Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek
Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek
Patricia Thayer
P.I. Jack Sullivan, black-eyed and dark-hearted, is at Wandering Creek Ranch on official business–business that doesn't include falling for the striking blonde who tries to throw him off her land….Willow Kingsley's ranch in the Hollywood Hills is her sanctuary. She'll fight the gorgeous stranger and protect her own. What she doesn't realize is that Jack's on her side, and when she's in his arms he'll do everything in his power to keep her safe….
He leaned closer to her and smiled. Willow could see the stubble along his strong jaw, the long lashes that framed his brown eyes—dangerous eyes that held a suggestion of surprising sadness, too.
“I’m not so bad…when you get to know me,” he added.
Wrong. She’d known Jack Sullivan for only a few days, but she’d recognized trouble the second she’d looked at him. She took a deep breath. “Getting to know you isn’t in our agreement.”
He leaned closer. “Not everything has to be by the book…Willow.”
His husky whisper of her name shot a shiver down her spine. She had to break free of her attraction to this man.
Dear Reader,
It was a pleasure to set Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek Ranch in my state of California, where I’ve lived for the past thirty-five years. I hope to show you another side of the Golden State—not just the bustling Los Angeles area, but the open land and small ranches that are tucked away along the beautiful coastal mountains.
I used this picturesque setting as the backdrop for my story. My heroine grew up with famous movie star parents who valued their privacy and wanted to raise a family outside the prying eyes of Hollywood.
In the story, Willow Kingsley wants to continue the dream of her deceased father, actor Matt Kingsley, who worked with underprivileged children. Her goal is to reopen Kingsley’s Kids’ Camp at the ranch, but when private investigator Jack Sullivan shows up looking for Willow’s brother, it could ruin everything. She has to do something to disguise him, so she turns him into a ranch hand.
I hope you enjoy visiting the Wandering Creek Ranch and the people who live and work there…especially the cowboys.
Thanks for reading,
Patricia Thayer
www.patriciathayer.com
Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek Ranch
Patricia Thayer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
In the cowboy’s arms…
Imagine a world where men are strong and true to their word…and where romance always wins the day! These rugged ranchers may seem tough on the exterior, but they are about to meet their match when they meet strong, loving women to care for them!
If you love gorgeous cowboys and Western settings, this miniseries is for you!
Look out for more stories in this miniseries, only from Harlequin Romance
.
Next month in WESTERN WEDDINGS:
JUDY CHRISTENBERRY
Coming Home to the Cattleman
To Mom,
You were always there with your love and support.
Even if I don’t say it, I hope you know
how much I appreciate you…. So now am I your favorite?
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
SHE LOOKED LIKE every man’s fantasy.
Jack Sullivan peered through the grove of oak trees at the woman on horseback. Tall and slender, she rode the large, coal-black stallion with surprising ease. Caught by the breeze, her long wheat-colored hair lifted off her shoulders with each graceful stride. Her slender, jean-clad legs cradled the sides of the horse as they moved through the grassy meadow.
Too bad he wasn’t hired to find Willow Kingsley.
Off in the distance, a rocky hillside fringed the seven hundred acres of the Wandering Creek Ranch. Who would have thought an oasis like this existed just thirty miles from Los Angeles? But this ranch was the home of a movie star couple, onetime child star Molly Reynolds and the late western star Matt Kingsley. Their union had produced two children, a son, Dean…and their daughter, Willow.
And Jack was hoping big sister could tell him where to find brother Dean.
A smile appeared on Willow’s pretty face as the stallion bobbed its head up and down, protesting her control. She tugged on the reins. “So, you’re feeling frisky this morning.”
Her voice had a smoky quality, and suddenly, Jack wasn’t thinking about business, or about why he’d driven all the way from Seattle to Southern California. Those sultry, whispery tones made him forget that he’d been staking out the ranch for the past twenty-four hours, hoping he’d get lucky and Dean Kingsley would come home to his family. Right now, all Jack could imagine was sister Willow; those long legs, that voice, that…
The stallion whinnied and Jack redirected his attention to the meadow and found Ms. Kingsley was looking at him.
He’d been discovered.
She held her ground and stared back at him. She didn’t look happy.
Jack decided since he was on the other side of the electronic fence he wasn’t breaking any laws. That wasn’t to say as a private investigator he hadn’t stretched them a few times. He was used to using any means necessary to locate his suspect.
And he needed to find Kingsley before time ran out…for everyone.
“I would like to talk with you, Ms. Kingsley,” he called.
“I don’t talk to people who sneak around our property.”
“Technically, Ms. Kingsley, I’m not on your property. And I’ll leave right away, once you tell me how to find your brother, Dean.”
That drew a stronger glare. She just tugged the rein, turned the horse and galloped off.
“Well, you blew that one royally,” he chided himself. He prided himself on handling people with charm and wit. Mike had always said, Jack could con the best of them. An image of Mike, his onetime partner and friend flashed in his head.
“I’m not losing my touch, Mike,” he muttered as he hiked back to his SUV. “I’m still going to get my man. It just might take a while longer.”
An hour later, after she’d finished brushing down Dakota and putting him into his stall, Willow came out of the barn. She usually enjoyed her morning rides, but today’s incident had unnerved her a little.
Since her father’s death two years ago, the media had left her and her mother alone, and Willow had hoped they’d forgotten about the Kingsley family entirely. But she supposed the reopening of the summer camp was bound to bring out the press again.
On the way to the house, she stopped short when a black SUV pulled into the circular drive, parked, and the stranger from the pasture got out of his car and started toward the porch.
“Don’t take another step,” she called out and hurried her pace.
The tall, rangy man turned around and had the nerve to smile. “Hello, Ms. Kingsley. I never got the chance to introduce myself. I’m Jack Sullivan.”
Willow ignored the intruder’s attempt to charm her. “I don’t care who you are, only that you’re trespassing.”
She glanced toward the foreman’s quarters. Where was Trevor? It was his job to keep the gate to the road locked so people couldn’t invade their privacy.
“If you leave now, Mr. Sullivan, I won’t report to the sheriff that you’ve been stalking me.”
“I’m not stalking you, or anyone.” He frowned. “As I tried to explain earlier, I’m looking for Dean Kingsley. My business is with him.”
Willow didn’t recognize the man who was asking about her brother. He looked to be in his midthirties. He was lean, but a black T-shirt revealed a well-developed chest and broad shoulders, only partially hidden under a rust-colored lightweight jacket. Fitted jeans covered his long legs. She felt a shiver of awareness stir inside her, but quickly shook it off.
“My brother doesn’t live here, so please leave. Now. You aren’t welcome.” She waved toward the road that led back to the Southern California freeway.
“Oh, but, I have been welcomed…by Mrs. Kingsley. She let me in the gate. She’s who I’m here to see.”
Jack took another step toward the house. He wasn’t going anywhere until he at least had a chance to talk to his suspect’s mother.
“Willow?” A petite woman appeared in the doorway.
“Mother, it’s okay,” her daughter said. “This man was just leaving.”
So this was Hollywood’s famous child star, sweet Molly Reynolds. The young starlet who had once stolen playboy actor Matt Kingsley’s heart.
Today, she was in her midfifties, her brown hair styled short around a still-pretty face. She wore a pair of jeans and a Western-cut blouse over her trim figure. She had the same blue eyes as her daughter, but hers held a sadness that affected even a hard-hearted man like himself.
Jack smiled. “Mrs. Kingsley. As I explained over the intercom at the gate, I’m Jack Sullivan, a private investigator.” He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a business card. He handed it to her as Willow went to her mother’s side. “I tried to tell your daughter…earlier, I’m looking for your son, Dean.”
Molly shook her head. “We haven’t seen Dean in so long. He’s been living and working in Seattle for quite a while now.”
“I tried to tell him, Mother, but Mr. Sullivan is insistent.” Willow glared at him. “Sorry, we can’t help you.” She paused. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…”
Jack held his ground. Dean Kingsley wasn’t getting off just because he came from famous parents and money. No, Jack wasn’t about to let that happen again.
“Mrs. Kingsley, do you have an address? Or could you at least tell me the last time your son was home? Does he call you?”
A hint of a smile appeared on the older woman’s face. “Dean called last month. He never forgets my birthday.”
Did the dutiful son have his family snowed, too? “Other than Seattle or here could you think of another place Dean would go?”
She hesitated. “Is my son in trouble, Mr. Sullivan?”
“I won’t lie to you, Mrs. Kingsley. The CEO of Walsh Enterprises, your son’s employer, hired me to find Dean. As of right now, we only want to talk with him.” Jack hoped his honesty would gain him an ally.
Mother and daughter exchanged a worried look. “I have your card,” Molly said, “so I’ll call if I hear anything.”
Jack didn’t know whether to believe her or not, but he couldn’t do much more than smile at them. “I look forward to hearing from you. Please don’t hesitate to call that number.”
Out of the corners of his eye, Jack caught sight of a man coming from the barn. When he reached the porch, he raised his fingers to his hat in greeting to the ladies. “Is there a problem, Willow?” The man eyed Jack closely.
“It’s all right, Trevor,” she told him. “Mr. Sullivan is just leaving.”
Don’t count on it. “I’m not going far…until I find Dean.”
The man named Trevor exchanged a knowing look with Kingsley’s sister. “I’ll make sure he’s escorted through the gate.”
Jack waited as Willow and her mother went through the door to the house.
“I don’t know what your game is, Sullivan,” Trevor began, “but you can’t just walk onto posted private property.”
“I didn’t just walk on, I was invited in by Mrs. Kingsley.” An easy smile played on Jack’s lips as he eyed the man, who was about the same age as himself.
Trevor didn’t back down. He straightened to his height of about six feet. “That problem is about to be corrected real soon. And I suggest you don’t try to get invited back.”
The foreman walked Jack to his SUV. He climbed in and started the engine, and backed away from the rustic home of cream-colored stucco, with the stone facade and dark green trim. It hadn’t been the mansion he’d expected for Hollywood’s royal couple, and pictures of Willow Kingsley didn’t do her justice. Nor had he expected her to be so feisty.
Jack put the car into gear and headed back down the road, passing by the big white barn and corral. The gravel lane was edged with grand oak trees along the white split rail fencing that lined the entrance of the ranch. He glanced in his rearview mirror to see Trevor talking with another man.
Soon a truck was following behind him. No problem, Jack was still going to locate Kingsley. He drove under the archway that read Wandering Creek Ranch.
He was sure they were trying to hide something, as sure as he was of his own name. And he just had to find out what…or who.
After lunch, Willow left her mother in the office working on the vendors list for the summer camp. She went upstairs to make her own call. Although Molly had tried to hide it, she’d been bothered by Mr. Sullivan’s inquiry about Dean.
Dean hadn’t exactly been the ideal son. Willow never placed all the blame on her brother. It was hard to live up to a movie icon father.
A rush of sadness washed over Willow at the memory of her father. Not just because he’d been a famous movie actor, but because of his presence. Big and strong, he was every woman’s ideal man. Even though Matt Kingsley had been portrayed for years as a womanizer, everything changed the second he met Molly Reynolds. Even with the eighteen-year-difference in their ages, they’d stayed faithfully married for thirty-three years…until Matt’s death two years ago.
But father and son had had some differences over the years and her brother still felt he’d always be in his father’s shadow.
That was the main reason Dean didn’t live at the ranch. He went off to work in the Pacific Northwest, hoping it was far enough away that the media would think he wasn’t newsworthy anymore.
