Come Fly With Me. Sherryl Woods
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do with her coming here. “I left a personal trip to do this article, and you’re telling me you don’t know a thing about it? Nor do you want it done at all?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
His remorseful gaze met hers and she was struck with a sudden unexpected longing to make Adam understand how important this was to her. In her life, this was more than just another stop. It was a chance to start over. In Adam’s, it was a major interruption to the peace and quiet he took for granted.
“I’m sorry, Lisa. I’m sure there’s something more important for you to cover than a small-town guest ranch’s grand opening.” He looked away. “Truth is, it’s not a good time. As you can see, this place is nowhere near ready for a celebration, let alone impressive enough for national exposure.”
Lisa looked at the empty diagonal wood-plank walls, the bare windows, the kitchen cabinets waiting for knobs. “We don’t have to focus on the kitchen. My suite looked beautiful. Coordinating towels and bedding, gorgeous antiques—”
“Your room is the only one finished,” he interrupted. “Apparently my mother was expecting you.”
Was she imagining the emphasis he’d put on the word you? Was he upset that she was assigned to the story? “No, Adam, your mother may have been expecting the Greens, but I didn’t even know I was coming until this morning,” Lisa insisted. “And I had no clue it was to your ranch.” She leaned over the counter and sniffed the homemade soup. Her eyes drifted closed with contentment. “The timing couldn’t be more perfect. What could be more romantic than a February grand opening in Loveland, Colorado?”
“Romantic? Who said anything about romance?” Adam ripped open a pouch of saltines and dumped them into a small basket, then chopped through the chunk of cheese as if it, too, had done something wrong. “What magazine are you with, anyway?”
“I’m a freelancer. I don’t work for anyone exclusively.” Why did that sound so much more impressive than it was in reality? “This is for a bed-and-breakfast magazine.”
“Number one…I own a guest ranch, not a B and B.”
“That’s okay. The column is on romantic getaways. There’s no need to refer to bed-and-breakfast.”
“Number two…it’s not a romantic getaway. It’s a guest ranch. You know, horses, cows, rustic.” Adam pulled a stainless-steel ladle from the hook over the stove and filled the two mugs. “I hope you like potato soup. It’s my specialty.”
Not exactly welcoming, but it was most likely as close as she would get right now. “You’re in luck. I love it. How can I help?”
After an obvious pause, Adam said, “Glasses are in that cupboard. I’ll take water, but there’s also milk and iced tea in the refrigerator if you’d prefer.” He picked up the small cutting board with the cheese on it and headed through the alcove. “We’ll eat in the dining room.” Adam disappeared and an instant later, light filtered through the doorway.
Lisa filled the glasses and set the drinks on the table. Adam carried baskets of crackers and rolls in one hand and the plates in the other. In a few minutes, Lisa and Adam were seated at the smallest table in the sparsely furnished room. Adam said a prayer, then jumped up and turned the lights brighter. She smiled inside. It didn’t matter to her, in either dim light or bright, Adam was the epitome of “tall, dark and handsome” and looked nothing like his fair-haired brothers.
Adam became increasingly quiet.
Lisa took a spoonful of the thick soup, trying to erase her rampant thoughts. This was a business trip, not some romantic escape, and the best way to convince him of that would be to stick to the assignment. “So, tell me what you want this article to say about Whispering Pines.”
He stared into his soup as he crumbled the saltines over the top. “Which part of ‘no’ do you not understand?”
She set down her spoon and looked Adam in the eye. “I hear it. I just don’t believe it. We’re talking national exposure, Adam. Do you realize the magnitude of that?”
He leaned back in his chair, a puzzled look on his face. “Maybe I’m hearing and not quite believing it, Lisa. The family was sitting around one night after working on the landscaping, trying to come up with ideas to promote the place.” He paused, as if thinking through the conversation. “I’d been knee-deep in renovations and worrying about the balloon payment on the construction loan. Advertising was out of the question. Especially in a national magazine. Elizabeth mentioned some contest…”
“That was for the most romantic getaway, but the actual contest is over. It was so popular they’ve decided to make America’s Most Romantic Getaways a monthly feature. Actually, I believe this will be in the bridal issue.”
“The what?” His jaw fell open. He dropped his fist on the table, clanging the dishes. Adam rambled on as if this were the end of the world. “Besides, who’d have thought a half-built lodge would get any attention?” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “She didn’t mention it again, and I thought the subject was dead.”
Lisa laughed, ignoring his scowl. “In a town named Loveland? Who’d have ever imagined? You should put her in charge of your PR, if you haven’t already.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I have enough trouble keeping my sisters at bay lately. I don’t want the publicity—especially not as some romantic getaway.”
Panic coursed through her. “What better way to bring in business than with free exposure?” She paused. “The only thing this costs you is putting up with me for a few days. And if that’s a problem, I’m sure my sisters wouldn’t mind company.”
“That’s not a problem, though I’m sure your sisters would love to see you. I’m sorry I’ve made you feel unwelcome, but I don’t think I can be of much help with your story right now.” Adam took another bite. “Maybe you could come back in the summer?”
“I can mention that to my editor, but I don’t think they’ll go for it…to be quite honest.” Lisa watched his strong hand lift the comparably tiny spoon to his mouth, picturing herself behind the camera, capturing every nuance of this man’s character.
Where God closes a door, he opens a window. Her optimistic sister’s words slapped her in the ego—again. In your life, maybe, but not mine.
Adam cleared his throat. “Mom mentioned some couple coming for the week, but I never thought…” He’d never in his wildest dreams imagined Lisa would spend a week at his ranch. As strong as the attraction had been a year ago, he’d managed to keep a tight rein on his emotions. She’d been seeing someone at the time, and he’d had a huge project to complete. In the thirteen months since Alex and Katarina’s wedding, not a word had been said about that ridiculous bouquet, or getting the two of them together.
Still, he couldn’t just kick Lisa off the ranch. No matter how badly he wanted to. She was practically a relative.
As if she read his mind, she became silent. The twinkle in her bright blue eyes disappeared. “I’m sure you’ve had a very long day, Adam. Why don’t we put the article aside for tonight?” She took a spoonful of soup and a slice of cheese. “Tell me what you’ve been up to since the wedding.”
Lisa had emptied her bowl by the time he’d quit talking about the vast construction project. Despite the fact that he’d deliberately made the year sound as mundane as possible, a sparkle of admiration returned. Eyes like hers could make a weak man sell his soul to the tabloids without one regret.
“So, you’re a talented craftsman, an industrious businessman and a great cook, too. The soup was delicious.”
“Thanks. Would you like more?” Adam pushed his chair away from the antique oak table, anxious to put some space between them.
“I’d love some, thanks. Where’d you learn to cook?” She stood and walked into the kitchen with him.
Adam watched her refill her soup mug,