The Texas Rancher's Vow. Cathy Thacker Gillen
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closer, Matt said, “So you don’t need to see a subject in person to be able to do justice to his or her likeness.”
She acknowledged that fact with another brief nod. Why not just show me the door now, Matt? “Although it helps to at least hear about the personality of the person I’m depicting.”
“Well,” Emmett boomed, “no problem there.”
No, indeed. His personality was very distinct, his ego strong.
“Dad,” Matt interjected, clearly still worried his father was going to be taken advantage of, “are you sure you want to do this?”
“I have to, son.” His voice was suddenly hoarse and unsteady. “Whether you understand or not.” Emmett cleared his throat and turned to Jen, all business once more. “So…here’s the deal. I want ten bronzes to start. All commemorating my life. And I’ll pay you triple your normal rate—on the condition you set up shop here, start right away and do only my work, under my supervision, until we’re done.”
* * *
“YOU DON’T HAVE TO GIVE my father an answer by evening’s end,” Matt told Jen after Emmett had gone off to tend to other business. “Dad won’t make the same offer to another artist.”
She stared at him. “Are you sure about that?” she asked.
He let out a measured breath. The truth was, he couldn’t figure out what his father was thinking, never mind why he was doing the things he was right now. One minute he’d be ebullient—full of dreams that had to be fulfilled right away. The next, he’d disappear, sometimes for a few hours, other times, a few days.
When Emmett did return, he usually seemed fatigued. Pale and almost shaky.
If Matt didn’t know better, he’d think his dad was binge drinking. But that didn’t make sense. The man could hold his liquor. He just didn’t choose to drink very often.
Instead, Emmett handled stress by spending. Land, works of art, cattle—it didn’t seem to matter what he bought as long as he enjoyed the wealth he had and purchased something.
The big question was what was causing his dad’s anxiety lately. As much as Matt had nosed around, he still couldn’t figure it out. All he knew for certain was the beautiful thirty-year-old woman in front of him was involved. And given Emmett’s history of chasing younger, completely inappropriate women, that couldn’t be good.
“Earth to Matt. Earth to Matt…”
“I’m still here.”
Jen quirked a brow. “Really? You seemed a million miles away.”
Glad he had been tapped to give her a tour of the property while she made up her mind, he shook off his unease and escorted her through the formal dining room.
He paused near the magnificently carved wooden table, which routinely sat thirty guests, determined to find out as much as he could about the beautiful sculptor. Like it or not, that meant spending time with her. “You’ve probably noticed my dad is a strong-willed guy, with a very healthy ego.”
A hint of cynicism lit Jen’s eyes as she paused by the chair where Emmett generally presided. “Seems to run in the family.”
Trying not to think about how alluring she was, or what reaction the two of them might have had to each other if they weren’t on opposing sides, Matt added, “Dad wants what he wants when he wants it.”
Brushing past him, Jen glided along the length of the table, her hips swaying seductively beneath her sundress. She tossed him a look. “Seems the same could be said of you,” she noted drily.
Matt braced his hands on the ornate scrolling across the top of a mahogany chair, trying not to be fascinated by her. “I know enough to realize when I need to slow down. And reevaluate.” Like right now.
Jen eyed the huge crystal chandelier, then stiffened her spine and compressed her lips. “Your father doesn’t seem likely to do either at the moment.”
Something in the speculative way she was studying him, prompted Matt to be completely forthright, too. “Probably not,” he said, with as much indifference as he could muster. “Which is why you need to think long and hard about just what it is Dad is asking you to do.”
Jen slanted him a pitying look and folded her arms again, which plumped up her breasts. “What is it about Emmett’s offer that you think I can’t handle?”
Lazily, he appraised her pretty dress and sandals. Everything about her was feminine and enticing, from her dainty feet and stunning legs to her slender waist and round, perfect breasts. Nothing about her said ranch-ready. “I think the better question is what part of living out in the wilds of rural Texas could you handle?” he drawled.
She scowled. “Hey. Just because I grew up in the city—”
“And live in Austin now, where the population is a million plus.”
Appearing irritated, she shrugged. “So?”
“Laramie County is thirty-five square miles with one small town and wide-open spaces—”
“Spaces,” Jen interrupted, “peppered with ranches and horses and cattle, and even, from what I saw on my way over here, the occasional donkeys, sheep and alpacas.”
No doubt this area of West Texas had its share of rugged individualists, Matt acknowledged silently. And like it or not, her work as a sculptress put her in that category, too.
The problem, he thought, as he let his gaze roam her once again, was that Jen was incredibly feminine and unconsciously sexy in a way that drove men wild. Every glance, every movement of her hands, every touch of her fingers, was innately artistic, unbearably gentle and sensual.
Matt had noticed this on sight. And that was something they couldn’t have. Not when it made him continually wonder how that overt sensuality would manifest in lovemaking.
Oblivious to the direction of his thoughts, she argued, “Being out here in the Texas countryside is going to help, not hurt, my art.”
He would concede to that. “Even so…the ranch can be a lonely place.” Which made it all too easy to establish intimacy with someone.
His observation earned him nothing but a smile. “Lucky for me, I work best when I’m not interrupted. Although all the bronzes will have to be finished back in Austin, where the foundry and my studio are located.”
Sounded good, to have her back in central Texas where she belonged. Especially since he couldn’t talk his dad out of this.
Helpfully, Matt suggested, “Why not just negotiate that it all be done there—except the initial consultation?”
“Wow,” Jen taunted softly. “You genuinely want me off the Triple B.”
Her voice seemed to ripple over him like velvet. He folded his arms defensively. No need to mince words now. “I think it would be best for everyone,” he stated flatly.
“In your view,” she corrected without hesitation. “Not Emmett’s. Or mine.”
With effort, Matt kept his distance. “You’re really planning to accept my dad’s offer and stay here?”
“I really am.” Jen sashayed out of the dining room and into the corridor that led past the pantry to the kitchen. “So cowboy up, fella.” She tossed the words over her shoulder. “And get used to it.”
* * *
“JEN,” CELIA WAILED, when told of the plan in a conference call one hour later. “This is such a bad idea.”
“I agree,” Cy added vehemently.
“Driving all the way out there in that wreck of a van was bad enough,” Celia fretted, “but to stay for the next however many months…”
Jen was used to holding the hands