Willow walked into the bedroom that had been hers since childhood. It had gone through several transformations, most recently in different shades of soft blues. At the desk, she went through her Rolodex to find Dean’s number, picked up the phone and made the call to Seattle. After three rings her call was answered by his voice mail.
“Dean. It’s Willow. We haven’t heard from you in a while. I need to talk to you. Please, give me a call.” She paused. “It’s important. Love ya, bye.”
She hung up and her thoughts returned to Jack Sullivan. She hated the fact that she’d even noticed his dark good looks. It wasn’t that she hadn’t encountered handsome men before. But Sullivan wasn’t your pretty boy Hollywood type. First of all, his nose had been broken, leaving it slightly off center. She doubted he’d ever had his thick sable hair styled. What had drawn her attention was that rough chiseled jaw and those deep-set bedroom eyes.
She suddenly felt her body temperature rise and shook her head to clear any more dangerous thoughts. This man was after her brother.
She sighed. “What have you done now, Dean?”
She used to know everything about her brother. He hadn’t been the rough-and-tumble son Matt Kingsley could relate to. Dean never took to sports, and working the ranch had been more Willow’s forte. With Dean it had been computers. Matthew Kingsley’s son was a computer nerd.
It had taken Dean years to finally find his calling. So the move to Seattle and the job with Walsh Industries had seemed to be a perfect fit for him. “What happened, Dean? Why is a P.I. looking for you?”
Willow walked to the bed and sat down. Something told her Jack Sullivan was out to destroy her family. No matter what, she wasn’t about to let that happen.
Jack groaned as he shifted into what he hoped would be a comfortable position. But there wasn’t any, since he was trying to sleep in the front seat of his car.
He hated stakeouts. Nothing to do but wait and think, and struggle against the bad memories that came flooding back.
Memories of one of the few people who’d ever cared about Jack. Mike Gerick. The cop who’d befriended a teenage boy and kept him out of jail. The father figure who’d opened his home to a troubled kid. The man who’d taught him to be a good cop. Mike, who was shot and died in his arms.
What would Mike think about him quitting the force? Jack hoped his friend would give him points for the hard work he’d put into building his P.I. business…now specializing in computer espionage.
So why was Jack sitting out here, sleeping in his car? Because there was evidence that not everything added up at Walsh Enterprises. And it was his job to find out who was responsible.
Jack sat up in his seat and checked his watch. It was after 6:00 a.m. The sun was coming up over the ranch. It was a peaceful scene. To his right in the fenced pasture young foals chased each other in the ankle-high grass. A chestnut stallion whinnied and pranced around, his hoof scraping the ground in impatience at the mare on the other side of the fence.
“I know how you feel, old boy,” Jack murmured. His own social life was pretty much nonexistent. Not that it was ever much to begin with. Not with him sitting alone in a car too many nights during stakeouts. Good thing he didn’t believe in long-term relationships. Love and romance didn’t go with his business. So that pretty much left him out in the cold.
Still, his thoughts turned once again to the pretty Willow. She sure lived up to her name. Tall and slender with those big china-blue eyes. Skin as pale and smooth as a baby’s. His fingers flexed with an urgency to touch her that surprised him.
Suddenly there was a rap against his window and he jumped. He jerked around to discover the woman in his daydream standing next to his car.
He turned the key and hit the button to lower the glass. “Is there a problem, Ms. Kingsley?”
“You know darn well there’s a problem, Mr. Sullivan. What are you doing here?”
“I’m waiting…” He gave her the once-over. This morning, she had on worn jeans and a fitted blue shirt that brought out the color of her eyes. “And enjoying the scenery.” He folded his arms over his chest and tried out an intimidating glare.
She ignored it. “You’re trespassing.” She peered into the interior of his car. Jack knew she was seeing the well-known coffee company’s cups that littered the floor, and last night’s dinner wrappers wadded up on the passenger seat. A total mess, and he didn’t look much better.
“I beg to differ, Ms. Kingsley, I’m not on your property.”
She huffed and marched back to the truck that was parked behind his SUV. Boy, he sure was slipping. He hadn’t even heard her drive up. Mike would rag on him for the rookie mistake. Jack expected Willow to drive off, but she didn’t, instead she made a call on her cell phone.
When she was finished, she got out of her vehicle and came back to him. “For your information, Mr. Sullivan, I called the sheriff. Perhaps you’d rather leave now, before there’s trouble….”
He wanted to show her his kind of trouble all right. She reminded him of Mary Ellen McGowan in fifth grade, who’d gotten pleasure from tattling on him. He shook his head. “You can’t dictate where I park.”
“I can if you’re stalking me.”
“Get over yourself Ms. Hollywood,” he growled. “Or how about telling me where your brother is hiding out.”
Her nostrils flared. “My brother isn’t hiding anywhere. So just leave.”
She was either the best liar, or she didn’t have a clue. “No, I’ll wait for the deputy.”
She made that superior huffing sound again and began to pace. “Why are you so persistent?” She stopped and glared at him. “We already told you everything we know.”
“I’m persistent because it’s important I find your brother…and soon. It’s my job.”
Her gaze locked with his, and he felt a shudder rush through him. Damn. She was a pretty package. Luckily, he was immune to her type.
“Could you at least tell me who wants to see Dean so badly?”
“Will you tell me if you’ve been in touch with him in the past week?”
“No, I haven’t been in touch with Dean.”
Jack frowned.
“It’s true,” she stressed. “Right after you left yesterday, I called his cell phone, but I only got his voice mail. Now, who’s looking for him?”
“I’m not at liberty to say at this time.”
She folded her arms over her breasts and glared.
Before Jack could say anything more, the sheriff’s patrol car pulled up.
“Now, you’re in trouble,” Willow said and marched over to the deputy who had just climbed out of the car. She motioned with her hands as she explained her take on the situation. Like the ranch foreman, the young deputy appeared enamored by Willow Kingsley, too.
He approached Jack’s car. “Sir, would you please step out of the vehicle?”
“Sure, Officer.” Jack opened the door and stood by the car.
“May I see some ID?”
“It’s in my pocket.” He hesitated, then with the deputy’s nod, he pulled out his badge holder and flipped it open to show his ID and driver’s license from the state of Washington.
“I’m going to run this. Stay here.”
“Fine.” Jack leaned against the car door and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Willow, so get used to it. Not until I speak to Dean. Right away if possible.”
Just then the deputy returned. “Okay, no prior warrants.” He handed back Jack’s license.
She dug her fists into her hips. “That’s it, Shawn?”
“Sorry, Willow.” He glanced at Jack. “He’s not on private property. So he’s free to be here.”
“He can’t stay parked out there,” Willow protested as she walked back and forth in front of the kitchen’s French doors the next morning. Her mother and Trevor were seated at the table for breakfast. Willow had no appetite after her confrontation with the P.I.
“Nothing we can do about it,” Trevor offered as he glanced up at Regina Vargas. The young housekeeper set a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. He smiled and thanked her, and his gaze lingered on the pretty, dark-haired Gina as she walked back to the stove.
He sobered and glanced back at Willow. “We’ll need to find Dean so he can explain what’s going on.”
“I called him.” Willow shook her head. “And I got his voice mail. Besides, that’s not going to stop Jack Sullivan right now. What will happen if the media gets wind that a P.I. is snooping around? We’ve more to think about than the tabloids. What about the donations for Kingsley’s Kids, and the summer camp opening in a few weeks?” Years ago her father started a charity to help disadvantaged kids. It was his way of dealing with the demons of his own dismal childhood.
Molly Kingsley stood. “It’s going to be all right, Willow. I’m sure Dean will straighten this all out when he calls.”
Willow smiled. That was her mom, the eternal optimist.
“Besides,” Molly continued. “We’ve nearly reached our sponsorship goal for the camp.”
True, but Willow knew how easily a charity could lose funding because of bad press. Ever since Matt Kingsley’s death, she and her mother had had some difficultly rebuilding financial aid for the project.
Willow had promised her father she would keep the camp going. It was also close to her mother’s heart, just what Molly needed to fill her time. And with a lot of hard work, it was finally coming true. This was the first time in two years the Kingsley’s Kids Camp was able to open their doors again.
She couldn’t let Jack Sullivan distract her from her goal.
“If word gets around of a P.I. looking for Dean, it could ruin everything.”
Her mother stared through the glass toward the road where the SUV was parked. “Then we need to disguise Mr. Sullivan.” She turned and looked at her daughter, then at Trevor. “So he’s not as noticeable.”
“I’d like to hide him out back in the manure pile,” Trevor said, giving up on his breakfast.
Molly smiled brightly. “Close, but why not put him to work while he’s hanging around waiting for Dean? I mean, you can use some help, right, Trevor?”
Willow blinked. “Sure, but Sullivan doesn’t look the type who knows much about the workings of a ranch.”
“He looked pretty buff to me.” Molly grinned mischievously. “He can lift and tote.”
Willow blinked. “Mother, surely you can’t be thinking of hiring him? Of bringing him onto the property?”
“It’s a lot better than having him parked out there drawing attention.”
“What makes you think he’ll agree to do it?” Willow asked.
“Because he wants to find Dean,” Molly said. “And I want to learn more about what kind of trouble my son is in.”
Willow didn’t want any stranger hanging around, but she liked it even less that this particular man was literally camped on their doorstep. “First, I’ll have Jack Sullivan checked out. Then, and only then, will I consider going along with this crazy idea.”
“It isn’t crazy if it protects our family,” her mother said.
Willow had grown up in the spotlight. She wasn’t sure anything could protect them.
CHAPTER TWO
“IT NEVER RAINS in Southern California,” Jack murmured as he squinted through the water-sheeted windshield. “Not in the summertime, anyway. Yeah, right.” It had been drizzling most of the night and half the day.
As a Seattle native, he should be used to wet weather, but he hated the rain. He leaned back in the seat, wishing this job was over. What he’d hoped would be a quick trip was now dragging out. Maybe he should just cut his losses and try another lead.
Problem was, there were no other leads. He also knew he needed to be less conspicuous. Parking on the edge of the ranch property wasn’t going to surprise the suspect.
Jack rubbed his hand over his face. Last night he’d gotten a room at a motel along the highway, showered and ate some dinner, then made the call to Stan Walsh.
The CEO was impatient. He wanted Kingsley in the worst way. To top it off, it turned out that Dean was romantically involved with the boss’s daughter, Heather. It seemed he’d left her high and dry, too, when he took off. The only thing Kingsley had in his favor was that Walsh didn’t want the stockholders to learn of the…situation, yet. That gave Jack a few weeks to find the man so they could handle the problem quietly…and privately.
Jack tensed. Dean Kingsley couldn’t go unpunished for what he’d done. But in real life guilty men often were set free, especially when they had affluent families to pay for high-powered lawyers to get them off.
Jack knew all too well how that played out, and how the legal system didn’t always work for the average person. It hadn’t for Mike…. His best friend didn’t get justice. His killer walked away a free man.
Jack’s cell phone rang and pulled him out of his reverie. He flipped it open. “Sullivan, here.”
“Mr. Sullivan. It’s Willow Kingsley.”
He sat up straighter. “Hello, Ms. Kingsley. Have you heard from your brother?”
“No, we haven’t, but my mother and I would like to talk with you. Could you come up to the house…for dinner? We have a business proposition for you.”
Her husky voice sent a heated tremor through his body. Business. Remember, she said business. “What time?”
