In Bed with the Wrangler (3 page)

So Royce was wading through the jumble of papers on the messy desk in the front office of the ranch house, looking for a letter from Foreign Investment Director Cheng Li. Without Cheng Li’s approval, a deal between Ryder International and Shanxi Electrical would be canceled, costing a fortune, and putting several Ryder construction projects at risk.

Giving up on the desk, and cursing out his older brother for falling in love and getting married at such an inconvenient time, Royce moved to the file cabinet, pulling open the top drawer. His blunt fingers were awkward against the flimsy paper, and the complex numbering system made no sense to him. What the hell was wrong with using the alphabet?

“The outfit seems at odds with the job duties,” a female voice ventured from the office doorway.

He turned to see Amber in a pair of snug jeans and a maroon, sleeveless blouse. Her feet were bare, and her blond hair was damp, framing her face in lush waves. There was an amused smile on her fresh, pretty face.

“You think this is funny?” he asked in exasperation.

“Unexpected,” she clarified.

“Well, don’t just stand there.”

“Should I be doing something?”

He directed her to the desktop. “We’re looking for a letter from the Chinese Ministry of Trade and Development.”

She immediately moved forward.

“Do you know what it looks like?” she asked, picking up the closest pile of papers.

He grunted. “It’s on paper.”

“Long letter? Short letter? In an envelope? Attached to a report?”

“I don’t know. It’s from Cheng Li, Foreign Investment Director. I need his phone number.”

She moved on to the next pile, while Royce went back to the filing cabinet.

“Have you tried Google?” she asked.

“This isn’t the kind of number you find on the Internet.”

She continued sorting. “I take it this is important?”

“If I don’t get hold of him today, we’re going to blow a deal.”

“What time is it in China?”

“Sometime Monday morning. Barry says if the approval’s not filed in Beijing by the end of business today, we’re toast.”

“Their time?” Amber asked.

“Their time,” Royce confirmed. “What the hell happened to the alphabet?”

She moved closer, brushing against him. “You want me to—”

“No,”
he snapped, and she quickly halted.

He clamped his jaw and forced himself to take a breath. It wasn’t her fault the letter was lost. And it wasn’t
her fault that his body had a hair-trigger reaction to her touch. “Sorry. Can you keep looking over there? On the desk?”

“Sure.” Her features were schooled, and he couldn’t tell if she was upset.

“I didn’t mean to shout.”

“Not a problem.” She turned back.

He opened his mouth again, but then decided the conversation could wait. If she was upset, he’d deal with it later. For now, he had three more drawers to search.

“Something to do with Shanxi Electrical?” she asked.

Royce’s head jerked up. “You found it?”

She handed him a single sheet of paper.

He scanned his way down to the signature line and found the number for Cheng Li’s office. “This is it.” He heaved a sigh, resisting the urge to hug her in gratitude.

Then he took in her rosy cheeks, her jewel-blue eyes, her soft hair and smooth skin. The deep colored blouse molded to her feminine curves, while the skintight blue jeans highlighted a killer figure. There was something completely sexy about her bare feet, and he had to fight hard against the urge to hug her.

“Thanks,” he offered gruffly, reaching for the phone.

He punched in the international and area codes, then made his way through the rest of the numbers.

After several rings, a voice answered in Chinese at the other end.

“May I speak with Mr. Cheng Li?” he tried.

The voice spoke Chinese again.

“Cheng Li? Is there someone there who speaks English?”

The next words were incomprehensible. He might have heard the name Cheng Li, but he wasn’t sure.

“English?” he asked again.

Amber held out her hand and motioned for him to give her the phone.

He gave her a look of incomprehension while the woman on the other end tried once more to communicate with him.

“I’m sorry,” he said into the phone, but then it was summarily whisked from his hand.

“Hey!” But before he could protest further, Amber spoke. The words were distinctly non-English.

Royce drew back in astonishment. “No way.”

She spoke again. Then she waited. Then she covered the receiver. “Your phone number?” she whispered.

