Once Tempted (11 page)

“You can say that again. Never. Not in a million years.”

Ward’s dark brows rose. “My mother believes I’m a catch.”

“A flaw common to many fond mothers, I’m sure. Much though I hate to disappoint her—”

“Other women do, too.”

She smiled. “They probably haven’t spent enough time in your company.” The corner of his mouth quirked in amusement.
“Probably not. Nevertheless, I’d like my mother to believe there’s no need to trot another female in front of me for a few months. It grows tiresome.”

“Wow. See, it’s like I just said. If you’d only let those women see your extraordinary conceit—”

“Strangely enough many women are happy to overlook my character defects. Do you suppose it has something to do with my family owning a three-thousand-acre ranch?”

Such cynicism. But Tess wasn’t going to be the one to inform him that his chiseled dark looks were far more likely the reason women were willing to put up with his lousy personality. They probably believed they’d be able to “change” him. Women could be so silly when it came to the opposite sex.

Of course, she was hardly one to feel superior to other women who were fools for love. She’d married David believing he was her Prince Charming. The fairy tale had lasted less than a month.

It was almost refreshing that she harbored no illusions about Ward’s character. And she far preferred being annoyed with his sardonic attitude than acknowledging the faint twinge of sympathy she felt at his words. How awful to think a woman might be more interested in his wealth than in him. “Even if I didn’t find you utterly unappealing, I make it a rule never to get involved with car killers or—”

“For Christ’s sake. I did
not
kill your car.”

“Gee, that’s funny, because one minute it was running and the next—”

“It was not running; it was gasping,” he corrected. “The mechanic down at Wexler’s Auto Shop wept when he lifted your hood.”

“Because he was looking at an avoidable tragedy.”

“I’ll say. Try replacing the oil in your car’s engine next time.”

The mechanic in New York had failed to mention her car would guzzle oil the way it did gas, but she wasn’t going to admit the mechanic’s negligence or her own ignorance to Ward. Instead, she glared at him. “So, to recap, even if I were interested in marrying a supremely arrogant, rude, and ridiculously rich man who owned a lot of cows and such, you’d be the last one I’d choose.”

His smile was more a baring of teeth. “Excellent. Make sure you remember that. Let’s plan on FaceTiming with Brian and Carrie after you’ve helped with the high tea.”

T
HE GRAY MIST
had cleared, but the morning was still raw when Ward stepped outside the main lodge and made his way back toward the barns and corrals. Nodding politely at two guests who’d just finished their morning runs and were walking in tight circles, shaking out their legs and stretching as they exhaled clouds of air, Ward turned up the collar of his jacket and tugged the coat closer against his bare neck.

Ward hadn’t had time to check, but he bet that with the cool weather the number of last-minute reservations for the massage sessions and the yoga classes had spiked.

The high tea would be popular, too, with trail riders and yoga lovers alike. Tess Casari was going to have a busy day, he thought, picturing her crisscrossing the lounge and the adjacent bar where the tea would be served. The picture shifted to include the delectable swing of her rounded hips, and suddenly the morning air seemed balmy as his body temperature ratcheted up a few degrees.

He was a guy. Thinking about Tess’s very enticing curves came as no big surprise. What was interesting was that he found her personality just as attention grabbing.

His mouth curved in an unconscious smile as he recalled their latest exchange. It was possibly the lengthiest conversation they’d shared. He was willing to admit he’d been entertained. Entertained, challenged, and intrigued. It was a combination he hadn’t felt in quite some time. It struck him that he’d grown accustomed to women who tried a little too hard to please.

Tess was certainly different in that respect.

He’d decided it was only right to be up front about his mother’s matchmaking plans. Though he didn’t know Tess well, he could guess that she’d appreciate having someone meddle in her love life about as much as he did. Telling a beautiful woman his mother was trying to set them up was damnably embarrassing. It was tricky, too, as said woman might interpret the gesture as a come-on. He’d solved the problem by being about eight degrees more obnoxious than normal.

