Читать книгу From Texas, With Love - Cathy Thacker Gillen - Страница 9

“You ever been to Laramie before?” Will asked from behind the wheel of his extended-cab pickup truck.

Samantha turned her gaze to peaceful tree-lined streets, a beautiful downtown district with historic buildings and a mixture of quaint and modern businesses. This was the West Texas of travel brochures, complete with a movie production studio helmed by legendary actor-director Beau Chamberlain, and a garment factory that produced Jenna Lockhart clothing. They passed the Lone Star Dance Hall, the limestone county courthouse and the community hospital before turning onto Houston Street. Restored Victorian houses sat on elegantly manicured lawns. Spring was in full bloom, as attested by the colorful flower beds and leafy trees.

Aware that Will was waiting for an answer, Samantha replied, “No. I’ve never been in this part of the state.” Emerging from the vehicle, she spoke above the sounds of a lawn mower one block over. “I grew up in Beaumont. Left Texas the year I turned eighteen. Never to return, until now.” Now that she was back, soaking up the distinctive Lone Star ambience, she wondered if that might not have been a mistake. There was something about this part of the country that felt familiar and much more comforting than she could have imagined.

Will met up with her at the bumper. He slid a hand beneath her elbow as they moved up the walk toward the pine-green frame home with white shutters and trim. “You went to NYU on scholarship, right?”

Trying not to think how much this reminded her of the home she’d grown up in, albeit on a much grander scale, Samantha eased away from his touch. “How’d you know that?”

Will shoved his hands in his pockets. “Howard told me. He thought it was because you wanted to be near him, since he was working for an investment banking firm on Wall Street back then.”

If anything, that had been a major deterrent, Samantha recalled with the bitter resentment that had haunted her for years. “Not quite,” she clarified. “That just happened to be where I got the best scholarship.”

The front door opened. A petite woman with short, curly red hair and flushed cheeks emerged. She had a smudge of flour on her chin and a welcoming light in her eyes. In contrast to Samantha’s brother, who was dressed like the investment banker he was, Molly wore jeans, a turquoise Western shirt and boots. Samantha had been prepared not to like her any more than she liked her brother. That was impossible, she soon found.

“Howdy, y’all!” Molly beamed, enveloping her in the kind of fierce, familial hug Samantha hadn’t had since she was eight. “Welcome!”

Molly ushered them in, leading the way through the spacious country kitchen at the rear of the home, to the slate-floored, screened-in porch overlooking the backyard. “I’m so glad you agreed to be in our wedding!”

Shocked by the assumption, Samantha took a step back and bumped into Will’s chest. His hand came up to steady her.

Howard sent an apologetic look at his bride-to-be. “I haven’t asked her yet.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. Molly looked back at Samantha with an expression of longing for acceptance that Samantha understood only too well.

“Then I will,” Molly told him softly, clearly not understanding why Howard had delayed on this. “Samantha, we both would like it very much if you would be my maid of honor. It would be wonderful to have you as part of our wedding party. You’ve already met Will here—he’s the best man.”

Yet another reason why she should decline the invitation, Samantha thought.

The four of them sat down at a beautifully set wicker-and-glass table. “That’s very sweet of you to ask,” she hedged as they passed the dishes around, family style.

“It would mean so much to us,” Molly stated, the yearning for family plain in her eyes. “To me, especially, since you’ll be my first—my only—sister.”

Samantha had always wanted a sister, too. But becoming close to Molly meant being near her brother, as well.

Determined not to bring Molly into their feud, she gestured apologetically. “It’s not really a good time.” She tried not to think how long it had been since she’d had sausage and biscuits with homemade cream gravy. She knew she’d never had any quite this delicious, and the same went for the fruit compote and freshly brewed coffee. “I’m looking for a job right now.”

Compassion radiated from Molly’s eyes. “Howard told me you’d been laid off.”

Samantha swore silently to herself. She hadn’t wanted her brother to know. Doing her best to disguise her wounded pride, she turned to Howard.

