From Texas, With Love. Cathy Thacker Gillen
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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!”
Chapter Four
Samantha knew the moment the words were out of her mouth that she should never have thrown down the gauntlet.
Will gave her a slow, sexy smile. “Well, thank you, darlin’.” He drew her carryall down her arm and tossed it aside. “I think I will.”
She caught her breath and splayed her hands across the hard surface of his chest when he tugged her close. “I didn’t mean on me!”
Ignoring her protest, he slid his hands through her hair, cupping her head, then started dropping kisses at her temple, along the curve of her cheekbone, the shell of her ear. “Ah, but what better subject to pepper with my subtle expertise.”
He was enjoying this way too much—almost as much as she was. The air between them reverberated with excitement and escalating desire. Struggling to control her erratic breathing, Samantha decided that the only way to survive this would be by making light of the situation. Her cheeks burning, she retorted, “‘Pepper’ is right.”
“Lucky for you,” he whispered, holding her face steady when she tried to turn away. Then he rubbed his thumb across her lower lip, sensually tracing its shape. Eyes glinting mischievously, he brought her mouth up to his. “I like everything spicy—including my women.”
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