Matt (3 page)

“All right then.” Eager to finish the meeting and get rid of this intrusion on his privacy, Matt took a seat and picked up the first page of the mound of documents. “Let's get to it. My grandmother said you want the Malloy take on wild-animal preservation, especially those being removed from the government's endangered species list.”

“Exactly. The Malloy Ranch is successful enough to pack some clout with the officials who set the rules. We're hoping the Malloy name will make a difference.”

Matt compressed his lips and decided to keep his thoughts to himself until he'd had more time to see just where this was leading.

I
hate to nitpick, but I'd like to clarify this third paragraph.” Matt indicated the words on the page, and Vanessa located them on hers before carefully reading.

Her head came up. “You agree with the government regarding the number of animals that have been removed from the endangered species list?”

“I haven't even heard of half these animals, Miss Kettering. I can only speak about those animals located in this part of the country.”

She sat back, her arms crossed. “Now I'm ‘Miss Kettering.' What happened to ‘Nessa'?”

He grinned. “I guess I wanted to make my point.”

“Point taken.” Her own smile returned. “Please disregard the exotic animals on this list. We'll just concentrate on those located, as you said, in this part of the country. How do you feel about the government's annual roundup of mustangs?”

He sat a little straighter. “Now you've touched a nerve. You have to know that my grandmother is devoted to her mustangs.”

“I know that. That's why I was so eager to meet with her and hear her views on the subject.”

“I assure you that my views will reflect hers. I've grown up hearing her lament the mistreatment of those wild horses. She's spent a lifetime trailing them, capturing them on film, and seeing to it that our ranch hands deliver precious feed whenever she locates a stranded, starving herd.”

Vanessa nodded. “But is she willing to lend her name to a complaint we hope to present to Congress? We're asking that they rescind the law allowing the annual capture and adoption of mustangs, along with the slaughter of those considered too old or ill to be adopted by ranchers.”

“I'm afraid, in that particular matter, I cannot speak for my grandmother. In order to use her name, you'll need her complete and unequivocal approval.”

“Spoken like a lawyer.” Vanessa set aside the documents and sat back, forcing a tired smile. “Is there any coffee left?”

“Sure.” Matt walked to the kitchen.

Vanessa took the moment to slowly exhale before glancing at the time on her cell phone. They'd been going over the documents for more than an hour, and she was no closer to having the Malloy stamp of approval on their wish list. At this rate, she wouldn't be out of here until after dark.

This day wasn't going at all as she'd planned. When she'd been given the task of flying to Montana, she'd envisioned a quick meeting at a cozy ranch, and a long, leisurely dinner aboard the company jet while returning to Chicago. She'd actually set up a lunch meeting tomorrow with another client at one of her favorite restaurants on Lake Shore Drive.

She was most comfortable sticking to a busy schedule. As an only child, and the daughter of a high-profile workaholic, she was well suited to this lifestyle she'd carved out for herself. Whether enjoying a power lunch in the hallowed halls of Congress in Washington, DC, or grabbing a midnight drink with her coworkers in her cramped office in Chicago to discuss her next project, she was invigorated by the challenge of the next job, the next client. Now her entire agenda would have to be amended. Matt filled her cup, and then his own.

“Thanks.” She looked over as he settled across from her and picked up the next page of the document.

Seeing him look so comfortable in faded denims had her resenting the fact that she'd felt compelled to dress like a proper lawyer for this meeting.

“If you'd like…” Her words trailed off at the sound of thunder rumbling across the hills. “Are you expecting a storm?”

He shrugged. “Sorry. I haven't been paying attention. But I wouldn't be surprised. This is Montana. We have a saying: If you don't like the weather today, stick around. It's bound to change by tomorrow.”

She tried for a smile, but it was more like an anxious grimace.

“You afraid of storms?”

“No.” She picked up a page of the document and tried to nonchalantly stare down, but the words were a blur.

Liar
, she thought. She was absolutely terrified of thunderstorms, and had been since she was a girl. But it didn't seem prudent to admit that to a client. Especially one who looked as though nothing in the world would frighten him.

