Poker Face (2 page)

Deep male laughter nipped at her pride. “I expect
you to
sell it Megan. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t. It’s business. Handling this
transaction will be a good experience for you. If you work this little venture
right you could come through it smelling like money.”

She was at a loss for words. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?” He swung his feet down and sat forward in eager
anticipation. He was actually beaming. Paul Stratford was beaming! Beaming was
definitely uncharacteristic of him. Something in Megan’s gut twisted screaming
he was hiding something, but she way too excited to care. The money she
pocketed off the whole deal could buy her a studio apartment downtown. She
could finish getting her degree in fashion and design. So many windows and
opportunities would open up. She’d have her own money. Her own place.

“Okay. I’ll sign the papers.” she’d no more than said the words
when the office door squeaked open. Megan watched the woman with bleach blonde
hair lean in next to Paul, her fake boobs –revealed in her low cut
dress—practically stuffed in his face. Red nails flashed as Georgia slid the
papers on the desk in front of him. Her other hand lingered on his shoulder.
Megan could have sworn she witnessed an affectionate squeeze making her seethe
with anger. Did the man not realize how devastated her mother would be if she
lost the only man she had loved, since Megan’s father’s death? No. Men rarely
considered anyone’s feelings besides their own.

“Can I get you something to drink Megan?” Georgia’s voice was like
polyester. Irritating.

“No.”

“Thanks Georgia, I’ll let you know when we’re ready,” Paul said
with a dismissive wave.

Megan caught the odor of channel perfume as the secretary breezed
out of the room. The odor hit her as strange, since it was the same perfume
Paul had given her mother for Christmas.

He removed the paper clip, scooted closer to the desk and went
straight in to business, “You’ll need to inform the help the property is being
put up for sale. Give them at least a two weeks’ notice. I’m prepared to write
letters of recommendation, and compensate them well for their years of loyalty
to the family. I owe them that much. So please Megan, be thoughtful of their
situation. I have a guy coming out tomorrow to inspect the place. He’s the
best, in huge demand, and doing this only as a favor to me. Take good care of
him. Make sure he has everything he needs. Other than that, all you have to do
is manage the work and collect once the ranch sales.”

“Hold on, he’s going to be there tomorrow?”

“Is that a problem? I guess I could call and see if he could
possibly postpone for a week or two, but then he might not have time to do
whatever work needs to be done. If this to too much for you, I can just let a
realtor handle it.”

Megan drew a breath and held it. Nobody had ever trusted her with
something so…. Monumental.

“No. It’s not necessary. I’ll fly out in the morning.”

“Then it’s settled.” He slid the papers across the desk along with
a pen. “Sign and we’ll have Georgia notarizes it.”

Day One

“This is as far as I’m going.” The driver stuck the cab in park
siting at the end of the long, dirt drive, engine rumbling. He and Megan had
clashed the moment they’d pulled away from the airport exchanging a few not so
nice words. In the end, she’d as good as threatened she wasn’t going to pay a
dime for his “sucky ass driving”. So there she was being forced to walk the
rest of the way to the ranch, because the man didn’t want to “dirty his newly
washed cab driving over ruts full of yesterday’s rain”.

“What about my luggage?”

The driver’s side door swung open. She heard heavy steps, heard
the trunk open, and heard a grunt. “No he’s not!” she shrieked, mouth gaping as
the man sat her luggage over by the cab. She huffed, stepped out of the back of
the cab and slammed the door. Her four and a half inch heels sank in mud,
sucking and popping from the soles of her feet as she attempted a few wobbly
steps.

Okay, so maybe pissing off her cabby wasn’t such a bright idea.
But he was rude, hairy, and smelled like he hadn’t showered in weeks.

The driver slid his round belly back behind the wheel. “If you
ever need a cab….don’t call me.” He spit from the rolled down window as he
swerved out of the drive.

Megan dug for an insult, “Go home and shave that hideous
mustache!” but it was too late, the rear-end of the cab had disappeared over
the next hill leaving her looking like a complete fool, thankfully no one was
there to witness the full brunt of her quick insults.

Dirt and gravel stretched out before her, a pitiful attempt at a
driveway. She worked on pulling the sharp points of her heels out of the sludge
frowning at her ruined two hundred dollar stilettos—shoe’s made her think of
her luggage, or the absence of it. Megan panicked unzipping the one and only
bag the cabby had set out. “This is just my shoes…where’s my clothes, my
makeup?” She dug out her cell to call and complain and got no answer.

Not a big deal, you can just call your mother and have her send
some of your things, ASAP. No, you can’t. One day here and you already need
help.

“I knew I was going to hate this place.” She lifted her luggage
filled with expensive shoes with no clothes to wear with them and stumbled
along sidestepping stagnant puddles. Her nose wrinkled. “What is that smell?
Please don’t tell me there’s already a sewage problem.”

“Manure,” a husky voice supplied.

Startled, Megan released the handle of her luggage and whirled
around to find a guy leaning against the split rail fence that encased the
pasture. A piece of straw dangled between his teeth. He was a cowboy cliché,
studying her from under his cowboy hat. Tattered jeans rode low on his hips.
His chest was bare, hard and rippled accentuated by a perfect tan six pack. He
spit the piece of straw to the ground. “Shit. Cow shit. You do know what that
is, don’t you?” a slow smile made an appearance.