“Six o’clock.”
“I’ll see you then.” He slapped the phone closed. Things were starting to look up.
After a quick trip back to the motel to shave and change into a fresh shirt, Jack managed to make it to the house in the allotted time.
Willow answered the door. Tonight she wore a long blue skirt made out of a gauzy material and a cream-colored peasant-style blouse. She looked soft and feminine. Made him glad he’d managed to freshen up.
Silently she motioned him inside. He stepped across the threshold and into the great room. A stone fireplace took up most of the far wall. Below an open-beamed ceiling was a winding staircase and carved wood railing that exposed the entire length of the second floor. Hardwood planks ran throughout the large area, partly covered by braided rugs and overstuffed, well-used leather furniture.
He glanced at Willow in time to catch a knowing look in those incredible eyes.
“Surprised, Mr. Sullivan?”
“At what?”
“That my family doesn’t live in a Louis the Fourteenth style mansion.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You had a home in Beverly Hills.”
“When my father worked in the business,” she said. “But this was where he wanted to be. Away from all the attention, luxury and the press.” Her stare dared him to comment.
He didn’t.
“Our one consolation was that Dad got to spend his last days here,” she told him. “In the home that he loved.” Tears laced her voice and he hated that it affected him.
“I’m truly sorry for your loss. I’m sure your father found comfort here with his loved ones around.” It was obvious Willow was close to her family. “Was Dean here then?”
She sighed. “Mr. Sullivan…”
“Don’t you think this would be easier if we were on a first name basis? I’m Jack. May I call you Willow?”
Willow hated that the man could be so rude one minute, then the next, flash a smile and expect her to just melt. Well, she’d made that mistake before. Never again.
But she nodded. “All right then, Jack.”
“Okay, Willow, why don’t you tell me about this proposition you have.”
“It was my mother’s idea,” she said. “I’ll let her explain.” She led him through the dining room, past a long table that could seat a dozen people and into a big country kitchen.
The room had honey maple cabinets and shiny black granite countertops. He caught a whiff of something spicy cooking. His stomach growled, reminding him he’d had a packet of peanut butter crackers for lunch.
Off in a corner in front of French doors, Molly Reynolds and the foreman stood at the table. Another young woman in jeans and white blouse was setting the table.
“You’ve met my mother.”
“Hello, Mrs. Kingsley.”
She smiled. “Mr. Sullivan.”
“Please call me, Jack.”
The pretty woman returned his smile. “And everyone calls me Molly.”
The expression on Willow’s face told him she didn’t like the familiarity. He turned his attention to the foreman.
The man eyed him closely. “Sullivan. I’m Trevor Adams, foreman.”
So, Trevor Adams wasn’t going to be his friend. He saw Jack as too much of a threat. “Adams,” Jack said.
“And this is Gina Vargas,” Willow added as the young Hispanic woman looked up from her task. “She keeps the house in order and she’s the best cook around.”
“Gina, I’m looking forward to the meal. It smells great.”
“Thank you,” she said shyly. “Here’s your place.”
“I hope you don’t mind eating in the kitchen,” Molly said.
He grinned. “I’m a kitchen kind of guy. And being a bachelor I’m looking forward to a home-cooked meal.” He waited until the women took their places, then he sat down.
Gina set a tall glass of iced tea at his place. Then she returned with a large casserole filled with bubbling chicken enchiladas. She added bowls of beans, rice and a stack of tortillas.
It began to rain again, and as it sheeted down on the brick patio outside, Molly dished out generous portions of food and handed the first to Jack, then did the same for the others. He added his own beans and rice, then dug in.
There was some polite conversation about the weather and then came the questions.
“How long have you been in business for yourself, Jack?” Molly asked.
“About five years.” He took a drink of sweet tea. “But you already know that…and probably a lot more.” All they’d had to do was read his ad in the Seattle area Yellow Pages, or check his Web site.
Molly gave him an innocent smile. “I thought it was interesting that you were on the Seattle Police Force for three years.”
“You’ve been a busy lady, Molly.”
“If I’ve learned anything from growing up in Hollywood, it’s not to trust many people. Not to take them at face value, anyway. But I can’t take all the credit. My daughter is very thorough.” Her intent gaze held his. “Your ad also states you specialize in white-collar investigations. Does that mean you’re after Dean for a crime?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the particulars of the case. You know your son better than I do. You tell me.”
Willow glared at him. “Dean would never steal….”
Willow braced herself for more questions from the man. Instead Jack just studied her, which was even more disconcerting.
“I never said he stole anything,” he finally said. “The reason I’m looking for him…is just to talk with him.” Jack spoke in between bites. “It’s not an unfair request, especially since he hasn’t been to work in the past week.”
“So it’s his boss from Walsh Enterprises that hired you?”
He took another drink of his tea, ignoring her question. “Since Dean hasn’t been seen at his apartment, logical reasoning would be to think he came to visit his family…especially if he needs help.”
Willow didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t believe that her brother would do anything unethical…certainly not steal money. And she certainly didn’t want to give Jack any more information about the family. It was important that he not learn that Matt Kingsley had cut off the purse strings to his son years ago. Every dime of her father’s estate was tied up in a trust until after Molly’d passed on.
Trevor dropped his fork on his plate. “So you’re going to hang out here and bushwhack Dean when or if he shows up.”
Jack ignored Adams and turned his attention to Willow and Molly. “I’m not playing any games with your family. I’m trying to help. It is imperative that Dean clears something up before it becomes a legal matter.”
“Then let’s help each other,” Molly offered. “We want to keep our lives private, and escape media notice. Having you parked on the edge of the ranch will draw attention.”
“I’m not leaving…”
Molly raised her hand. “We know. So we’re offering you access to our property, and our word that we’ll let you know if Dean contacts us.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed.
“But only if you promise not to tell anyone you’re a private investigator, and pretend that you work here…as a ranch hand.”
He wasn’t sure if Molly Kingsley was kidding or not. “You want me to play cowboy?”
“Maybe. We won’t ask you to bust any wild horses,” Willow said. “But there are other things you can do around the ranch. And we can teach you a few things so you can get by.” She turned to her mother. “A good cover might be that he’s a friend of Dean’s.”
Molly nodded. “I do have one concern. Can you handle about three dozen rowdy kids? Because in a little over a week, we’re reopening our annual summer camp.”
“By then I’ll be out of here.”
“One would hope,” Willow said.
Jack couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, I’ll do it. I mean how hard can it be?”
Jack had held back one bit of information. He actually had spent some time on a working ranch. After he’d been labeled a troubled kid, his mother was more than happy to get rid of her twelve-year-old son for a couple of months. He hated leaving his friends in town to go to a police sponsored summer camp, but in the end he’d enjoyed his time in the country. Back then, he’d considered himself such a badass he wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of knowing he liked anything.
Until Mike got a hold of him. The tough cop refused to put up with a teenager’s foul mouth and bad attitude. Damn. If Mike could see him now. “What goes around comes around,” he’d told Jack so many times.
An hour after dinner, carrying his duffel bag, Jack followed Trevor into the bunkhouse. They entered into a large main room with rough-cedar walls divided up into different areas. In the kitchen area three long tables took up the space.
Along one wall was a huge sofa and two recliners. Two men occupied chairs facing a large television tuned to a baseball game.
“Ted and Larry,” Trevor began. “This is Jack Sullivan. He just hired on and will be bunking here with you.”
Both men greeted him with a wave as Trevor continued the tour, down the hall to the first of three smaller rooms. Here there were four bunks, two already made up. Jack tossed his things on a vacant one next to the window.
“The bathroom is at the end of the hall, bed linens and towels are in the cupboard. Breakfast is at six after the morning chores are finished.”
Jack could see Adams enjoyed playing boss. “When do we get up?”
“About five. The stock gets fed first.”
Jack grinned. “Not a problem. I can handle that.”
The foreman glared at him. “Just follow the rules, Sullivan, and we’ll get along fine.”
“Don’t worry, Adams, I’ll do my part.”
Trevor pushed his hat back on his head. “We’ll see.” He turned to leave when Willow appeared in the doorway. “Willow, is there a problem?”
“No, I came to talk to Jack.”
Trevor studied her for a moment, then shrugged and left them alone.
She glanced around the room, then turned to Jack. “As you can see the accommodations are pretty basic…. Not much privacy, either.”
He’d lived in worse. “It beats sleeping in my car.” He caught a hint of a smile from her as he sat down on the single-sized mattress. “And the bunk is comfortable.”
“My mother had them all replaced just recently.” She moved farther into the room carrying a canvas tote bag. “Of course you aren’t going to get a lot of sleep. And tomorrow will be rough so I thought you might need these.” From the bag she pulled a pair of black boots. They were well-worn, but he could tell they were top-of-the-line. “What’s your size?” she asked.
“Twelve.”
“Then these should fit you.”
He wasn’t sure he should take them. Why was she suddenly being so nice?
She glanced down at his black leather athletic shoes. “We can’t pull this off if you don’t at least look the part.”
He reached for them and kicked off his shoes. He was about to slip one on when he saw the initials MK inside. “These were you father’s.”
She nodded.
He felt like a heel. “I know you don’t want me here, Willow.”
She glanced away. “I told you before we value our privacy.”
“And I have a job to do.”
“You don’t have any proof that Dean is guilty of…whatever.”
“That’s the reason I’m here. To talk to him.”
After a moment she sighed and said, “You’re wasting your time. Dean won’t come here. The ranch wasn’t his favorite place.”
Jack studied her. Before coming to California, he’d done extensive research on the Kingsley family. He knew all about the twenty-nine-year-old Willow’s well-publicized engagement and breakup, and the unauthorized private pictures her ex-fiancé sold to the tabloids. He didn’t blame her for being leery of strangers.
“I give you my word, Willow. I’ll do my best to keep the matter with Dean private…but that’s up to your brother.”
“Just remember we’re giving you this opportunity so the press won’t be involved.”
“Believe me, my client doesn’t want to publicize this situation any more than you do.”
She watched him with those intriguing blue eyes, but her firm jawline showed her determination, her refusal to back down. He knew she’d protect her family no matter what.
Who protected her?
Jack’s job was to find people’s vulnerability. Although Willow Kingsley hid hers well, he’d seen that, too. He’d caught glimpses of her softness, definitely her beauty. Yes, definitely, her beauty wasn’t lost on him. His chest tightened as his body began to stir with awareness.
She finally broke the spell and glanced down at the boots. “You better see if those fit.”
“Right.” Jack busied himself tugging on the boots, then stood to check the fit. The soft leather felt good. “Not bad,” he announced with a smile.
She nodded. “Be sure to wear a long-sleeved shirt and there are extra hats on the rack in the barn. There should be one that fits you.” She glanced around the room again. “If there’s anything else you need, Trevor should be able to get it for you.” She paused. “Good night…Jack.”
She turned to leave and he found himself trying to find a way to stop her. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
Willow paused at the room’s entrance, her full lips parted, hesitating, then she said, “I usually ride most mornings, but you already know that.”
He nodded, unable to forget how graceful she was on horseback. “Then I’ll look for you.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
He frowned. “Wait a minute. I thought we were going to come up with a story that I’m a friend of your brother’s. That way we can talk to each other, and it will also explain my inexperience with horses.”
“You’re right. I just don’t want people to think…” Her pretty face reddened.
“That there’s something between us,” he finished for her, hating that the idea so obviously bothered her.
