Читать книгу Falling For Fortune - Allison Leigh, Nancy Robards Thompson - Страница 19
ОглавлениеUnder normal circumstances, if Amber had heard her grandmother say that she was going on an overnight trip with a single man, she would have been shocked speechless. But when Gram casually mentioned over breakfast that she planned to accompany Elmer on a two-day trip to Lubbock for a reunion with his military buddies, Amber didn’t raise a protest or voice a judgment.
Well, she did nearly choke on her coffee. But when she’d finally coughed it into the correct passageway, she decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Having the ranch house to herself meant that she and Jensen could finally have a private place to meet and have the talk she’d been wanting to have since their dinner at The Garden, and she was going to use the opportunity to its fullest advantage.
Once the older couple took off in Elmer’s car, their names branded on the back window, Amber reached for the telephone and, while butterflies swarmed in her tummy, placed the call she’d been dying to make all morning.
Jensen answered his cell on the second ring.
She’d barely greeted him when she blurted out, “What would you say if I told you I had the house to myself for the next two days?”
“Are you suggesting you’d like company tonight?”
“Yes. And not in the hayloft this time.”
“That sounds wonderful. I’d offer to cook you a romantic meal, but as we discussed before, my culinary expertise is somewhat limited.”
So was Amber’s, but she didn’t need to advertise that fact. Besides, she had plenty of other skills to make up for it.
“Should we meet at the Hollows Cantina?” he asked. “I’ve had a craving for carne asada.”
“Another private dinner?” she asked. Because if that’s what he wanted, they could order takeout and bring it back to the ranch.
“No, I think it’s time we dined in the main part of the restaurant with everyone else.”
What? No more clandestine meetings? As much as she looked forward to having the house to themselves later tonight, she was glad to know that he didn’t want to keep her—or their relationship, if that’s what it was—under wraps anymore. And she counted that as a good sign. A very good one.
Evidently they’d reached a turning point. Maybe it was time to level with him about Cowboy Country USA. She could tell him that she’d decided to fully commit to the Wild West Show, although she wouldn’t mention anything else. First she’d gauge his reaction to the trick riding.
When the call ended, Amber set about getting ready for the weekend by changing her bedding, setting out scented candles in her room and choosing some romantic CDs to have ready for Jensen’s arrival later that night.
Then she took the last two hours to fuss with her appearance—taking a bubble bath, doing her hair and choosing just the right outfit to wear. There’d be no jeans or flannel this evening.
Now, as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror, she studied the low neck of her silky top, one she’d gotten as a gift but had never worn. She wondered if she’d gone a little overboard. After all, it wasn’t as if she and Jensen were meeting at a fancy restaurant out of town or in a dark movie theater.
They were going to the most popular restaurant in town—and on a Friday night. Everyone would see them together and, with her decked out in such obvious dating attire...well, it would pretty much be a coming-out party.
She glanced at the swell of flesh peeking out between the low swoop of her blouse. She hoped she’d chosen something that was enticing enough to remind Jensen of what she had planned for the rest of the evening, but not risqué enough to make her look like a truck-stop floozy.
When she had spent as much time as she dared, she reached for the perfume she favored but rarely used and applied a dab, wondering if Jensen would appreciate her efforts.
Or would he want her to cover up? The straitlaced Brit sure seemed to have a bit of a jealous side. Or had she read him wrong?
He hadn’t seemed to mind flaunting other women on his arm. So why her? Was it jealousy or embarrassment?
She shook off the insecurity. Either way, when she told him about Cowboy Country USA, she wouldn’t mention the part about the ad campaign. It didn’t take a crystal ball to know how the proper gentleman would feel about that, especially if the press got wind of it.
But even though Jensen would be long gone by the time Amber had to start posing for photographs in that saloon-girl costume, she’d keep that little secret to herself.
She took one last glance at herself in her mirror.
The clock was ticking. And she wasn’t just talking about this evening and the need to stop primping so she could get on the road.
In a few short weeks Jensen would be leaving for London. And who knew how many more times they’d have to spend together?
For that reason, she would pull out all the stops tonight.
* * *
Jensen arrived at the Hollows Cantina before Amber and cursed the bloody paparazzi for his reluctance to pick her up and take her on a proper date.