“I know what manure is you stupid hick!”

Mouth…watch the mouth.

Silence sparked between them. He devoured her with his raunchy
gaze making her suddenly feel naked and in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Brown eyes dipped down to the swell of her breast visible in her low cut tank
top, his eyes traveled down even further to her shorts, ending on her
stilettos. He shook his head, the slow smile transforming into a full fledge
chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” she snapped.

“Nothing, I take it you’re Megan?” he came forward, removed his
hat and extended a hand.

She imagined him spitting—or worse—in that hand at some point of
the day and eyed his palm with distain. He smelled too. Not musky like sweat,
which she’d never understood why any woman would find that appealing. No this
smell was something different. Megan leaned in a smidge closer and took a deep
breath knowing it would aggravate her until she pegged the familiar odor.

Leather.

New leather and spice. That thought only lead into other things
that were leather.... whips, straps one could use to tie someone to a bed.

“No thanks,” she replied dismissively to the hand. He took his
place back over by the fence and sat his hat low on his head resembling someone
who was minutes away from a nap.

Megan continued. So what if she hurt his feelings? Who cared? He
was insignificant. All she had to do was follow the yellow brick road to her
new happy home. Well, her home until it sold. Crap, she’d almost forgotten….
“I’m supposed to meet Robbie here. Do you know where I can find him?” She
glanced further down the dirt drive at the little white “speck” on the horizon.
The house wasn’t much to look at, was it? Knee high grass rustled in the
rolling fields surrounding the home, yellows and gold’s under a blue, cloudless
sky. The only thing she could see that had been maintained was the split rail
fence running the length of the fields, as far as her eyes could see there was
fencing. Someone had gone through the extra trouble of making sure the fence
didn’t suffer the same fate as everything else turning to… well, shit. “Paul
assured me Robbie will whip this place back into shape in no time. It’s going
to need some extensive repairs… that much is obvious.”

His eyes squinted following the same path as hers, “Yeah, I think
I can do something with this place. Might take a little work, but I’m pretty
good at what I do.”

Megan remembered her stepfathers exact words.
“I have a guy
coming out tomorrow to inspect the place. He’s the best, in huge demand, and
doing this only as a favor to me. Take good care of him. Make sure he has
everything he needs.”

Her eyes slowly combed over the guy. She frowned, displeased.
“You’re Robbie? You’re not at all what I expected.”

Okay, twice now her mouth had already gotten her in trouble.

Only now did he unglue himself from his propped position on the
fence. His grin was devilish; surely he had every intention of making her eat
her words. “I know I might not look like your standard college preppy.” He came
forward, closer, and closer. She winced as his hands came up to her face
stopping just shy of her wide eyes. His fingers were long, strong, impressive,
but by no means were his hands perfect: thin gashes slathered his battered
knuckles, and a new callus showed in his palm.

“My skill is in my hands,” he leaned in and she felt his breath
lightly caress her neck, “these babies can work magic. Want a demonstration now
or later?”

The heat in the air spiked. Megan gulped hard breaking out in a
sweat suddenly feeling a little threatened. Or propositioned. Surely her
stepfather ran a criminal background check on the guy before hiring him. She
cast an anxious glance down the road at the house. How long would it take to
sprint there in heels? “If you’re speaking of repairing my ranch so it will
sell. Now is preferred. Anything else you can do with your hands… doesn’t
interest me.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Megan, you have a filthy mind. Hard work
was all I was offering.” He took a step back, and finally she could breathe
again. His expression suddenly turned serious. His face took on the appearance
of someone who had just been punched in the gut by a bully. “Did you say you’re
selling the ranch?”

His question confirmed her suspicions. “You’re not Robbie are
you?”

Her answer turned into the drive in a red, extended cab pickup
truck. The truck crawled to a stop where they stood, a cloud of dust whipping
through the air in its wake. She saw work boots, and then a leg appeared out of
the cab. As the driver’s door slammed closed the whole man took shape, and he
was jaw dropping gorgeous. He defied the laws of reality. Only men that sexy
were conjured up in sexually repressed women’s dreams. He was like taking a
dangerous, brooding assassin donning him in holey, worn out jeans, and a black,
skintight T-shirt, strapping a tool belt around his fine hips and dropping the
man in the middle of a country western.

Oh yes, he appeared very capable. Megan guessed he was near thirty,
which also made him appealing, since he’d past his immature stage.

“You might want to close the mouth, before a fly lands in it.” Mr.
No Name elbowed her side.

Her attention slid to her right. Some of the arrogance had left
the guys stance. He no longer seemed so at ease.

“Go suck an egg. You tricked me,” she muttered. Her pressed lips
transformed into a dazzling smile, which she offered to the guy coming towards
them. She extended a hand, “Hi, I’m Megan. You must be Robbie?”

“Pleasure to finally meet you, Megan.” Mr. Dangerous assassin’s
gaze travel down the length of her and back up, completely checking every inch
of her out, in fact she’d never felt so thoroughly check out in her life. A
smile played on his gourgeous mouth as he went on, “Paul has done nothing, but
say good things about you, and now I see why.” His deep voice resonated like a
sexy lullaby. Chills swamped her flesh as their hands held a few seconds longer
than necessary. But then the guy stepped back taking his warmth with him. His
hand reluctantly went to the guy next to her. “Drew, how you been? Heard
you....”