He shrugged. “When you didn’t return my calls, I telephoned you at Gallimore, Smith & Tomberlin, and found you hadn’t been employed there for six months.”

A flush of embarrassment heated Samantha’s cheeks. Great. One more humiliation, added to the heap.

She regarded the others at the table with a great deal more confidence than she felt. “I’ve been looking.” She’d gone door to door to every ad agency in the city, and even ventured into Jersey, passing out résumés and meeting with human resource directors. “I’m sure I’ll find something soon,” she stated, knowing darn well that the odds were stacked against her finding a position anywhere near as prestigious as the one she’d had prior to getting involved with Shawn.

“You could look in Texas,” Molly suggested. “Or start your own advertising agency in Laramie County. I mean, I know it’s not the New York City ad world, but there’s plenty of work locally to be had by an enterprising individual. There isn’t an advertising agency for a hundred miles, so people either have to travel several hours to meet with someone, or do it themselves. Neither option is ideal.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but with several irons in the fire, I have to go back to New York.”

Molly understood, even as she refused to take no for an answer. “The wedding is this weekend. You can stay until then, can’t you?” She clasped Samantha’s hand. “It’s only seven days, and it would mean so much to us. Howard even has a car for you to drive if you stay,” Molly added. “That white Lexus coupe parked next to the house.”

Will squinted at the vehicle, just visible from where they were seated. “It looks brand-new,” he remarked.

“It is.” Molly got up to pour more coffee for everyone. “Howard just picked it up in San Angelo a few weeks ago.”

Will glanced in Samantha’s direction. She knew what he was thinking. It was a question city folk often got. “Yes, I know how to drive,” she informed him. “I learned when I was in Texas. I took driver’s ed in school—a pilot program paid for my car insurance.” Otherwise, as a foster kid, she wouldn’t have been able to afford the liability and accident insurance needed to take driver’s training.

“Do you own a car now?” Molly asked, returning to her seat.

“No.” Samantha stirred sugar and cream into her coffee. She looked up and found Will’s eyes on her once again. “It’d be impractical. I rent one when I need one. Otherwise, I walk or take mass transit.”

Molly rested her chin on her hands. “It must be so exciting, living in New York.”

More like lonely, Samantha thought, since all she did was work. And now, look for a job and chase mice in her tiny apartment.

“Hey now.” Will sat back in his chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him, his knee nudging hers under the table in the process. “Don’t count Texas out.” He winked. “Laramie has its thrills.”

Samantha knew one. Will McCabe. Not that she intended to become emotionally involved with him.

“I know this is a lot to lay on you all at once,” Howard interjected quietly, “but I promise, if you’ll be part of our wedding, I won’t bug you to visit us again.”

Samantha studied him, for a moment seeing the loving older brother he had once been, instead of the emotionally distant man he’d become, after their parents’ death. “You swear?”

He nodded, his eyes holding hers. “I know this is my last chance,” he admitted with a sincerity that touched her heart. “I know I have a lot to make up to you. I know there is no reason on this earth you should let me try. But I’d still like that opportunity, Samantha. I’d still like to be the family we should have been to each other all along.”

“I WISH WE DIDN’T HAVE TO cut this short,” Molly said, an hour later. “But I’ve got to get over to my office. And Howard has to go into Dallas on business.”

“Molly’s the mayor of Laramie,” Howard explained, wrapping an arm around his fiancée’s waist.

She hugged him back and acknowledged with pride, “My biggest accomplishment thus far has been to convince new businesses—like Howard’s and Will’s—to base their operations here.”

“Howard has his own investment banking business now,” Will told Samantha.

How odd, she thought, that everyone knew more about her only remaining kin than she did.

“Before I forget!” Molly snatched a turquoise folder from the console in the foyer. “Here is your schedule of wedding events. The first thing is a fitting at Jenna Lockhart’s boutique. It’s on Main Street, between West Avenue and Bowie Lane. She’d like you to come over this morning, if you can. Meanwhile…” Molly paused. “Where are you going to stay this week?”