He quickly flipped open his cell to the display, and she rattled something into the phone. Then she finished the call and hung up. “Cheng Li will call you in an hour with an interpreter.”

“You speak
Chinese?
” was all Royce could manage.

She gave a self-deprecating eye roll. “I can make myself understood. But for them, it’s kind of like talking to a two-year-old.”

“You speak Chinese?” he repeated.

“Mandarin, actually.” She paused. “I have a knack.” When he didn’t say anything, she bridged the silence. “My mother taught me Swedish. And I learned Spanish in school.” She shrugged. “So, well, considering the potential political impact of the rising Asian economies, I decided Mandarin and Punjabi were the two I should
study at college. I’m really not that good at either of them.”

He peered at her. “You’re like a politician’s dream wife, aren’t you?”

Her lips pursed for a moment, and discomfort flickered in her eyes. “Are you saying I have no life?”

“I’m saying he’s going to come after you.” Royce put a warning in his tone. “I sure as hell wouldn’t let you get away.”

She blinked, and humor came back into her blue eyes. “I doubt I’d make it very far from here. After all, there is only one road out of the ranch.”

Royce wasn’t in the mood to joke. “He
is
going to come after you, isn’t he?”

She sobered. “I don’t think he’ll find me.”

“And if he does?”

She didn’t answer.

“What’s the guy got on you?”

From what Royce could see, Amber was an intelligent, capable woman. There was no reason in the world for her to let herself get saddled with a man she didn’t want.

“Same thing Jared has on you,” she answered softly. “Duty, obligation, guilt.”

“Jared needs me for a month,” said Royce, not buying into the parallel. “What’s-his-name—”

“Hargrove.”

“Hargrove wants you forever.” Royce felt a sudden spurt of anger. “And where the hell are your parents in all this? Have you told them?”

“They think he’s perfect for me.”

“He’s not.”

Amber smiled. “You’ve never even met him.”

“I don’t have to. You’re here. He’s there.” Royce ran
his brain through the circumstances one more time. “Your cell’s turned off, right?”

She nodded.

“Don’t use your credit cards.”

“I didn’t bring them.”

“Good.”

“Not really.” She hesitated. “Royce, I have no money whatsoever.”

“You don’t need money.”

“And I have no clothes, not even underwear.”

Okay, that gave him an unwanted visual. “We have everything you need right here.”

“I can’t live off your charity.”

“You’re our guest.”

“I forced you to bring me here.”

Royce set the letter back down on the desktop and tucked his phone back into his shirt pocket. “Ask anybody, Amber. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.” He let his gaze shade the meaning of the words. He’d brought her home with him because she was a beautiful and interesting woman. It was absolutely no hardship having her around.

“I need to earn my keep.”

Royce resisted the temptation to make a joke about paying her way by sleeping with him. It was in poor taste, and the last thing he wanted to do was insult her. Besides, the two were completely unrelated.

He hoped she was attracted to him. What red-blooded man wouldn’t? And last night he had been fairly certain she was attracted to him. But whatever was between them would take its own course.

Her gaze strayed to the messy desk. “I could…”

He followed the look.

“…maybe straighten things up a little? I’ve taken business management courses, some accounting—”

“No argument from me.” Royce held up his palms in surrender. “McQuestin’s niece, Maddy, usually helps out in the office, but she’s gone back to Texas with him while he recovers.” He spread his arms in welcome. “Make yourself at home.”

S
everal hours later, eyes grainy from reading ranch paperwork, Amber wandered out of the office. The office door opened into a short hallway that connected to the front foyer and then to the rest of the ranch house. It had grown dark while she worked, and soft lamplight greeted her in the empty living room. The August night was cool, with pale curtains billowing in the side windows, while screen doors separated the room from the veranda beyond.

Muted noise came from the direction of the kitchen, and she caught a movement on the veranda. Moving closer, she realized it was a plump puff ball of a black-and-white puppy. Amber smiled in reaction as another pup appeared, and then a third and a fourth.

