Have Cowboy, Need Cupid (12 page)

No, he’ll hate you.

All the way back to the apartment, she struggled over how to handle the situation. Should she just come clean now and tell him about her job? Should she try to convince James to look for another site for his development? He was counting on her, and she was counting on the promotion….

What should she tell James about his proposal?

Chapter Eleven

Laughter sputtered over the phone. “You helped deliver a calf?”

Anger bubbled inside Suzanne. She’d finally phoned James and he was laughing? “What’s so funny about that?”

“I can’t picture you on that run-down ranch in a barn with horses and cows and the smell of manure around you. You’re not exactly a farm girl.”

“The ranch is not that run-down, James.” She closed her eyes and a beautiful landscape flashed in her mind. She saw the waterfall cascading over the rocks, the tulip bulbs beginning to sprout outside the screened porch, the magnolia tree Rafe’s parents had planted when he was born, the tree where the McAllisters had married, the old farmhouse that appeared run-down but was filled with family pictures, homemade afghans and doilies and Mrs. McAllister’s collection of thimbles.

The house that was a real home.

Nothing like her own condo, her father’s professionally decorated estate or James’s fancy place.

“James, I’ve been thinking that maybe we’re wrong to harp on getting the McAllister land when he’s so opposed to selling.”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting soft, Suzanne. Building near Sugar Hill was your idea.”

She twisted the phone cord tighter. “I just think we should look elsewhere, explore all the options. The town is in an uproar over the project—”

“Listen, Suzanne, we need a large slice of land to fulfill the plans for this development, and McAllister has the best location.” He sighed, and she heard him tapping a pen on his desk.

“He’s also the most vulnerable right now to sell. This deal is important to me and to our futures,” James said, annoyance sharpening his voice. “And we have an investor that will be very upset if this doesn’t pan out.”

A silent partner?

“Maybe I can talk to this investor and explain.”

“Feel free,” James said quietly. “But the man behind this deal is a real stickler for business.”

Suzanne winced. “Who is it, James?”

“Your father.”

Suzanne literally slumped onto her bed. Her father?

So, the two workaholic men in her life had joined forces. Perhaps their business alliance was the reason her father had pushed her toward James. Or had James proposed to her out of an allegiance to her father?

Worse now, she had to worry about her family. Her father
would
want this project brought to fruition, but once again he would be at odds with his brother, Wiley. Oh, heavens. What would the other Hartwells think when they discovered that her dad was trying to change the little town they all loved so much and that she had helped?

R
AFE FINALLY DOZED
for a couple of hours in the barn and woke up cold and stiff, his shoulders hunched, his lower body throbbing.

He’d been dreaming that he was standing under the icy spray of the waterfall, watching Suzanne undress. She’d been only a few feet away, her skin shimmering beneath the pale glow of the moonlight, her eyes beckoning him to come nearer. Yet, he’d reached out to touch her and the undertow of the water pulling at his feet had dragged him backward, just out of reach.

He sat up, rolled his shoulders and stretched, then scrubbed his hand over his morning beard stubble.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to analyze that dream—Suzanne Hartwell was beyond his reach.

He pressed a hand on the hay where Suzanne had fallen asleep earlier and remembered how concerned she had been over the mother cow and calf. How she’d stayed beside him all night, never complaining about the conditions but offering her silent support. She was a strong woman, a woman of substance, not the shallow rich girl he’d originally assumed her to be.

Would she be that supportive to a husband, especially one with trouble on his tail?

Husband?

What the blazes was he thinking? He did not want to get married. He certainly couldn’t afford a wife, especially one with cosmopolitan tastes like Suzanne’s.

His mother’s matchmaking must be getting to him. That and lack of sleep. Yeah, sleep deprivation did strange things to a man’s mind.

Something gold and shiny shimmered through the hay and he peered beneath the blades of straw, digging until he discovered a gold cross dangling on an expensive-looking chain. Suzanne’s. He’d noticed it yesterday when she had stripped in the waterfall. Lord help him, he could still see her lithe body, water cascading over the slope of her shoulders and her breasts, her nipples beading up beneath the flimsy black lace.