Rachel Robinson, the hostess, greeted him and asked if he would prefer his usual table in the back corner. But Jensen had decided not to keep Amber or their relationship hidden anymore.
Besides, after the knowing smile Quinn had flashed at him when he’d handed him the car keys, their secret was bound to get out eventually. And maybe, somewhere deep inside, Jensen actually wanted it to. So he’d told Rachel to reserve the table in the middle of restaurant and headed to the bar to wait for Amber.
He’d just placed a drink order when a cowboy turned toward the entrance, broke into a broad grin and gave a slow wolf whistle. Several other men at the bar, along with Jensen, followed his gaze and spotted Amber sashaying into the cantina.
The slinky black blouse she wore wasn’t any less revealing than that damn saloon-girl costume. And her jeans fit her like a pair of denim gloves, leaving very little to the imagination when it came to those shapely, not-so-hidden legs underneath.
He stood, fighting the red-hot pulse at the side of his neck. He told himself that the mooning cowpokes in this place were used to seeing Amber dressed in working clothes and that they were merely surprised by the change in her appearance. But the woman was as sexy as she was unpredictable, and he was tempted to whisk her away to someplace private—and not just so he could keep her hidden, but so he could have her all to himself.
She spotted him straightaway because she headed for the bar.
“Hello,” she said as she slid onto the stool he pulled out for her.
As if just now realizing that everyone—even the women who’d gathered in the bar—were studying the two of them, she asked, “What’re they staring at?”
“You, my dear.” From where he stood, he had a clear vantage point of the swell of her breasts, which he’d caressed a few nights before. And he forced himself to look away for fear his words would stall in his throat.
She ran a hand through her glossy hair, as though taming her long and loose locks could downplay how magnificent she looked. “Am I overdressed?”
“Not at all. You’re stunning.” He took his seat and handed her the margarita he’d ordered for her—the exact one she’d been drinking the night she’d come with Mr. Murdock and her grandmother.
She looked at the delicate silver-and-turquoise watch on her wrist. “Are they still having the two-for-one happy hour special?”
Did she think he was a tightwad? He’d only been humoring Mr. Murdock before.
“I have no idea what time it is—or if there are any specials. I just thought this was your drink of preference. Did I get it wrong?”
“No, this is fine.” She took a sip. “In fact, it’s just what I need to calm my nerves.”
“Amber Rogers? Nerves? I can’t believe the fastest rider and best shot in Horseback Hollow, if not all of Texas, would be nervous about anything.”
Did it have anything to do with being seen with him? Did the paparazzi unnerve her, like they’d done to Amelia?
Of course. She probably didn’t want her friends and neighbors to know that they were sexually involved. After all, she’d told him she didn’t have brief affairs.
And he couldn’t blame her for feeling uneasy about it. Even if he was free of familial obligations and they didn’t have a geographical barrier, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to pursue her in the way his heart and hormones were urging him to.
Amazing. That was the closest he’d come to admitting that he actually cared for her, that he felt more than friendship and that his heart had become invested. And while he wasn’t quite ready to broach the subject in public, he might do that later tonight, while they were alone.
Just as he lifted his drink to take another sip, a slick-looking gentleman, who looked more out of place in Horseback Hollow than Jensen felt, approached.
“Why, there’s our pretty Amber. It’s sure nice to see a friendly face in these parts.” The man, who was in his late forties, ran a pinky-ringed hand between his fleshy neck and his collar.
If he’d had a camera, Jensen might have thought he was a paparazzo.
Amber, who seemed a bit surprised by the intrusion, turned to Jensen. “This is Max Dunstan, Jensen. He’s with Cowboy Country USA.”
Dunstan held out his thick, well-manicured hand while running a head-to-toe assessment of Jensen.
The men had barely made the customary greeting when Dunstan pulled out a seat and plopped down on the stool next to Amber.
Her eyes grew wide, and she glanced around the bar as though trying to determine whether any of the locals had noticed that she was hobnobbing with the enemy.
Jensen was an outsider, so his opinion about the whole Cowboy Country USA controversy didn’t count for much. Nevertheless, while he liked the quaint appeal of Horseback Hollow, he also found the Wild Bill Hickok and Annie Oakley thing a bit intriguing.
