The Rancher's Marriage Pact (7 page)

“It wouldn't be the same,” he said. “To risk sounding like Jenny, the D Bar C is equivalent to losing the plantation that's been in the family for generations.”

“Wouldn't it still be in the family if Fort takes over? Have you even bothered to work out some agreement that wouldn't force you to go to such extremes?”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “Fort doesn't talk to anyone but Worth. He'd have the power to do anything he pleases, including selling it off piece by piece. I wouldn't put it past him to do that just for spite. He hates anything associated with the Calloways, including me. Especially me.”

A family feud of grand proportions. “Because I grew up traveling the world, I've never experienced having a real home place. But I do understand why it would be difficult to give up a legacy.”

“And even harder to give up the memories.”

“Of your dad?”

“Of my mother. I have very few as it is.”

That revelation yanked hard on her heartstrings. At times her own mother could drive her insane with her penchant for being overprotective, yet Paris couldn't imagine not having her mom in her life. “How old were you when she passed?”

“Not quite five years old, but I still recall the little things. If I'm forced to leave here, I'm afraid the memories might fade completely.”

Hearing the pain in his voice almost pushed Paris over the marriage edge. But she couldn't let emotions rule common sense. She'd done that too often as it was. “You've given me a lot to consider,” she said as she handed him the laptop.

“Then you're not completely ruling it out?”

“No, but I have to think about it long and hard. And you'd have to promise we'd find some way to go the annulment route.”

“Believe me, my lawyer will find a loophole if that's how we want to end the marriage. And I'd be willing to put all the terms in writing if that would make you feel better.”

She'd feel better if she had more time to weigh the verdict. “When do you want my answer?”

“I'm flying to Houston on Friday and I thought we could just do it there. It'll be easier to blend in at that courthouse rather than do it around here. Word travels fast in small towns.”

“I don't know if I can make such a serious decision that soon.”

“That's all the time I have since my birthday's Saturday,” he said as he pushed off the desk. “When it comes right down to it, it makes sense to get it done the day before.”

If only she could be so sure. “I'm going to go home and think it over,” she told him as she stood. “But if I were you, I wouldn't get my hopes up. I'll call you as soon as I've made up my mind.”

After leaving him behind in the barn, Paris managed to return to Dallas's house, gather her things and sneak out without being detected. She drove the ninety miles home in a haze, ticking off a mental list of pros and cons. She entered her barren apartment and thought about how she'd hoped to settle in a loft downtown, with a view of the River Walk. Yet her budget had only allowed her to rent a one-bedroom in a cookie-cutter complex outside the magic of the city.

Her life had turned into an absolute mess, devoid of security and absent of even a shred of a sincere social life. She had a closet full of expensive shoes and nowhere to wear them, a large stack of unpaid bills, including one that if ignored could take away her freedom, and a solid sense of defeat. But she still had an option—accept Dallas's proposal. What was the worst that could happen? Paris could think of one thing—she might lose her heart to a man who didn't return the sentiment. Again.

Not this time. Not if she approached the proposal as strictly business. She married for love the first time, why not marry for financial gain the second? A lot of people did it. Unfortunately she'd never imagined herself fitting into that mercenary mold. But she'd never dreamed she would be caught in this dire position.

Damn her bad luck. Damn Peter Smith for his criminal acts and betrayal and leaving her to take the fall. Damn Dallas Calloway for putting her on the verge of accepting his offer.

Knowing she needed advice had her reaching for the cell phone, although she would have to be very, very careful.

On that thought, Paris dropped down onto the sofa and pounded out her parents' number. After two rings, “Reynolds residence” filtered through the line in Sheila's usual sing-song voice.

“Hey, Mom. It's Paris.”

“Well I'll be, it's the prodigal daughter checking in and it's not even a holiday.”

Her mom did have a tendency to make her kids feel guilty at times. “I know, Mother. It's been a while since I called, but I've been rather busy.”