His body hardened again, and he wrapped the chain around his fingers and cursed, then tried to stand. Did the necklace have some meaning for her? He’d have to ask her when he returned it.

His ankle ached and nearly buckled, and he grabbed the stall to help pull himself up. Easing his weight onto his leg, he circled the stall for a minute, giving the old ache time to dissipate. He checked Hazel one more time and sighed in relief. She seemed fine. He limped toward the house to get some breakfast before he did his morning rounds. He’d forgotten to ask Suzanne if she was coming back today, but he had a feeling she would.

As he neared the house, he found himself stopping to pick a few of his mother’s flowers from her garden to put in the vase on the table. Wouldn’t hurt to spruce things up a bit, add some cheer to the place for his mom and any company they might have. Maybe he’d phone Suzanne to see what time she was coming so he could make sure he’d showered before she arrived. Get his mother to use the good dishes tonight if she stayed for supper. Maybe they could even serve some of that muscadine wine.

S
UZANNE WOKE WITH A START
, a shiver tearing through her as if something bad was going to happen today. She instantly reached for her cross, her heart stopping when she felt only bare skin. Panicking, she sat up in bed and searched the bedcovers, the sheets, the floor, then traced her steps back to the kitchen and the den and the phone, but found nothing.

Tears burned the backs of her eyelids. She had never taken the necklace off, had worn it since the day her mother gave it to her.

No, she could not have lost it.

Nervous adrenaline kicked in, but she forced herself to retrace her steps and actions of the night before. Unfortunately, she’d been so darned tired when she’d arrived home and then so upset over the phone call with James, that she didn’t remember much except falling into bed. An hour later she had scoured every inch of the apartment, the stairs and sidewalk outside and her car, but to no avail.

Her heart ached with the realization that the treasured necklace might be lost forever.

Closing her eyes, she tried to remember when she had last felt it. Had she been wearing it when she’d been in the barn that night? She’d had it on when she’d gone under the waterfall….

Images of Rafe, nearly naked, his big dark body covered in water droplets and dark hair, his muscles flexing beneath her touch, stormed back. She shook off the images, trying to focus on the necklace. Surely it hadn’t slipped off in the water. If so, she’d lost it forever.

Heartsick, she phoned Rafe to see if he might have found it, but the housekeeper answered and informed her he was out working, so she left a message. She would have to talk to him later.

Forcing herself not to completely give up hope, she showered and dressed, almost tripping over the hope chest when she left the bathroom. The lacy boots and hat sat like some kind of hex from her grandmother, the simple gold band that had belonged to her twinkling in the early-morning sunlight shifting through the curtains.
Sometimes, the simple things are best,
Grammy had said.

Was she right? Had Suzanne cluttered her life with too many material things and thrown herself into her job to avoid having a personal relationship? Had she become her father?

She stopped and thumbed through the items in the chest again. Crocheting needles—under, over, loop around, she whispered, remembering her beginner lesson with Rafe’s mother. Would she someday master the skill and actually complete a project? Maybe a small blanket…a baby blanket?

Oh, mercy, was she really thinking about having a baby someday? Trying to mix career and marriage and motherhood? And what kind of mother would she be? Would she know how to raise a child, when her own youth had been virtually motherless?

And then there was the gardening book.
We planted that magnolia tree the day Rafe was born.
Would she and her husband plant a tree for their child one day? Would the child look like his father?

Shaken, she raised her right hand and studied the ring James had given her, trying desperately to imagine the two of them married, having a family, planting a tree for their baby, but she couldn’t.

Stunned by the uncanny choice of items in her hope chest and their association with Rafe and his mother, she stumbled to the kitchen for breakfast. Her briefcase loomed on the kitchen table, papers spread and files stacked inside, waiting for her attention. Her life had become her job. Just like her father.

After her mother’s death, he had buried himself in his work so he wouldn’t have time to think about the pain, the emptiness in their house.

And he hadn’t married for love since. Although she had hope for his new wife, Eleanor.

James’s face flashed into her mind, along with their earlier conversation. Had he proclaimed his love to her before they’d hung up? Had he when he’d proposed? No. Did he simply want a marriage that was an extension of their business partnership?