She nodded. This time she didn’t hide her sadness. “It’s been rough since Dad’s death. Mother has only now been willing to go public with the reopening of the camp. It was important to her—to us that we keep the camp going.”
Jack walked to her. The boots added another inch or so to his six-foot-two height. Her gaze widened as he approached and he wondered where the strong, brassy woman who tried to chase him away had gone. He caught an unguarded glint in her eyes, a hesitant tone in her voice. He knew she didn’t let people see this side often. It made a man feel protective…almost.
“So being Matt Kingsley’s good daughter,” he said, “you took charge and got things going again.”
Willow stiffened, and her eyes flashed. “That’s the thing, Jack. I wasn’t always the good daughter.”
Willow hated that she was actually looking for the man when she walked into the barn early the next morning. Jack Sullivan was trouble. As much as she wanted to believe him, she wasn’t sure he was here to help her brother.
Trust didn’t come easy for her, especially with men.
All she’d ever wanted was to find a love like her parents had. Married for thirty years was a rare thing in Hollywood, or anywhere. She could still see the loving look in her father’s eyes whenever her mother walked into a room.
For years, whenever Matt Kingsley went on location for a movie the media had tried to stir up rumors of an illicit romance. But her parents’ love had survived whatever the tabloid press threw at them.
And Willow had thought she’d found a man who emulated her father, Scott Richfield. Instead, she got someone who wanted the limelight that came along with her famous family…but not her. Only her father’s death had made her realize what kind of man Scott was. At her lowest point he’d hadn’t been there for her and in the end he’d betrayed her. And after all this time, it still stung.
Willow walked through the barn doors, and down the aisle to Dakota’s stall. “Good morning, old guy,” she crooned to the raven-black quarter horse that had been her father’s faithful companion.
The horse tossed his head, then came to the gate for some attention. She rubbed his forehead. “You want to go for a run this morning?”
He whinnied in response, and she went to the end of the barn to the tack room. That’s where she found Jack. She gasped. “Sorry, I didn’t expect anyone to be in here.”
Jack looked up from cleaning a saddle with a chamois cloth. “Trevor wants all the tack cleaned and oiled.”
That was true, but she sympathized with his being stuck here all day in the tiny room. “So how did the morning go with everyone?”
He shrugged. “Not bad. I met the other ranch hands at breakfast, and Larry took me out to help feed the horses. After that Trevor handed me this assignment.”
Okay, she might have to talk with Trevor. She went to the wall and took down a bridle, then reached for her saddle.
“How about a reprieve?” Jack asked as he stood and came to help her.
She paused. “I thought you agreed to this.”
“I agreed to play the part of a ranch hand, not be locked away in a room all day.”
Willow turned to the man who was dressed in Levi’s and a long-sleeved denim shirt. She noticed he had on the boots she’d given him. He looked as though he belonged here. But he didn’t and she had to remember that.
“Since you don’t know much else…” She began to lift her saddle, but he stepped in.
“I have a confession to make.” He took the saddle from the stand, then followed her out of the room and back to Dakota’s stall. “When I was twelve, I spent a summer on a ranch.”
“What else have you neglected to tell us, Mr. Sullivan?”
He placed the saddle on the bench and his dark eyes locked with hers. “That’s pretty much it.”
She nodded. “Then I guess we both can get to work.”
He cocked his thumb toward the tack room. “Come on, Willow, you can’t send me back in there.”
“It’s not my call,” she told him. “Trevor probably had a good reason for putting you to work there.”
“You’re the boss. You make the rules.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Maybe I should just ask what job you’d like.”
He braced his shoulder against the post and grinned. “Okay, I’d like to go riding with you.”
She couldn’t hide her surprise. “You’re kidding, right?”
He just kept on smiling. “What can I say? I like playing cowboy.”
“Riding a horse can be dangerous. You need to know what you’re doing.”
“It’ll come back to me.”
She opened the stall door. “I can’t risk it.”
“Can’t or won’t?” he asked. “I’ve done what your mother asked. Aren’t all the other hands going to wonder why I’m stuck in the tack room? At least let me prove that I can handle a horse.”
Willow hated to admit it, but he was right. He was trying to cooperate. Her problem was she didn’t want him here at all.
She latched the stall. “Follow me,” she told him and marched down the aisle. She stopped three stalls away where a gray gelding was housed. “This is Cisco. He’s pretty gentle.” She patted the animal’s forehead. “He’ll be your mount.”
“You’re serious?” He reached out and stroked the horse’s neck, impressing her with his ease around the animal. “You’re going to let me ride.”
“Only if you can tack up your own horse. Do you think you can?”
He grinned again and her pulse soared.
“If it will get me out of the barn, I’m willing to give it a damn good try.”
“Okay, but don’t think you’re going to get out of working. All the hands carry their weight.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with another of his disturbing grins.
Willow didn’t want to find him disturbing. “Good, because the tack will be waiting for you when you get back.”
She turned and walked away, hearing him chuckle behind her. The sound made her smile, too.
But inside, Willow knew that this man was a threat to her and her family. All the time he was here he would be watching them. She had to be vigilant. Jack Sullivan was a man with a mission. He would throw her brother to the wolves if need be.
Twenty minutes later Jack grabbed a straw cowboy hat off a peg and led a saddled Cisco out of the barn. So far so good, he thought. He was enjoying himself. Something he hadn’t done in a long time.
He found Willow in the corral. She was bending over, checking her horse’s front hoof. He couldn’t help but notice how nicely her jeans fit over her rounded bottom and legs.
He quickly shook away the direction of his thoughts. He needed to keep his focus on the job. That made Willow Kingsley off-limits.
Willow released the horse’s leg and straightened. “Well, that didn’t take too long.” She walked around Cisco, checking how well Jack had done saddling the animal.
She took hold of the stirrup and tossed it over the saddle to check the cinch. Pushing on the horse’s side, she tested to see if the strap was tight enough. It was.
She eyed him. “So, you learned Cisco’s trick.”
He adjusted his hat. “You mean when he holds his breath until you think the cinch is tight, then lets it’s out when you try to mount and your saddle slips? Yeah, I did. He isn’t the only horse who pulls that. So do I pass the test?”
“Let’s see how you handle him.”
Jack glanced around and found they had an audience. A few of the ranch hands had gathered to watch. Then Trevor came out of the barn and walked toward them. “Hey, Sullivan. I thought I left you cleaning tack.”
Willow stepped forward. “I’m the one who relieved Jack of the job.”
The foreman frowned. “Willow, do you think this is a good idea?”
“What’s so unusual about a ranch hand riding?” Willow asked. “Seems Jack already knows how.”
Adams looked angry. “You don’t say,” he said through clenched teeth.
Jack really didn’t want to make an enemy of the man, but he wasn’t about to back down, either. “It was a long time ago, so Willow offered to help me with a refresher lesson.”
The foreman turned back to Willow. “I can assign Larry to him.”
She shook her head. “They all have work to do today. And so do you. I thought you were going to the Carson place to check on the extra saddle horses.” She looked at Jack. “We have neighbors who are willing to loan us some mounts for the camp. We want to be sure we have enough horses for all the kids.”
“That’s a lot of animals to feed and care for.”
“And it’s the reason we can’t have any distractions,” Trevor told him. “Everything needs to be in place before the kids arrive at the end of next week.”
Willow stepped in between the two men. “Then you better get going, Trevor. And be sure to thank Mimi Carson for me.”
“Will do,” Trevor said, tossing another warning glare at Jack before he stalked off.
“He’s very protective of you,” Jack said.
Willow smiled. “I know. I used to be annoyed by it, but there have been times…that I’ve been grateful.”
“Like when I showed up.”
She tipped back her cowboy hat and exposed her face to the warm sun. “Maybe. If you’d done any research, you’d know that Trevor Adams is family. His father, Sligh Adams, was my dad’s stunt double and best friend. Trevor and I practically grew up together. He’s like a brother.”
“Are you sure Adams thinks of you as his sister?” Jack asked. And would the man’s loyalties go so far as to hide Dean? he added silently.
Her smile disappeared. “That’s an old tabloid story, Mr. Sullivan. So if you’re trying to dig up dirt—”
“No,” he interrupted her. “I apologize, I have no right to speculate on your private life.”
“That’s right, you don’t. You know nothing about who I am, or who any of the Kingsleys are.”
Seeing the hurt in her eyes, he wished for once he’d kept his mouth shut.
“Here’s another rule,” she began. “From now on, my personal life is off-limits…unless it pertains to finding Dean. If you can’t agree to that, our deal is off.”
She didn’t leave him much choice. He nodded. “I agree. Your personal life is off-limits.” He took a step closer. “But all bets are off if I discover you’re keeping information about Dean’s whereabouts from me.”
CHAPTER THREE
WILLOW HATED THE FACT that Jack could handle a horse so well. But no doubt the man was good at a lot of things.
“You never told me how a city kid ended up on a ranch,” she asked.
He gave her a sideways glance, and mostly kept his eye on what he was doing as they rode along the trail. “I thought we weren’t going to get personal.”
“I didn’t know asking you how you learned to ride was all that personal,” she said.
“Truth is, I’d gotten into some trouble in my youth. I was running around with some wild kids and we got caught shoplifting. I was offered camp for the summer.”
She raised an eyebrow. “So you were a budding juvenile delinquent.”
“You could say that. My mother was ready to give up on me.”
“What about your father?”
“Wasn’t in the picture…hadn’t been for a long time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not a big deal. I survived just fine.”
Willow wondered about that. She’d always taken her caring parents for granted. She also knew how much she missed her father now. How could a young boy cope with that kind of void in his life?
“Seems to me a child needs both parents,” she said.
His expression was stony. “Not all of us had a fairy-tale life.”
Her back straightened. “I really get tired of hearing that. You know appearances can be deceiving.” She kicked Dakota’s sides and shot off in a run. She needed time alone, time not filled with another man judging her.
Jack wanted to ride after her, but he’d never catch up, nor would she be happy if he tried. They both had probed a little too deep. He usually didn’t talk about his past. It was nobody’s business. He couldn’t change it, so no use crying about it. That was what Mike always told him when he’d start feeling sorry for himself. He missed his partner’s wisdom, their talks.
Jack watched Willow as she circled the meadow, letting Dakota run at will. No doubt she could handle the large stallion. He liked that about her. Her strength. She would use it to defend her family, too.
He suspected Dean hadn’t inherited the same trait. Was he guilty of a crime? Why would Matt Kingsley’s son have to steal? The family had to be loaded, or was it just a game to the computer wizard?
“If that’s so, Dean, old boy, your family will be the ones who get hurt,” he murmured.
Willow’s yellow hair fanned out as she leaned low over the horse’s neck. The stallion picked up speed as it and its rider did one more pass, then finally slowed and trotted up next to him.
“That was quite a show,” he said.
She patted the horse’s sweaty neck and tried to catch her breath. “Dakota loves to run. Even at eighteen he hasn’t slowed down.”
They walked together for a minute. Jack glanced around the seemingly endless acres of green meadow, skirted by the mountain range and he shifted in the saddle. Cisco made him look good, and responded readily to the slightest command. “This is quite a backyard you have here.”
Willow sighed. “I know. It’s perfect. And developers think so, too.”
“I expect the land is pretty valuable.”
“Well, seven hundred acres is probably too much for just Mom and me.”
The horses moved with a slow, easy rhythm. “But not with the kid’s camp.”
