The Maverick Meets His Match (12 page)

Mandy took a deep breath. These were her dearest friends. She would have to be honest. Cat, for sure, would know if she wasn’t.

“I may not like him, but strange as it is, I find myself still physically attracted to him. I don’t know if I can hold out for six months. As part of the conditions…” She paused, not sure how to present the terms of the will. She would just say it out loud. “I have to sleep in the same room with him, and I can’t be away from him overnight. Basically, we have to be living together.”

Libby’s mouth fell open, and Cat chuckled.

Libby recovered first. “Well, take it from me. Even living at Chance’s in separate bedrooms, while I was taking care of him after his accident, didn’t change the inevitable,”

Cat shook her head. “And I can’t imagine anything would stop me if I was twenty-four seven with someone I was attracted to. Although I’d like to try that experiment with the right person.”

“Cody Taylor popping into your head?” Mandy teased.

Cat smiled. “Oh yeah. But he’s the one who hates me, so that’s a nonstarter.”

“You tell your mama this?” Libby asked Mandy.

“I did. And surprisingly, she’s encouraged me to go for it. For some strange reason, she seems to like Ty, and she doesn’t see anything so awful in this. I think she fears this is the only way I’ll ever get married.”

“Well, you have to admit your choice in men hasn’t been the best, not that I’m one to talk.” Cat grimaced. “Maybe your grandfather will have a better batting average.”

“Highly unlikely. But if I did do this, how can I have any self-respect?”

“Well, what’s more important, your pride or your company? Because that’s what it comes down to, doesn’t it?” Libby said. “Pride can be a big obstacle. I know it was for Chance. I’m just glad he overcame it.” Libby’s smile broadened.

“So you have to decide tonight?” Cat asked.

“Two o’clock tomorrow I have to be in our lawyer’s office either ready to get married or ready to give my company over to Ty for up to two years, shorter if he sells it.”

“That’s some dilemma—either marry a man you don’t love but would like to go to bed with or stand to lose your family’s business,” Libby said.

Mandy shook her head. “And what hurts the most is that this was all my grandfather’s doing. My grandfather, who loved me and loved the company. It boggles my mind.”

“Why do you think your grandfather chose Ty and asked him to look into selling the company?” Libby took a big bite of her hamburger. Considering petite Libby ordered not only a deluxe hamburger platter but a plate of onion rings and a milkshake, it seemed she was already in the “eating for two” mode, even if she was only three months along.

“That is a million-dollar, or more, question. Our lawyer thought he was trying to play matchmaker, which is such an absurd idea. As for selling, I can only assume he had no faith in me.”

“Well, I can relate to family having no faith in you. That’s pretty much how I was raised,” Cat said, taking a swig of beer. “But surely you already proved yourself to your grandfather, and if he had such little faith, why did he allow you to run the company in six months if you married?”

“It makes no sense,” Mandy agreed. “But regardless of why he did it, what am I to do about it?”

“I’d do whatever I had to do to save our family ranch. Kyle Langley, my lawyer, keeps urging me to sell it, but I want it for my son.”

Libby patted her barely round stomach. “I can understand that now.”

“But I don’t have a child—not that I don’t want one but…my mother may be right about my marriage prospects. I seem to scare men away. Maybe I should just let Ty take the company, sell it if he finds a buyer, and take the money and start running the ranch for a living.” Life would be easier if she could convince herself not to care.

Cat snorted. “There is no money in ranching, let me tell you. And it’s damn hard work. Sometimes I question what I’m doing trying to keep it, considering I know next to nothing about running a ranch because no one ever thought enough of me to teach me.”

“Truth is, I know and love rodeo, not ranching. They are two different animals—literally.”

“I think you have your answer,” Libby said. “And worst case, you’ll have a little fun while you’re saving your company.”

Mandy grimaced. “That’s what my mother said.”

Mandy waited outside the door of Brian’s office, her heart pummeling her rib cage. She was really going to do this? It was still a question. She glanced at her mother, who stood with Harold, watching her as if she were a horse ready to bolt. A realistic fear given how she felt.

