The Rancher's Marriage Pact (6 page)

Dallas glanced over his shoulder to find the black gelding poking his head through the opening in the stall. “That's Raven. Even though he lost his stud status years ago, he still knows a beautiful woman when he sees one.”

A slight blush colored her cheeks. “He must not get out much.”

Dallas still couldn't get why she didn't realize her worth. He'd be happy to take a turn at trying to convince her. But not now. Not yet. He had something more pressing that required her consideration. “How was breakfast?”

She leaned back against the opposite wall. “Wonderful. Maria said you wanted to speak with me.”

“Yeah. I thought I could show you around.”

“Around where?”

“The barn.”
Although the bedroom would be better
, a thought that luckily hadn't jumped out of his mouth.

She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “You're not going to ask me to be one of your ranch hands, are you?”

He couldn't stop a laugh. “Not hardly. Just trying to be hospitable.”

“Oh. You said earlier you wanted to talk to me about business, so I assumed maybe that's why I'm here.”

Obviously she wanted to get right down to it. Normally that would suit him fine, but this proposition would take some time easing into it. “We'll cover that in a minute. First, I want you to officially meet Raven.”

She looked almost alarmed. “Is that necessary? I mean, he is rather big.”

He crossed the aisle and took her hand. “He's big all right. A big baby. He won't hurt you.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, a good dose of wariness in her voice.

“Positive.”

He guided her to the gelding's stall, stood behind her and told her, “Just pet him on his muzzle.”

“Huh?”

“His nose. Or rub him right between his eyes on that white part, which is known as a blaze. He'll follow you anywhere if you do that.”

She glanced back at him and frowned. “I'm not sure I want him following me.”

“Give it a try, darlin'. You'll see he's a gentle giant. Besides, if you're serious about going on that cattle drive, you better get used to being around a horse before you climb on his back.”

After a moment's hesitation, Paris reached out and touched Raven carefully, then slowly began to stroke him. The gelding didn't move an inch, as predicted, and soon began to close his eyes like he'd been hypnotized. Dallas, on the other hand, began to twitch as he followed her movements and imagined her hands on him...

He had a dirty mind full of devilish thoughts that could land him in trouble, or on his ass if he acted on them. To make matters worse, Paris suddenly turned and ended up way too close for his comfort.

He figured it would be best if he continued the tour, but when she wet her lips, he could only move toward her, not away. And this time, he took the reins. He lowered his head and kissed her like he hadn't kissed a woman in years.

The next thing he knew, he had her spun around and backed up against the wall. She had her hands wrapped around his neck and that sweet little body pressed against his. All thoughts of wedding pacts and proposing to a virtual stranger flew out of his brain in lieu of what was going on below his belt.

Without warning, Paris broke the kiss and ducked under his arm. “This should not be happening.”

Dallas braced both palms on the wall and tipped his forehead against the wood. “Maybe not, but it did. Too late to take it back.”

“I wish I could take it back,” she said from behind him. “I don't understand what is wrong with me. I see no reason whatsoever why I keep acting this way.”

That ticked him off a bit and turned him around to face her. “Are you going to try to ignore the chemistry between us? Because I'm sure as hell not going to even try. From the minute you marched into the office, I knew something was brewing.”

She looked away for a few seconds. “It's immaterial whether we share chemistry or not. I've made it a point not to do anything rash, and I'm not inclined to sleep with someone outside a committed relationship.”

Hell, not only was she sexy, she could read minds. “I don't remember asking you to sleep with me.”

She sent a pointed look south of his buckle. “You might not have verbally asked, but the message was loud and clear.”

That wasn't up for discussion. “Hey, I'm a man. We don't always have control over physical reactions.”

She gave him a good eye-rolling. “That could be true, but I do have control over mine.”

“Lady, you could've fooled me a few minutes ago. And don't forget that kiss last night.”

“Evidently I forgot myself.”

“Maybe you've just forgotten what it feels like to be with a man who really wants you.”