She shrugged. “It’s only open a few weeks out of the summer. I suppose we should be doing much more than just that, but…”
“What about running cattle?”
“We used to have a small herd at one time. Back when Dad filmed westerns here.” She pointed off toward the mountains. “In fact, the movie set still exists out there.”
“You’re kidding. You actually have your own western town with a jail and a saloon?”
“And a one-room school house and a church.” Her smile faded. “Then when my father got sick, he couldn’t work…. So he concentrated on the camp.”
“That has to be an expensive undertaking.”
“Yes, but Dad was good at getting financial sponsors.”
“Enough to keep it going now?”
She shot him a sideways glance. “I don’t like where this is leading.”
“It’s not leading anywhere. It’s just conversation.”
She didn’t seem to accept his explanation. “Are you accusing my brother of stealing—”
He raised a hand. “I’m not accusing him of anything. I was just curious as to how you keep the camp going?”
“For one thing, the ranch is ours free and clear. And Mother and I work hard to get funding to reopen the camp.”
“Sounds like a big undertaking.”
“But well worth it.” She seemed to relax and smile. Jack had trouble concentrating on business. Willow nodded toward Cisco.
“How are you feeling? Tired?”
Every one of Jack’s muscles ached but he wasn’t about to share that with her. “Not bad.”
“Good.” She looked ahead toward a group of trees. “I have something to show you if you can keep up.”
He caught a glimmer of humor in her eyes. “Is that a challenge?”
“Maybe,” she called as she kicked Dakota into a run.
When Jack spurred Cisco, the horse responded and took off after her.
With Willow in the lead, they made it to the edge of what looked exactly like the main street of an old western town.
“Welcome to Liberty.” Willow climbed down from Dakota and walked the animal to the hitching post, then went to the side of the building, turned on a spigot and water came out the end of the hose. She dragged it out to the street and began to fill a nearby trough.
Jack swung his leg over Cisco’s back, feeling every muscle in his body cry for mercy.
“You still okay?” Willow asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He looked around. He’d never been much of a movie buff, but even he remembered the famous television miniseries about an older sheriff hired to tame a lawless town. Of course, it had starred Matt Kingsley.
Willow brought the hose to her lips and took a long drink, then handed it to Jack. “Drink up. It’s spring water.”
“None of that fancy bottled water for you, huh?”
She smiled again. “Nothing tastes better than this.”
He drank deep. She was right. “Very good.”
They left the horses at the trough and headed down the main street. “I feel like I should be wearing a gun and spurs.” He tilted his hat back and looked at the two story weathered structures. “Are the buildings finished inside, too?”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/patricia-thayer/wedding-bells-at-wandering-creek/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
Patricia Thayer
P.I. Jack Sullivan, black-eyed and dark-hearted, is at Wandering Creek Ranch on official business–business that doesn't include falling for the striking blonde who tries to throw him off her land….Willow Kingsley's ranch in the Hollywood Hills is her sanctuary. She'll fight the gorgeous stranger and protect her own. What she doesn't realize is that Jack's on her side, and when she's in his arms he'll do everything in his power to keep her safe….
He leaned closer to her and smiled. Willow could see the stubble along his strong jaw, the long lashes that framed his brown eyes—dangerous eyes that held a suggestion of surprising sadness, too.
“I’m not so bad…when you get to know me,” he added.
Wrong. She’d known Jack Sullivan for only a few days, but she’d recognized trouble the second she’d looked at him. She took a deep breath. “Getting to know you isn’t in our agreement.”
He leaned closer. “Not everything has to be by the book…Willow.”
His husky whisper of her name shot a shiver down her spine. She had to break free of her attraction to this man.
Dear Reader,
It was a pleasure to set Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek Ranch in my state of California, where I’ve lived for the past thirty-five years. I hope to show you another side of the Golden State—not just the bustling Los Angeles area, but the open land and small ranches that are tucked away along the beautiful coastal mountains.
I used this picturesque setting as the backdrop for my story. My heroine grew up with famous movie star parents who valued their privacy and wanted to raise a family outside the prying eyes of Hollywood.
In the story, Willow Kingsley wants to continue the dream of her deceased father, actor Matt Kingsley, who worked with underprivileged children. Her goal is to reopen Kingsley’s Kids’ Camp at the ranch, but when private investigator Jack Sullivan shows up looking for Willow’s brother, it could ruin everything. She has to do something to disguise him, so she turns him into a ranch hand.
I hope you enjoy visiting the Wandering Creek Ranch and the people who live and work there…especially the cowboys.
Thanks for reading,
Patricia Thayer
www.patriciathayer.com
Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek Ranch
Patricia Thayer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
In the cowboy’s arms…
Imagine a world where men are strong and true to their word…and where romance always wins the day! These rugged ranchers may seem tough on the exterior, but they are about to meet their match when they meet strong, loving women to care for them!
If you love gorgeous cowboys and Western settings, this miniseries is for you!
Look out for more stories in this miniseries, only from Harlequin Romance
.
Next month in WESTERN WEDDINGS:
JUDY CHRISTENBERRY
Coming Home to the Cattleman
To Mom,
You were always there with your love and support.
Even if I don’t say it, I hope you know
how much I appreciate you…. So now am I your favorite?
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
SHE LOOKED LIKE every man’s fantasy.
Jack Sullivan peered through the grove of oak trees at the woman on horseback. Tall and slender, she rode the large, coal-black stallion with surprising ease. Caught by the breeze, her long wheat-colored hair lifted off her shoulders with each graceful stride. Her slender, jean-clad legs cradled the sides of the horse as they moved through the grassy meadow.
Too bad he wasn’t hired to find Willow Kingsley.
Off in the distance, a rocky hillside fringed the seven hundred acres of the Wandering Creek Ranch. Who would have thought an oasis like this existed just thirty miles from Los Angeles? But this ranch was the home of a movie star couple, onetime child star Molly Reynolds and the late western star Matt Kingsley. Their union had produced two children, a son, Dean…and their daughter, Willow.
And Jack was hoping big sister could tell him where to find brother Dean.
A smile appeared on Willow’s pretty face as the stallion bobbed its head up and down, protesting her control. She tugged on the reins. “So, you’re feeling frisky this morning.”
Her voice had a smoky quality, and suddenly, Jack wasn’t thinking about business, or about why he’d driven all the way from Seattle to Southern California. Those sultry, whispery tones made him forget that he’d been staking out the ranch for the past twenty-four hours, hoping he’d get lucky and Dean Kingsley would come home to his family. Right now, all Jack could imagine was sister Willow; those long legs, that voice, that…
The stallion whinnied and Jack redirected his attention to the meadow and found Ms. Kingsley was looking at him.
He’d been discovered.
She held her ground and stared back at him. She didn’t look happy.
Jack decided since he was on the other side of the electronic fence he wasn’t breaking any laws. That wasn’t to say as a private investigator he hadn’t stretched them a few times. He was used to using any means necessary to locate his suspect.
And he needed to find Kingsley before time ran out…for everyone.
“I would like to talk with you, Ms. Kingsley,” he called.
“I don’t talk to people who sneak around our property.”
“Technically, Ms. Kingsley, I’m not on your property. And I’ll leave right away, once you tell me how to find your brother, Dean.”
That drew a stronger glare. She just tugged the rein, turned the horse and galloped off.
“Well, you blew that one royally,” he chided himself. He prided himself on handling people with charm and wit. Mike had always said, Jack could con the best of them. An image of Mike, his onetime partner and friend flashed in his head.
“I’m not losing my touch, Mike,” he muttered as he hiked back to his SUV. “I’m still going to get my man. It just might take a while longer.”
An hour later, after she’d finished brushing down Dakota and putting him into his stall, Willow came out of the barn. She usually enjoyed her morning rides, but today’s incident had unnerved her a little.
Since her father’s death two years ago, the media had left her and her mother alone, and Willow had hoped they’d forgotten about the Kingsley family entirely. But she supposed the reopening of the summer camp was bound to bring out the press again.
On the way to the house, she stopped short when a black SUV pulled into the circular drive, parked, and the stranger from the pasture got out of his car and started toward the porch.
“Don’t take another step,” she called out and hurried her pace.
The tall, rangy man turned around and had the nerve to smile. “Hello, Ms. Kingsley. I never got the chance to introduce myself. I’m Jack Sullivan.”
Willow ignored the intruder’s attempt to charm her. “I don’t care who you are, only that you’re trespassing.”
She glanced toward the foreman’s quarters. Where was Trevor? It was his job to keep the gate to the road locked so people couldn’t invade their privacy.
“If you leave now, Mr. Sullivan, I won’t report to the sheriff that you’ve been stalking me.”
“I’m not stalking you, or anyone.” He frowned. “As I tried to explain earlier, I’m looking for Dean Kingsley. My business is with him.”
Willow didn’t recognize the man who was asking about her brother. He looked to be in his midthirties. He was lean, but a black T-shirt revealed a well-developed chest and broad shoulders, only partially hidden under a rust-colored lightweight jacket. Fitted jeans covered his long legs. She felt a shiver of awareness stir inside her, but quickly shook it off.
“My brother doesn’t live here, so please leave. Now. You aren’t welcome.” She waved toward the road that led back to the Southern California freeway.
“Oh, but, I have been welcomed…by Mrs. Kingsley. She let me in the gate. She’s who I’m here to see.”
Jack took another step toward the house. He wasn’t going anywhere until he at least had a chance to talk to his suspect’s mother.
“Willow?” A petite woman appeared in the doorway.
“Mother, it’s okay,” her daughter said. “This man was just leaving.”
So this was Hollywood’s famous child star, sweet Molly Reynolds. The young starlet who had once stolen playboy actor Matt Kingsley’s heart.
Today, she was in her midfifties, her brown hair styled short around a still-pretty face. She wore a pair of jeans and a Western-cut blouse over her trim figure. She had the same blue eyes as her daughter, but hers held a sadness that affected even a hard-hearted man like himself.
Jack smiled. “Mrs. Kingsley. As I explained over the intercom at the gate, I’m Jack Sullivan, a private investigator.” He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a business card. He handed it to her as Willow went to her mother’s side. “I tried to tell your daughter…earlier, I’m looking for your son, Dean.”
Molly shook her head. “We haven’t seen Dean in so long. He’s been living and working in Seattle for quite a while now.”
“I tried to tell him, Mother, but Mr. Sullivan is insistent.” Willow glared at him. “Sorry, we can’t help you.” She paused. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…”
Jack held his ground. Dean Kingsley wasn’t getting off just because he came from famous parents and money. No, Jack wasn’t about to let that happen again.
“Mrs. Kingsley, do you have an address? Or could you at least tell me the last time your son was home? Does he call you?”
A hint of a smile appeared on the older woman’s face. “Dean called last month. He never forgets my birthday.”
Did the dutiful son have his family snowed, too? “Other than Seattle or here could you think of another place Dean would go?”
She hesitated. “Is my son in trouble, Mr. Sullivan?”
“I won’t lie to you, Mrs. Kingsley. The CEO of Walsh Enterprises, your son’s employer, hired me to find Dean. As of right now, we only want to talk with him.” Jack hoped his honesty would gain him an ally.
Mother and daughter exchanged a worried look. “I have your card,” Molly said, “so I’ll call if I hear anything.”
Jack didn’t know whether to believe her or not, but he couldn’t do much more than smile at them. “I look forward to hearing from you. Please don’t hesitate to call that number.”