In fact, as Dunstan delivered his fancy Hollywood talk, Jensen tuned out so he could take in the not-so-subtle looks being cast their way.
Amber shuffled in her seat a couple of times, as if she wanted to be anywhere but next to Dunstan. Jensen found the whole thing quite amusing—until he heard the words photo shoot.
He spun back around just in time to hear Dunstan ask Amber if she would bring the saloon-girl costume with her for the ad campaign.
“What ad campaign?” Jensen asked. “And what photo shoot?”
“Our Amber here,” Dunstan said, “is going to be the face of Cowboy Country USA. Forget about princesses and Kate Middleton. When we’re done with our publicity launch, little girls all around the world are going to want to be cowgirls just like Amber Rogers.”
“What do you mean ‘saloon-girl costume’?” Jensen asked Amber. “I thought you were only talking about doing some trick riding. And that you hadn’t made any decisions yet.”
“I planned to talk to you about that later tonight,” she said, rather sheepishly.
“Whoops.” Dunstan guffawed. “Did I spill the beans?”
Amber shot him a scowl.
“Sorry about that.” Dunstan raised his hands in mock surrender. “When I saw the expensive suit and Armani shoes, I figured he was your lawyer and already knew about your contract.”
What contract? Why did Jensen feel as though he’d just walked into a movie theater, only to find that he’d missed the integral opening scene?
Using his best “lord of the manor” voice, Jensen said, “No, I’m not her solicitor. I can assure you I’m more to her than that.”
“No kidding?” Dunstan raised his brows and looked first at Amber, then at Jensen. “My bad. I didn’t expect a saucy cowgirl like Amber to have a stiff suit as a boyfriend. No offense, buddy.”
Buddy? Didn’t this guy know who Jensen was? And who in the bloody hell was he calling a stiff suit?
“Thanks for stopping by,” Amber said. “You have yourself a great night, Mr. Dunstan.” Then she waved him off, dismissing him as graciously as Queen Elizabeth would have expelled a naughty dog from the throne room.
As Dunstan walked away, she tipped her shot glass of tequila to her lips as if it were a porcelain cup of Earl Grey.
Yet something told Jensen that she was unsettled by the whole encounter.
Well, he was more than unsettled. He was downright perturbed—especially at being kept in the dark.
“It sounds as though your gig with Cowboy Country USA is all but a done deal.” He’d tried to tamp down the accusatory tone of his voice, but without much success.
“I was going to tell you about the contract tonight.”
“Tell me what? That they offered you one? Or tell me that you signed one?”
“That I signed one.”
“But I thought you were just going to ride in their pretend cowboy show. I didn’t know about the dancing-girl business or the photos and publicity.”
He hadn’t meant to sound so petulant, like a child who didn’t get a sticky bun for supper. She didn’t owe him an explanation. But for some damn reason, he still hurt like hell—way down deep. And the thought of her parading around in some skimpy costume, modeling for photographers and seeking the limelight was the exact thing that he’d spent his life avoiding.
“This wasn’t the way I’d wanted to tell you, but I don’t need your permission or approval anyway.” She straightened her spine, and he realized she was no longer embarrassed or worried about what the locals were thinking. Or him, for that matter. “When you go back to London, I’m going to stay here in Horseback Hollow and go on with my life the way I see fit.”
“I didn’t know that performing in a trashy, two-bit saloon-girl costume was on the top of your list for life achievements.”
“First of all, it’s not trashy. Gram sewed that for me. And second of all, I like performing. Not necessarily in a skimpy dress, but on a horse and in an arena. I miss the rodeo and I miss the thrill of riding. I’m not going to apologize for that.”
“Nobody is asking you to apologize.” He wished she would lower her voice. They were making a scene, and he hated the way the patrons were now looking at him as if he’d insulted one of their own. “I guess I was just taken by surprise. I didn’t realize you were into all that celebrity rubbish like the others. I thought I knew... Oh, never mind.”