To his relief, she hadn’t hesitated to point out the flaws many others were willing to overlook. What had she called him? Arrogant and rude.

She’d also called him ridiculously rich. She hadn’t gotten the last bit right, probably confusing the fact that he and his family owned a lot of land with a swollen bank account.

The reality was more nuanced. Yes, the guest ranch was growing more and more popular and turning a profit. But most of the profits were then funneled into improving the lodgings and the ranch itself and paying the staff and wranglers’ salaries.

Tess wasn’t the first to assume Ward and his family were among the ranks of the wealthy. Erica, Ward’s ex-fiancée, had been similarly mistaken. Until that fateful day when Ward decided it might be best to clear the air before Erica’s remarks about how she’d like to start looking for a house on Nob Hill and a pied-à-terre in New York after they came back from their honeymoon
reached his family’s ears and they laughed themselves silly.

It had been an illuminating conversation for both Erica and him, one he should have initiated a hell of a lot sooner, but he’d thought she understood his character and what Silver Creek meant to him. But it soon became clear that words such as “heritage” and “stewardship of the land” didn’t impress her nearly as much as “profit margin.”

When Erica had finally realized that no amount of earnest persuading on her part was going to convince him to lobby his family to make radical and irrevocable changes to the ranch by selling off the cattle and sheep, building some first-rate golf courses, and turning Silver Creek into a premier resort, she’d cut her losses—with the cool precision of a surgeon.

Three months before they were to pledge their love and loyalty in front of a minister and assembled guests, she’d announced she couldn’t marry a man who lacked ambition. By then he understood beyond a doubt that in Erica’s world, ambition and success were judged in dollar signs. Still, it had hurt to know she could walk away from him so easily.

He’d heard through the grapevine that Erica was currently dating a Silicon Valley tech mogul whose company developed apps. Rumor had it he was readying an IPO that might make him one of the Valley’s newest billionaires.

Ward wished her luck. He didn’t blame anyone but himself for not having seen her character more clearly. He’d been fooled by the fact that she was often as sweet-tempered as her stepsister, Carrie. The thing was, Erica’s brand of sweetness lasted only as long as everything went exactly her way. Since he’d believed himself in love with her, he’d done everything he could to keep her happy—that is, until he resisted her campaign to destroy
a place and lifestyle the people he loved most in the world cherished.

Though he was grateful to have been saved from what would almost certainly have been a marriage rife with bitter resentment, Erica’s rejection had nevertheless left a wound. Although covered with scar tissue, the pain lingered and was just sharp enough to remind him of the dangers of opening his heart again. He’d judged badly once. Who was to say he wouldn’t be fooled twice?

Besides, the status quo was hardly terrible. He loved his work at Silver Creek, which on any given day entailed doing about a half dozen different jobs, and he enjoyed the company of women—on his own terms. He was looking for good sex and intelligent and fun company … with no strings attached. Admittedly, it was sometimes difficult to convince the woman in question that there’d be no deviating from this last item, but once he had, things went quite satisfactorily for both parties. He saw no reason to tinker with a near-perfect arrangement.

He supposed Tess Casari would label this as yet another example of his rude arrogance. It was a measure of her allure that Ward was even tempted to see whether he could convince her to give it a shot.

His thoughts had taken him the third of a mile down the ranch’s private road to where the barns, round pen, and corrals were located.

Quinn was already in the corral, saddling Brocco, a dark bay gelding who was one of their beginner horses. Next to him, Gino, a sturdy pinto who was also bombproof—unfazed by anything that crossed his path—was saddled and dozing, his brown muzzle resting on the middle split rail.

“Hey,” he said, unlatching the gate and then shutting it behind him. Balanced on the top wooden rail were three tooled saddles and a matching number of saddle
blankets. He chose Aladdin’s and lifted it off. Carrying it over to the flea-bitten gray standing placidly on the other side of Brocco, he shook out the striped saddle blanket and then settled it over the gelding’s back. The saddle followed.

