Читать книгу Falling For Fortune - Allison Leigh, Nancy Robards Thompson - Страница 11
ОглавлениеLunch went much better than Amber had expected—thanks in large part to Jensen’s presence. The Brit had a dry wit and a way of making everyone feel comfortable, a skill he must have perfected as an aristocrat attending various charity events and rubbing elbows with the lower classes. Not that she knew anything about the life he actually led, but she did glance at the headlines of the tabloids whenever she stood in the checkout line of the Superette, and so his social activities were no big secret, even if he didn’t have an official royal title.
Amber had expected the meal to be awkward, but unlike yesterday, Jensen hadn’t seemed the least bit snobbish today.
“Thank you for a lovely meal,” he said, as he rose from the table. “You’re a wonderful cook, Mrs. Rogers. I enjoyed that chicken salad. And your chocolate cake was one of the best I’ve ever had.”
“Why, thank you,” Gram said. “I’m glad you liked it. But please, call me Helen.”
“All right, I will.” He then reached across the table and shook Elmer’s hand. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Murdock. Good luck refurbishing that car. I hope you win the competition.”
Elmer stood as tall as his five-foot-four-inch frame would allow. “And just so you know, there’s been some talk about you English taking over Horseback Hollow. Some are downright pleased and giddy about it, while others are fretting about a British invasion. But I’ll have you know, you’re A-OK in my book.”
Jensen chuckled. “I’m pleased to hear that.”
“Come on,” Amber said. “I’ll walk you outside.”
Once they left the house and were out of earshot, she blew out a sigh. “I hope that wasn’t too trying for you.”
“Actually, I enjoyed myself. And I wasn’t just being polite. Your grandmother is a good cook.”
“I think so, too. But a man like you has eaten meals from the best chefs all over the world. So I have a feeling you’ve just gotten your fill of casseroles lately.”
He laughed—a hearty, resonant sound that lifted her spirits, making her forget all about the green Charger parked near the house or the man inside who’d insisted upon helping Gram with the dishes.
“You have a point,” Jensen said. “But that chicken salad was excellent. And so was the chocolate cake, which could rival any I’ve ever had the pleasure to eat.”
As they made their way to the barn, where they’d stabled Trail Blazer, he added, “I hope you didn’t take offense when I laughed at some of the things Mr. Murdock said. I know how you feel about him and your grandmother, so I hope you don’t think I was having fun at your expense. And I’m sorry if having me here made you uncomfortable.”
“Actually, having you here made it easier. And to be honest, Elmer can be a real hoot at times.” Amber shook her head, then blew out a sigh. “It’s just that...well, besides the fact that I think they’re so unsuited—and that Gram deserves someone better than him...”
“Someone more like your grandfather?”
Amber glanced up at Jensen, caught the look of compassion in his eyes, the understanding. “Yes, there’s that, too. My grandfather was an amazing man, and I’m not ready for her to find a replacement. In fact, I doubt that I’ll ever be ready for that.”
Jensen slipped his hands into his pockets. “I know what you mean. I lost my father four years ago. He and my mother were soul mates, and I can’t imagine her ever finding another man to take his place.”
They stood like that for a moment, caught up in a shared moment—probably the only thing they really had in common. Then Jensen withdrew his pocket watch—a beautiful gold-embossed piece. She expected him to open it and check the time, yet he merely turned it over a time or two, then slipped it back into his pocket.
“Perhaps your grandmother is just enjoying a little camaraderie with Mr. Murdock and they’ve merely struck up a friendship of sorts.”
“You may be right. And if that’s all it is, I guess I shouldn’t worry. But Elmer always has some fool wager going on. And I’m afraid she’ll get hurt—emotionally, physically or even financially. Like I said, no good can possibly come from it.”
Jensen stiffened. “If the man has a gambling problem, I can certainly see your concern.”
“Well, it’s not as though he’s mortgaged his house or ran his credit into the ground. I think it’s all penny-ante stuff. But he’d wager a nickel or a postage stamp or the button off his shirt, just to make things competitive. And Gram is so honest and straitlaced, she wouldn’t take a shortcut home.”
Jensen placed his index finger under Amber’s chin in a move so sweet, so tender, that it should have been comforting—and it was—yet it stirred something in her blood, too. Something warm and sparkly.
“You’re a good-hearted woman, Amber Rogers.”
And...
She waited for what seemed to be the longest time for him to complete the thought—or maybe the connection he’d just made. But he did neither.
Doggone it.
But why would he? She and Jensen Fortune Chesterfield weren’t any better suited than Helen Rogers and Elmer Murdock. And she was a fool to even let her thoughts drift in that direction. Because, like Gram and her silly crush, no good could come of it.
* * *
On the last day in December, while Quinn spent the afternoon at home with Amelia, Jensen took the opportunity to go for another ride on Trail Blazer.
