Living With Lies Trilogy (Books 1, 2, and 3 of The Dancing Moon Ranch Series) (42 page)

"A few days," Brad replied. "And you?"

"It's undecided."

"Days. Weeks. Months?"
What in hell does undecided mean
?

"Maybe permanently," Justine said, then gave him a faltering smile. "How is Sophie?"

"She's fine. Fine. Really fine." Brilliant. And Justine no doubt got the underlying message. Things were hell.

"Does she, well, ever ask about me?" Justine asked.

"You said permanently?" Brad's brain was now engaged.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I... it... wasn't what I expected," Justine said.

"Elliot wanted you back in his bed." Shit! It was none of his damn business, and she was here permanently, and he was blathering like an idiot.

"No, as a matter of fact, he asked me to marry him." Justine shrugged. "It was strange. I guess I accomplished my goal because he treated me differently. Nice."

"That's good. Really good. Good." But she didn't accept, Brad suddenly realized.

"Why are you here?" Justine asked.

"Because, well, things weren't exactly a piece of cake back in Frisco," Brad replied.

Justine moved a couple of steps closer, and Brad realized, if she took another step, he'd reach out and grab her wrist and pull her to him and to hell with Sam standing at the check-in desk. He'd kiss her like there was no tomorrow, and if he got kneed in the balls, then so be it...

"Mommy!"
Sophie's voice came from the direction of the back door to the lodge, though Brad hadn't heard anyone enter. Sophie raced across the room and threw herself into Justine's arms. "I knew you'd come, Mommy. I prayed hard and asked God to bring you back and He did."

"It's so good to see you, honey," Justine said, her arms wrapped around Sophie, tears filling her eyes. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, Mommy," Sophie said in an excited voice. "Today we rode horses and Ricky and I sat in the hot water and we heard spirits talking and tomorrow Ricky's daddy's gonna take us to see where Indians buried things and I want you to come too. Will you, Mommy?"

"Well, honey, you'll have to ask your daddy."

Sophie glared at Brad, and waited, daring him to say no.

Brad looked at Justine, who was peering over Sophie's head, and said, "Can I come too?"

Justine released Sophie and stood facing him. "Yes."

Sophie let out a yelp, and said, "I have to go tell Ricky," then rushed to the back door, where Sam was leaving with Ricky.

"I'll watch her," Sam called back to them. "I think you two have things to sort out." He closed the door behind him, leaving Brad and Justine alone and staring at each other.

Feeling emboldened by the fact that Justine hadn't given him any flak, Brad walked up to her, straightened the collar to her turtleneck, even though it didn't need straightening, rested his hands on her shoulders, and said, "So you turned Sean Elliot down. Did the glass ceiling come only by marrying him?"

"No," Justine replied. "The glass ceiling was mine if I wanted it."

"The why did you turn it down?"

Justine held his gaze, as she said, "I guess what it boils down to is that Sean offered me the world, but the problem was, you weren't in it, so I decided I'd rather be here with Grace and Jack and watch my nephews grow up then be at the pinnacle of success with a man I didn't love."

"Would you consider switching places and marrying a man at the pinnacle of his success?" Brad asked. "I might not be able to offer you the world, but I can offer you my love, and the love of a little girl who calls you Mommy."

"Honey, that's the best offer I've had yet," Justine said, "but, I still have a past that could come back to haunt us."

"All of us have pasts that could come back," Brad said, "but you're the only woman I know who could stay one step ahead of Sophie, and you're the only woman I want in my life, and the only way I can be guaranteed both is if you marry me." He smiled then, because Justine was smiling that million-dollar smile of hers that said it all...

Yes, I want to be in your life... Yes, I want to be called Mommy...

And then her tongue came out to lick her lips, and he saw a pulse beating in her throat, and her nostrils flared, and he knew what she was thinking. There was still a little of the old Justine Page left, enough to keep life interesting. He kissed her lightly, and said, "So when can we start playing mommies and daddies, this time for real?"

That million-dollar smile curved into a mischievous grin, as she replied, "That depends on you. I'm a respectable woman now, so how soon can you put a ring on my finger?"