Samantha sensed yet another invitation coming. There was a limit to how much she was going to put herself out there. “With Will,” Samantha replied.

“But…” Molly and Howard exchanged concerned looks.

“You’d be more comfortable here,” Will pointed out, practical as ever.

Samantha knew that.

“I have a very nice guest room and private bath,” Molly added.

Howard held up both hands in a defensive gesture. “Don’t worry about running into me. I’m bunking elsewhere until after the wedding,” he said.

Knowing the more she accepted from Howard and Molly, the more indebted she would be, Samantha rejected the invitation with a pleasant shake of her head. “Really. Will and I are fine.”

“At the airstrip?” Molly appeared unconvinced, as did Howard.

Obviously, Samantha thought ruefully, the two of them had seen Will’s Spartan accommodations.

Trying not to think about what it had been like to fall asleep next to Will and wake up in the middle of the night snuggled cozily against him—only to come to her senses and pull away from him once again—Samantha stiffened her spine.

“The accommodations at the airstrip provide absolutely everything I need.” Including an incredibly sexy and interesting man to spar with. “So you don’t have to worry about me,” she said, knowing that much was true, because there was no way she and Will were sharing a bed again. Being so close to each other, even if not so scantily clad, was a temptation neither she nor Will needed.

She might be leading a very celibate existence these days, but she was still human enough to miss the emotional and physical connection that came with making love. Being back in Texas, dealing with her brother, was leaving her vulnerable and overly emotional. Samantha sensed it wouldn’t take much more than a few really passionate kisses or a well-timed hug from Will to have her seeing him in a whole new light. And while she guessed hooking up with him would certainly be pleasurable, it wouldn’t be smart. When she made love with a man again, she wanted to be in love with him, and most important of all, she wanted him to love her back with all his heart.

“Listen, see y’all later. Thanks for breakfast.” Samantha hurried out the door, Will ambling along behind her. He didn’t say anything, but she could tell he thought she was behaving foolishly in rejecting Howard and Molly’s invitation to stay. For some reason, Will’s disapproval bothered her. And that was strange, since she had stopped caring what other people thought about her a long time ago.

Samantha reached the white Lexus being loaned to her. She unlocked the door and was immediately assaulted with the new-car smell.

Aware of Will lingering next to her, Samantha tossed her wedding folder and handbag onto the leather seat. Feeling his eyes upon her, she turned back to him. He came closer still, looking her over from head to toe in a way that electrified her senses. He flashed her a smile.

“How did I just agree to any of this?” she muttered, rolling her eyes. She had promised herself she was returning to Texas only long enough to provide closure and move on. Instead, she had let herself be goaded into spending the night—and sharing a bed!—with a man who was temptation personified, had agreed to meet her brother’s fiancée and participate in their wedding, all in a little over thirteen hours. At this rate, who knew what might transpire before the end of the week? If Will McCabe had anything to do with it, quite a lot!

Still studying her, Will put a hand on the top of the coupe. Understanding glimmered in his blue eyes. “Don’t beat yourself up about it,” he soothed. “Staying is the right thing to do.”

Maybe being part of the wedding, giving Howard one last chance to make amends, was the right thing to do, Samantha conceded reluctantly. However, continuing to bunk with Will McCabe…well, that was something else entirely. That was courting trouble. He seemed to know it, too.

With effort, Samantha directed her thoughts away from his tantalizing presence and back to the conversation at hand. Just because he had the broadest shoulders and buffest chest she had ever seen—not to mention an Olympic quality lower half—did not mean she had to succumb to temptation.

“The right thing for whom?” she demanded.

“All of you,” Will told her. “Like I mentioned earlier, family’s important.”

Samantha knew that; it was Howard who hadn’t. Until now, anyway. It ticked her off that her brother had turned the tables on her, and was now insisting on having what she had so desperately wanted—and given up on ever having.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the open car door. Her heart was beating too fast again, and it was Will’s fault. “I don’t trust that Howard’s not going to hurt me again as soon as this wedding of his is over.”

