The Texan's Forbidden Fiancée. Sara Orwig
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stopped only feet away and she hoped he couldn’t hear her pounding heart.
“‘Hello’ seems a little ridiculous,” he said, his voice deeper than she recalled.
“‘Goodbye’ is sufficient. I don’t care to talk to you or anyone from your company about drilling on Milan land. I don’t care to talk to any Calhoun. End of discussion.”
She started to turn away and he placed his fingers lightly on her forearm. It was a feather touch, barely discernible, certainly not actually detaining her, but she stopped instantly and a current sizzled from that faint contact. She stood immobile, bound by a nonexistent hold and intense dark brown eyes.
“It isn’t about drilling.”
“You’re not dredging up the past, are you? I definitely don’t want to hear about that.”
“No, I’m not,” he said, suddenly looking hard, angry and withdrawn. A muscle worked in his jaw. His reaction startled her because she was the injured party, not Jake. Why was he angry? Instantly she blocked the question. She didn’t want to know what he thought or felt about that time in their lives. She tried to focus and pay attention as he continued.
“This isn’t the place to talk, but...it’s about a shoot-out between our families long ago on your land and the old legend of buried treasure. I think you’ll be interested, so at least listen and don’t miss out on something we both might want.”
Surprised, skeptical, she suspected he was fabricating a tale about the ancient incident as an excuse to talk to her and to get on her land. It would be another deceptive Calhoun trick to steal something from a Milan. Their families had been feuding since their first respective ancestors had settled here in the days after the Civil War. She didn’t figure the feud would end with them.
“I don’t believe you and I don’t trust you,” she said, barely able to speak above a whisper and sounding unconvincing even to herself. How could he turn her to mush by his mere presence and one look from his dark eyes?
“Madison, at least listen and then make your decision. This is important. Let’s meet where we won’t be constantly interrupted. Come to dinner at my ranch. Or let me take you to Dallas to dinner. Whatever you want. Just somewhere quiet and private and on neutral ground. This concerns your family, too.”
“Hi, Jake,” a female voice behind him said as if giving emphasis to his request. He turned slightly and faced another local.
“Hi, Becky,” he said, greeting a friend he had known since sixth grade.
Becky Worthington smiled broadly, looking back and forth between them and then focusing on Jake and stepping closer to him. “Nice to see you. You don’t come into town often, do you?”
“No, I’m rarely at the ranch because I’m in Dallas a lot of the time and traveling some of the time.”
“You should come to town and see people once in a while. Stop in and say hey. I still work at TBC bank, which, of course, I think is the best bank in town,” she said, giggling.
“I’ll try,” Jake stated.
Becky looked back and forth between them. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said and disappeared around the corner of the aisle from the direction she had come.
When she was out of earshot, Madison resumed their conversation. “An evening out with you? I don’t really think so. Everything has been said between us that can be said.”
“Far, far from it. You should hear me out. You’ll be surprised, Madison. If you’re not, tell me and I’ll stop talking and go.”
She could feel the clash of wills as she shook her head. “Whatever ploy this is, I’m sure a Calhoun itching to drill on Milan land is behind it.”
“I want that, too, but it has nothing to do with this. I’m after something else and I think you’ll be interested to know about this, too.”
“If that’s the case, tell me now.”
He shook his head. “This is not the place. We were just interrupted, and we will be again. And anyone standing in the next aisle can overhear us. I don’t want that and I don’t think you will, either. Just go to dinner with me. It’s not that big a deal. I can take you home whenever you want.”
“Eating out around here won’t be one degree better than talking here.”
“We won’t eat in Verity. We’ll fly to Dallas and get a private corner. We won’t see people we know. We won’t be overheard. I’ll bring you home whenever you say. Just trust me, you will not regret listening to me.”
Debating what to do, she stared at him. There was no way a Milan could trust a Calhoun—that had been proven to her in a devastating way. She couldn’t imagine one thing he could want except to make a pitch to let him drill on her land and she was not going to do that no matter what he said or offered. She couldn’t think of another reason he’d want to talk to her. Yet, surely he knew better than to tell her he had another reason and then talk about leasing land. Dinner would be over before it started. But she had to admit she was intrigued. What did he know that she didn’t that concerned her ranch?
“All right, Jake. This better be good.”
“Spending an evening with me is that bad?” he asked without a change of expression, reinforcing her opinion that he could be highly deceptive.
“I’m equally shocked you want to spend any time with me.”
“This will be good, Madison. I’ll come by to get you a little before seven Sunday night. Thanks. Absolutely no talk about drilling. I promise.”
“I know how much your promise is worth,” she couldn’t keep from saying. She saw the flicker in his eyes and saw that hardness return to his expression, puzzling her. She turned her back on him and walked away, aiming to complete her purchases and get away from him.
She had intended to get two small brushes, but she wanted out of the store away from Jake more than she wanted the brushes. She had tried to put him and the past out of her thoughts, to stop remembering or hurting. She wished she could have faced him without any reaction instead of this heart-pounding longing. She wished the memories hadn’t tumbled back into her thoughts as clearly as if they had parted months ago rather than over a decade ago. Instead, seeing him caused all the old pain and anger to return, as well as the intense physical reaction. He was still the best-looking man she knew. In spite of her hurt and fury, he still set her heart racing.
Suddenly she wanted to go back and cancel the evening with him. Her art career had succeeded beyond all her hopes and expectations. She was constantly busy with what she loved to do. She had remained single because there had been so little time for her personal life and her brief marriage had been disastrous from the first moment. Jake, she knew, was still single, which didn’t surprise her. He wasn’t the marrying type.
She didn’t want to spend a whole evening feeling the way she did now—hurting, drowning in memories of a wedding day that never happened. Memories tore at her heart and fueled an ever-simmering rage when she thought about him. She didn’t trust him in the slightest. For a little over one year in her life she had gone against all her family’s warnings about the unscrupulous Calhouns and she had trusted Jake. Because of that mistake, he had broken her heart. One thing was certain—no matter what excuses Jake presented, she would never let him drill on Milan land.
She hurried out of the store, striding quickly to her truck, planning to forgo her grocery shopping. She wanted to go home to the Double M Ranch, away from town and any chance of encountering him again. She had been careful, coming to town only once a month, usually getting someone else to pick up groceries and supplies. She would go back to that routine. How she wished she could just as easily obliterate all memories of Jake Calhoun.
Instead, the memories poured over her in a deluge. Growing up, because of the century-and-a-half-old family feud, she never spoke to any Calhouns, but she had been aware of Jake from her first