Brad curved his arms around her. "Are you going to hold me to that standard?"

Justine's eyes sharpened with a glint of the old bravado he loved, and she replied, "That's entirely up to you. It's either a ring on my finger, or a knee to your crotch."

"Honey, you drive a hard bargain."

"I've been told that before."

"You want to turn that new SUV around right now and go to the jeweler and get a ring, then to the courthouse and get the license?"

Justine curved her arms around Brad's neck, kissed him soundly, and said, "Yes, Mr. Meecham. The sooner the better."

Brad gave Justine a long, lingering kiss, then took her hand and led her out the lodge to her car, and they headed down the road to begin the rest of their lives...

###

FALSE PRETENSES

Book 3: DANCING MOON RANCH SERIES

.

CHAPTER 1

Dancing Moon Ranch; Sheridan, Oregon

Sam Hansen always thought his twin was the one with the ability to read people, but as he listened to the woman sitting on the couch opposite him in the great room of the lodge, while she recounted her qualifications for assuming the job of guest ranch manager, he got the uneasy feeling that this time Jack had been dead wrong. If it had been any man but Jack, he would have figured he offered the woman the job because of her looks, but that wasn't Jack's way. So all Sam could conclude was that Jack messed up this time. But Jack also told the woman she'd need to get his brother's approval. Sam wasn't sure he could give it. Things just didn't add up.

"Did you finish high school, Miss Hamilton?" he asked, "There seems to be a gap in your resume."

"Probably an oversight," Rebecca Hamilton said. "I have my masters in hotel management so I'm well qualified for the position. My past jobs include working the front desk, checking in guests, taking reservations, assigning rooms, dealing with complaints, being patient, understanding, and quick thinking, along with ordering supplies and being in charge of the housekeeping staff to make sure the rooms are properly cleaned and maintained."

At least she knew that much, Sam thought. "Do you have experience in restaurant management?" he asked. Maybe it was her looks that had him questioning her ability. She was just too damn beautiful to be brainy as well.

"Yes. At my last job, along with managing the guest ranch, I was also in charge of event planning, setting standards for the quality of the food, amenities, and table décor."

"We don't worry about table décor here," Sam said, glancing at her resume again, wondering which of the family-run operations listed might have bothered with that. Wondering if the places she'd listed even existed. He'd never heard of any of them.

"If you want me to set prices and handle publicity, I've done that too," the woman said. "I can also plan and supervise activities for the guests."

"That's mostly trail rides and cookouts, so you'd have to get with my brother on that," Sam said, finding her looking at him as if sizing him up, which he found odd.

Continuing to hold his gaze, she said, "There are other activities besides trail rides and cookouts that guests would enjoy. I understand there's an Indian mound on the property."

Sam eyed her, guardedly. Few people knew about the mound because they didn't want amateur archeologists roaming around digging up the place or authorities coming in and roping it off. "How did you hear about that?" he asked, curious.

The woman's eyes shifted nervously, like she was searching for an answer, then she gave a little shrug, and replied, "I don't remember. Maybe from someone at the Chamber of Commerce. I stopped in to get some brochures on the area."

Sam wasn't so sure about that. He made a mental note to check at the Chamber the next time he was in town and see who was working there. "Do you consider this a long-term position or a stopover on the way up?" he asked, still trying to size up the woman. If her resume wasn't made-up, he figured she was looking for short-term work while waiting for her big break—managing a Hilton in Hawaii, or maybe running a convention center in Las Vegas.

"Which will get me the job?" she asked.

Sam gave a short guffaw. "At least you're honest," he conceded, and felt a little better about the woman. "We're looking long term. My brother handles the horses, runs the cattle, and takes care of maintenance of the ranch, and I'm involved in managing the vineyards and promoting the winery, and neither of us have time for running the guest ranch. That would be your job. But this isn't a bad place for the long haul," he added, making a sweeping gesture with his hand to indicate the great room with its golden-brown log walls and massive stone fireplace and cross-work of timbers overhead. As big as the place was, the guest lodge his parents built over forty years ago still had the feel of a large, cozy home.