Will rested his hands on her shoulders. “I know him, and I have to tell you that is very unlikely. But even if he tried, Molly would never allow it.”

Samantha couldn’t disagree with that—Molly was genuine to the core.

Silence fell.

Samantha regarded Will cynically. As much as she would like to let him become her confidant, her protective instincts were warning her against it. Will had made no effort to hide his allegiance to her brother. As kind as he was being to her right now, he was every bit as intent on changing her attitude as Howard was. And for so many reasons, that couldn’t happen.

Her momentary desire to cooperate faded as fast as it had appeared. She forced herself to harden her heart. “You knew my brother was getting married this week when you came to get me yesterday.”

Will dropped his hands. “It’s not exactly a secret.”

“You knew he wanted me down here to participate in the ceremony,” she accused, feeling more deceived than ever.

She’d gotten used to tending only to her own needs. Will—and Howard and Molly—were trying to bring her out of her shell. She didn’t want to complicate her life that way, didn’t want to risk being hurt, deserted or betrayed.

He rubbed his jaw contemplatively. “So…?”

Heat rose into her face. “So why didn’t you tell me that at the outset?” Samantha demanded, even more upset.

“You wouldn’t have come if you’d known he and Molly were going to put you on the spot like that,” he stated simply.

“You’re darn right I wouldn’t have.” Samantha dragged the toe of her Italian leather shoe across the paved driveway, no more eager to leave the premises, and end their postbreakfast tête-à-tête, than he apparently was.

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t forewarn you.” He gave her a wink. “Isn’t it?”

Samantha ignored his attempt to tease her back into good humor. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she groused, feeling all the more hot and uncomfortable in clothing that had been designed for an East Coast spring. “I don’t have clothes for a week of festivities.”

Will checked out her breasts, waist, hips and legs, as if trying to assess her measurements. Imagining what it would be like if he was actually touching instead of just looking, Samantha felt warmth radiate through her. Was it hot out here in the morning sun, or what?

He stepped close enough so she could feel his body heat and breathe in the brisk, masculine fragrance of his cologne. “You could borrow some,” he suggested in a low voice. “I’ve got some sisters-in-law that are about your size. I’m sure they’d be glad to lend you anything you need.”

Samantha stiffened. If everyone in Laramie, Texas, was this hospitable, it was going to be hard as heck to leave. Determined not to let him see how much his nearness was affecting her, she lifted a brow.

“I’d rather not be indebted to anyone else here,” she said stiffly. Especially since she’d have no way of returning the favor.

Will rocked back on his heels and sent her a flirtatious look that upended her equilibrium even further. “Well, then, buying is an option, too,” he drawled. “My brother Lewis’s wife, Lexie Remington, designs clothes for young women. Her clothing line is in department stores all over the country now, but she has lots of samples at her design studio that she sells cheaply to locals. All you have to do is make an appointment to go in and see what she has.”

Aware that Will was systematically chipping away at her resistance, Samantha wrinkled her nose at him. “That’s not the point.”

Although the chance to shop at up-and-coming Lexie Reminton’s design studio was not to be missed. Samantha already owned a few of her pieces—she’d bought them at Bloomingdale’s in Manhattan.

“Then what is the point?” he asked.

Not sure when she had felt so off-kilter and aroused all at once, Samantha finally confessed. “I’ll go stir-crazy, hanging out here until the wedding.” She was used to the hustle and bustle of the city, the anonymity.

“Hey.” Will assumed the boldly aggressive stance of a determined salesperson. “You’ve got plenty to do, besides fulfilling your duties as maid of honor.”

“Like what?” she asked.

He moved forward slightly, further invading her space. “For starters, figuring out how you’re going to pay me back for your room and board.”

She snorted in disbelief. Maybe if she kept the banter up, she wouldn’t think about what it was going to be like being in close proximity to Will McCabe for an entire week. “You’d really charge me for sharing a bunk with you?”

He flashed her a grin. “Not monetarily.”

