A Little White Lie (9 page)

No. But that was beside the point.

“The woman cares for you,” his grandfather added.

Chewing a little slower, he paused before swallowing the meat like it was a block of wood. “Grandfather, please.” Dammit. He didn’t need to hear this bullshit.

He pushed away from the table and started to rise, stopping midway when his grandfather continued. “You didn’t stay long enough to see her tears or the pain on her face. I may be nothing but an old fool, but I know affection when I see it.”

Affection? No way. Stella was just looking out for herself. Even as the thought entered his mind, he knew it couldn’t be true. Not if she hadn’t known who he was from the beginning. The connection he felt between them happened that first night. Saturday had only made it stronger. He drifted back into his chair.

“Don’t let this one go.” A sly grin spread across his grandfather’s face. “I think she might be a keeper. In fact, she’s just what this family needs.”

Unanswered questions bombarded JD all at once. What if his grandfather was right? What if Stella did care? JD hadn’t given her any opportunity to explain. Was she as miserable as he?

Again he pushed away from the table, but this time he stood and left the room, heading straight for his bedroom. Inside, he slid his feet into a pair of loafers. After retrieving his keys from his jeans in the hamper, he wasted no time exiting the house. In seconds he was in his truck heading down the road.

Each minute that ticked by increased his anxiety. Would she even speak to him? As he passed the Rusty Nail, he pondered how the trip seemed to take longer than usual, or was it that he couldn’t wait to see her again—to hold her?

When the hotel came into view he tensed. He was parked, out of his truck, through the hotel and standing at her door before he knew it. He rapped his knuckles on the door, praying she would answer.

“Sir.” He turned to see a young housemaid pushing a cart toward him. “That room is unoccupied.”

His throat thickened. “There must be some mistake.”

“No. I serviced it myself.”

“Thank you.” She couldn’t have left, he thought as he made a beeline for the front desk. But he had no better luck when he inquired about her.

“I’m sorry, but Miss Sinclair checked out earlier this morning. She’s gone,” the gentleman behind the desk said. He must have read the panic on JD’s face because he asked, “Can I be of further assistance?”

“No. Thank you. Guess I’m going to New York.”

Chapter Seven

Stella stared out the twenty-fifth floor window of the building that housed Maritime Marketing. She had never realized how much the yellow cabs darting around below looked like tiny bugs and the mass of people traveling about appeared to be specks. It made her feel small—insignificant.

Then again it was Monday and she had to meet with her boss and inform him that she had lost the Toliver account. She wasn’t a fool. No way JD would work with her now. Yet the loss wasn’t what had stolen sleep from her last night. A cowboy’s smile, his tender touch and the memory of a kiss that could melt her were the cause of the exhaustion she felt.

Stella inhaled and then exhaled, easing the air from her lungs. “This too shall pass.” That’s what her mother always said when Stella would approach her with a problem. The ringing of her telephone pulled her away from her thoughts. Slowly she walked toward the obnoxious sound and picked up the receiver.

“Stella, Mr. Toliver is on line one,” her secretary, Ann, revealed.

“Toliver?” No. This couldn’t be. What else could ruin her day? She pushed the first button. Maybe she’d just ignore it, but in the end she reached for the receiver. “This is Stella Sinclair.”

“Miss Sinclair, are you available this evening to go over the particulars of our agreement?”

“What?”

“Dinner. Tonight,” he asked.

“But—”

“What happened in Montana is forgotten. What matters is that the right person is handling my account. You.”

My account?
She breathed out a sigh of relief. Toliver must have released JD from his promise to take over the business. For the first time since the dreadful confrontation with him, Stella felt her tension ease. A weak smile touched her lips. JD belonged in Montana—not New York or any other large city.

“Of course. When and where?” she asked.

“I’ve made arrangements at Ruth’s Chris Steak House in the Theater District for eight. Until then.” The telephone clicked.

Stella hung up the receiver and walked back to the window to stare blindly at the high-rises. Shouldn’t she feel elated with the outcome? Both she and JD got what they wanted.

Then why did the win feel so empty?

When the cab pulled up in front of the glitzy entrance of Ruth’s Chris, a bellman opened her door and Stella got out. In one hand she carried her clutch purse, in the other a leather portfolio. Inside the briefcase were the ideas she had entertained Toliver with in Montana and several more new ones. After she had hung up with the western-wear mogul, she had dug into work, the only way she could keep the memories of JD at a distance. Anytime she let her mind wander, his handsome face would appear and then images of being wrapped in his arms materialized.

Rolling her neck from side to side, she searched for the professional she knew was inside, but tears misted her eyes. What happened in Montana was lost to her. What Toliver offered her was the beginning of a new career.

“Get it together,” she whispered beneath her breath as she walked into the lobby. Delicious scents wafted from the kitchen, but they were nothing compared to trout cooking on the grill beneath a vibrant blue sky.

Dammit. She was doing it again.

As she approached the maitre d’, he smiled pleasantly. “Can I help you?”

She glanced around the room, not immediately spying her dinner date. “Toliver party.”

“You’re the first to arrive. Thomas,” he called to a waiter dressed in a white shirt, red tie, black vest and slacks. “Please show…” He glanced at her.

“Miss Sinclair,” she offered.

“Miss Sinclair to table twelve.”

Thomas was probably a college kid or perhaps a young man in his twenties looking to break into show biz, because his bored expression said he didn’t want to be here. Without comment he led her to her table. She was surprised when he pulled out her chair and seated her.

He snapped her napkin into the air and laid it gently in her lap. “Would you like a cocktail or some wine? We have a delightful Chardonnay.”

She set her briefcase on the floor by her leg, her clutch on the table. “A glass of Merlot, chilled, please.”