Quinn ducked under Brocco’s neck to stand beside Ward. “Hey, yourself. So don’t keep me in suspense. How’d it go with Tess? Is she really on board for handling the blessed nuptials?”

Ward decided it was only right to prolong her anxiety a few seconds more. It’d be character building—or something like that. Giving the saddle a final adjustment, he grabbed the cinch, drew it under Aladdin’s belly, and then inserted the latigo through the cinch ring. He tightened the leather strap until the cinch was snug, threaded it through the saddle’s D ring, and knotted it.

“Ward!” The pissed-off note in Quinn’s voice was as sharp as the bite of the morning air. One should never overlook the simple pleasures in life. Tormenting younger sisters was one of them.

But Chester and Ion still needed to be tacked. If they didn’t get the remaining horses ready, the trail ride would start late and affect the rest of the day’s schedule. Normally starting a trail ride a few minutes late was no big deal, but with so many extra activities planned, there wasn’t as much flexibility.

“You can breathe easy. She agreed.”

“Yes!” Quinn cried as if her prayers had been answered. “I knew I liked Tess for a reason. You must be feeling pretty kindly toward her, too.”

He grunted.

“Wow, that’s eloquent. Is that really all you can muster by way of response after she’s relieved you of a massive, months-long headache?”

“Are you going to saddle Chester or chatter?”

“Lucky for you I can do both.” She turned to the rail
and hefted the thirty-pound saddle off it as if it weighed half that much. “And it’s not chatter. This is a conversation, FYI. Your refusal to participate in it can only mean that you like Tess, too. I think it’s those huge dark eyes of hers.”

There were a lot of parts to Tess he liked. It remained to be seen, however, whether he’d do anything about his growing appreciation. “Did you fall on your head this morning? Oh, I get it, you’re confusing Valentine’s Day with April Fool’s.”

“Again, your evasion is so very telling.”

Unfortunately, Quinn chose that moment to duck down and grab the cinch beneath Chester’s barrel-shaped belly and missed the scowl Ward sent her.

“Listen, Sherlock. Tess can be as beautiful as the day is long.” And yes, he’d noted the days were growing longer and Tess could knock the breath out of him just by walking into a room. Poetry in motion and all that. “I’m not interested.”

“Ahh!” she crowed. “So you’ve noticed how pretty she is.”

“Pipe down. You’ll spook Chester,” he warned, ignoring the fact that the horse didn’t so much as twitch his ears when he spoke his name. The gelding knew the ropes. He was stealing a few winks before the morning ride started.

“She might be good for you. Have you thought about asking her out?”

Christ, was his sister ever going to shut up? This time he made sure she caught his scowl. His brow cleared as a thought struck him. “You know, you’re sounding awfully like Mom.”

“Who, me?”

Her expression was way too innocent.

“Yeah, you.” Understanding dawned, and he shook his head at the enormity of her betrayal. “I can’t believe
it. I adopt a horse for you and this is how my kindness is repaid?”

She had the grace to look sheepish. “I figure it’s like this. Mom will be so jazzed at the idea of you and Tess becoming an item, she’ll leave Reid and me alone for a while. Now that spring is upon us and the birds are nesting, she’s only going to get worse. And you
are
the oldest. Besides, Tess would be good for you. As far as I can see she doesn’t seem the least bit impressed with you.” She smiled sweetly.

“No, she doesn’t, which could mean that she’s as uninterested in going out with me as I am with her.” Except, a voice inside his head reminded him, for those tantalizing flashes of feminine awareness he’d glimpsed in her eyes. The effect had been like adding a shot of brandy to espresso. Even now his blood heated at the thought. He ignored his reaction. “She doesn’t even belong here. What in the hell is she doing in Acacia?”