Authors: Joanne Kennedy
“And you’ll always be you.”
“I can’t afford to be me.” She blinked, avoiding his eyes, and the connection fizzled and shorted out. “And please don’t talk to Eric about me—about the things I told you.” Suddenly she seemed a whole lot less sure of herself. “I kind of misled him about where I come from.”
“You lied on your resume?”
“No.” She shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t have to put down where I was from. But he’s always assumed I was born to—you know.”
“Privilege?”
She nodded. “I never lied to him, but he made assumptions, and well—it’s gone way too far. If he found out I’m from Two Shot now, he’d feel like I lied.”
Lane shook his head. “I don’t understand why you try to hide it.”
She sighed. “I don’t either, sometimes. It just happened. One thing led to another, and now it’s like his whole concept of me is that I’m this high-class society girl.”
“You know, he might be impressed by how far you’ve come.”
“I doubt it.” She pulled the seat belt across her body and fastened it, letting the sharp click punctuate her answer. “Please don’t tell him, okay?”
He pressed the clutch and started up the truck, driving out of the gravel lot and swinging onto the dark empty highway without a word.
The next morning, Sarah stared into the bakery case at Casper’s only Starbucks as if the fate of the universe depended on the choice between Very Berry Coffee Cake and a banana nut muffin. But she wasn’t thinking about breakfast; she was thinking about Lane. The evening at the rodeo had stirred up memories and misgivings and way more hormones than she could handle. She’d slept uneasily, waking to realize she’d dreamed of him.
He’d gotten bucked off again in her dream, and she’d crawled under the fence and run to him while the noise of the crowd roared in her ears and the clowns lured the bull away. Bloody white bones stuck out of his chest, and she’d knelt in the arena, hurrying to force the broken ends together while the bull pawed the dirt. The bones kept snapping apart in her hands and she woke with her mouth dry as dust, her arms aching as if she’d worked out all night.
The dream and the night that inspired it proved she’d made a mistake by getting personal with a cowboy. With Lane, there was too much risk. Too much feeling. Too much everything. She was her normal, rational self until he touched her, or looked at her in that intense way that made her feel like their souls had met and mated in some previous life.
She couldn’t erase what had happened, but she needed to forget it. She’d avoid Lane and make a solemn vow to keep herself on track. From now on, she would keep friendships and business relationships separate.
“Never again,” she muttered to herself, making a quick and very vague sign of the cross.
“Warding off temptation?” She turned to see Eric standing behind her, holding a steaming venti cup that gave off the sweet, milky scent of a latte. Damn. It was like seeing the Devil’s brother beside you when you’d just sworn off sin.
But Eric didn’t have the effect on her that Lane did. She wondered why. He was just her type—classy and sophisticated. Why did her heart beat so fast for the yahoo brother? If she was going to screw up her life, why couldn’t she choose a guy who fit into the future she had planned?
“How did it go with my brother last night?”
She moved up a spot in line as a guy in a denim jacket finished giving his order and moved to the pickup counter. “Well, let’s see. He got bucked off his bull and we spent most of the night in the medical unit.” She caught a flash of concern in Eric’s eyes and hurried to say, “But he’s okay.”
“Did you change his mind?” His posture stiffened slightly. “Or did he change yours? Please don’t tell me he made you long for the romance of cowboy life?”
It wasn’t the cowboy life Lane had made her long for; it was the cowboy himself. But that was the last thing she wanted Eric to discover. The rivalry between the two brothers was probably a holdover from adolescence, but it was obviously still strong. Shifting her loyalties to Lane wouldn’t just make her less effective on the job; her boss would see it as a betrayal.
All the more reason to step away from the cowboy.
She shrugged one shoulder in what she hoped was a casual gesture. “As far as I can tell, there is no romance in the cowboy life.” She faked absorption in the menu, as if she hadn’t already memorized the coffee shop’s offerings. “Basically, the whole thing just proved what I already knew. That cowboy culture he’s so set on is a dying concept, and the people clinging to it aren’t exactly enriching the community. Bringing in oil workers would probably improve things. But I doubt anything can convince Lane of that.”