When Thomas returned with the dark red wine and handed it to her, she didn’t waste a second taking a sip. The fruitiness and rather light tannin was pleasant against her palate. Now if she could have half a dozen more drinks she just might be ready for this meeting.

Several minutes passed before Toliver stepped into the restaurant, minus the cowboy hat. Instead he wore a dark blue suit and boots. His gray hair was freshly cut. There was something distinguished about the older gentleman, but cunning all the same. Stella had liked the man when she first met him. Now she felt nothing. He had done what he deemed necessary for the company and his family. She couldn’t fault him for it. Still, she didn’t have to like him.

Rising from her chair, she forced a smile. “Mr. Toliver.”

He took her outstretched hand and cradled it between both of his. “Call me Jonathan. Please sit.”

Nervous didn’t begin to describe how she felt taking her seat. She didn’t speak, waiting for the waiter to take his order—a whiskey sour—before she started to speak. “I think you’ll like my new proposal.” Bending down to retrieve her portfolio that had fallen farther beneath the table, she continued. “I believe there just might be a market amongst the non-western audience.” When she raised her head, her heart leaped into her throat. “JD.”

The cowboy was gone. Before her stood the effigy of an executive right down to his Armani suit, tie and polished shoes. The light blue shirt he wore set off the color of his eyes, which scanned her bare shoulders with interest. The mid-thigh-length black silk dress she wore always gave her confidence, but as he slowly undressed her with those eyes she felt anything but confident.

“Stella.” Her name sounded sensual upon his lips.

She blinked hard, trying to vanquish the naughty thoughts flowing through her mind.
Easy, girl, he’s screwing with you
. Paybacks were a bitch and she had no doubt in her mind some were coming her way.

“Well.” JD’s grandfather eased back in his chair. He looked up at the waiter who handed him his drink. “Thank you.” Raising the glass to his lips, he paused and then took a sip. “Seeing that my grandson is taking over, I think I’ll just sit here and enjoy myself.”

Stella licked her lips, looking as nervous as a mouse in a roomful of cats. She cleared her throat. The little shake in her hands didn’t go unnoticed as she started to open her briefcase.

“I believe you were telling my grandfather that you have new ideas to show us.” If JD had the opportunity tonight, he would show her exactly what he had in mind and it had nothing to do with what she was about to share with them.

Did she have silk or lacy panties on beneath that sexy black dress? His cock hardened with the thought of sliding his palms up her legs, hips and waist, easing the gown over her head.

She looked from JD to his grandfather. “Uh. Yes. I mean I learned a lot this weekend…” she cringed, “…about your clothing and shoe lines.”

He held back a chuckle.

“
Boots.
” The high pitch in her tone caught the attention of the couple at the next table. She lowered her voice to regain her control. “Take boots for example. Most people have no idea how comfortable they are. Jeans, slacks, shorts or skirts, your footwear blends with almost any ensemble.” She held up several impressive sketches.

As the waiter approached, his grandfather set down his glass. “Let’s table this subject until after we order. Hmmm. We’ll start with the Crabtini, barbecued shrimp and Veal Osso Buco Ravioli. My grandson needs a whiskey sour. What are you drinking, Miss Sinclair?”

“Merlot.”

“She’ll take another,” Toliver said.

After the waiter delivered their drinks, they gave him their orders. JD’s grandsire eased back into his chair. He narrowed his eyes on JD and then turned them to Stella. “This is how I see this arrangement evolving.”

There appeared to be a change in their plans. JD was to lead the conversation. After dinner his grandfather was supposed to excuse himself, leaving JD alone with Stella.

Instead the old man continued. “You will return to Montana with us for say about two weeks.”

“I can’t possibly do that.” Her face grew rosy in color. “My boss—”

“I’ve already spoken to Mr. Lyons, Stella.” His grandfather took another swig of his whiskey sour. “He has no objections to you visiting each of our stores so that you get the feel of their layout and inventory. JD will assist you.”

Blindsided by his grandfather’s new plan, JD chanced a look toward Stella.

Slack-jawed, she stared at him with something close to fear in her eyes. “I-I can’t—”

“Yes, dear, you can.” His grandfather leaned back in his chair, relaxed. “I’ve made all the arrangements. Two weeks should give both you and JD enough time to mend what I interrupted. If at the end of those weeks you want to go your separate ways, so be it. This agreement then becomes a business deal both of you will work out. However, should the two of you feel akin to tying the knot, well then…” he paused before continuing, “…I’ve got a plan for that union as well.”

“Grandfather?” Shock didn’t even begin to describe JD’s reaction. Though the old man’s plan did have an acceptable tune to it.

His grandfather held up a hand. “Hear me out. An attraction like the two of you have comes once in a lifetime. Your grandmother and I had such a relationship that drew us like magnets.” The old man’s eyes misted. The only other time JD had seen his grandfather weepy was when they buried Grandma three years ago. “She was quite a lady.” His throat croaked with emotion. Briefly he closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and took a moment to compose himself. “Boy, I just want to see you happy.” The indifferent exterior his grandfather usually wore dissolved and JD saw love glistening in his weathered eyes. “You love the ranch. Stella has a head for business.” He paused for only a moment, and then he raised a single brow, a sly smile tugging the corners of his mouth.
Uh-oh
. JD knew exactly what that expression meant. His grandfather was up to something. “You’re a match made in heaven.”

He pushed his chair back and stood, looking older then JD had ever seen him. “The two of you have some talking to do, and this old man is tired. I’ll ask the waiter to pack my dinner to go.” Making his way around the table, his grandfather kissed Stella softly on the cheek. “Please accept my apology for placing you in such an awkward situation. I meant well.”

She offered him a weak smile and nodded before he turned and walked away.

A pregnant moment passed and neither of them spoke.