“Do you have a job?”

That depended on whether she took a husband. “Actually, I have a good prospect.” Now for adding that other little tidbit of information. “I also have a new man in my life.”

“Oh, Paris, are you sure that's a good idea? The ink has barely dried on your divorce decree.”

“It's been twenty-two months, Mom.” And four days.

“Oh. Time does fly, doesn't it?”

“Yes, it does. Anyway, I think you and Dad would like him.”

“Does
he
have a job?”

“Yes, he does. He's a rancher. An honest to goodness cowboy.”

“Interesting. Does he have a nice butt?”

Heavens, leave it to her matriarch to bring that up. “What difference does it make?”

“Believe me, it does. I married your father for his butt and we're approaching forty years of marital bliss.”

Definitely too much information. “Yes, he has a nice butt and a nice house and a lucrative ranching operation. Are you happy now?”

“I'm happy if you're happy, dear.”

Now for the moment of truth. A prelude to what possibly could be in the offing. “Good, because the
M
word has been mentioned.”

“Meatloaf? Manners?
Mistake
?”

“Very funny, Mom. Marriage.”

“Darn, I'd hoped that wasn't it.”

“Nothing is set in stone yet, but I didn't want you to be blindsided if it does happen.”

“I certainly hope we get to meet this one before you take that step.”

Not likely that would occur in two days. “I'm sure you'll have the opportunity in the near future.”

“Paris, if this man treats you well, then you'll have our blessing. Just make certain this time you're doing the right thing.”

An obvious slam on her lack of judgment when it came to her former relationship. “Believe me, I'm going to be very certain before I end up at the altar. A part of me says I should go for it. Another part tells me maybe I'm not cut out for matrimony.”

“I don't want to ever hear you say that again,” her mother said in a no nonsense tone. “You have the capacity to make a marriage work, as long as you can trust and love your mate for life.”

Therein lay the problem—love didn't figure into the deal. “How do you ever really know that, Mother? Marriage doesn't come with guarantees.”

“True, but it does come with certain risks if it's not right. If you happen to be lucky enough to find your soul mate, then don't be afraid to take the chance. One bad apple named Peter shouldn't spoil the whole bunch. By the way, what is this man's name?”

“Dallas.” And sadly he would never be her soul mate, though he could be her financial savior.

“How nice that he carries the moniker of your father's favorite football team. That should earn him a few points.”

They shared in a laugh before Paris decided to end the conversation. “Thanks for listening, Mom. I'll take all your advice to heart.”

“You're welcome, dear. And don't forget to follow that heart. If it feels right, do it. It's high time to leave the past behind and look forward to a brighter future.”

“You know, Mom, you're right. Love you bunches and tell Dad I love him, too.”

“We love you, dear. And don't wait so long to call, okay?”

“I won't.” And that next call could be a bombshell that might blow up in her face.

After Paris hung up, she mulled over her mother's words and clung to one thing in particular—leaving the past behind and looking forward to a brighter future.

Maybe she should choose a different direction, journey down a new path, even an unorthodox one. Maybe marriage to Dallas Calloway could provide all of that, and more. Maybe his offer would be the best way to start over.

Too much to consider, and far too little time.

* * *

Right then, Dallas only wanted enough time to enjoy his lunch alone. But the two women hovering at the dinette where he now sat had no intention of giving him some peace. Maybe if he ignored them, they'd go away. And pigs would probably sprout wings first.

Jenny propped one hand on her hip and stared at him. “Well?”

He swallowed the last bite of the barbecue sandwich before he responded. “Well what?”

“Where is Paris?”

“She went home.”

Maria flipped her braid over one shoulder and folded her arms. “Are you gonna ask her out again,
mijo
?”

“Nope.”

Jenny sighed. “Sugar, you really should have given her another chance. A lot of women get drunk on a first date.”