Her indignant look told him he'd struck a nerve. “Look, I have a few rules. I don't believe in casual sex, and I don't become intimate with anyone I've known such a short time. Never have. Never will.”

A good lead-in to his crazy scheme,
crazy
being the operative word. But for the first time in a long time, he saw a possible end to his dilemma. Not to mention being married to Paris Reynolds carried a couple of perks, the least of which would be some nice, hot lovemaking. First, he had to convince her to give his plan credence.

He paced down the aisle and back again before he paused in front of her. “No sex outside a committed relationship, huh?”

“That is correct.”

He rubbed a palm over his neck and prepared to propose. “Then if that's the case, I can only see one answer to the problem.”

“What would that be?”

“Marry me.”

Four

“H
ave you lost your mind?”

“Nope.”

Paris found it difficult to believe a man like Dallas Calloway—a reputed confirmed bachelor—would blurt out a proposal to a woman he'd known less than twenty-four hours. “Let me get this straight. You'd be willing to marry me in order to sleep with me?”

“Yep.”

This simply had to be a joke with an impending punch line. “Shouldn't we go steady first?”

“I'm serious, Paris, and I'm not asking just so I can get you into my bed.”

From the somber look on his face, she could tell he was dead serious. “If it's not only the sex, then why would you want to rush into a marriage?”

“Because I need a wife and I need one fairly fast.”

Her head started spinning from confusion. “Could you be any more vague?”

“It's kind of complicated. But I believe getting married would benefit both of us.”

In what universe? “This doesn't make any sense to me, Dallas. As I said before, you could probably have any woman you wanted and—”

“I don't want any other woman. And in all honesty, I'm running out of time to find a bride.”

Paris entertained visions of gloom and doom. “Is there something physically wrong with you?”

“Do you mean a terminal illness?”

“Yes.”

“No, but I am suffering from an incurable codicil.”

“Now I'm really perplexed.”

“Join the club.” He gestured toward the end of the lengthy barn. “Let's go into the office. You're going to need to sit down while I explain.”

That sounded like a good plan. Her knees were still weak from their mini make-out session and the bombshell proposal. “Lead the way.”

Paris followed Dallas into the office that was surprisingly simple and blessedly cool. She took a black-and-chrome chair situated in the corner while he leaned back on the industrial metal desk opposite her.

Dallas released a rough sigh as he centered his gaze on her. “Before I launch into this mess, I need to know I can trust you with the information I'm about to disclose.”

She braced for deep secrets, an all too familiar concept. “I promise I won't say anything. Besides, I really don't have anyone to tell, at least not around here. And I promise you I have no intention of mentioning any of this conversation to my mother and father.”

“No best friend?”

“Not really. I basically lost touch with my friends from college.” A sad commentary on the state of her life.

“Good, because some of my current predicament involves a scandal.”

Her curiosity was considerably piqued. “Go ahead.”

After looking away a few moments, Dallas finally regarded her again. “A few years ago, during the reading of my dad's will, we discovered he had another family we didn't know a damn thing about.”

“You mean Jenny?”

“Yeah, and the twins.”

Both shocking and scandalous. “I didn't realize your dad and Maria divorced.”

“They didn't.”

The cogs started spinning in her head as she added outrageous to the adjectives describing the situation. “You mean he was—”

“A bigamist.”

“How did he get away with that?”

“By leaving the state to screw around on Maria. He bought a horse farm in Louisiana when Maria was pregnant with my half brother Houston. He met Jenny in New Orleans, married her and proceeded to get her pregnant not long after my other half brother Tyler was born. For over twenty years he lived the lie and no one was the wiser.”

Paris felt as if she'd been thrust into a spaghetti Western soap opera. “I can't imagine keeping a secret of that magnitude for weeks, much less decades.”

“J. D. Calloway was a conniving, cheating, lying son of a bitch,” he said, venom in his voice. “Pardon my French.”

She couldn't believe he would be concerned about cursing in light of what he'd just told her. “No worries. My father speaks the language fluently.”

Her attempt at humor obviously fell flat when Dallas didn't even crack a smile. “But that part of the sorry story isn't even the worst of it.”