“Honey, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Her mother was dressed in a stylish lilac sheath. “I know I was encouraging you, but now that you’ve decided, I’m having second thoughts myself. What was JM thinking, Harold?”

Harold shook his Stetsoned head. For the occasion, he’d donned the same dark suit he’d worn to JM’s funeral, probably the only suit he owned. “Damned if I know. This is the darnedest thing I’ve ever heard of. Sounds like something out of the Middle Ages. Ty’s all right, I guess, but why JM wanted you to marry him in order to run the company, I don’t understand.”

“By the way, Harold, I didn’t get a chance to say congratulations. Mom told me.”

A slow smile slid across his weathered face. “Thank you, Mandy. Guess that’s gonna make me some sort of in-law to Ty.” His expression turned determined. “I can have a word with him if you want.”

“I appreciate the offer, but it’s not like this is a real marriage. I mean, a lasting one. Six months it will all be over, and this will just be a footnote in my life.” Some footnote.

“I don’t know, honey,” Sheila said. “Marriages are supposed to be happy occasions. You look like you’re going to another funeral, not your wedding.”

Mandy straightened her shoulders and smoothed the skirt of the pastel-blue jersey dress she’d pulled from her closet. Certainly not the Cinderella dress she’d imagined for her wedding. And not the groom either.

This isn’t a real marriage.

What it was, however, had yet to be defined. An affair? An arrangement? An agreement of the personal kind? None of them sounded honorable or even decent.

An indecent proposal, concocted by, of all people, her traditional, conservative grandfather.

“I’ll be fine. It’s not like he’s evil or anything. I just don’t trust him with the company.”

Not a very flattering portrait of the man she was going to wed.

There was still time to back out.

The door opened.

“I thought I heard voices.” Brian poked his gray-haired head out of the door. “All set?” He eyed her like he too expected her to bolt. “He signed the prenup, and I gave him your signed copy.”

Mandy nodded, feeling both a sense of dread and, oddly, anticipation. “I’d like to see Ty first. Alone,” she said, looking at her mother and Harold.

“Traditionally, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony,” Shelia said, placing a protective hand on Mandy’s forearm.

“This is hardly a traditional marriage, Mother.” And it wasn’t like her luck could get much worse.

With an accepting nod, Shelia walked through the doorway, Harold following, as Brian disappeared inside, presumably to fetch Ty.

Mandy worried her lower lip as she waited, her hands clasping and unclasping. She could still turn around and walk away.

Ty stepped out into the hallway.

He was dressed in black, with a starched white shirt. But it wasn’t an ordinary suit. Ty wore a tuxedo—and wore it well. The expert tailoring emphasized his broad shoulders, while the jacket skimmed along his torso and nipped in at his waist. The trousers fell loose and long over black shoes. A lock of dark wavy hair had settled across his brow. He looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of a bridal magazine’s photo shoot of the perfect groom.

As his gaze danced over her, the smile that spread across his face paid her a compliment like no words ever could.

But what intrigued her most was the gorgeous bouquet of flowers in his hands. Beautiful red roses, baby’s breath, and purple orchids. The sentiment behind it dried her mouth.

“You look beautiful, Mandy.” His fingers fondled a strand of her hair and then freed it to swing against her shoulder. “Stunning.”

The look of pleasure in his eyes made her believe him, made her feel, in that moment, beautiful.

“For you.” He held out the bouquet. “I know there are many things missing from this ceremony. Hell, I don’t even have a ring to give you, but I wanted you to at least have beautiful flowers.”

She reached for them. A tingle flitted through her as her fingers scraped his hand, reminding her of the swirl of his thumb over her hand after he’d asked her to marry him. She brought the bundle to her nose and took a deep breath of rose-scented air. Her favorite fragrance.

“Thank you,” she said with heartfelt sincerity. It was a sweet gesture—and so totally unexpected it made everything she was going to say more difficult.

He looked at her, the smile fading as his thumb stroked down her cheek, bringing with it a pleasurable shiver. She wished she didn’t respond this way every time he touched her.

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

“No. Not really,” she lied. “But I did want to be sure we understand each other. Marriage carries certain expectations,” she began. “And I want…I want to be the one who decides if and when…those expectations are met.” She looked up at him through her lashes.