He saw an opportunity to rattle their chains and jumped on it. “I decided I didn't need to ask her for a second date.”

Jen looked crestfallen. “Why not?”

“Because I asked her to marry me. I figured we'd pretty much moved past the dating game at that point.”

That effectively shut them up for the time being, but he suspected not for long.

“You really did it?” Jenny asked, confirming his suspicions.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Don't just sit there,
mijo
,” Maria said. “Give us all the down and dirty details.”

Jenny took on that same old wistful, romantic look. “Did you get down on one knee? Did you give her a ring?”

That beat all he'd ever heard. “No, I didn't get down on one knee. I approached it as a business proposition, which it is. And when would I have found time to buy a ring?”

“You have your mother's ring, Dallas. It's in the safe.”

Maria didn't have to remind him of that. He'd thought about it often, even though he'd never really looked inside the blue velvet box. Giving it to Paris under the circumstances would be as false as the marriage. Ironically, that trinket had been reserved for true love, according to his dad. “A ring is the least of my concerns.”

Jenny's face fell like it had weights attached to it. “She said no?”

He pushed back from the table and came to his feet. “She said she'd think about it.”

“Then it's not a lost cause?” Maria asked.

“Okay, you two, don't get your hopes up.” Exactly what Paris had said to him before she'd left. “My guess is she's going to think it over and then refuse the offer.”

“You should have knelt before her,” Jenny said. “Women like that.”

“And given her the damn ring,” Maria added. “I'm not sappy like Blondie here, but I do know most gals like to be treated with dignity when a man pops the question. Even your father knew that.”

“That's true,” Jenny began. “J.D. could be quite the romantic even if he was a jackass.”

He didn't want to hear anything else about the aforementioned jackass since he was the reason Dallas found himself in this predicament. “It wasn't going to matter to Paris if I rode in on a white horse, considering what I'm asking of her.”

“A white horse would have been nice,” Jenny added. “That would be hard to resist.”

He wanted to shake some sense into the woman and dislodge her visions of hearts and flowers. “Again, the ball is now in Paris's court. If she wants to agree to the marriage terms, then she'll let me know.”

“Maybe you should go after her,” Maria added. “Give her a little nudge in the right direction.”

He had actually thought about doing that very thing before deciding he didn't want to pressure her more than he already had. “If she wants to go forward, she'll come to me. I'm not going to coerce her into a decision.” Although that would be a reason for ending the marriage, provided it actually happened. Nah. His sense of honor wouldn't allow him to use that tactic.

“I hope she does say yes,” Jenny said. “We could plan a grand wedding on the grounds of the main house. I could make canapés and my famous mint juleps.”

That's all he needed—a drunk bride. Then again, that would be grounds for the annulment. He really had to get a grip. “If she decides to go through with it, and that's a big
if
, there won't be any wedding. Just a simple courthouse ceremony and no publicity.”

Jenny pretended to pout. “That's no fun, Dallas. You should have your family present for the nuptials.”

Before she called a caterer, Dallas had to get out of there. “You ladies have a good afternoon talking about me behind my back.”

With that, he left the kitchen and headed to the barn, all the while recalling how he'd watched Paris drive away. Probably for the last time.

In reality, the marriage pact was the craziest thing he'd ever conjured up. He sure as hell couldn't imagine keeping his hands to himself for a day in her presence, much less a year. If everything fell through, he'd be better off. He'd just turn the place over to Fort and find somewhere else to start up Texas Extreme, even if it wouldn't be the same.

Accepting the fact that Paris would turn him down flat would be best. He'd bet his last buck that's exactly what she'd do.

Five

“W
ith the power vested in me by the state of Texas, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The man should probably be pronouncing them certifiably insane. Four days ago she hadn't even known Dallas Calloway. Two days ago she'd packed up her limited belongings and moved in with him. Today she wore a diamond-encrusted wedding band and vowed to be his wife. Unbelievable.