"I have no plan to move on, and you'll be well satisfied with my work," the woman said, with an air of confidence that made Sam uneasy. Either she figured the job was hers, or she was good at misleading people. She sure held his interest. Not just her looks, but her whole approach. He returned to her employment history. "I haven't heard of any of the places you've listed," he said, scanning the unfamiliar names of several guest ranches.

"They're small, family owned. Some have gone out of business," the woman said.

"After you left or while you were there?" Not subtle, Sam thought, as he looked at her and waited. This time he might have overstepped the line. She looked miffed.

"Would you ask that question of a man?" she fired back.

"Your point is well taken," Sam replied. He studied her more closely. He hadn't at first. Scrutinizing a beautiful woman during an interview could peg him as a womanizer. She was an interesting mix though. Long black hair a tangle of waves around her shoulders. Features that hinted of African descent, yet skin as pale as ivory. Catlike eyes in their intensity and with an Asian slant, bronze in shade but with a greenish cast, and fringed with long black lashes. Full lips that also hinted of African, but which turned up at the corners, seeming more British in shape. The outfit she was wearing suited her. Khaki. Safari style. But a kimono would have suited equally as well.

"To answer your unasked question, Sam," the woman said, shocking the hell out of him by using his first name, "my great-great grandfather, Winston Hamilton III, a Brit who emigrated to Louisiana from England, took for his mistress a woman who'd descended from slaves. She was my great-great grandmother. They had a son, who my great-great-grandfather sent to England to be educated. He went to India and married an Indian woman, who was my great grandmother. They had a son, who married the daughter of Irish emigrants. Their son, my father, married my mother, who is from the Philippines. I'm a mongrel."

An exceptionally beautiful mongrel, Sam gave her that, one who'd put him in his place. Obviously, her unusual and exotic looks had demanded an explanation throughout her life, and she was prepared for it. But he couldn't decide if she was overconfident about getting the job, which could explain why she addressed a potential boss by his first name, or if she was simply playing a role. She looked uneasy with his questioning, and some of her answers didn't make too damn much sense, but he wasn't pressing her to expand either. Why? He hadn't a clue. Or maybe he wanted her there because she didn't give him all the answers. She was an enigma, and those little missing pieces of the puzzle were the bait and lure that hooked him.

"Have you ever lived in a semi-isolated place like this?" he asked. She was too beautiful to do the jungle thing, even though she looked at home in the safari outfit… more than at home. She was a knockout. And he was having trouble staying focused on what he was supposed to be doing, which was sizing her up for the job, not for his bed. But he was having trouble along those lines too. It had been a long dry spell. Almost three years.

The woman shrugged. "In pursuing a career in hospitality management, with a focus on guest ranches, I expect to live away from the city. This ranch is perfect for me."

Everything said in present tense, Sam noted, as if the job was already hers. And maybe it was. With his mother retiring for good this time, and the ranch opening for the season in two weeks, they needed someone now. "Come on then," he said. "I'll show you around. And you can call me Sam."

She smiled. "I just did."

"Officially now," he added.

When she stood, Sam was surprised at how tall she was. When he'd walked into the room she was sitting on the couch. He, being six-four, liked the idea of a woman whose mouth wasn't chest high like Susan's had been, making him have to crane his neck to kiss her, though he hadn't kissed a woman since his divorce. On the other hand, Susan had been getting what she wanted from her fitness instructor for months before the divorce, when the PI he hired blew the whistle on the two of them and the shit hit the fan. She was still getting what she wanted from the guy.

But looking at Rebecca Hamilton, he could imagine kissing her. She was shaped right too. Slender. Good proportions. Something nice to hold. He could also imagine getting his eyes scratched out if he tried; she was definitely not sending him signals. But he couldn't decide whether she was being all business, or if she'd had her fill of men coming onto her. She had the kind of looks that either scared men off because she was too beautiful, or had them following her around just to look at her, but she didn't invite them to approach. There was definitely an invisible wall between her and the world.

