No, I’m sure I want to sell it and forget it.” Even as she said that, she knew the chances of forgetting this place were slim. It was still in her blood. She could feel it.

“Okay. And even though a buyer might take down the buildings, they might not, too. Some people love things to be weathered and rustic. I’m just warning you, so you’re not grief-stricken if you come back and find it all changed.”

“I won’t come back.” She especially wouldn’t if Nash bought it. She couldn’t picture him living on this ranch alone. Once he had a place of his own, he’d go looking for a woman to share it with. Bethany didn’t care to drive in and discover some other chick tending flowers on the porch and maybe bouncing Nash’s kid on her hip.

“All righty, then. Where would you like to start?”

“How about the barn?”

“That works.” Morgan was dressed in boots and jeans, but she wore a yellow scoop-necked T-shirt in deference to the warmth of the morning.

Knowing she’d be tramping around the property, Bethany had dug out a pair of boots from her closet. She hadn’t worn them in ages. They had to be at least fifteen years old, and the minute she’d put them on, she’d felt like a teenager again. It wasn’t a bad feeling, surprisingly enough.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Morgan said as they walked toward the barn, which was about fifty yards from the house.

Bethany sighed. “He didn’t have a very good end, I’m afraid. And I didn’t make it here in time.”

“That’s rough.”

“I don’t think he wanted me here. We weren’t close, and he kept saying everything was fine. I knew it wasn’t, but I was afraid to come back and find...well, this.” She swept an arm to encompass the horse barn, the tractor barn, the chicken coop and various corrals.

“It must be heartbreaking for you.”

“My dad didn’t maintain this part very well at the best of times. The house, though—that’s where the heartbreak sets in.” She paused before the barn door. It had been open when she’d pulled in yesterday, so she’d seen no point in closing it and possibly trapping whatever wild creatures might be living in there. “Let me go first. I haven’t been inside yet.”

“Don’t blame you.”

Bethany stepped through the door and listened. Silence. Then she heard fluttering and glanced up. Birds had nested in the rafters, which were filled with cobwebs. She was glad she hadn’t closed in the birds. They might have babies by now. A mouse scurried across the floor and disappeared through an open stall door.

The barn still smelled faintly of hay, but the last horse had been sold months ago, so any remaining manure had dried up and lost its scent. She chose not to inspect the tack hanging on a wall, or the three saddles resting on sawhorses. If mice had taken over, they’d probably chewed the leather.

“I think it’s safe to come in,” she called over her shoulder. “I don’t see or hear anything dangerous.”

Morgan walked through the door. “I checked out the roof a little. From the ground, it doesn’t look too bad. Maybe it needs some patching, but I couldn’t see any obvious damage. Replace the hinges on the door, sweep the place out, get yourself a cat, and this barn would be workable.”

“Good to know.” Bethany congratulated herself on her casual reply. The longer she stayed in the barn, the more sentimental she became. She’d had a horse stabled in this barn. Gingerbread had been twenty-five when her father bought the gelding for Bethany’s sixth birthday. She’d ridden him for ten years before he got into some bad hay and that was that.

She hadn’t thought about Gingerbread in a long time, but she remembered sunlit rides through fields of purple lupine. Sometimes her dad would come along and occasionally her mom would, too. A few times she’d invited friends from school, but mostly she’d ridden alone. And she’d loved it.

“I count six stalls,” Morgan said. “That’s plenty for a ranch this size.”

“We never filled them all, either. Three horses were the most we ever had at one time. My dad thought he’d enjoy owning a ranch, but the reality of it was never really his thing.”

“It isn’t for everyone. So, shall we move on?”

“Sure.” She reminded herself that Morgan was here to assess the property and get on with her day. Bethany could take a stroll down memory lane later.

The tractor barn contained one rusty tractor and her dad’s aging blue pickup. Seeing that old truck brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away. Not now.

“If either the truck or the tractor run, you could consider selling them with the ranch,” Morgan said.

“I’ll check that out. If they don’t run, I’ll arrange to have them towed.”

“Okay. Once again, this building seems sound. A little work on the roof, maybe some fresh paint, and it would be serviceable. It’s less critical than the barn because the vehicles won’t try to get out.”

Bethany smiled. “Thanks. This tour could use a touch of humor. Sorry if I’ve been too grim.”

“I know it must be hard, but you’re holding up great.” Morgan gave Bethany’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Happiness is a choice.” Bethany said it without thinking. Whoops.

“You’ve got that right.” Morgan paused to look at her as if trying to remember something. “There’s something familiar about you, Bethany. I’ve thought so ever since I arrived.”

“I went to school here, so if you did, too, that could be it.” She decided a change of scenery might sidetrack this discussion. “Ready to see the house?”