Paris waited for Dallas to follow the justice of the peace's declaration, expecting a peck on the cheek. Perhaps a brush across her mouth. She got a full-on, well-deep kiss that curled her toes in the white satin pumps she'd purchased with the sleeveless matching dress before she'd left San Antonio.

After Dallas pulled away and winked, she automatically touched her tingling lips. “That certainly sealed the deal.”

He leaned over and whispered, “There's more of that to come if you want more of it.”

Yes, she wanted more. Much more than she should. “Now that we've made this official, what's the next step?”

“I have a driver waiting outside the north entrance. He'll take us back to the plane.”

The private plane that had whisked her to Houston a few hours ago to meet up with the groom following his appearance at the grand opening of his newest saddle shop. An elaborate aircraft that could pass for a flying motel with a high-class bar and sleeping quarters, of all things.

Dallas clasped her hand to guide her through the courthouse vestibule and when they stepped outside, Paris was shocked to find hoards of reporters milling around the steps outside. “What is going on?”

“They're here for us,” Dallas muttered, followed by a few strong oaths. “Just keep walking and stay close to me.”

“Not a problem.” She had no intention of crawling into the lion's den without a proper escort.

As soon as they started their descent, cameras immediately began to flash, film began to roll and some woman with red hair as big as Jenny's started hurling questions at Paris. “How does it feel to be married to one of the most eligible bachelors in the state?” she asked as she thrust a microphone in Paris's face.

Before she could respond, Dallas practically dragged her toward the black limo waiting at the curb as he shoved his way through the crowd. She could swear someone tugged at the hem of her dress right before the chauffeur helped her into the car and away from the chaos.

Dallas slid in bedside her and immediately began to loosen his tie. “Dammit, I wanted to avoid all this nonsense. I'd like to know who the hell tipped them off.”

“That's anyone's guess. Maybe someone in the courthouse when you obtained our marriage license. By the way, how did you manage to circumvent the normal waiting period?”

He shrugged out of his beige jacket and laid it on the seat beside him. “I know people. Obviously people that can't be trusted.”

She imagined he did know a lot of people in high places. She also imagined him taking off the white tailored shirt, his best pair of jeans and cowboy boots, and laying her down on the leather seat. Maybe she'd request he leave the boots on. Maybe she should exit the car now before she found herself in a lot of trouble. As if she wasn't already. “You know, marriages are a matter of public record, Dallas. I'm sure that's how the media learned about us.”

“We haven't even been married fifteen minutes. Someone at the courthouse must've leaked the info. Probably an employee who wanted to make a buck selling a story.”

Curious over how far the news had traveled, Paris pulled her cell from her silk bag and did a quick internet search of their names. In less than five seconds, she had her answer from a renowned celebrity gossip site. “Oh, my gosh. I can't believe this headline. Sexy Former Rodeo Superstar Dallas Calloway Marries Longtime Girlfriend Paris Reynolds.”

“Don't know why you're so shocked,” he said with a grin. “Some women think I'm sexy. My truck, too.”

He was just too darned cute not to tolerate his wry wit. “I'm referring to the
longtime
part. Talk about a misprint. It should read His Girlfriend of Three Days. Or more accurately, His Business Partner.”

He scooted a little closer to her, providing another heady whiff of his clean-scent cologne. “I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't get hold of Jenny for an interview. She'd say something like that to make the situation more socially acceptable.”

“I suppose she would do that since she's definitely all about decorum.”

“She's also still mad she wasn't invited to witness the wedding. So is Maria.” After his cell began to ring, he pulled it from his jeans' pocket and said, “Speak of the devil.”

“Which one?”

“Jen.”

When he simply stared at the phone, Paris wondered why he was hesitating. “What are you waiting for?”

“I'm tryin' to decide if I want to speak to her.”

“Of course you do. It might be an emergency.”

“Yeah, her pantyhose could be shot or her hairdresser canceled her appointment.”