He was still getting used to the stockier quarter horse breed and the Western tack. And while he was an exceptional horseman, he was adapting slowly.
As he cantered along on the spirited gelding, he pondered the possibility of purchasing a saddle of his own to keep in his brother-in-law’s stable. In spite of his affinity for cowboy movies, he still preferred the English equestrian style for his own use.
He hadn’t anticipated doing much riding at all when he’d flown to Texas for his sister’s due date. But given the frequency of weddings and births taking place in America, he’d come to the realization that he would be most likely spending more time here in Horseback Hollow than he’d ever expected, so he didn’t see it as a foolish investment.
After he rounded a large oak tree, he spotted a lone rider galloping toward him. He recognized the long blond hair flowing beneath the rim of the cowboy hat and watched as the cowgirl urged her mount forward.
Amber Rogers was quite the horsewoman, and Jensen pulled back on his reins, slowing so that he could fully enjoy the sight of her.
“Good morning,” she said, as she pulled her horse alongside his.
“Hello, there. I thought I was still on Drummond land, but I must have crossed over onto your property line.”
“Actually, this is neither. The county owns this area. It’s full of riding trails, and if you follow this path far enough, you’ll end up at the Hollow Springs Swimming Hole.”
“A real swimming hole? Like that old movie with Marcia Mae Jones?”
At her confused look, he wondered whether Americans ever watched their own classic Western films.
But his excitement at seeing a true testament to the Wild West frontier couldn’t be diminished.
“I would love to see it,” he said. “How much farther do I need to ride?”
“About two miles. Come on.” She turned her horse toward the narrow trail. “I’ll take you up there.”
He followed her slow pace and tried to keep his eyes on the trail and not her shapely bum. Thank goodness she wasn’t riding at a quicker speed, otherwise he’d be completely useless ogling her graceful movements in the saddle.
When the trail widened and he pulled up alongside her, she said, “I didn’t realize you were such an avid rider.”
“Did you already have set expectations of me?”
“I really didn’t know what to expect. The gossip magazines show you walking the red carpet and attending fabulous parties all over Europe. Of course, you’re rarely smiling in those pictures, so I didn’t know whether you disliked the photographers or if you’re just one of those stoic Brits who doesn’t know how to cut loose.”
Did he really come across as that stuffy? Sure, he didn’t always fancy the parties and the social commitments that came along with being a Fortune Chesterfield. But he smiled. Occasionally.
At least, he used to. Before his father’s death. Yet, he didn’t think mentioning this served any purpose. At the very least, it would put a damper on the present mood.
“Well, even the Brits know how to have fun,” he said.
“And what, Mr. Jensen Fortune Chesterfield, do you do for fun?”
“I play polo. I attend the symphony. And I’m thinking about taking flying lessons.” There he went with another reminder of his father. But instead of maintaining that painful topic, he changed the subject. “What do you do in your leisure time, Miss Amber Rogers—no relation to either Roy or to Rod?”
“I suppose you could say that I train and ride horses.”
“From what I read online, you were one of the best barrel racers last year on the pro circuit.”
“Oh, come now, you of all people know you shouldn’t believe every news story you read.” A flush of pink stole up her cheeks.
Was she embarrassed by her achievements? Or humbled by them? The tabloids had certainly exaggerated or downright lied about the things they often reported. But he assumed what he’d read about her was true.
“So then you haven’t won several national titles?” he asked, wanting to hear more about her rodeo life.
“Not national titles. Just a few state ones. I was on track to go to the nationals in Las Vegas, but midseason, Pop passed away, and I left rodeoing to come back to the ranch and help Gram run things.” Her eyes dimmed somewhat and took on a wistful gaze into the distance.
So he’d been right. She was being modest. From all accounts he’d read, she’d done very well in a short period of time and showed enough promise that the papers had expected her winning streak to continue. But she gave it all up rather quickly, and Jensen was learning the reason.
“Your grandparents raised you?” he asked.
“I was actually born in Lubbock, but my father died when I was five, and my mother and I moved in with his parents, Gram and Pop, after the funeral. Pop was a retired rodeo cowboy who bred and trained cutting horses. He was the one who trained me and encouraged me to follow my dream.”
It sounded similar to Jensen’s own father, who had encouraged him to play polo rather than follow family tradition and join the Royal Air Force. In fact, he and his father had been in the process of purchasing a polo farm and investing in a couple of prize mares from Argentina when Sir Simon died four years ago, taking some of Jensen’s dreams along with him.
“So you’ve put your future on hold to help run the family business,” he said.
“Pretty much. Besides the rodeo, I’ve never had much of a plan for my life. I mean, it’s not like Horseback Hollow is jumping with opportunities for barrel-racing rodeo queens. I always figured I’d end up back on the Broken R someday anyway, working with horses. I suppose you can say that I just started doing that a bit earlier than I expected.”