They hadn’t seen her yet, and the screen door kept them locked outside. Just as well. They were cute, but
Amber was a little intimidated by animals. She’d never had a pet before. Her mother didn’t like the noise, the mess or the smell.

Truth was, she dropped out of dressage riding lessons because one of the horses had bit her on the shoulder. She hadn’t told the grooms, or her parents, or anybody else about the incident. She was embarrassed, convinced that she’d done something to annoy the horse but not sure of what it might have been. When a creature couldn’t talk or communicate, how did you know what they wanted or needed?

The pups disappeared from view, and she moved closer to the door, peeking at an angle to see them milling in a small herd around Royce’s feet while he sat in a deep, wooden Adirondack chair, reading some kind of report under the half-dozen outdoor lamps that shone around the veranda.

Then the pups spotted her and made a roly-poly beeline for the door, sixteen paws thumping awkwardly on the wooden slats of the deck. She took an automatic step back as they piled up against the screen.

Royce glanced up from the papers. “Hey, Amber.” Then his attention went to the puppies. He gave a low whistle, and they scampered back to him.

“It’s safe to come out now,” he said with a warm smile.

“I’m not…” She eased the door open. “I’m not scared to come out.”

Royce laughed. “Didn’t think you were. Shut the screen behind you, though, or these guys will be in the kitchen in a heartbeat.”

She closed the screen door behind her. “Your puppies?”

He reached down to scratch between the ears of the full-grown border collie sprawled between the chair and the railing. “They belong to Molly. Care to take one home when you leave?”

“My mother won’t have pets in the house.” The puppies rushed back to Amber again.

Royce gestured for her to take the chair across from his. “Is she allergic?”

“Not exactly.” Warm, fuzzy bodies pressed against her leg; cool, wet noses investigated her bare feet and she felt a mushy tongue across the top of her toes. She struggled not to cringe at the slimy sensation. “She doesn’t want any accidents on the Persian rug.”

“The price you pay,” said Royce.

Amber settled into the chair. One of the pups put its paws on her knee, lifting up to sniff along her jeans.

“Most people pet them.” Royce’s tone was wry.

“I’m a little…” She gingerly scratched the puppy between its floppy, little ears. Its fur was soft, skin warm, and its dark eyes were adorable.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Not everybody likes animals.”

“I don’t dislike them.”

“I can tell.”

“They make me a little nervous, okay?”

“They’re puppies, not mountain lions.”

“They—” Another warm tongue swiped across her bare toes, and she jerked her feet under the chair. “Tickle,” she finished.

“Princess,” he mocked her.

“I was once bitten by a horse,” she defended. Her interactions with animals hadn’t been particularly positive so far.

“I was once gored by a bull,” he countered with a challenging look.

“Is this going to be a contest?”

“Kicked in the head.” He leaned forward and parted his short, dark hair.

She couldn’t see a scar, but she trusted it was there.

“By a bronc,” he finished. “In a local rodeo at fourteen.”

Amber lifted her elbow to show a small scar. “Fell off a top bunk. At camp. I was
thirteen
.”

“Did you break it?”

“Sprained.”

“What kind of camp?”

“Violin.”

His grin went wide. “Oh, my. Such a dangerous life. Did you ever break a nail? Get a bad wax job?”

“Hey, buddy.” She jabbed her finger in the direction of his chest. “
After
your first wax job, we can talk.”

Devilment glowed in his deep blue eyes. “You can wax anything I’ve got,” he drawled. “Any ol’ time you want.”

Her stomach contracted, and a wave of unexpected heat prickled her skin. How had the conversation taken that particular turn? She sat up straight and folded her hands primly in her lap. “That’s not what I meant.”

He paused, gaze going soft. “That’s too bad.”

The puppies had grown bored with her feet, and one by one, they’d wandered back to Royce. They were now curled in a sleeping heap around his chair. The dog, Molly, yawned while insects made dancing shadows in the veranda lights.