“Answer it, Dallas.”

“Fine.” He swiped the screen and grumbled, “What's up, Jen?” followed by a few
yeahs
and couple of
yeps
and one
big deal
. Then he added, “I'll take that into consideration, and I don't give a horse's rear what he thinks. And yeah, I forgive you but only because he's your kid. Talk to you later.”

“What was that all about?” Paris asked after he disconnected.

Dallas forked a hand through his hair and sighed. “It seems Jen decided to call Fort and tell him we were getting married and where. When she saw the story at five a couple of minutes ago—”

“Why does our marriage warrant coverage on the news channels?”

He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. “She was watching some tabloid channel, not the national news. But be prepared for that to happen. Weddings, babies and divorces of the rich and infamous equal good ratings.”

Apparently their surprising little wedding was worthy of major coverage, thanks to the notoriety of the man sitting beside her. The man who happened to legally be her husband. “I knew you were popular with the ladies, but I had no idea losing your bachelor status would have such an impact on the general public.”

He shrugged. “No one thought it would ever happen. Anyway, Fort evidently called the press just to piss me off. Jen says a lot of reporters are camped out near the ranch. Maria's doing her best to run them off, hopefully not with a shotgun. Like I suspected, Jen also said it was her idea to claim we've been a couple for a long time.”

“How long?”

“Three years, and she's real proud of the plan.”

The
plan
could be a major problem. “Unfortunately that would make me an adulteress since I've been divorced less than two years. I hope that doesn't come back to haunt us.”

He reached into the built-in cooler centered between the opposing rows of seats and withdrew a bottle of high-dollar champagne. “If it does create problems, we'll deal with it. In the meantime, let's celebrate our nuptials.”

Celebrating wasn't foremost on her mind. Not when she continued to worry that somehow someone might dig up the dirt from the debacle at her former firm. But she couldn't concern herself with something that happened to be beyond her control. Besides, if Dallas found out, she'd simply explain she'd only been guilty of being too gullible. “Nice touch,” she said after he poured them each a glass of the bubbly and offered one to her. “But I wouldn't peg you as a wine drinker.”

“Normally, I'm not, but I think we deserve a toast.” He held the glass aloft. “To an arrangement that will allow us to both win in the end.”

As long as
the end
didn't include an emotional hijacking, she'd drink to that. “To winning,” she said as she touched the flute to his.

After taking a few sips, Paris leaned back in the seat, looked out the window and noticed the slow-moving traffic. “It's going to take forever to get to the airport.”

Dallas downed the rest of the champagne and grimaced before setting the glass aside. “That's what happens in Houston during rush hour. Guess we should have planned better.”

The situation could work to their advantage. “Since we have the extra time, we should probably use it to get to know each other.”

He scooted closer, draped his arm over the back of the seat and grinned. “I'm game.”

“I don't mean that.” Even though
that
would be tempting.

He slid a fingertip down her cheek. “Are you sure? I mean, we are newlyweds and we're in this big old limo with all this room. The driver can't see a thing with the window up.”

More very vivid images filtered into her thoughts. Risqué images that caused her face to fire up. She didn't know whether to fan herself or faint. “I'm referring to discussing details about each other, in case anyone asks. After all, we've presumably been together for three years.”

He released a rough sigh. “Talking wasn't what I had in mind.”

“Of course not. You're a man. You're averse to conversation.”

He traced a random pattern on her knee. “Not always. Just at the moment.”

She slapped her palm on his hand and placed it on the seat between them, even though she considered sliding it up her thigh. “Now, now. Be a good groom. We both know the terms.”

“I don't like the terms one damn bit.”

In reality, neither did she. But she liked the thought of another divorce even less. “First get-to-know-you question. What's your favorite color?”

“Brown. Yours?”

“Coral. Favorite pastime?”

“I thought I made that clear right before you threw the no-sex terms up in my face.”