Out of the corners of his eye, Jack caught sight of a man coming from the barn. When he reached the porch, he raised his fingers to his hat in greeting to the ladies. “Is there a problem, Willow?” The man eyed Jack closely.
“It’s all right, Trevor,” she told him. “Mr. Sullivan is just leaving.”
Don’t count on it. “I’m not going far…until I find Dean.”
The man named Trevor exchanged a knowing look with Kingsley’s sister. “I’ll make sure he’s escorted through the gate.”
Jack waited as Willow and her mother went through the door to the house.
“I don’t know what your game is, Sullivan,” Trevor began, “but you can’t just walk onto posted private property.”
“I didn’t just walk on, I was invited in by Mrs. Kingsley.” An easy smile played on Jack’s lips as he eyed the man, who was about the same age as himself.
Trevor didn’t back down. He straightened to his height of about six feet. “That problem is about to be corrected real soon. And I suggest you don’t try to get invited back.”
The foreman walked Jack to his SUV. He climbed in and started the engine, and backed away from the rustic home of cream-colored stucco, with the stone facade and dark green trim. It hadn’t been the mansion he’d expected for Hollywood’s royal couple, and pictures of Willow Kingsley didn’t do her justice. Nor had he expected her to be so feisty.
Jack put the car into gear and headed back down the road, passing by the big white barn and corral. The gravel lane was edged with grand oak trees along the white split rail fencing that lined the entrance of the ranch. He glanced in his rearview mirror to see Trevor talking with another man.
Soon a truck was following behind him. No problem, Jack was still going to locate Kingsley. He drove under the archway that read Wandering Creek Ranch.
He was sure they were trying to hide something, as sure as he was of his own name. And he just had to find out what…or who.
After lunch, Willow left her mother in the office working on the vendors list for the summer camp. She went upstairs to make her own call. Although Molly had tried to hide it, she’d been bothered by Mr. Sullivan’s inquiry about Dean.
Dean hadn’t exactly been the ideal son. Willow never placed all the blame on her brother. It was hard to live up to a movie icon father.
A rush of sadness washed over Willow at the memory of her father. Not just because he’d been a famous movie actor, but because of his presence. Big and strong, he was every woman’s ideal man. Even though Matt Kingsley had been portrayed for years as a womanizer, everything changed the second he met Molly Reynolds. Even with the eighteen-year-difference in their ages, they’d stayed faithfully married for thirty-three years…until Matt’s death two years ago.
But father and son had had some differences over the years and her brother still felt he’d always be in his father’s shadow.
That was the main reason Dean didn’t live at the ranch. He went off to work in the Pacific Northwest, hoping it was far enough away that the media would think he wasn’t newsworthy anymore.
Willow walked into the bedroom that had been hers since childhood. It had gone through several transformations, most recently in different shades of soft blues. At the desk, she went through her Rolodex to find Dean’s number, picked up the phone and made the call to Seattle. After three rings her call was answered by his voice mail.
“Dean. It’s Willow. We haven’t heard from you in a while. I need to talk to you. Please, give me a call.” She paused. “It’s important. Love ya, bye.”
She hung up and her thoughts returned to Jack Sullivan. She hated the fact that she’d even noticed his dark good looks. It wasn’t that she hadn’t encountered handsome men before. But Sullivan wasn’t your pretty boy Hollywood type. First of all, his nose had been broken, leaving it slightly off center. She doubted he’d ever had his thick sable hair styled. What had drawn her attention was that rough chiseled jaw and those deep-set bedroom eyes.
She suddenly felt her body temperature rise and shook her head to clear any more dangerous thoughts. This man was after her brother.
She sighed. “What have you done now, Dean?”
She used to know everything about her brother. He hadn’t been the rough-and-tumble son Matt Kingsley could relate to. Dean never took to sports, and working the ranch had been more Willow’s forte. With Dean it had been computers. Matthew Kingsley’s son was a computer nerd.
It had taken Dean years to finally find his calling. So the move to Seattle and the job with Walsh Industries had seemed to be a perfect fit for him. “What happened, Dean? Why is a P.I. looking for you?”
Willow walked to the bed and sat down. Something told her Jack Sullivan was out to destroy her family. No matter what, she wasn’t about to let that happen.
Jack groaned as he shifted into what he hoped would be a comfortable position. But there wasn’t any, since he was trying to sleep in the front seat of his car.
He hated stakeouts. Nothing to do but wait and think, and struggle against the bad memories that came flooding back.
Memories of one of the few people who’d ever cared about Jack. Mike Gerick. The cop who’d befriended a teenage boy and kept him out of jail. The father figure who’d opened his home to a troubled kid. The man who’d taught him to be a good cop. Mike, who was shot and died in his arms.
What would Mike think about him quitting the force? Jack hoped his friend would give him points for the hard work he’d put into building his P.I. business…now specializing in computer espionage.
So why was Jack sitting out here, sleeping in his car? Because there was evidence that not everything added up at Walsh Enterprises. And it was his job to find out who was responsible.
Jack sat up in his seat and checked his watch. It was after 6:00 a.m. The sun was coming up over the ranch. It was a peaceful scene. To his right in the fenced pasture young foals chased each other in the ankle-high grass. A chestnut stallion whinnied and pranced around, his hoof scraping the ground in impatience at the mare on the other side of the fence.
“I know how you feel, old boy,” Jack murmured. His own social life was pretty much nonexistent. Not that it was ever much to begin with. Not with him sitting alone in a car too many nights during stakeouts. Good thing he didn’t believe in long-term relationships. Love and romance didn’t go with his business. So that pretty much left him out in the cold.
Still, his thoughts turned once again to the pretty Willow. She sure lived up to her name. Tall and slender with those big china-blue eyes. Skin as pale and smooth as a baby’s. His fingers flexed with an urgency to touch her that surprised him.
Suddenly there was a rap against his window and he jumped. He jerked around to discover the woman in his daydream standing next to his car.
He turned the key and hit the button to lower the glass. “Is there a problem, Ms. Kingsley?”
“You know darn well there’s a problem, Mr. Sullivan. What are you doing here?”
“I’m waiting…” He gave her the once-over. This morning, she had on worn jeans and a fitted blue shirt that brought out the color of her eyes. “And enjoying the scenery.” He folded his arms over his chest and tried out an intimidating glare.
She ignored it. “You’re trespassing.” She peered into the interior of his car. Jack knew she was seeing the well-known coffee company’s cups that littered the floor, and last night’s dinner wrappers wadded up on the passenger seat. A total mess, and he didn’t look much better.
“I beg to differ, Ms. Kingsley, I’m not on your property.”
She huffed and marched back to the truck that was parked behind his SUV. Boy, he sure was slipping. He hadn’t even heard her drive up. Mike would rag on him for the rookie mistake. Jack expected Willow to drive off, but she didn’t, instead she made a call on her cell phone.
When she was finished, she got out of her vehicle and came back to him. “For your information, Mr. Sullivan, I called the sheriff. Perhaps you’d rather leave now, before there’s trouble….”
He wanted to show her his kind of trouble all right. She reminded him of Mary Ellen McGowan in fifth grade, who’d gotten pleasure from tattling on him. He shook his head. “You can’t dictate where I park.”
“I can if you’re stalking me.”
“Get over yourself Ms. Hollywood,” he growled. “Or how about telling me where your brother is hiding out.”
Her nostrils flared. “My brother isn’t hiding anywhere. So just leave.”
She was either the best liar, or she didn’t have a clue. “No, I’ll wait for the deputy.”
She made that superior huffing sound again and began to pace. “Why are you so persistent?” She stopped and glared at him. “We already told you everything we know.”
“I’m persistent because it’s important I find your brother…and soon. It’s my job.”
Her gaze locked with his, and he felt a shudder rush through him. Damn. She was a pretty package. Luckily, he was immune to her type.
“Could you at least tell me who wants to see Dean so badly?”
“Will you tell me if you’ve been in touch with him in the past week?”
“No, I haven’t been in touch with Dean.”
Jack frowned.
“It’s true,” she stressed. “Right after you left yesterday, I called his cell phone, but I only got his voice mail. Now, who’s looking for him?”
“I’m not at liberty to say at this time.”
She folded her arms over her breasts and glared.
Before Jack could say anything more, the sheriff’s patrol car pulled up.
“Now, you’re in trouble,” Willow said and marched over to the deputy who had just climbed out of the car. She motioned with her hands as she explained her take on the situation. Like the ranch foreman, the young deputy appeared enamored by Willow Kingsley, too.
He approached Jack’s car. “Sir, would you please step out of the vehicle?”
“Sure, Officer.” Jack opened the door and stood by the car.
“May I see some ID?”
“It’s in my pocket.” He hesitated, then with the deputy’s nod, he pulled out his badge holder and flipped it open to show his ID and driver’s license from the state of Washington.
“I’m going to run this. Stay here.”
“Fine.” Jack leaned against the car door and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Willow, so get used to it. Not until I speak to Dean. Right away if possible.”
Just then the deputy returned. “Okay, no prior warrants.” He handed back Jack’s license.
She dug her fists into her hips. “That’s it, Shawn?”
“Sorry, Willow.” He glanced at Jack. “He’s not on private property. So he’s free to be here.”
“He can’t stay parked out there,” Willow protested as she walked back and forth in front of the kitchen’s French doors the next morning. Her mother and Trevor were seated at the table for breakfast. Willow had no appetite after her confrontation with the P.I.
“Nothing we can do about it,” Trevor offered as he glanced up at Regina Vargas. The young housekeeper set a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. He smiled and thanked her, and his gaze lingered on the pretty, dark-haired Gina as she walked back to the stove.
He sobered and glanced back at Willow. “We’ll need to find Dean so he can explain what’s going on.”
“I called him.” Willow shook her head. “And I got his voice mail. Besides, that’s not going to stop Jack Sullivan right now. What will happen if the media gets wind that a P.I. is snooping around? We’ve more to think about than the tabloids. What about the donations for Kingsley’s Kids, and the summer camp opening in a few weeks?” Years ago her father started a charity to help disadvantaged kids. It was his way of dealing with the demons of his own dismal childhood.
Molly Kingsley stood. “It’s going to be all right, Willow. I’m sure Dean will straighten this all out when he calls.”
Willow smiled. That was her mom, the eternal optimist.
“Besides,” Molly continued. “We’ve nearly reached our sponsorship goal for the camp.”
True, but Willow knew how easily a charity could lose funding because of bad press. Ever since Matt Kingsley’s death, she and her mother had had some difficultly rebuilding financial aid for the project.
Willow had promised her father she would keep the camp going. It was also close to her mother’s heart, just what Molly needed to fill her time. And with a lot of hard work, it was finally coming true. This was the first time in two years the Kingsley’s Kids Camp was able to open their doors again.
She couldn’t let Jack Sullivan distract her from her goal.
“If word gets around of a P.I. looking for Dean, it could ruin everything.”
Her mother stared through the glass toward the road where the SUV was parked. “Then we need to disguise Mr. Sullivan.” She turned and looked at her daughter, then at Trevor. “So he’s not as noticeable.”
“I’d like to hide him out back in the manure pile,” Trevor said, giving up on his breakfast.
Molly smiled brightly. “Close, but why not put him to work while he’s hanging around waiting for Dean? I mean, you can use some help, right, Trevor?”
Willow blinked. “Sure, but Sullivan doesn’t look the type who knows much about the workings of a ranch.”