Whoa! The images those two words conjured up had her tingling all over. She pushed past him, then remembered she was supposed to be driving away. Getting a grip, she whirled back and decided to take him on, anyway. “I hope you’re not suggesting…”

He settled his large frame in the open car door. The look he gave her was direct, uncompromising, confident. Just seeing him that way made her mouth go dry. “My, my, you’ve got a naughty mind.”

Now would have been the perfect time to slip behind the wheel and peel off. Unfortunately, he was blocking her entrance to the driver’s side. Furious, she sputtered, “There is no way—”

“Relax.” He held up a hand before she could finish her tirade. “I like my women enthusiastic, to say the least.”

Samantha imagined they all were, given his ruggedly handsome appearance and easygoing, upbeat attitude.

Feigning disinterest, she rolled her eyes. “Glad we have that clear.”

He tucked his hands beneath his armpits, and continued watching her in a leisurely fashion that made her think about naked bodies and mussed sheets. “The question remains,” he murmured, “how you’re going to pay me back for the room and board. In a nonmonetary way, of course.”

Samantha sighed, wishing she had never gotten entangled with him.

“Obviously,” she retorted, “you have an idea.”

“Actually,” he replied, “I do. You’re an advertising whiz. I have a charter jet service in need of a new ad campaign.” He paused to let those two facts sink in. “Think you could put something together for me in a week, between wedding activities?”

Samantha tamped down the immediate spark of excitement she felt. “You’re serious.” She pretended she wasn’t dying for some work.

“Damn right I am,” he said with an enticing smile.

She dragged her eyes away from the tempting corners of his mouth, affected her best bored tone. “I guess I could do that for you,” she responded, with the same lazy insouciance he was now displaying. “On one condition.” She looked deep into his McCabe-blue eyes and paused to let her words sink in. “I want my own bed to sleep in tonight.” When that demand looked as if it might be met, she added crisply, “And some sort of comfortable chair to sit in. Plus I’ll need access to a desk, your computer and office supplies.”

Will responded with a nod and another enigmatic smile. “I’ll take care of it right away.”

FOUR HOURS LATER, Will had finished making up the flight schedule for the rest of the week and e-mailed it to all his pilots. He kicked back in his desk chair and folded his hands behind his head.

Samantha strolled in, sunglasses on top of her head. To his surprise, she seemed to get more beautiful every time he laid eyes on her. Why that was so, he couldn’t figure out. She was wearing the same sophisticated black clothing that marked her as a city slicker and covered up way too much of her lovely curves. And it wasn’t as if she had done anything different to her hair. The thick glossy waves fell unencumbered to her shoulders. She had the same deft touch with makeup. Not that she seemed to use much, from what he had seen. Her eyes were exceptionally captivating in an already gorgeous face—maybe because they seemed wiser than her years. And those lips, Will noted with no small amount of desire, were so soft and luscious looking he was surprised he hadn’t figured out a way to kiss them yet.

Not that he couldn’t have put the moves on her, had he been so inclined.

He just hadn’t wanted to scare her away. Hadn’t wanted to risk staking a claim Samantha wasn’t ready for. But when she was, he decided, he was definitely going to give it his all. And hope she gave it everything she had, too.

In the meantime, he noticed that she had definitely taken his advice and treated herself. She carried several shopping bags bearing the logos of local boutiques.

Obviously unaware of how his libido amplified at just the sight of her, she dumped the bags in a corner of the room and dropped down in the chair in front of him. The pressure at the front of his jeans increased as she pulled a leather-bound notepad from the oversize leather carryall that passed as her purse.

“Let’s get down to business. Show me what you’ve got.”

Irked by her deliberate lack of pleasantries, Will gave her a leisurely once-over meant to get under her skin. Taking his bad behavior a step further, he touched his belt buckle and waggled his brows. “Good thing I know you don’t mean that the way it sounds,” he drawled.

Behaving as if he hadn’t spoken, she offered a tight, officious smile. “If you want me to design an ad campaign,” she told him, “I need to review the advertisements you’ve been running to date.”

Impressed by her composure in the wake of his goading, Will opened his center desk drawer and pulled out a thin file folder. He pushed it across his desk. “Here it is.”