This bearded cowboy, with his shaggy hair in need of a trim, and those shrewd, laser-like eyes, wasn't like the men she knew. There was something unsettling about the way he seemed to anticipate what she would say even before she said it. He seemed much more knowledgeable about the law, and the world beyond these hills, than she'd expected. And yet he never tried to show off that knowledge the way most of the men around her would have. He seemed so comfortable with himself. With his life. With this isolation.

Isolation. Here she was, drinking way too much coffee and wishing she could be anywhere except here, in this cabin in the hills, with thunder rumbling across the sky like the devil himself was throwing a temper tantrum.

She drew in a deep breath, reminding herself that she'd come here hoping to snag a big name for their crusade. He hadn't exactly said no. He'd simply pointed out that he would not give his grandmother's name without her approval.

“All right. I'll hold off filling in your grandmother's name until I have a chance to speak with her.” She drew a line through the words before glancing over. “But I'll continue to hope that once we meet, your grandmother will be as outraged as our conservancy is about the inhumane treatment of wild animals. Shall we move on to the next point?”

Matt nodded.

“How does your family feel about shooting wolves?”

He sat back, stretching out his long legs. “I'd say that depends on why the wolf is being shot. Was he attacking a herd? A wounded calf? For that matter, a wounded wrangler?”

“We'll take the wrangler off the table. Obviously, we all agree that a man has the right to defend himself. But to kill a wolf for going after a calf or a herd? Isn't that what wild creatures do instinctively?”

“True. But if, as you say, a man has the right to defend himself, what about his right to defend his property? Should he allow a wolf pack to decimate his herd?”

“I hardly think a few wolves could decimate an entire herd. Or is this really all about profit? And if so, just how many cattle can a pack of wolves eat?”

His lazy smile disappeared, though his tone remained without inflection. “Where is your home, Miss Kettering?”

“We're back to ‘Miss Kettering.' I guess this is serious now. My home is Chicago, though I'm often in DC advocating for wild animals. But what's that got to do—?”

“I assume you've never spent any time on a working ranch.”

“No, but—”

Matt stood and faced her, leaning both palms on the table so that they were eye to eye. “Ask any rancher what his day is like, and he'll tell you that no two are ever alike. Whether he's dealing with a blizzard rolling over his pasture in the middle of May, just as the cows are calving, or watching mudslides in September washing out an entire road, he has only himself and his wranglers to depend on. The government doesn't send out troops to lend a hand. Organizations dedicated to the preservation of wildlife don't offer to come in and help him relocate his herds to higher ground, or round up the predators that might use that opportunity to kill even more helpless cattle.”

Though she flinched inwardly, Vanessa fought to keep her features neutral. It was a habit she'd mastered watching her father, a well-known prosecuting attorney in Chicago. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize you expected help from the government or from our conservancy to lend a hand”—she adopted her most authoritative lawyer's tone—“during your disasters.”

“I don't. No sensible rancher would. I'm just pointing out the obvious. When the good people of Chicago experience a force of nature, they know the city, the state, and the federal government will all come to their aid. When ranchers here in Montana experience the wild forces of nature, we have only ourselves to count on. Do you understand what I mean by that?”

“Perfectly. But I don't see what that has to do with wild animals.”

“They're cunning. They use such disasters to their advantage, running down exhausted cattle, dragging helpless newborns into the woods for a feast. A ravenous pack could kill dozens of cattle in a matter of days. I hope you understand that a responsible rancher will hunt them down and remove the danger from his herd.”

“I…I'm sure I would do the same.”

“Good.” Matt visibly relaxed, just as another rumble of thunder shook the cabin. Seconds later, a streak of lightning turned the evening sky outside the window to neon before going dark.

Vanessa gripped the edge of the table and turned startled eyes to his. “Is it safe to be here?”

Matt shrugged. “I guess one place is as good as another in a storm.” He crossed to the window to see the trees dipping and swaying in a wild dance. “Looks like the wind is picking up.”

“Maybe I should go.” Vanessa picked up her phone and realized that she had no service. “Oh dear. My phone is dead.”