“Absolutely.” Morgan walked beside Bethany toward the shabby little ranch house. “I don’t think it was school I know you from. My folks moved around a lot. Still do, in fact. I was only here for one semester. But...wait a minute, it’s coming to me. Bethany Grace! That’s where I read H
appiness Is a Choice
. You wrote
Living with Grace!
Your picture’s on the dustcover of the book, and so is that quote.”

Bethany sighed. Trust her to locate the one person in town besides Nash Bledsoe who’d heard of her. “Yep, I am and it is.”

“My mother
loves
that book! She gave it to all us kids for Christmas last year. She will be so excited that I’ve actually met you.”

Dread swirled in Bethany’s tummy. “Does your mom live here?”

“No. Well, my folks spend part of the year here, but they’re vagabonds. Right now they’re over in Ojai, California, at a spiritual retreat. I’ll bet my mom’s read every motivational book ever published, but she really liked yours.”

Bethany knew better than to ask if Morgan had read it. She’d mentioned that it was a Christmas gift, and this was June. She hadn’t said a single word about how much
she
had enjoyed it. That was okay with Bethany. Not everyone was into self-help.

But she needed to do some damage control. “Morgan, I have a favor to ask. Could you please not tell anyone who I am? I mean, you can say something to your mom, since she doesn’t live here. But the Triple G is...not something I want the world to hear about, at least not when it looks like this.”

Morgan nodded. “You’re a public figure, so I understand completely.”

“Thanks. I appreciate your discretion.” The tension eased from Bethany’s shoulders. “I can imagine the reaction going one of two ways, neither of them good. Either the media will play up the irony of me having a father who wasn’t
living with grace,
or it will praise me for overcoming the handicap of growing up in depressing circumstances. My dad wasn’t perfect, but I don’t want his story sensationalized.”

“Of course you don’t. Tell you what. I won’t mention you to my mom until the ranch is either fixed up or sold. The sooner one of those two things happens, the better. It’s always possible someone else will recognize you before you accomplish that.”

“Nash Bledsoe knows.” Bethany didn’t feel right guaranteeing Morgan’s silence without telling her about Nash. “His ex was a fan of my books, and he put two and two together.”

Morgan’s jaw dropped. “The Wicked Witch of the West read your books?”

“You knew her?”

“Not personally, but Nash has said enough that I’m sure I wouldn’t care for her at all. If half of what I’ve heard is true, she must not have absorbed your message.”

“Oh, she picked up on
Happiness Is a Choice
, all right, and she clubbed him over the head with it whenever he objected to her patronizing behavior. He was supposed to be happy being her whipping boy.”

“Sadistic bitch.” Morgan glanced at Bethany. “So Nash knows who you are, but he’s okay with it? He’s not blaming you for contributing to his misery?”

“He’d love to, but he’s a better man than that.” Instantly Bethany wished she’d made the comment with less warmth.

Morgan’s gaze flickered. “He’s a good guy.” She paused. “He tells everyone that’s the last time he’ll hook up with a woman who has more money than he does.”

“You can’t blame him.” She wasn’t sure if Morgan was warning her or protecting Nash, but either way, the comment underscored Nash’s intentions toward her. He was in it for the sex. In a way, she was relieved to know he’d guard his heart.

“I’m glad you hired him to work on the place,” Morgan said. “He came out of the divorce broke, and he could use the money. It’s crazy that he happened to know who you are, but I’ll bet you won’t bump into anyone else who recognizes you. The people around here don’t seem prone to reading motivational books.” She winced. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right. I meant—”

“It’s okay, Morgan.” Bethany laughed. “I’m glad they don’t. I’d rather be anonymous right now.” As she said that she realized how much she’d enjoyed not being a celebrity for the past twenty-four hours. Her success thrilled her, but being in the public eye took some getting used to. “Come on in the house. I have coffee and brownies.”

“Yum.” Morgan followed her up the creaky porch steps. “If I can have a few minutes on my tablet, I may be able to give you a rough idea of a good asking price before I leave.”

“That would be awesome.” She had another thought. “Do you suppose the Chances are interested? I hadn’t considered that until just now. Maybe they want to increase their acreage.”

She wondered if the idea had occurred to Nash. He was loyal to that family and if they wanted the ranch, he might back off. The possibility made her sad. Yeah, she wanted to help him make his dream come true. He’d had that kind of effect on her.

“I don’t know if they’re interested or not, but if you’re at all worried that I might let my connection to them affect my obligation to get you the best price, then I’d be happy to suggest a different agent.” Morgan didn’t sound at all upset. She was obviously a real pro.

“Heavens, no.” Bethany held the screen door open for her. “The Chances have a great reputation around here for being straight shooters. I’d trust a member of the Chance family way more than some real estate agent I don’t know.”