Jensen nodded. “When my father passed away, it forced me to step back and look at my life and what I ought to be doing with it. Someone had to take over the reins of the family investments and enterprises, as well as Chesterfield Ltd., and since I’d been educated and groomed to do so, I took the helm. Fortunately, I can handle a lot of it remotely—although, with the time difference, I’m working online and on Skype at some strange hours.”
“When do you sleep?” she asked.
“I find the time. I also take a nap now and then. The most important thing to me has always been my family, and now that my father’s gone, the responsibility of looking after them has passed along to me. Hence the reason I was so rude to you when you came to see Amelia the other day. I fear I’m terribly overprotective.”
Amber smiled. “I can understand that. I never had any siblings. You’re very lucky to have such a big family.”
“I try to remind myself of that, although it does take quite a bit of getting used to. As you may know, we only recently met all of our Fortune cousins, so I’m still coming to terms with such a large addition to the family.”
“But your British side of the family wasn’t all that small.”
No, it wasn’t. His mother had been married before—to Rhys Henry Hayes. It hadn’t been a happy union and had ended in divorce. The one good thing, though, was that it had produced Oliver and Brodie, Jensen’s older brothers.
Fortunately, his mum had met Sir Simon, the love of her life, soon after. Together they’d had Jensen, followed by Charles, Lucie and Amelia.
“I suppose a family of six siblings sounds pretty large to an only child,” he said.
“Large? I’d call it enormous. Do you get along?”
“Other than a few little tiffs now and again, yes. But I’d have to say we owe that to the parenting skills and the love of our mum and my father.”
They rode through a tree-lined summit that opened up to a pristine and scenic waterfall. The red rock cliffs surrounding the swimming hole provided a stunning backdrop to the calm blue water below.
“Here it is. Horseback Hollow’s hidden gem.”
“I can see why the residents would want to keep it private. It’s beautiful. Do you swim in it?” The thought of Amber Rogers in a two-piece swim costume stirred his blood in a way he hadn’t expected.
“Not this time of year.” She swung off her horse and tied the reins to a low-hanging branch of a nearby weeping willow tree. “But come summer, the place is hopping with kids and teenagers trying to beat the Texas heat. Personally, I like it best during the winter, when it’s quiet and empty and a person can just ride up here and be all alone with their horse and their thoughts.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you for the quiet and introspective type.” He regretted his word choice when she lifted a delicate brow at him.
“Do you picture me singing ‘Happy Trails’ around a campfire wearing fringes and a sequined hat like Dale Evans?”
“Maybe not singing, but I definitely can see you wearing fringes and sequins, riding faster than lightning through a cheering arena.” He’d actually seen photographs of her when he’d looked her up on the internet.
Her shoulders slumped, and she gazed at the waterfall in the distance.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“No, it’s not that. I guess I really do miss the rodeo life more than I expected. The glitz and the crowds are just a small part of my job. The practices and the injuries and hauling my horses and my gear all across the country was the hardest and biggest part, but all that work was worth it when the horn would sound, and I’d take off racing for that first barrel. I guess I should be lucky that I still get to work with horses and ride whenever I feel like it.”
“But you still miss the excitement?”
“I really do. But I’m glad to be helping Gram, which, trust me, comes with its own share of excitement—as well as its confusion. I can’t believe she’d even consider entering a dance contest. She never did anything like that with Pop. I didn’t even know she liked to dance.”
“Maybe she didn’t know that until she met Mr. Murdock. My mother didn’t know she’d come to love Texas barbecue until she came to Horseback Hollow for her first visit. Now, every time she flies back to England, she stuffs her luggage with jars of homemade rubs and sauces. A few months ago, she brought home a cooler filled with brisket and had our cook commission a company to install a smoker on the back lawn at our Chesterfield Estate.”
Amber laughed, causing him to feel ten feet tall for bringing her out of her funk. “You’re right. I’m sure you didn’t realize how much you would love riding in that Western saddle.”
“Oh no. You’re wrong. As much as I like cowboy movies, and as hard as I’ve tried to adjust, I just can’t seem to get used to this ghastly thing. I’m going into Lubbock later this week to custom order a proper English saddle. The pommel, the stirrups, everything just sits wrong on these American rigs.”
“Really?” A mischievous glint flickered in her eyes. “Is that why you ride so slowly? Are you afraid you might lose your seating, fall out of that sturdy saddle and dirty those fancy white breeches?”
The corner of her mouth tilted. She was a cocky little thing—and in need of a lesson.
As Jensen strode to his horse, he wished he had one of his thoroughbreds back home for the challenge he was about to issue. “I’ll wager I can ride faster than you, despite this inferior equestrian equipment my brother-in-law provided me.”
“What do I get if I win?” she asked, already mounting up.