Paris had a difficult time believing it could get much worse. Then again... “Please don't tell me he had another wife.”

“Not that we're aware of, although I wouldn't put it past him. But he did have it out for me.”

“Why is that?”

“Because he never could control me in life, so he decided to do it in death.”

She definitely didn't think she'd care for the late Calloway patriarch. “How exactly did he manage that?”

“By using ownership of the ranch. He knew my grandfather insisted the controlling interest of the D Bar C be passed down to his first-born grandson, and my dad was forced to adhere to that request. But then he added a condition that would allow me to continue to run this place only if I did his bidding.”

She was almost afraid to ask. “Such as?”

“I have to get married before my thirty-eighth birthday. If not, controlling interest reverts to my half brother Fort who doesn't give a tinker's damn about this place. He's so ate up with anger he'd like to see all of us fail.”

So now she knew why that milestone held so much importance with the mothers. And she suspected she knew the reason behind the spontaneous proposal. “Am I correct in assuming you want me to prevent that from happening by entering into a bogus marriage?”

He scowled. “When you put it that way, it makes me sound like a jerk. But after I met you yesterday and learned about your current situation, I figured it would benefit us both.”

“How am I going to benefit from a lie?”

“Financially.”

She'd begun to feel a bit like the prostitute Maria had believed her to be. “Marriage for money. Interesting. And out of the question.”

“Will you at least hear me out?”

“I wouldn't miss it for the world. But first, I have to know one thing.”

“Go ahead.”

“How could you put that much faith in this plan when you know so little about me?”

He paused for a brief moment. “Your parents are Howard and Sheila Reynolds. You were born in San Diego thirty-two years ago on November second. You graduated from a prestigious college, worked for an equally prestigious firm in Nevada and you married Peter L. Smith in Vegas eight years ago. I didn't find any record of your divorce though.”

She was floored he'd gained so much information in such a short time. “I have the documents although they're in Spanish, and a photo of the book where the registrar recorded the divorce. And exactly when did you do this background check on me?”

“I couldn't sleep last night so I did an internet search. This morning I called a friend who's in security. He took it from there.”

Security meant criminal history. Momentary panic set in. “Did he find anything interesting?”

“Nope. Not one felony or misdemeanor or even a speeding ticket.”

She relaxed for a moment knowing he hadn't discovered her primary secret, but then no one knew about that. No one ever would, thanks to a nondisclosure order arranged by her attorney. “I'd expect you to thoroughly investigate someone you intend to hire, but not someone you intend to marry.”

“I'm a businessman, Paris, and this is a business proposition. Maybe that sounds kind of crass, but before we go any further, I wouldn't want you to have expectations of it being anything else.”

For some odd reason that stung like a hornet, as if she was stupid enough to think it might be more. “Really? Again I ask, what's in it for me? Aside from being wed to the object of many a woman's lust, of course.”

He didn't seem affected at all by her sarcasm. “First of all, you have a fairly substantial debt you're dealing with.”

Had he somehow discovered the money she owed her former firm? Impossible. Or so she hoped. “Did you run a report on my finances?”

“No. I figured that out when you came begging for a job, and confirmed it when you mentioned your ex taking your money and cutting out of the country. I also recall some issue with staying in your apartment and possibly having to move to Idaho. Am I wrong?”

If he only knew the true magnitude of her problems. “No, you're not wrong.”

“Exactly how much debt are you carrying?”

“That's really none of your—”

“Business? If you want me to help you, you'll have to be honest about the money aspects.”

He had a lot of nerve making the request when she hadn't agreed to anything. “I believe I asked you for a job, not for your help.”

“Yeah, but I'm asking for yours. We could help each other. How much debt?”

She momentarily swallowed her pride. “Over seventy thousand dollars.” Most of which she owed to her former firm.

“Are you a chronic shopper?” he asked.

“No, but my ex is. He left me with all the bills.” Including money he'd stolen that she was having to reimburse.