“That happens a lot up here in the hills.” He noted that she'd gone pale. “Look, why don't we forget about our discussion for now and stop for dinner.”

“Dinner?” She put a hand on her stomach. “I don't think I could eat a thing. Besides, we have to finish soon so I can return to town.”

“We need a break. How about a drink?” He walked to the small kitchen counter. “Would you care for some wine?” Without waiting for her answer, he asked, “Do you prefer red or white?”

“Whatever you have.”

“I have both.”

“Red, then.”

He picked up a bottle of cabernet and uncorked it before pouring it into two wineglasses.

When he handed her one, she managed a smile. “I wasn't expecting wine in a rustic cabin.”

He returned her smile. “Don't let the looks of the place fool you. This may be my escape from the world, but when I'm up here, I prefer all the comforts of home.” He sipped, nodded. “At least all the comforts that matter.”

“And what matters to you?”

He led the way to the fireplace, where he stoked the fire.

Vanessa settled herself in one of the chairs, hoping the fire would take her mind off the storm raging outside.

“My family matters. This ranch matters. The herds up here in the hills matter. But what matters most is the Malloy name. We've built a reputation for integrity.” He turned and smiled over the rim of his glass. “I'm sure you've noticed that I'm willing to fight tooth and nail to see that our good name doesn't get used indiscriminately by people with well-intentioned causes.”

“So, it's not just about business with you?”

“It's good business to protect the family's reputation.”

She lifted her glass in a salute. “Well said.”

He gave a slight nod of his head. “Thanks.” He chose the chair beside her and nudged an ottoman between them. “Put your feet up. And if you'd like to shed those shoes, be my guest.” As he said it, he lifted his own feet to the ottoman, crossing one booted foot over the other.

Vanessa followed suit, and though she was tempted to remove her shoes and wiggle her toes, she decided to remain as professional as possible.

As the thunder and lightning increased in intensity, the skies opened up in a torrent of rain that pounded the roof.

When Vanessa tensed, Matt made his way to the kitchen, returning with the bottle of wine. He topped off her glass, and then his own, before settling back in the chair.

She glanced around nervously. “Do you think Burke will be back soon to pick me up?”

Matt shrugged. “He will if the roads are passable.”

Her head came up sharply. “You think the storm will wash them away?”

“It happens.”

“But how will we know?”

Again that careless shrug of his shoulder. “If Burke can make it here, he will. If he can't, we'll have our answer. Without phone service, there's no way for us to communicate.”

“But we're…safe here.” Though she said it as firmly as she could manage, the hesitation in her voice gave her away.

Matt reached over and patted her hand. “Yeah. We're safe here.”

Vanessa sat very still, trying to show absolutely no emotion. She was sure this cowboy was just trying to be reassuring. But his touch had had the opposite effect. In fact, she was practically vibrating from it. Tiny darts of pleasure prickled along her spine.

Nerves, she told herself. A simple case of nerves. She'd always been this way in a storm. And this one was even more frightening, because she was feeling so far out of her element. Here she was in a remote cabin in the hills of Montana, spending way too much time on business that should have been cleared up during a simple meeting. And would have, if the woman she'd hoped to meet with hadn't been unavailable.

She shot a sideways glance at the man seated beside her. She'd expected to meet with some backwoods cowboy. Despite his wild, mountain-man look, Matthew Malloy just didn't fit the image at all. From the give-and-take so far, she saw he was smart, savvy, and tough enough to take care of himself and his family.

“You seem to have quite a bit of knowledge of law. Was that your college major?”

Her question brought a smile. “College, when I could manage the time, was spent on business as much as law. Though I do admit to loving the challenge law school presented. I never finished, though.”

“Why?”

He chuckled. “Life got in the way. And I told myself that if I could make the ranch successful enough, I could hire a big-city law firm.”

“And did you?”

“Yeah. But I still like to read every line of a contract, especially since my signature seals the deal.”

Vanessa grew thoughtful. No wonder his grandmother had recommended this particular grandson to handle the interview in her absence.