“He looked pretty buff to me.” Molly grinned mischievously. “He can lift and tote.”
Willow blinked. “Mother, surely you can’t be thinking of hiring him? Of bringing him onto the property?”
“It’s a lot better than having him parked out there drawing attention.”
“What makes you think he’ll agree to do it?” Willow asked.
“Because he wants to find Dean,” Molly said. “And I want to learn more about what kind of trouble my son is in.”
Willow didn’t want any stranger hanging around, but she liked it even less that this particular man was literally camped on their doorstep. “First, I’ll have Jack Sullivan checked out. Then, and only then, will I consider going along with this crazy idea.”
“It isn’t crazy if it protects our family,” her mother said.
Willow had grown up in the spotlight. She wasn’t sure anything could protect them.
CHAPTER TWO
“IT NEVER RAINS in Southern California,” Jack murmured as he squinted through the water-sheeted windshield. “Not in the summertime, anyway. Yeah, right.” It had been drizzling most of the night and half the day.
As a Seattle native, he should be used to wet weather, but he hated the rain. He leaned back in the seat, wishing this job was over. What he’d hoped would be a quick trip was now dragging out. Maybe he should just cut his losses and try another lead.
Problem was, there were no other leads. He also knew he needed to be less conspicuous. Parking on the edge of the ranch property wasn’t going to surprise the suspect.
Jack rubbed his hand over his face. Last night he’d gotten a room at a motel along the highway, showered and ate some dinner, then made the call to Stan Walsh.
The CEO was impatient. He wanted Kingsley in the worst way. To top it off, it turned out that Dean was romantically involved with the boss’s daughter, Heather. It seemed he’d left her high and dry, too, when he took off. The only thing Kingsley had in his favor was that Walsh didn’t want the stockholders to learn of the…situation, yet. That gave Jack a few weeks to find the man so they could handle the problem quietly…and privately.
Jack tensed. Dean Kingsley couldn’t go unpunished for what he’d done. But in real life guilty men often were set free, especially when they had affluent families to pay for high-powered lawyers to get them off.
Jack knew all too well how that played out, and how the legal system didn’t always work for the average person. It hadn’t for Mike…. His best friend didn’t get justice. His killer walked away a free man.
Jack’s cell phone rang and pulled him out of his reverie. He flipped it open. “Sullivan, here.”
“Mr. Sullivan. It’s Willow Kingsley.”
He sat up straighter. “Hello, Ms. Kingsley. Have you heard from your brother?”
“No, we haven’t, but my mother and I would like to talk with you. Could you come up to the house…for dinner? We have a business proposition for you.”
Her husky voice sent a heated tremor through his body. Business. Remember, she said business. “What time?”
“Six o’clock.”
“I’ll see you then.” He slapped the phone closed. Things were starting to look up.
After a quick trip back to the motel to shave and change into a fresh shirt, Jack managed to make it to the house in the allotted time.
Willow answered the door. Tonight she wore a long blue skirt made out of a gauzy material and a cream-colored peasant-style blouse. She looked soft and feminine. Made him glad he’d managed to freshen up.
Silently she motioned him inside. He stepped across the threshold and into the great room. A stone fireplace took up most of the far wall. Below an open-beamed ceiling was a winding staircase and carved wood railing that exposed the entire length of the second floor. Hardwood planks ran throughout the large area, partly covered by braided rugs and overstuffed, well-used leather furniture.
He glanced at Willow in time to catch a knowing look in those incredible eyes.
“Surprised, Mr. Sullivan?”
“At what?”
“That my family doesn’t live in a Louis the Fourteenth style mansion.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You had a home in Beverly Hills.”
“When my father worked in the business,” she said. “But this was where he wanted to be. Away from all the attention, luxury and the press.” Her stare dared him to comment.
He didn’t.
“Our one consolation was that Dad got to spend his last days here,” she told him. “In the home that he loved.” Tears laced her voice and he hated that it affected him.
“I’m truly sorry for your loss. I’m sure your father found comfort here with his loved ones around.” It was obvious Willow was close to her family. “Was Dean here then?”
She sighed. “Mr. Sullivan…”
“Don’t you think this would be easier if we were on a first name basis? I’m Jack. May I call you Willow?”
Willow hated that the man could be so rude one minute, then the next, flash a smile and expect her to just melt. Well, she’d made that mistake before. Never again.
But she nodded. “All right then, Jack.”
“Okay, Willow, why don’t you tell me about this proposition you have.”
“It was my mother’s idea,” she said. “I’ll let her explain.” She led him through the dining room, past a long table that could seat a dozen people and into a big country kitchen.
The room had honey maple cabinets and shiny black granite countertops. He caught a whiff of something spicy cooking. His stomach growled, reminding him he’d had a packet of peanut butter crackers for lunch.
Off in a corner in front of French doors, Molly Reynolds and the foreman stood at the table. Another young woman in jeans and white blouse was setting the table.
“You’ve met my mother.”
“Hello, Mrs. Kingsley.”
She smiled. “Mr. Sullivan.”
“Please call me, Jack.”
The pretty woman returned his smile. “And everyone calls me Molly.”
The expression on Willow’s face told him she didn’t like the familiarity. He turned his attention to the foreman.
The man eyed him closely. “Sullivan. I’m Trevor Adams, foreman.”
So, Trevor Adams wasn’t going to be his friend. He saw Jack as too much of a threat. “Adams,” Jack said.
“And this is Gina Vargas,” Willow added as the young Hispanic woman looked up from her task. “She keeps the house in order and she’s the best cook around.”
“Gina, I’m looking forward to the meal. It smells great.”
“Thank you,” she said shyly. “Here’s your place.”
“I hope you don’t mind eating in the kitchen,” Molly said.
He grinned. “I’m a kitchen kind of guy. And being a bachelor I’m looking forward to a home-cooked meal.” He waited until the women took their places, then he sat down.
Gina set a tall glass of iced tea at his place. Then she returned with a large casserole filled with bubbling chicken enchiladas. She added bowls of beans, rice and a stack of tortillas.
It began to rain again, and as it sheeted down on the brick patio outside, Molly dished out generous portions of food and handed the first to Jack, then did the same for the others. He added his own beans and rice, then dug in.
There was some polite conversation about the weather and then came the questions.
“How long have you been in business for yourself, Jack?” Molly asked.
“About five years.” He took a drink of sweet tea. “But you already know that…and probably a lot more.” All they’d had to do was read his ad in the Seattle area Yellow Pages, or check his Web site.
Molly gave him an innocent smile. “I thought it was interesting that you were on the Seattle Police Force for three years.”
“You’ve been a busy lady, Molly.”
“If I’ve learned anything from growing up in Hollywood, it’s not to trust many people. Not to take them at face value, anyway. But I can’t take all the credit. My daughter is very thorough.” Her intent gaze held his. “Your ad also states you specialize in white-collar investigations. Does that mean you’re after Dean for a crime?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the particulars of the case. You know your son better than I do. You tell me.”
Willow glared at him. “Dean would never steal….”
Willow braced herself for more questions from the man. Instead Jack just studied her, which was even more disconcerting.
“I never said he stole anything,” he finally said. “The reason I’m looking for him…is just to talk with him.” Jack spoke in between bites. “It’s not an unfair request, especially since he hasn’t been to work in the past week.”
“So it’s his boss from Walsh Enterprises that hired you?”
He took another drink of his tea, ignoring her question. “Since Dean hasn’t been seen at his apartment, logical reasoning would be to think he came to visit his family…especially if he needs help.”
Willow didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t believe that her brother would do anything unethical…certainly not steal money. And she certainly didn’t want to give Jack any more information about the family. It was important that he not learn that Matt Kingsley had cut off the purse strings to his son years ago. Every dime of her father’s estate was tied up in a trust until after Molly’d passed on.
Trevor dropped his fork on his plate. “So you’re going to hang out here and bushwhack Dean when or if he shows up.”
Jack ignored Adams and turned his attention to Willow and Molly. “I’m not playing any games with your family. I’m trying to help. It is imperative that Dean clears something up before it becomes a legal matter.”
“Then let’s help each other,” Molly offered. “We want to keep our lives private, and escape media notice. Having you parked on the edge of the ranch will draw attention.”
“I’m not leaving…”
Molly raised her hand. “We know. So we’re offering you access to our property, and our word that we’ll let you know if Dean contacts us.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed.
“But only if you promise not to tell anyone you’re a private investigator, and pretend that you work here…as a ranch hand.”
He wasn’t sure if Molly Kingsley was kidding or not. “You want me to play cowboy?”
“Maybe. We won’t ask you to bust any wild horses,” Willow said. “But there are other things you can do around the ranch. And we can teach you a few things so you can get by.” She turned to her mother. “A good cover might be that he’s a friend of Dean’s.”
Molly nodded. “I do have one concern. Can you handle about three dozen rowdy kids? Because in a little over a week, we’re reopening our annual summer camp.”
“By then I’ll be out of here.”
“One would hope,” Willow said.
Jack couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, I’ll do it. I mean how hard can it be?”
Jack had held back one bit of information. He actually had spent some time on a working ranch. After he’d been labeled a troubled kid, his mother was more than happy to get rid of her twelve-year-old son for a couple of months. He hated leaving his friends in town to go to a police sponsored summer camp, but in the end he’d enjoyed his time in the country. Back then, he’d considered himself such a badass he wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of knowing he liked anything.
Until Mike got a hold of him. The tough cop refused to put up with a teenager’s foul mouth and bad attitude. Damn. If Mike could see him now. “What goes around comes around,” he’d told Jack so many times.
An hour after dinner, carrying his duffel bag, Jack followed Trevor into the bunkhouse. They entered into a large main room with rough-cedar walls divided up into different areas. In the kitchen area three long tables took up the space.
Along one wall was a huge sofa and two recliners. Two men occupied chairs facing a large television tuned to a baseball game.
“Ted and Larry,” Trevor began. “This is Jack Sullivan. He just hired on and will be bunking here with you.”
Both men greeted him with a wave as Trevor continued the tour, down the hall to the first of three smaller rooms. Here there were four bunks, two already made up. Jack tossed his things on a vacant one next to the window.
“The bathroom is at the end of the hall, bed linens and towels are in the cupboard. Breakfast is at six after the morning chores are finished.”
Jack could see Adams enjoyed playing boss. “When do we get up?”
“About five. The stock gets fed first.”
Jack grinned. “Not a problem. I can handle that.”
The foreman glared at him. “Just follow the rules, Sullivan, and we’ll get along fine.”
“Don’t worry, Adams, I’ll do my part.”
Trevor pushed his hat back on his head. “We’ll see.” He turned to leave when Willow appeared in the doorway. “Willow, is there a problem?”
“No, I came to talk to Jack.”
Trevor studied her for a moment, then shrugged and left them alone.
She glanced around the room, then turned to Jack. “As you can see the accommodations are pretty basic…. Not much privacy, either.”
He’d lived in worse. “It beats sleeping in my car.” He caught a hint of a smile from her as he sat down on the single-sized mattress. “And the bunk is comfortable.”
“My mother had them all replaced just recently.” She moved farther into the room carrying a canvas tote bag. “Of course you aren’t going to get a lot of sleep. And tomorrow will be rough so I thought you might need these.” From the bag she pulled a pair of black boots. They were well-worn, but he could tell they were top-of-the-line. “What’s your size?” she asked.
“Twelve.”
“Then these should fit you.”
He wasn’t sure he should take them. Why was she suddenly being so nice?