She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down to review the other land sites Horton Developers had originally considered. Maybe she could find a solution to this project that would satisfy everyone. Including her father.
If
that was possible.

But what about Rafe?

“M
R
. M
C
A
LLISTER
,” Maria said as soon as Rafe walked in the door. “Miss Suzanne called and asked if she had left her necklace here somewhere. Said it was a gold cross.”

Rafe patted his pocket. “I found it. It must have come off in the barn.”

Rafe’s mother eyed him over her crocheting needles. “Do tell.”

Heat climbed Rafe’s neck. “Hazel was in trouble, and Suzanne stayed to see if she delivered all right.”

“Uh-huh.”

Rafe shook his head, knowing it would be damn near impossible to dissuade his mother from thinking like that. Especially when he was beginning to want something more personal with Suzanne himself.

The dream rose to haunt him. Suzanne was standing so close yet he couldn’t touch her, the undertow kept pulling him away. It was a sign. A sign that he couldn’t have her.

No, he’d best not encourage his mother’s fantasies or she’d be reserving the church and knitting baby booties.

“Mr. Wallace called from the bank, too,” Maria said, handing him the message. “Said something about checking the calendar.”

Rafe silently growled—Wallace’s subtle reminder of the time marker on paying off his debt. “Thanks.” He balled the paper in his fist and tossed it in the trash, then strode to his bedroom to take a shower. As much as he hated to, maybe he’d call Landon and drop by for a talk. Maybe there was a way he could salvage his ranch with some kind of trade-off with Landon—anything so he wouldn’t lose the Lazy M. Then he could swing by Suzanne’s and give her the necklace.

S
UZANNE ENTERED
Mimi’s coffee shop, her nerves on edge. Her father had phoned only minutes earlier saying he needed to talk to her. He’d already had dinner with Rebecca and simply wanted coffee and dessert with her, his tone indicating this was a business meeting, not a family reunion.

After talking with James, she should have expected the call.

She only wished she’d discovered a solution to the mess she’d created with Rafe and James first.

Mimi waved to her from behind the counter, and she waved back. Rebecca and her father strolled in, arm in arm, and Suzanne smiled, grateful the two of them had bridged the gap that had been between them for so long. Rebecca had always been such a shy young woman that Suzanne had felt the need to protect her. But her relationship with her new husband had certainly changed all that.

“Hey, sis.” Rebecca hugged her, her smile radiant.

“Hey, you look great, Bec. Still in matrimonial heaven, huh?”

Rebecca blushed. “Yes. Are you surviving in my old apartment?”

Suzanne nodded. “It’s great. Thanks for letting me stay there.”

“No problem. Any news on the er…situation?”

Laughter teased Rebecca’s eyes. Remembering the way her sister and cousins had jumped to assumptions about Rafe and the hope chest the night they’d eaten dinner, Suzanne gave her a pleading look.

Their father cleared his throat, and Suzanne glanced his way. Perspiration dotted his forehead, and his complexion looked slightly ruddy. “Dad, are you okay?”

He nodded, rubbing wearily at his stomach. “Just tired and full. Rebecca cooked a huge dinner for me.”

“Must have been wonderful.” Suzanne smiled.

Her father nodded again, then gestured toward a table. “I’ll get us some coffee. Why don’t you grab a table?”

“All right. Are you staying, Bec?”

“No. I’m meeting with the committee to discuss the town’s future. Since we’re business owners in the town, Mimi invited everyone over to discuss the situation. Uncle Wiley will be here any minute.”

Oh, no. Suzanne hoped that wouldn’t mean trouble.

She chewed her lip, wondering if she and her father should go elsewhere, but he sat down with a slice of cheesecake and two coffees before she could suggest they relocate. Hopefully, their meeting would be short and sweet and finished before the other one started up.

“All right, Suzanne,” her father said. “Now tell me what’s going on with this McAllister man. James phoned, and he’s worried you’re losing your edge.”

A
S SOON AS
R
AFE NEARED
Landon’s place, he spotted Palo Romerez out by the front gate, painting it. He slowed the truck to a stop and rolled down the window. “How’s it going, Romerez?”

His friend ducked his head. “Fine. I’m surprised you’re here.”