Eric took another sip of his latte and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. Flipping it open, he fished out a gold Starbucks card and turned it in his long, slender fingers like a street-corner magician. The metallic surface of the card caught the sunlight streaming in the window behind them and arced glints of light off the wall behind the bake case. Everything about the man was accomplished and graceful. The fact that she was attracted to the cowboy brother and not the executive just proved she hadn’t left her old self behind as effectively as she’d thought.
“So let me buy you a coffee. And maybe a doughnut?”
“No, thanks.”
“Oh, that’s right, you just swore off those.” He shot her a sharp glance. “Or were you swearing off something else?”
The card in his fingers caught the light and flashed in her eyes. She felt like she was under interrogation, but Eric was just making conversation.
Wasn’t he?
“No, I was just warding off the coffee cake.”
“Good. I was afraid Lane had inspired you to swear off the Carrigan brothers, and I wanted you to go to the Petroleum Club with me tonight.”
“The Petroleum Club?” Sarah could feel another unkept vow winging away to join the ones that had fluttered off the night before. The club was a massive cedar-sided building on the edge of town, a complicated structure with elaborate gables jutting from the roof and subtle lighting fanning over the walls. Membership fees were astronomical, and nonmembers rarely passed through its intricately carved doors. The food was rumored to be incredible, the atmosphere posh beyond belief. Sarah was dying to go there.
And maybe spending time with Eric would help exorcise whatever evil impulse was urging her toward Lane.
“You know you want to go,” Eric said. “And I need a date. It’s a benefit dinner.” He flashed her a knowing smile. “The chef there is incredible, and their wine list is a mile long. I know you appreciate good wine.”
Sarah did like good wine. Unfortunately, she usually liked bad wine too—especially the super-sweet pink stuff. Learning to tell the difference was part of her scheme to infiltrate the upper classes.
“It might look bad,” she said reluctantly. “Other employees might get the wrong idea.”
“It won’t be just you and me,” he said. “I bought a whole table, so I actually have three seats to fill.”
She turned to see Gloria standing behind the pastry case, staring expectantly at her, then flicking her gaze to Eric. Her roommate scanned Eric’s expensive haircut, then licked her lips at the cut of his Armani suit.
“Well, hello,” she said in a Mae West purr.
“Hi, Gloria. Eric, this is my—friend. Gloria. Gloria, this is Eric Carrigan. He’s…”
“Oh, I know who he is.” Gloria’s dimples deepened as she gave her blond locks a peppy Meg Ryan toss. “It’s just
wonderful
to meet you. I
so
appreciate all you do for this town. I mean, half our customers are Carrigan employees. If it wasn’t for you, we’d all be drinking our coffee at Dunkin’ Donuts.” She giggled and Sarah winced at her slightly maniacal pitch. Gloria had a tendency to try too hard with men. “I mean, I like the finer things in life. Don’t you?” She cocked her head and pressed her arms to her sides, turning slightly from side to side in a gesture that appeared little-girl bashful but actually emphasized her own “finer things.” Both of them.
“Maybe you’d like to go with us tonight too,” Eric said, obviously charmed by Gloria’s puppylike friendliness.
Sarah could feel her two lives colliding again, but she was helpless to stop it. Gloria never saw a party she couldn’t liven up with a little table-dancing, and she’d never met a man she wouldn’t try to seduce—especially if he happened to have a tight butt and a loose wallet.
“A bunch of my golf buddies are going to be there.” Eric named a couple of higher-ups from other energy companies. “All men, though. We could use some female company.”
Gloria was practically drooling on the counter at the prospect of man hunting at the Petro Club. “I’d be happy to come,” she said primly. “Thank you
so
very much!” She tilted her chin down, angling it toward the swell of her breasts, and fluttered her lashes up at Eric.
“Great.” Eric grinned. “My friends are going to love you.”
“I sure hope so.” Gloria tapped Sarah’s regular order into the register and beamed. “I’ll do my very best to make that happen.”
Lane ignored the stare of the receptionist in the lobby of the Carrigan building and hit the “up” button on the elevator. He’d woken exhausted by dreams of Sarah and had resolved that if she was going to wear him out, he’d rather she did it in person. Hopefully he could talk her into lunch, because five o’clock would be way too long to wait. He’d play on her conscience, point out that they’d never gotten around to talking about the drilling.