He thought for a moment, then grinned. “If I win, you fix me a proper English tea, complete with crumpets and clotted cream. If you win, I’ll take you to a real-life authentic Texas barbecue joint.” He adjusted the reins in his hands, knowing that the outcome of the bet was a win-win situation for him. Either way, he would get to spend more time with the lively and fun Amber Rogers.
“Well, Sir Jensen, I hope you like ribs, because next Monday night they have an all-you-can-eat special at my favorite spot in Vicker’s Corners.” With that parting comment, she took off.
He nudged Trail Blazer with his heels and leaned down over the gelding’s neck, pretending he was racing for the polo ball with his mallet. Not only had he been team captain the last two years at university, but after graduation, he’d gone on to play competitively for England at the international level, so he had no doubt he could give her a good run. But after all the casseroles he’d been politely tolerating the past couple of weeks, he had a strong craving for some lighter fare—like some English cucumber sandwiches.
Still, in all honesty, some good ol’ Texas barbecue wouldn’t be bad, either. Especially in the company of a beautiful blonde cowgirl...
“How far are we going?” Amber called behind her, her hair whipping about her graceful neck.
“To that fork in the road where we met,” he yelled back, trying to watch the trail and not her hips moving fluidly in the saddle.
When they finally reached the finish line, Amber was at least two lengths ahead of him. She pulled up first and slowed her horse to a walk as he did the same.
He hadn’t enjoyed losing a race so much in his life.
They were both out of breath, but her shirt was the only one that had come unbuttoned at the top. He couldn’t take his eyes off the way her breasts were heaving under the fitted plaid material.
He lifted his gaze long enough to see her smile. Maybe making the wager was a bad idea. Now he owed her dinner, yet he didn’t know how he could sit across from her at a restaurant table and keep his thoughts strictly on the food.
“So when is dinner?” she asked.
“How about next Friday night? That way, we can avoid the New Year’s holiday, as well as the all-you-can-eat crowd.”
“That works for me.”
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
“Sounds like a date,” she said. “But under the circumstances, maybe it would be best if I met you there.”
He pondered her suggestion for a moment longer than he probably should have because she added, “Don’t you agree?”
And in truth? Probably so. No need to set the paparazzi to thinking there was another British royal enamored with a Horseback Hollow local. “You’re right. Knowing the tabloids the way I do, they’d love to make something out of nothing.”
“Well, they can’t blame you for eating dinner with a neighbor.”
“That’s right.”
“Oh, and please let Quinn know I’ll be bringing Amelia’s cutting horse over Friday.” Then she turned in the direction of her ranch.
Jensen felt a bit like a heel when he and Trail Blazer headed in the opposite direction. He’d become adept at dealing with the tabloids. They printed blaring exaggerations about him all the time.
But the truth of the matter was, he didn’t want Amber to get the wrong idea about them. He might be attracted to her, but that’s as far as it would go.
So as they each headed home, the symbolism of them going their own ways at the fork in the road was both sad and true.
* * *
Bright and early Friday morning, on the second of January, Amber handpicked a filly she thought Amelia would like and brushed her until her coat shone. Then she loaded her in the trailer and drove her to the Drummond ranch.
Along the way, she spotted two cars parked on the side of the road, neither of which she recognized. She slowed up, mostly because she was going to turn, but also because curiosity niggled at her.
There seemed to be some whispering going on—a camera snatched out of one car and taken to another?
Uh-oh. Jensen had mentioned the media had tried all kinds of tricks, wanting to snap photos of a pregnant Amelia. She turned into the drive, yet continued to check her rearview mirror.
No cars...
Wait. A light blue sedan was parked in the shade of an oak tree. A man climbed out of the rear passenger seat. He was wearing black slacks and a white shirt. And he carried a camera with a huge telephoto lens.
The driver remained behind the wheel, but a second man got out, as well. And they proceeded to walk down the drive toward Quinn’s house.
Nosy reporters.
Amber pulled up close to the barn and parked, but she left her purse in the truck. Then she marched up to the front door and knocked, prepared to tell Quinn or Amelia or whoever answered that there was possibly a cameraman and a reporter nearby.
Dang. Where was everyone? She knocked again.
Maybe they weren’t home. Something told her they wouldn’t like those reporters trespassing. Jensen had implied as much last Friday. But what should she do? Run the paparazzi off? Did she have a legal right to do that?
About the time she was going to walk away, the door swung open, and she looked up to see Jensen standing in the entryway.
“You came just in time for all the excitement,” he said. “Just before dawn, my sister went into lab—”
“Jensen!” Amber had to shut him up. And there was only one way she could think of that would do so quickly. So she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him into a close embrace, whispering, “There are a couple of reporters skulking around right behind me. Play along.” Then she rose up on tiptoe and kissed him.