“Okay. If you agree to this, I'll make sure you're debt-free. I'll give you twenty thousand up front and you can live here rent-free. You can also design the lodge and I'll pay you monthly for that. If you see that through, I'll provide a reference and the seed money to start your own company.”

Wow. She would finally be solvent, liberated from her former employer and on her way to a bright future. But at what cost? A nagging voice told her to go for it. Her mother's voice told her to proceed with caution. “If I did agree to this, and I'm not saying I am, how long would I be expected to remain in this marriage?”

“The will states a year,” he said. “It's going to take at least that long to get Texas Extreme up and running and the lodge ready for guests. If you'll stay until then, I'll throw in another bonus. I'll buy you a new car so you can put that rusty sedan out to pasture.”

She took offense to him insulting her car. “Bubba is not rusty.”

He chuckled. “You gave that clunker a name?”

“Yes. He's been very reliable, unlike most men I've known.”

“Bubba sounds like he's barely running.”

“He does need a little work.” Now for a very pertinent question. “There is the very important matter of dissolving the marriage. I'm personally not keen on being labeled a two-time loser with another divorce.”

“We could look into an annulment.”

“Under what grounds after we've hung in there for a year?”

He streaked a palm over his shaded jaw. “I'm not sure.”

Neither was she, but she intended to find out. “Mind if I borrow your laptop to do a little research?”

He reached behind him and offered her the computer. “Knock yourself out.”

After setting it on her lap, Paris began the search for annulment criteria. She selected the most official-looking article and began to read. “Let's see here. The first condition states the parties are family members, but I highly doubt we're related to each other.”

“Did you not pay attention to me telling you about my father's philandering ways? I wouldn't be surprised to discover you're the sister I've always wanted but never had.”

“Very funny and kind of creepy.”

“I'm kidding, Paris. I don't harbor any brotherly feelings for you whatsoever.”

She looked up to see Dallas's smile before scanning the text again. “On to the next point. I guess one of us could get drunk during the ceremony and claim we weren't coherent enough to consent. We could then say we didn't sober up until after our first anniversary.”

His low laugh gave her pleasant chills. “Sounds like you could handle that with a couple of Jen's mint juleps, pre-ceremony. I'm sure she'll keep you supplied for the next twelve months.”

This time she didn't bother to look up. “Clever, but not anything either of us should consider. Coercion is out because I wouldn't agree to this unless we're both sure. Bigamy is also out. And fraud unless one of us is lying about our age.”

“Nope,” he said. “But back to that bigamy thing. Are you sure you're divorced?”

Realizing she'd inadvertently hit a nerve bringing up bigamy, Paris closed the computer and frowned. “Yes, I'm sure I'm divorced. Peter couldn't get out of the marriage quick enough. He's a CPA so he's fastidious and detail oriented.” As well as a con artist, a fact she chose to withhold. “That leaves us with the final possibility. Do you have issues with impotence that would lead to the old standby, failure to consummate?”

He looked more amused than insulted. “You and I both know the answer to that after what happened a few minutes ago.”

She'd realized very quickly he hadn't been poking fun. “That's too bad since it would make the whole failure to consummate much easier, which appears to be our only option. Get married, no whoopee.”

He looked like he'd just bitten into a dill pickle. “You expect me to go without sex for a year?”

Paris thought that would be the greatest challenge of all, and a possible reason for him to rescind the offer. “Cowboy up, cowboy. You can handle it if you want to keep the ranch. Which leads me to another question.”

“Shoot.”

“Does maintaining control of this place mean so much to you that you would enter into a fake marriage that requires celibacy for a year?”

“I don't like the celibacy clause one damn bit, but I can only promise I'll try. And it would have to be a real marriage in order to meet the will's requirements.”

She saw a possible alternative. “Who would know if we only pretended we married?”

“Fort will make a point to check it out.”

The decision would be so much easier for Paris if that weren't the case. “You're obviously a rich guy, Dallas. I imagine you could buy a ranch just like this one anywhere in the world. Maybe even a bigger and better ranch. Then you wouldn't have to resort to this ruse.”