Part 20 (1/2)
Rourke was still on his honeymoon, but she felt as if she knew him from everything she'd heard about him. Brandon was quiet around her, almost shy. Something was going on with him. He'd been sneaking out at night and meeting some woman. At least that was the family scuttleb.u.t.t. Everyone wanted to know who Brandon's secret woman was, but he wasn't talking.
She'd only seen Cash a few times. He seemed the most serious of the McCalls. Dusty had filled her in on Cash's lost love from college. Jasmine Wolfe had been on her way to Antelope Flats to meet his parents so the two could announce their engagement. But Jasmine never made it. She disappeared and was never found. Brokenhearted, Cash had stayed single all these years, pining away for her.
The McCalls were full of stories. The only McCall she hadn't seen much of was J.T. He seemed to be keeping his distance making it clear he just wanted the jeans commercial over with so the ranch could get back to normal.
Tears burned her eyes. She brushed at them, angry with herself. She'd never been a woman who cried at the drop of a hat. Until recently. She blamed the horror of what she'd been through, but knew it had more to do with her feelings for McCall. The dire situation at Way Out West Jeans. Her conflict of interests.
Through the window, she watched the film crew set up the next shot, the director signaling J.T. to ride through the scene. She hated the way the commercial romanticized his life, almost devaluing the man and his rugged, hard-earned lifestyle, which she had come to admire.
”It's just a commercial,” she said to herself in the empty room. But it wasn't. This commercial would make millions of dollars for Way Out West Jeans. Hadn't that been the plan? It would launch the line, take the company national-public-and change her life.
She just hadn't figured on it changing her life this much. The contrast between her world and McCall's was so extreme...and suddenly she didn't feel like she belonged in either. She'd changed and in ways she couldn't even comprehend yet.
She looked out across the land and felt an ache for all this s.p.a.ce-and for that man down there on the horse. She didn't want to leave this ranch-or McCall.
J.T. COULDN'T BELIEVE Reggie had gone to all this trouble for a stupid television commercial. It wasn't bad enough that she'd almost gotten herself killed, she'd turned his ranch into a circus.
This commercial didn't reflect his life in the least. She could have gotten herself some L.A. model and saved herself a lot of money, time and trouble. Not to mention save him a lot of grief.
He knew why he was in such a bad mood. This was the last shoot. Then it was over. The commercial and Reggie. He wondered how long she'd stay once the commercial was shot. She was probably packing at this moment. He swore at the thought.
As he rode across the set, he told himself that this was how Reggie saw him and his lifestyle. As a fantasy western life straight out of the movies. She didn't want the reality in her commercial any more than she wanted it in her life.
He swore under his breath as he heard the director yell, ”Cut! Let's try that one more time.”
J.T. trotted back to the man. Anthony Grant. Reggie's friend. He seemed like a nice enough man but after fourteen ”takes,” J.T. had had it.
He rode up to him and leaned down so only Anthony could hear. ”I think you meant to say, 'That's a wrap,”' J.T. said, meeting the man's gaze.
Anthony squirmed under J.T.'s intent stare. ”Yes,” he said. ”I see your point. I think that last one was perfect.” He raised his voice. ”That's a wrap.”
”Thank you.” J.T. rode toward the barn. He couldn't wait to get these clothes off, couldn't wait to get these people off the ranch, couldn't wait for things to get back to normal.
Normal meant Reggie leaving, he reminded himself. He couldn't believe the way his family had taken to her. But then she could be quite adorable. The thought made him ache.
He'd done his level best to keep her at a distance. At night though, he would weaken and think about going to her, holding her, making love to her, begging her not to go.
And that is exactly why he hadn't gone to her.
She couldn't stay even if she had wanted to. It was perfectly clear how much all of this meant to her. He'd seen how responsible she felt for the crew and knew she was banking on this commercial selling a lot of jeans. And that was her life. L.A. and blue jeans. Not the Sundown Ranch and cows.
He swung off his horse and kicked at a dirt clod, angry with himself for letting the woman get to him. Well, she had what she wanted. There wouldn't be anything keeping her on the ranch now that the commercial was done. Her career meant everything to her. Everything, she'd said.
Even if she'd had a change of heart-which she hadn't or she wouldn't have let him do the commercial-she would never fit in here on the ranch. The woman couldn't cook anything but pancakes! And he had no intentions of living in the main ranch house with a hired cook and housekeeper. He'd always wanted to build a place a few miles from here. There was a perfect spot in the foothills.
But he wanted it to be just the two of them. Until the kids came along. Although, knowing Reggie she could get the hang of being a ranchwoman-if she set her mind to it.
He shook himself, amazed where his mind had taken him. But d.a.m.ned if for a moment he hadn't imagined that log house with Reggie and a houseful of little McCalls running around in cowboy boots.
”d.a.m.n,” he said under his breath. The last thing he wanted was for Reggie to go back to L.A. and that scared the h.e.l.l out of him.
He thought of his own parents. All those years apart because as much chemistry as they'd had between them, they couldn't live together.
He realized that could be him and Reggie.
J.T. looked up and saw Cash driving up in his patrol car. He'd already had Brandon giving him a hard time, saying things like ”nice duds” and ”nice a.s.s.” He didn't need Cash getting his two cents in. J.T. was just thankful that Rourke wasn't around. That would be the last straw.
He'd managed to keep the filming of the commercial quiet. He'd take the storm once the commercial hit national television.
Cash got out, glanced at the fake western set, and shook his head.
”Don't ask,” J.T. said. ”What are you doing here?”
”You agreed to do the commercial?” Cash sounded more than a little surprised as he glanced from J.T. to the set, looking as if he'd suddenly been dropped into Hollywood. His speculative gaze came back to his brother. ”I don't believe it. Why would you do that?”
”Don't read anything into it,” J.T. snapped. ”She was going to lose her job. She almost got killed up at the line shack. I owed her.”
”Uh-huh,” Cash said nodding.
”What?” J.T. demanded, scowling at his brother.
”I ran a check on her.” He held up his hands and stepped back as if he thought J.T. would take a swing at him. ”I ran a check on everyone at that line shack. It's my job. J.T. She wasn't about to lose her job. She owns owns the company.” the company.”
He could only stare at Cash. Reggie owned Way Out West Jeans?
”But that's not what I came out to talk to you about,” Cash said. ”Can we talk in the barn for a minute?”
J.T. didn't like the sound of this. He followed his brother over to the barn, still trying to digest what Cash had told him. How was it possible that Reggie owned the company? She'd made it sound as if her career was riding on this commercial. Was it possible the woman had conned him? He almost laughed.
Reggie had won. He'd done the commercial. She must be gloating in her room at the back of the house. His mother had given her the first-floor guest room so she could get around in the wheelchair until her ankle was better. There was no doubt that she'd played on the sympathy of his family-and him as well. She knew he felt responsible for everything that had happened to her.
Well now that the commercial was in the can, her ankle would be miraculously better and she'd be on the next plane to L.A.
”I have some bad news,” Cash said without preamble once inside the barn. ”We just got a positive ID on the man you called Roy s.h.i.+elds. His real name is Roy Sanders. He's with the FBI.”
J.T. felt all the air rush out of him, knowing what was coming.
”Roy Sanders was working on a case with Mexico involving the deaths of three plastic surgeons.”
”If Roy was the FBI agent, then Will Jarvis-”