“You hungry?” asked Royce.

Amber nodded. She was starving, and she was more than happy to let their discussion die.

He flipped the report closed, and she was reminded of their earlier office work.

“Did you talk to Cheng Li?”

“I did,” said Royce. “He promised to fax the paperwork to the Ryder financial office.”

“In Chicago.”

“Yes.” He rose cautiously to his feet, stepping around the sleeping puppies. “Disaster averted. Sasha’ll have soup on the stove.”

“Soup sounds great.” It was nearly nine, and Amber hadn’t eaten anything since their light snack on the plane around 5:00 a.m. Any kind of food sounded terrific to her right now.

They left the border collies asleep on the deck and filed through the living room, down a hallway to the kitchen on the south side of the house.

“Have you talked to your parents?” asked Royce as he set a pair of blue-glazed, stoneware bowls out on the breakfast bar.

The counters were granite, the cabinets dark cherry. There were stainless steel appliances with cheery, yellow walls and ceiling reflecting off the polished beams and natural wood floor. A trio of spotlights was suspended above the bar, complementing the glow of the pot lights around the perimeter of the ceiling.

“I texted them both before I got on the plane.”

“Nothing since then?” He set a basket of grainy buns on the breakfast bar, and she slipped onto one of the high, padded, hunter-green leather chairs.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how this GPS and triangulating-the-cell-towers thing works.”

Royce’s brows went up, and he paused in his work.

“Crime dramas,” she explained. “I don’t know how much of all that is fiction. My dad, and Hargrove for sure, will pull out all the stops.”

Royce held out his hand. “Let me see your phone.”

She pulled back on the stool and dug the little phone out of the pocket of her blue jeans.

He slid it open and pressed the on button.

“Are you sure—”

“I won’t leave it on long.” He peered at the tiny screen. “Nope. No GPS function.” He shut it off and tossed it back to her. “Though they could, theoretically, triangulate while you’re talking, but you’re probably safe to text.”

“Really?” That was good news. She’d like to send another message to her mother. And Katie deserved an explanation.

He set out two small plates and spoons while she tucked the phone back into her pocket. She’d have to think about how to phrase her explanation.

Royce ladled the steaming soup into the bowls and set them back on the bar, taking the stool at the end.

“Thanks,” she breathed, inhaling the delectable aroma.

Royce lifted his spoon. “So, how long have you known?”

She followed suit, dipping into the rich broth. “Known what?”

“That you didn’t love him?”

Royce knew his question was blunt to the point of rudeness, but if he was going to make a play for Amber, he needed to know the lay of the land. He knew he’d be a
temporary, rebound fling, which was not even remotely a problem for him. In fact, he’d gone into the situation
planning
to be her temporary, rebound fling. She wasn’t going to stay the whole month. She probably wouldn’t even last a week. But he was up for it, however long it lasted.

Last night, he’d known Amber was beautiful. Today, he’d learned she was positively fascinating. She was intelligent, poised and personable, and she could actually speak Chinese. Her reaction to the puppies was cute and endearing. While her fiancé’s and family’s ability to intimidate her made him curious.

Why would such an accomplished woman give a rat’s hind end what anybody thought of her decisions?

She stirred her spoon thoughtfully through the bowl of soup. “It’s not so much…” she began.

He waited.

She looked up. “It’s not that I knew I didn’t love him. It’s more that I didn’t know that I did. You know?”

Royce hadn’t the slightest idea what she meant, and he shook his head.

“It seems to me,” she said, cocking her head sideways, teeth raking momentarily over her full bottom lip, “if you’re going to say ‘till death do us part’ you’d better be damn sure.”

Royce couldn’t disagree with that. His parents obviously hadn’t been damn sure. At least his mother wasn’t. His father, on the other hand, had to have been devastated by her betrayal.

Amber was right to break it off. She had absolutely no business marrying a man she didn’t love unreservedly.