Stepping into the elevator, he tipped his hat to two giggling young women as they exited. City girls in Casper were mostly country girls trying out town life. Eventually, they’d finish with the outside world and return to the small-town cycle relationships, work, marriage, and children—who would repeat the cycle all over again. They all giggled when they saw a cowboy—except for Sarah. She wasn’t a giggler, which was part of the reason he’d been compelled to come back.
Compelled.
How long had it been since a woman compelled him to do anything? He hit the button for the tenth floor and eyed his reflection. The wavy stainless steel walls of the elevator gave his image an amorphous fun-house twist, stretching his legs and widening his shoulders and hat so he looked like a cartoon cowboy. Ducking down to check his reflection in the smoother panel that housed the controls, he realized he hadn’t shaved that morning, and maybe not the day before, either. Stubble shaded his chin and his hat was bent where the bull had stepped on it. He looked like a refugee from Wyoming’s outlaw past, not the heir to one of its most successful companies.
At least, it used to be successful. Eric had been grumbling about the dwindling supply of oil in the West for years, and now he claimed that if they couldn’t access deeper reserves under the rocky Wyoming plains, they were going to run out of product. Their methods had to change.
Well, they could change without Lane’s help. He wasn’t coming along for that ride.
But he’d been thinking about his family, and a few things were bothering him. Sure, he hadn’t asked for a life of ease, but he’d lived one. He’d ridden the Carrigan gravy train straight to stardom, and yet he’d gone on the nightly news to bite the hand that had fed him all his life.
The elevator beeped and the doors slid open, revealing a gleaming modern hallway. Lane took a deep breath and a right-hand turn toward his brother’s office. Rapping on the door, he opened it without waiting for an answer. “Hey, bro.”
Eric leaned back in his padded leather office chair and smiled. For half a second Lane felt like he was looking in another fun-house mirror—one that made him look nattily dressed, slimmer, and altogether tidier than usual.
And a little on the smug side.
“Well,” Eric said. “I thought you’d be back.”
Lane eased into the chair in front of the desk, suddenly conscious of the ache in his ribs.
“I realized the other day that I hadn’t been much of a brother lately. Thought I ought to stop by more often.”
Eric’s smug grin widened. “What you realized the other day is that I have a gorgeous woman working for me. Who’s way out of your league, but that never stopped you before.” Lane started to protest and Eric held up one hand like he was stopping traffic. “I saw you looking.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Lane shrugged one shoulder and winced. “But she’s not going to change my mind about the drilling.”
“So she told me.”
“She tell you anything else?” Lane suddenly felt like he was back in middle school, asking if a girl liked him.
“Nope. But I can give you some hints and tips. First one is to shut that door so she doesn’t know you’re here. She’s got a thing about fraternizing with the bosses, and seeing you’s liable to remind her of that. You’ll lose me my date to the benefit dinner tonight.”
“Your date?”
“I talked her into coming to the Petro Club tonight. And that’s your next tip. You show up there and make an effort to fit in, she might see you a little differently. It’s her kind of place,” Eric said.
Lane was tempted to laugh. With its smoked windows and brass accents, the Petro Club was all glitz and somber glamour, a symbol of smug wealth and exclusivity. Eric didn’t have a clue that Sarah didn’t entirely belong in that world. He only knew the straitlaced, stylishly suited corporate creature she played by day, but Lane had caught a glimpse of a rodeo natural who dressed, walked, and talked back like a no-nonsense cowgirl.
He liked the cowgirl best, but that buttoned-up suit was a challenge as tempting as a bull that had never been ridden. Maybe if he dressed up and stopped by the Petro Club, she’d see he was more than a cowboy.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll come.”
“Good.” Eric’s sharp, fox-like grin set off a warning bell in Lane’s head, telling him he was being manipulated.
“You think she’s going to change my mind about the drilling.”
“I think she gets whatever she goes after,” Eric said.
“Yeah, but so do I.” Lane gave his brother a wolfish grin of his own.
“Well, I guess that’s one strategy for getting a high-class woman to date you. Although deep down, I think she’s really your kind of girl.”
“Oh.” Maybe Eric wasn’t as clueless as he seemed. “So you know where she’s from, then?”
“No.” Eric looked past him. “Hey, Sarah, where are you from?”
Lane spun to see Sarah, decked out in a prim navy suit and heels, standing in the doorway. She was looking at Lane with murder in her eyes. She probably thought he was telling Eric all her secrets.