"So, is it Rebecca or Becky?" he asked. Neither name seemed to fit the woman.

"Jayne with a Y." She shrugged. "I picked it myself. I didn't like Rebecca or Becky."

"Okay then, Jayne with a Y, it is," Sam replied, eyeing the safari outfit, thinking the name fit. He could see her being Jane to a Tarzan, except for the pale complexion. She could also be a Hollywood movie scout's dream. She had that ethnic mix they could make into a striking Cleopatra, or a queen of the Amazons, or a futuristic female warrior.

"You said you were going to show me the place," Jayne reminded him, and he realized he'd been staring at her. Her unique beauty held his attention. More than that. It made him want to haul her off to one of the guest rooms upstairs. Shoving that thought aside, he led her across the great room and down a hallway, and into the kitchen.

"This is Flo," he said, upon entering the spacious room where their cook and housekeeper of the past ten years stirred the contents of a big pot. "She runs the kitchen. You'd be responsible for planning menus, but Flo does the shopping. You'd have to work that out with her."

Jayne ran a hand over the butcher block countertop of the island workplace, and said, "The kitchen equipment is outdated. Do you plan to replace it any time soon?"

Sam shrugged, and replied, "It's all fine."

"Maybe twenty years ago it was," Jayne said. "Where is your icemaker?"

"We don't have one," Sam replied. "Flo keeps ice trays in the freezer."

"This?" Jayne said, stabbing a finger at the top of a twenty-year-old chest freezer.

"It's adequate," Sam said.

Jayne touched the front of the dishwasher. "How many loads does it take to do the dishes in this?" She looked at him and waited.

Yeah, it too was at least twenty years old, Sam silently conceded. The woman could have a point. Maybe when the addition to the winery was finished they could consider a new machine. "Flo figures that out," he replied.

Jayne scanned the room. "What about fryers, and steamers, and griddles, and char broilers? You have two old ranges, a refrigerator that's got to have been here when you were in high school, and enough space in the room to upgrade. Why haven't you?"

"This isn't the Hyatt Regency," Sam said, annoyed that the woman was finding fault in the kitchen. Flo hadn't complained and he didn't want her getting ideas about needing upgrades, with all available funds going towards finishing the winery.

He also felt like returning to calling the woman Miss Hamilton. Or maybe Sergeant Hamilton. He was beginning to feel like she was interviewing him and he and the ranch had to pass some kind of criteria before she'd agree to work there.

"Where will I be staying?" Jayne asked, as if the job was already hers.

She was so damn confident he was tempted to send her packing. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to do that, even with his doubts about her. Nothing concrete. Just a gut feeling that what he saw wasn't necessarily what he'd get. "Your room
would
be down the hall from here," he emphasized, keeping his options open. He hoped she'd pick up on it.

"I'm sure it
will
be fine," she said, clarifying things.

"Come on." Sam left the kitchen and continued down the hallway and showed her the bedroom that would be hers, then backtracked to the room beside it, and said, "This is the manager's office, but the ranch computer's in the office just off the entry."

"I have my own computer," Jayne replied. "It has my management program on it."

"You won't need the program," Sam said. "It's not that complicated here. You check in guests, plan meals, and make sure the staff cleans the rooms and changes the beds." The woman was making everything too damn complicated.

"Then you have an accountant?" she asked.

"Not on staff," Sam replied, "but that's not too hard to figure out either. Guests pay, checks go in the bank, receipts go in a box, and our tax accountant figures out the rest."

"Your brother's right, Sam. You do need me," Jayne said.

And Sam got the impression she'd just accepted the job. He had no idea when she'd switched from his interviewing her to her running the place, but he needed to square things away because he had an electrical inspector on his way to check the wiring in the winery addition, and he needed to get back out there. "Look, set things up the way you want, work with Flo about meals and Jack about activities, and I'll be around if you need me."

"I won't. But I can't run the place in a vacuum," Jayne said, when he started to leave. "I need to know something about expenses—a list of room rates, cost of supplies, where to purchase them, and the names and contact information of guests."