She snapped it up, then tapped the end of her pen against her lower lip. “I also need current data on your business. Number of planes, pilots, safety record, locations where you fly.”

He struggled to keep his mind on business. He should not be thinking about kissing her. “It’s all in there, too,” he said. “Look on the last page.”

For the next few minutes she perused the file, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You are efficient,” she said at last.

Maybe it was ego, but he wanted her to appreciate his accomplishments. “Surprised?” he taunted.

She closed the file with a sigh and looked at him. “Only by the pedestrian nature of this newspaper ad you’ve been running for your company to date. Who designed it, if you don’t mind my asking?”

It was hard to be so cocky now. “Me.”

She winced slightly, then sat back and recrossed her legs at the knee.

“You don’t like it,” Will stated, disappointed yet aware she had a point. The latest advertisement hadn’t proved very effective in drumming up new business.

Samantha made a seesawing motion with her hand. “Let’s just say I think it could be a little more inspired. Not to worry. We’ll get there.”

Will was sure they would, if Samantha was in the driver’s seat. “I like the sound of that.” Liked even better the notion that before the day was over he was going to find a way to get her in his arms and kiss her, at least once.

As if noticing the way he was staring at her, Samantha frowned. Before she could ask about it, however, footsteps sounded on the concrete floor outside Will’s office.

Oscar Gentry, one of Will’s favorite high school teachers, walked in. At age sixty-five, the silver-haired retiree with the kind eyes remained physically fit and well-groomed. But there was an air of desolation about him that Will had never seen before.

Concerned at what could have happened since the last time they’d talked, and hoping he could help the older man the way he’d once helped him, Will pushed himself to his feet and Will came around the desk. “Hi, Mr. Gentry.”

“Hello, Will.” The man’s handshake lacked its usual vigor.

Will touched Samantha’s shoulder. “This is Samantha Holmes, Howard’s sister.”

The distressed look never completely leaving his eyes, Mr. Gentry took Samantha’s hand, too. “Here for the wedding?” he asked politely.

She nodded.

“She’s also going to devise a new ad campaign for my company,” Will added.

Mr. Gentry frowned. “I guess I should have called first. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s okay.” Will gestured for them all to sit down, then settled behind his desk. “What’s up?”

Mr. Gentry adjusted his glasses on his nose. “I took your advice, Will. It didn’t work.”

Samantha started to rise, sensing that this was a personal matter. “Perhaps I should go.”

“Actually—” Mr. Gentry waved his hand, indicating she should stay right where she was “—I could use a woman’s perspective.” He pressed his lips together ruefully. “Not that what’s going on in my life right now is a big secret, anyway.”

Figuring it would be easier for him to explain, Will stated, “Mr. Gentry’s wife kicked him out.”

The older man ran his hands over his knees. “Yvonne changed the locks on me and everything.”

Samantha blinked. “Why?” she asked.

“It’s the darnedest thing.” He heaved a sigh. “I don’t know. I went fishing, just like I do every Saturday morning, and came home to find all the locks were changed, my suitcases packed and on the front porch.”

“Had you been fishing a lot?” she asked.

Mr. Gentry shook his head. “No more than usual. Once a week.”

“And she never minded before?”

He sighed again. “She said she liked having the time to herself.”

Will tapped his pen on the arm of his chair. He looked at Samantha, noting her compassionate expression. “Mr. and Mrs. Gentry’s fortieth wedding anniversary is next Sunday. They had a big party planned. Mr. Gentry wants to make up with his wife before then.”

The man nodded. “Will told me to get her an apology card from the stationery store and take it to her.”

“Along with flowers and candy and her favorite perfume,” Will added. When Samantha frowned at him, as if that had been the wrong thing to do, he said defensively, “I figured he should cover all the bases.”

“Only it didn’t work,” Mr. Gentry continued, looking even more miserable. “Yvonne got mad when she read the card, and refused to accept any of my gifts.”

Behavior that made no sense at all, Will thought.