“You’d better be damn sure,” Royce echoed, fighting a feeling of annoyance with her for even considering
marrying a man she didn’t love. This Hargrove person might be a jerk. So far, he sounded like a jerk. But no man deserved a disloyal wife.

Amber nodded as she swallowed a spoonful of the soup. “Melissa looked sure.”

“Melissa
was
sure.”

Amber blinked at the edge to Royce’s tone. “What?”

“Nothing.” He tore a bun in half.

“You annoyed?”

He shook his head.

“Melissa and Jared seem really good together.”

“You do know it’s kinder to break it off up front with a guy.” Royce set down his spoon.

“I—”

“Because, if you don’t, the next thing you know, you’ll have two or three kids, the PTA and carpool duty. You’ll get bored. You’ll start looking around. And you’ll end up at the No-Tell Motel on Route 55, in bed with some young drifter. And Hargrove, whoever-he-is, will be going for his gun.”

“Whoa.” Amber’s eyes were wide in the stark kitchen light. “You just did my whole life in thirty seconds.”

“I didn’t necessarily mean you.”

“What? Are we talking about Melissa?”

“No.” Royce gave himself a mental shake. “We are absolutely not talking about Melissa.”

“Then who—”

“Nobody. Forget it.” He drew a breath. So much for making a play for her. It wouldn’t be tonight. That was for sure. “I just don’t understand why you’re feeling guilty,” he continued. “You are absolutely doing the right thing.”

“I believe that,” she agreed.

He held her gaze with a frank stare. “And anybody who tries to talk you out of it is shortsighted and just plain stupid.”

“You know you’re talking about my father.”

“I know.”

“He’s Chairman of the City Accountants Association, and he owns a multimillion-dollar financial consortium.”

“Pure blind luck, obviously.”

A small smile crept out, though she clearly fought against it. “The No-Tell Motel?”

“Metaphorically speaking. I’m sure you’d pick the Ritz.”

“I’ve never been unfaithful.”

Royce knew he should apologize.

“I’ve dated Hargrove since I was eighteen, and even though he’s not the greatest—” She snapped her mouth shut, and a flush rose in her cheeks as she reached for one of the homemade buns.

Okay, this was interesting. “Not the greatest what?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not.” She tore into the bun.

Royce grinned. “Were you going to say
lover?
”

“No.” But everything in her body language told him she was lying.

He gazed at her profile for a long minute.

Eighteen. She was eighteen when she took up with Hargrove. Royce could be wrong, but he didn’t think he was. Amber hadn’t had any other lovers. She was dissatisfied with Hargrove, but she had no comparison.

“What did you find?” Royce’s voice from the office doorway interrupted Amber’s long day of office work.

The sun was descending toward the rugged mountains, while neat piles of bills and correspondence had slowly grown out of the chaos on the desktop in front of her.

Now she stretched her arm out to place a letter on the farthest pile. It was another advertisement for horse tack. She was fairly sure the junk mail could be tossed out, but she wasn’t about to make that decision on her own.

“You’ve got some overdue bills,” she answered Royce, twisting her head to see him lounging in the doorway, one broad shoulder propped against the doorjamb, his hair mussed and sweaty across his forehead and a streak of dirt marring his roughened chin. She met his deep blue gaze, and a surge of longing clenched her chest.

“Pay them,” he suggested in a sexy rumble, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You going to hand over your platinum card?”

His lips parted in a grin. “Sure.”

“Then you better have a high limit. Some of them are six figures.” Feed, lumber, vet bills. The list went on and on.

He eased away from the door frame and ambled toward her. “There must be a checkbook around here somewhere.”

“I didn’t see one.” Not that she’d combed through the desk drawers. There was plenty to do sorting through what was piled on top. “How long did you say McQuestin had been off?”

“Three weeks. Why?”

“Some of these bills are two months old. That’s hell on your credit rating, you know.”

He moved closer, and she forced herself to drag her gaze from his rangy body.