“What did you think you knew? Me?” She gave a little snort. “Because if you really knew me, you’d know that I’m not doing this for any other reasons than the ones I already mentioned. The last thing I want is to be a celebrity living out my life publicly on the front page of every gossip magazine. But I guess you have that British nose stuck too far up in the air to see that life is more than hiding out in your sister’s house and dating all the wrong people, just so the world will see you the way you want it to—and not the way you really are.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out a few bills, leaving them on the bar, before she got to her feet. “That should cover the cost of my drink. I wouldn’t want you to add gold digger or moocher to the list of unflattering qualities you think I possess.”
With that, Amber turned around and stormed out of the cantina.
Jensen reached into his pocket, removed the watch and glanced at it. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he’d certainly made a damn mess of everything.
* * *
Well, what had Amber expected—a profession of undying love and unconditional acceptance? It took all she had not to burst into tears before she reached the dark and safe confines of her pickup.
Of course she looked like some sort of fame-hungry celebrity wannabe. She could see why someone like Jensen, who’d spent his entire life avoiding the cameras, wouldn’t want his precious family name linked with the new face of Cowboy Country USA. But that didn’t make her a bad person or somehow beneath him.
But then again, she had no one to blame but herself. She knew where this relationship was going—nowhere. And she’d known that all along.
The two of them were like night and day. Their worlds and their paths never should have crossed.
Still, she’d let herself fall in love with Jensen in spite of all that. And her heart ached at the loss of something and someone she’d never stood a chance of having. She needed to have a good cry, but she’d be darned if she’d do it in the parking lot of the town’s most popular eatery.
So she started the truck and drove home, her anger soon replaced with tears and self-recriminations.
When she arrived at the darkened ranch house, she tried not to look at the romantic staging she’d carefully set up before leaving for dinner—the scented candles that would remain unlit and the Keith Urban CD that would remain unplayed.
Instead, she undressed and climbed into bed, where the soft and clean sheets had been scented with lilac.
She punched her pillow about ten times before succumbing to heart-wrenching tears and crying herself to sleep. But even then, she spent a fretful night, tossing and turning until dawn.
The next day, a cold sense of loss nearly swept her away when she woke at daybreak, alone in a double bed and in an empty house.
She showered and dressed in her work clothes, hoping that would help put a sense of normalcy back into her life. Then she went to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee.
When her cell phone rang, her heart leaped in her chest. Hope rose, chasing away her sadness. Let it be Jensen, calling to apologize or at least to make amends.
Without taking time to check the number on the lit display, she slid her finger across the screen and answered.
“Hello, dear. This is Josephine Fortune Chesterfield.” Amber nearly dropped her coffee mug.
What could Jensen’s mother possibly want? Was she calling to gently reprimand Amber for engaging her son in a horrible public display of a lover’s quarrel last night?
“I’m sorry to trouble you this morning, but I was hoping you might know where I could find Jensen.”
“Not here,” Amber blurted out, embarrassed that the royal English aristocrat would think her son had spent the night with her. Of course, if Mr. Dunstan would have just kept his big mouth shut, that’s exactly what would’ve happened.
“What I meant,” she explained to Lady Josephine, “was that he didn’t sleep with me. I mean, he didn’t stay here last night. In fact, I haven’t seen him since I left him at the Hollows Cantina.”
“Of course not, dear. I’m sorry for assuming otherwise. It’s just that he left in Quinn’s truck yesterday. But it’s back this morning, and one of the horses is gone. Several of the men have ridden out on the trails and haven’t seen him. I thought that, maybe, he’d ridden out to your ranch to visit you.”
Was Jensen missing? Had he pulled a disappearing act?
“No, he’s not here. Does he normally just up and vanish like this?”
“Jensen? Hardly. He’s a very reliable person and conscientious. But I’m afraid today’s the anniversary of his father’s death. And with all the recent developments and changes in the family, Jensen is taking it rather hard this year.”
Had his grief been complicating matters?
Of course it had, and Amber had neglected to realize how quiet he’d become after talking about his father’s death, how keen he’d felt the loss of the man who’d also been his friend.
She poured out her coffee and placed the mug in the sink. “Don’t worry, Lady Josephine. I’ll find him.”
She just hoped she would be able to keep that promise.
After ending the call, she headed to the barn. If Jensen was on horseback, her best bet to find him would be with Lady Sybil.
But before she could saddle her horse, the brass buckle in the bridle caught her eye, making her think of Jensen’s treasured gold pocket watch.