Samantha, however, seemed to think it was more a puzzle to be figured out than an unreasonable response. “And you have no idea why she behaved that way?”

“Yvonne said she needed a specific apology,” the former physics teacher revealed in an exasperated tone. “And I told her I can’t give her one because I don’t know what I’ve done to tick her off. And then she said that if I didn’t know what I’d done, she wasn’t going to tell me!’”

Will put his pen down. “I feel for you, pardner.”

“The question is—” Mr. Gentry took off his silver-rimmed glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose in dismay “—what next?”

“You’ve got to convince her you still love her,” Will replied.

“How, when she won’t even let me in the door?” he muttered.

Both men turned their gazes to Samantha, in want of feminine perspective.

She lifted her hands. “If you want your wife back, you’re going to have to wage an effective campaign to win her heart.”

Spoken like a true advertising executive, Will thought. Aware of how flawed her suggestion was, he chided, “Surely you’re not suggesting Mr. Gentry advertise to get his wife back!”

Samantha gave Will a censoring look. “There is nothing wrong with that. Advertising is nothing more than communicating sentiments and feelings—as well as facts.”

“Which is exactly what I need,” Mr. Gentry exclaimed, ready to grab any lifeline thrown his way. “So, would you help me figure out how to do that where Mrs. Gentry is concerned?” the older gentleman asked Samantha.

She dipped her head. “Sure, in an informal kind of way. But I’m going to need a little time to think about the best approach.”

Mr. Gentry thanked Samantha, told her where she could get in touch with him—at his fishing cabin on Lake Laramie, which unfortunately did not have a telephone—and left.

Will had wanted Samantha to become part of the Laramie community. He didn’t want her doing anything that could conceivably cause bad feelings toward her later, should she decide to stay.

“Should you really have promised Mr. Gentry that?” Will asked mildly as soon as he and Samantha were alone.

She looked uneasy. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong.” He shifted in his chair, struggling not to hurt her feelings. “Ad campaigns are effective sales tools.”

“Yes,” Samantha replied, clearly not liking the direction the conversation was headed. “They are.”

Figuring this might go over better if the message was conveyed casually, Will moved around to sit on the front corner of his desk. “They are also often misleading in that they promise way more than can actually be delivered. I’d hate to see Mr. Gentry make his situation worse, which could happen if his wife thinks he is being the least bit superficial in his approach.” Will paused, then tried again. “If Mrs. Gentry didn’t like the card her husband got her…if that wasn’t personal or specific enough…I don’t see how any public campaign designed by a marketing professional could possibly provide a solution here.”

Samantha’s mouth quirked. “You don’t think I can get them back together?” she taunted, rising gracefully from her chair. “Is that it?”

Will ignored the dark wavy hair spilling across one breast and focused on her face. “I think you’re an amateur when it comes to decades-long marriages and relationships, yes. Just like I am,” he admitted.

Samantha scoffed. “That’s ridiculous,” she muttered. Lips pursed in irritation, she slipped her notepad and pen back in her carryall.

“Huh?”

“Just because I don’t have a boyfriend now doesn’t mean I don’t know what it would take for a guy to catch my eye.”

He lifted a challenging brow. “And all women are interested in the same things, I suppose?”

Her slender shoulders stiffened at his deliberate misinterpretation of her pronouncement. “I didn’t mean that and you know it, Will McCabe!”

Trying not to think how much he liked hearing her say his name, he slid off his desk to stand beside her. “Then what are you saying?” he asked, forcing himself not to think about what it would be like to hear her say his name—in ecstasy, not temper.

Oblivious to the lusty nature of his thoughts, she slid her carryall strap onto her shoulder and tucked the bag close to her side. “That I at least have some sensitivity in these matters.”

He caught the implied dig. “And I don’t—in your opinion?”

She merely smiled in a way that reminded him he had been the one who had given Mr. Gentry the poor advice.

“I know a lot about romance,” Will declared irritably.

“Yeah?” Samantha tipped her chin in challenge. “Prove it!”