Definitely a bad boy. “Your second favorite then.”

“Taking a long, hard ride on a—”

“Dallas,” she said in a scolding tone.

“Bull.” He tried on an innocent look that didn't quite erase the devilish gleam in his blue eyes. “What did you think I was going to say?”

The man knew exactly what she'd been thinking, and with good reason. “Moving on. Favorite food?”

“Steak.”

She knew the answer to that before she'd asked the question. “I love hummus with red peppers.”

He frowned. “I'd rather eat hay. Your favorite vacation spot?”

“I haven't been on a vacation in so long I couldn't really say. I do know it's not Vegas. I've seen enough of that place to last a lifetime.”

“Never been a big fan,” he said. “Except when I was at the National Finals Rodeo. Now that I've retired, give me a fishing trip any day.”

“I've never been fishing,” she said.

“Never?”

“No. My father spent his career on boats so he avoided taking us anywhere that involved water.”

Dallas remained quiet for a while before he asked, “How would you feel about going fishing?”

“Today?”

“Sure. We've got to spend our honeymoon somewhere, not to mention the press is hanging out at the ranch, waiting for our return. We could just kick back a couple of days. I can teach you how to cast a line and we can just relax.”

Had this been a traditional marriage, she might have preferred a tropical paradise in lieu of a fishing excursion. However, that fit Dallas's cowboy persona, not consuming fruity drinks with umbrellas during an island escape. Avoiding any more media coverage for the time being sounded like a good idea no matter where they went. She did see one problem. “I didn't pack a bag, Dallas.”

“Just leave it all up to me. I promise you'll have everything you need.”

She trusted he would make good on that promise. “Okay. Exactly where will we go?”

“Lady, this is your lucky day. I just happen to know this little cabin on a lake.”

* * *

It had to be the biggest log cabin she'd ever seen.

When they'd arrived at the airport an hour ago, they'd been greeted by a fiftysomething-year-old man who'd delivered Dallas a tricked-out black truck, complete with leather seats, satellite radio and a high-tech computer. They'd immediately set off for Texas Hill Country, northwest of San Antonio, luggage on board as promised, for their impromptu honeymoon. And now they traveled up a steep drive lined by a myriad of trees toward another magnificent property.

“This place is really yours?” Paris asked as Dallas pulled into the circular drive and stopped before the front door.

He turned off the ignition and gave her a prideful smile. “Yep. I helped build it with my own two hands a couple of years ago. It's a nice place to escape, although I don't get to enjoy it often enough. Now wait right here.”

After undoing her seat belt, Paris remained in her seat while Dallas rounded the hood and helped her out. He only let go of her hand to open the pine door, and then caught her completely off guard when he picked her up into his arms.

She had a little trouble catching her breath as he stepped inside. “What on earth are you doing, Dallas?”

“Carrying my bride over the threshold.”

Even her
official
first husband hadn't done that. “Isn't this a bit of overkill considering our situation?”

“The caretaker doesn't know our situation,” he said as he set her on her feet atop the wood plank floors. “And I don't know if he's left yet. I'm going to check the place over then I'll bring in the bags.”

After Dallas left her alone to her devices, Paris readjusted her dress and tightened the band at her nape. The man had literally swept her off her feet. Imagine that. If not careful, she might actually start viewing him as a real husband. Not wise at all.

Pushing the concerns aside, she surveyed the great room with floor-to-towering-ceiling windows that afforded a view of the wooded terrain. Or what she could see of it now that the sun had disappeared. The place was rustic, like its owner, but charming all the same. Most of the accent pieces appeared to be antiques, with a lot of Western art and bronze statues. The heavy wood furniture with tufted cushions could have been handmade, and the decor most likely had been strictly selected by Dallas. She could also tell it wasn't nearly as large as his ranch house, but just as masculine if not more so. In fact, she saw no evidence whatsoever of a woman's touch.