Where would he go if he wanted to be close to his father?
The answer came to her instantly and she ran back toward the house and grabbed the truck keys off the hook in the mudroom.
She drove down the highway much faster than was reasonable. Just before she could pull into the small parking lot at the airfield, she caught a glimpse of a horse and rider at the southern edge of the fence.
She slowed to a stop nearly a hundred yards away, not wanting to startle Trail Blazer, the gelding she’d sold Quinn, or Jensen, who was sitting in the saddle, staring at the small planes parked near the runway. She shut off the ignition and climbed from the truck.
“Hey,” she said softly, as she approached.
Jensen glanced over his shoulder. “Hello.”
“There’s a posse out looking for you, cowboy.”
He shrugged a single shoulder. If the dark circles under his eyes were any indication, she’d guess that he’d slept just as badly as she had.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said.
“It’s okay. We all need to get away and clear our heads once in a while, especially on days like today, when we’re missing a loved one. Let me just call your mom and let her know she can call off the search party.”
“While I’m sorry for worrying everyone this morning, I was actually apologizing to you for what I said to you at dinner.”
She paused, her cell phone in her hand. She probably ought to backpedal about now, quit while she was ahead. But she couldn’t help it. She’d fallen for the handsome Brit, and she couldn’t roll over and consider their relationship dead in the water before it even got off the ground.
“I said some mean things, too,” she admitted. “Cowgirls are tough and they’re stubborn. And to make matters worse, I don’t like it when someone says I can’t or shouldn’t do something. I was going to apologize for not telling you about that Cowboy Country USA contract sooner, but then, when I saw your reaction, I got my dander up and, well...I didn’t mean to cause such a big scene.”
“What you said made sense. I need to stop hiding and start living my life. I’m going to head back to England for a while.”
He was leaving? Already? “What about the weddings?”
“I might come back for them. I haven’t worked everything out yet.”
“Will I see you again?” she asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.
“I don’t honestly know. I thought I knew who I was and what I wanted, but then I met you and my whole world was turned upside down. I thought we could have a simple and uncomplicated affair, but that didn’t work out so well.”
It had worked out nicely the one night they’d spent in the barn. And if they’d had a chance to be together more...
“I’m not like the rest of my family,” he said. “I’m not made for a long-term relationship.”
Amber bit her lip to keep from protesting. And she blinked to keep from crying. “Did your parents set the bar too high? Are you afraid you won’t find what they found?”
“Actually, it’s quite the opposite. I don’t want to find what they found. Watching my mum grieve for her best friend and soul mate has made me leery of loving someone that deeply. I started to feel much more than I should for you, and then things got tricky. You weren’t the only one making a scene last night. I can’t believe that I turned into such a jealous and possessive arse, especially when I thought of all those men seeing you in your showgirl costume.”
“Well, the costume is a bit much. When Mr. Dunstan said that every little girl would want to dress up as a cowgirl just like me, it made me realize that no parent would want to see their daughter wear a saloon-girl costume. So I plan to make some stipulations in my PR contract. I won’t agree to their PR photo shoot unless they agree to let me wear something much more practical for horseback riding.”
“Even if you wanted to wear that costume—which is quite beautiful, by the way, so my apologies to your gram for what I said last night—I had no right to imply you shouldn’t wear it. My parents never tried to keep me from doing anything I wanted to do. And I shouldn’t try to limit you, either.”
“But you cared enough to try. Isn’t that a good sign?”
“My misplaced jealousy is beside the point. It’s better if we end things now. There’s a reason I don’t let women get too close. If I were to allow myself to fall in love with you and then I lost you, the pain would be devastating. And it might never go away. I can’t risk it. I won’t risk it.”
She wanted to object, to argue. But she wasn’t about to grovel. Not when he’d already convinced himself that things were over between them.
No, there was nothing Amber could do or say that would change his mind. And while she should be thankful that she could evoke that kind of emotion in him, it only made her pain and her sadness worse.
“Have a safe trip,” she murmured before heading back to her truck.
He’d made it sound so simple—and, in a way, so had she. But letting him go without a fight was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.
She would forever grieve for him and for what they could have had—if they hadn’t been so different.