“I went to Vassar.” She turned and walked out, leaving the door wide open.
Eric shrugged and looked back at the computer screen. “That’s all she’ll ever tell me. Sometimes I think that girl’s got secrets.”
“Would that matter?”
“No.” Eric clicked the mouse a few times and leaned sideways, his eyes on the doorway. “Sarah, come here,” he said loudly. “This spreadsheet’s acting weird.”
She reappeared and walked over to the desk, edging around the side to join Eric without so much as looking at Lane.
“Here.” She clicked the mouse a few times, biting her lower lip. She’d done that the other night and Lane had bitten it back, nipped her, and she’d kissed him, and then…
“Hit this, and then this. See?” Sarah bent over the desk to demonstrate, revealing a scrap of lace in the V of her lapels. He shifted forward for a better look and she straightened and shot him a look that reminded him of a bucking bull’s killer glare.
***
Sarah struggled to keep the mouse from shaking in her hand. It was obvious she’d interrupted Lane in the midst of spilling her secrets to his brother. Why else would Eric suddenly be asking about her past?
The whispers had been all over the office five minutes after Lane had arrived.
The
cowboy
brother’s back. That’s twice in two days.
She’d taken yoga breaths to hold back the blush heating her face and still she’d had to turn away from the whispering interns as they speculated on his reason for being there. She wondered if he’d come to see her, and dread of what he might say or do warred with vivid memories of the night before.
Seeing Lane again could only lead to trouble. What was done was done. She was moving on.
She’d resolved to stay holed up in her office until he left, but she needed to make a copy and the machine was down the hall, past Eric’s office. She’d zipped past the open door as fast as she could, but she’d stopped short when she heard Lane talking to Eric.
You
know
where
she’s from?
The air had whooshed from her lungs as fast as the pleasant short-term memories fled her thoughts. It was really her own fault. What kind of a professional slept with her boss’s brother?
Then again, what kind of a man kissed and told without even waiting a day?
She’d asked him to keep her secrets, and he hadn’t answered—but he was answering now. Worse yet, he was doing his best to peek down her cleavage. And while any reasonable woman would be contemplating a sexual harassment suit, she could feel her skin heating and her nipples tightening. She had to concentrate so hard on suppressing her body’s instinctive response that she didn’t hear what he said next—something about rodeo and her bust.
“What?”
Eric cast her a curious look and she realized she’d dropped her mask and was getting red in the face.
“He said your rodeo expedition was a bust.”
“Oh.” She let out the breath she’d been holding and her heartbeat slowed a little. “Yes, it was.”
“I think he wants another chance.”
She felt like a trapped animal with Eric watching her expectantly while Lane worked the Carrigan charm for all it was worth. Obviously his ego had swelled to the point where it put pressure on his brain. How could he think she’d get anywhere near him now that she’d caught him about to betray her confidence?
She remembered the vow at the Starbucks and repeated it to herself.
Never
again.
No more following her impulses. No more letting down her guard. No more sex with cowboys in moonlit trailers at the rodeo grounds.
That last thought brought another flood of heat to her face and she turned away so Lane couldn’t see it as she edged out from behind the desk. The space between it and Eric’s neatly organized bookcase was narrow, and knowing Lane was watching her backside didn’t make her face cool down any. The room felt close and hot and she just wanted out of there, but her heel caught on the leg of the desk and she tipped off balance, grabbing at the chair for support.
But the chair wasn’t there; Lane was. He stood quickly and caught her hand in his, putting the other hand on her waist to steady her. In an instant Eric was gone, the office, the tower, even the humiliation and dread that had filled her moments before. Suddenly she was back on the dance floor at the beer tent and she had a crazy impulse to melt into him the way she had the night before.
She glanced up, praying he hadn’t caught her reaction, but his eyes were inches from hers, fixed on her face. He wasn’t smiling like she expected; he looked intensely serious, as if he was forcing her to take notice of this moment.
She jerked away from him and hooked her shoe with her toe, sliding her foot back inside and righting herself. Backing up a step, she smoothed her skirt and then her lapels, wishing she could smooth down her feelings as easily as she straightened her clothes. She was being a fool. He was a rodeo cowboy—a player. All those tender words, those sensitive responses—they were simply designed to get her naked.
And she wasn’t going to fall for them again.