He took a step back, as if to see her more clearly. “Of course.” He sounded offended.

“It’s just…this is not a real marriage. There’s no love between us. We don’t trust each other…”

“I’m attracted to you. And if you’re honest with yourself, you’re attracted to me.”

“For you, that’s enough, I’m sure.” She couldn’t disguise the edge in her voice. “But it’s not for me. Sex isn’t just about pleasure…”

“It will be pleasurable. I can promise you that.”

She ignored the kick of her pulse. “It’s about feelings.” And she counted on his role as arbiter of her company’s fate to keep at bay whatever misguided feelings she may have once had for him. She’d been too young to understand what it meant to be in love, and yet, no other man had ever elicited the depth of feelings he had that fateful summer.

“Like with Mitch Lockhart?”

What did he know about Mitch Lockhart? And why did he care? “I don’t need to defend my previous decisions. But I do need to explain this decision so you’re realistic and not under any illusions.”

“Shoot.”

“If you think I am doing this for any reason other than to become the head of Prescott Rodeo Company and keep it from being sold, you are wrong, Ty. You gain regardless. I risk…everything that’s dear to me, everything I’ve fought for. My heritage, my company.”
My self-respect.

He curved a finger under her chin and tilted her face up so she could see him. It was too easy to get lost in those dark, intense, intriguing eyes.

“And just so
you’re
realistic, I play to win. So there’s no way we’re not going to bed together. It’s not a matter of
if
—it’s only a matter of
when
. I can be damn irresistible.”

With a smile that gave truth to his words, he stepped back and held out his arm.

“We’ll see,” she said, hoping her voice held more conviction than she felt at the moment. Placing her hand on the wool sleeve covering hard bone and muscle, her legs weak, she walked with him into Brian’s office to become Mrs. Ty Martin.

“You really didn’t have to do this, Mom.”

Mandy sat next to Ty and across the linen-clad table from Sheila and Harold in a booth at the Cattle Baron’s Grille in the historic Cheyenne hotel of the same name, and tried to ignore the warm thigh pressed against her leg and the flush of her body in response.

The thigh and the heat it was generating belonged to the man she had just pledged to love and honor
till death do us part
. Hypocrisy slammed into her with an uncomfortable thud. She was now a card-carrying member of
the ends justifies the means
club, and she hated herself for it.

And she hated that Sheila had insisted they “celebrate” the occasion. Mandy didn’t feel like celebrating. She felt like crawling back under the covers of her bed and never coming out. Only now her bed would include the tall, dark, and handsome man next to her and be located in her grandfather’s ranch house, which she hadn’t stepped foot in since his death.

She wanted to cry. But instead she picked up her fork and stabbed at the Caesar salad she’d ordered, her stomach in knots.

“It was nice of both of you,” Ty said, including Harold in his thanks. Ty, along with Harold, had ordered the Cowboy Ribeye. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him cut a substantial piece of meat off the bone and pop it into his mouth. Obviously
his
appetite had not been affected.

“Well, even if this isn’t…well, traditional, we should commemorate the occasion.” Sheila took a dainty bite of her salmon.

“Why? We all know it’s just a sham.” Mandy felt peeved—at herself, mostly, for having succumbed to her grandfather’s misplaced wishes. “I just want my company back.”

A frown creased her mother’s creamy white brow. “Let’s have a nice meal and not spoil it by talking about that confounded will. You’ve taken the necessary step, so it’s time to move forward.”

“You both headed out tomorrow to Texas?” Harold asked, apparently ready to change the subject.

“We’re heading to Abilene first. Right, Mandy?” Ty seemed totally unaffected sitting in the elegant dining room in his tux like it was the most normal thing in the world to have just gotten married on a Tuesday by a judge to a woman he couldn’t claim as more than an acquaintance and who, he had to know, despised everything he stood for.

Not that he didn’t look good in his tux. He’d drawn the stares of several women in the room when he’d entered. Wasn’t the bride supposed to be the center of attention on her wedding day? Only Mandy wasn’t dressed as a bride, didn’t feel like a bride, didn’t want to be a bride. Well, not today anyway.