She glanced down at his black leather athletic shoes. “We can’t pull this off if you don’t at least look the part.”
He reached for them and kicked off his shoes. He was about to slip one on when he saw the initials MK inside. “These were you father’s.”
She nodded.
He felt like a heel. “I know you don’t want me here, Willow.”
She glanced away. “I told you before we value our privacy.”
“And I have a job to do.”
“You don’t have any proof that Dean is guilty of…whatever.”
“That’s the reason I’m here. To talk to him.”
After a moment she sighed and said, “You’re wasting your time. Dean won’t come here. The ranch wasn’t his favorite place.”
Jack studied her. Before coming to California, he’d done extensive research on the Kingsley family. He knew all about the twenty-nine-year-old Willow’s well-publicized engagement and breakup, and the unauthorized private pictures her ex-fiancé sold to the tabloids. He didn’t blame her for being leery of strangers.
“I give you my word, Willow. I’ll do my best to keep the matter with Dean private…but that’s up to your brother.”
“Just remember we’re giving you this opportunity so the press won’t be involved.”
“Believe me, my client doesn’t want to publicize this situation any more than you do.”
She watched him with those intriguing blue eyes, but her firm jawline showed her determination, her refusal to back down. He knew she’d protect her family no matter what.
Who protected her?
Jack’s job was to find people’s vulnerability. Although Willow Kingsley hid hers well, he’d seen that, too. He’d caught glimpses of her softness, definitely her beauty. Yes, definitely, her beauty wasn’t lost on him. His chest tightened as his body began to stir with awareness.
She finally broke the spell and glanced down at the boots. “You better see if those fit.”
“Right.” Jack busied himself tugging on the boots, then stood to check the fit. The soft leather felt good. “Not bad,” he announced with a smile.
She nodded. “Be sure to wear a long-sleeved shirt and there are extra hats on the rack in the barn. There should be one that fits you.” She glanced around the room again. “If there’s anything else you need, Trevor should be able to get it for you.” She paused. “Good night…Jack.”
She turned to leave and he found himself trying to find a way to stop her. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
Willow paused at the room’s entrance, her full lips parted, hesitating, then she said, “I usually ride most mornings, but you already know that.”
He nodded, unable to forget how graceful she was on horseback. “Then I’ll look for you.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
He frowned. “Wait a minute. I thought we were going to come up with a story that I’m a friend of your brother’s. That way we can talk to each other, and it will also explain my inexperience with horses.”
“You’re right. I just don’t want people to think…” Her pretty face reddened.
“That there’s something between us,” he finished for her, hating that the idea so obviously bothered her.
She nodded. This time she didn’t hide her sadness. “It’s been rough since Dad’s death. Mother has only now been willing to go public with the reopening of the camp. It was important to her—to us that we keep the camp going.”
Jack walked to her. The boots added another inch or so to his six-foot-two height. Her gaze widened as he approached and he wondered where the strong, brassy woman who tried to chase him away had gone. He caught an unguarded glint in her eyes, a hesitant tone in her voice. He knew she didn’t let people see this side often. It made a man feel protective…almost.
“So being Matt Kingsley’s good daughter,” he said, “you took charge and got things going again.”
Willow stiffened, and her eyes flashed. “That’s the thing, Jack. I wasn’t always the good daughter.”
Willow hated that she was actually looking for the man when she walked into the barn early the next morning. Jack Sullivan was trouble. As much as she wanted to believe him, she wasn’t sure he was here to help her brother.
Trust didn’t come easy for her, especially with men.
All she’d ever wanted was to find a love like her parents had. Married for thirty years was a rare thing in Hollywood, or anywhere. She could still see the loving look in her father’s eyes whenever her mother walked into a room.
For years, whenever Matt Kingsley went on location for a movie the media had tried to stir up rumors of an illicit romance. But her parents’ love had survived whatever the tabloid press threw at them.
And Willow had thought she’d found a man who emulated her father, Scott Richfield. Instead, she got someone who wanted the limelight that came along with her famous family…but not her. Only her father’s death had made her realize what kind of man Scott was. At her lowest point he’d hadn’t been there for her and in the end he’d betrayed her. And after all this time, it still stung.
Willow walked through the barn doors, and down the aisle to Dakota’s stall. “Good morning, old guy,” she crooned to the raven-black quarter horse that had been her father’s faithful companion.
The horse tossed his head, then came to the gate for some attention. She rubbed his forehead. “You want to go for a run this morning?”
He whinnied in response, and she went to the end of the barn to the tack room. That’s where she found Jack. She gasped. “Sorry, I didn’t expect anyone to be in here.”
Jack looked up from cleaning a saddle with a chamois cloth. “Trevor wants all the tack cleaned and oiled.”
That was true, but she sympathized with his being stuck here all day in the tiny room. “So how did the morning go with everyone?”
He shrugged. “Not bad. I met the other ranch hands at breakfast, and Larry took me out to help feed the horses. After that Trevor handed me this assignment.”
Okay, she might have to talk with Trevor. She went to the wall and took down a bridle, then reached for her saddle.
“How about a reprieve?” Jack asked as he stood and came to help her.
She paused. “I thought you agreed to this.”
“I agreed to play the part of a ranch hand, not be locked away in a room all day.”
Willow turned to the man who was dressed in Levi’s and a long-sleeved denim shirt. She noticed he had on the boots she’d given him. He looked as though he belonged here. But he didn’t and she had to remember that.
“Since you don’t know much else…” She began to lift her saddle, but he stepped in.
“I have a confession to make.” He took the saddle from the stand, then followed her out of the room and back to Dakota’s stall. “When I was twelve, I spent a summer on a ranch.”
“What else have you neglected to tell us, Mr. Sullivan?”
He placed the saddle on the bench and his dark eyes locked with hers. “That’s pretty much it.”
She nodded. “Then I guess we both can get to work.”
He cocked his thumb toward the tack room. “Come on, Willow, you can’t send me back in there.”
“It’s not my call,” she told him. “Trevor probably had a good reason for putting you to work there.”
“You’re the boss. You make the rules.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Maybe I should just ask what job you’d like.”
He braced his shoulder against the post and grinned. “Okay, I’d like to go riding with you.”
She couldn’t hide her surprise. “You’re kidding, right?”
He just kept on smiling. “What can I say? I like playing cowboy.”
“Riding a horse can be dangerous. You need to know what you’re doing.”
“It’ll come back to me.”
She opened the stall door. “I can’t risk it.”
“Can’t or won’t?” he asked. “I’ve done what your mother asked. Aren’t all the other hands going to wonder why I’m stuck in the tack room? At least let me prove that I can handle a horse.”
Willow hated to admit it, but he was right. He was trying to cooperate. Her problem was she didn’t want him here at all.
She latched the stall. “Follow me,” she told him and marched down the aisle. She stopped three stalls away where a gray gelding was housed. “This is Cisco. He’s pretty gentle.” She patted the animal’s forehead. “He’ll be your mount.”
“You’re serious?” He reached out and stroked the horse’s neck, impressing her with his ease around the animal. “You’re going to let me ride.”
“Only if you can tack up your own horse. Do you think you can?”
He grinned again and her pulse soared.
“If it will get me out of the barn, I’m willing to give it a damn good try.”
“Okay, but don’t think you’re going to get out of working. All the hands carry their weight.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with another of his disturbing grins.
Willow didn’t want to find him disturbing. “Good, because the tack will be waiting for you when you get back.”
She turned and walked away, hearing him chuckle behind her. The sound made her smile, too.
But inside, Willow knew that this man was a threat to her and her family. All the time he was here he would be watching them. She had to be vigilant. Jack Sullivan was a man with a mission. He would throw her brother to the wolves if need be.
Twenty minutes later Jack grabbed a straw cowboy hat off a peg and led a saddled Cisco out of the barn. So far so good, he thought. He was enjoying himself. Something he hadn’t done in a long time.
He found Willow in the corral. She was bending over, checking her horse’s front hoof. He couldn’t help but notice how nicely her jeans fit over her rounded bottom and legs.
He quickly shook away the direction of his thoughts. He needed to keep his focus on the job. That made Willow Kingsley off-limits.
Willow released the horse’s leg and straightened. “Well, that didn’t take too long.” She walked around Cisco, checking how well Jack had done saddling the animal.
She took hold of the stirrup and tossed it over the saddle to check the cinch. Pushing on the horse’s side, she tested to see if the strap was tight enough. It was.
She eyed him. “So, you learned Cisco’s trick.”
He adjusted his hat. “You mean when he holds his breath until you think the cinch is tight, then lets it’s out when you try to mount and your saddle slips? Yeah, I did. He isn’t the only horse who pulls that. So do I pass the test?”
“Let’s see how you handle him.”
Jack glanced around and found they had an audience. A few of the ranch hands had gathered to watch. Then Trevor came out of the barn and walked toward them. “Hey, Sullivan. I thought I left you cleaning tack.”
Willow stepped forward. “I’m the one who relieved Jack of the job.”
The foreman frowned. “Willow, do you think this is a good idea?”
“What’s so unusual about a ranch hand riding?” Willow asked. “Seems Jack already knows how.”
Adams looked angry. “You don’t say,” he said through clenched teeth.
Jack really didn’t want to make an enemy of the man, but he wasn’t about to back down, either. “It was a long time ago, so Willow offered to help me with a refresher lesson.”
The foreman turned back to Willow. “I can assign Larry to him.”
She shook her head. “They all have work to do today. And so do you. I thought you were going to the Carson place to check on the extra saddle horses.” She looked at Jack. “We have neighbors who are willing to loan us some mounts for the camp. We want to be sure we have enough horses for all the kids.”
“That’s a lot of animals to feed and care for.”
“And it’s the reason we can’t have any distractions,” Trevor told him. “Everything needs to be in place before the kids arrive at the end of next week.”
Willow stepped in between the two men. “Then you better get going, Trevor. And be sure to thank Mimi Carson for me.”
“Will do,” Trevor said, tossing another warning glare at Jack before he stalked off.
“He’s very protective of you,” Jack said.
Willow smiled. “I know. I used to be annoyed by it, but there have been times…that I’ve been grateful.”
“Like when I showed up.”
She tipped back her cowboy hat and exposed her face to the warm sun. “Maybe. If you’d done any research, you’d know that Trevor Adams is family. His father, Sligh Adams, was my dad’s stunt double and best friend. Trevor and I practically grew up together. He’s like a brother.”
“Are you sure Adams thinks of you as his sister?” Jack asked. And would the man’s loyalties go so far as to hide Dean? he added silently.
Her smile disappeared. “That’s an old tabloid story, Mr. Sullivan. So if you’re trying to dig up dirt—”
“No,” he interrupted her. “I apologize, I have no right to speculate on your private life.”
“That’s right, you don’t. You know nothing about who I am, or who any of the Kingsleys are.”
Seeing the hurt in her eyes, he wished for once he’d kept his mouth shut.
“Here’s another rule,” she began. “From now on, my personal life is off-limits…unless it pertains to finding Dean. If you can’t agree to that, our deal is off.”
She didn’t leave him much choice. He nodded. “I agree. Your personal life is off-limits.” He took a step closer. “But all bets are off if I discover you’re keeping information about Dean’s whereabouts from me.”
CHAPTER THREE
WILLOW HATED THE FACT that Jack could handle a horse so well. But no doubt the man was good at a lot of things.
“You never told me how a city kid ended up on a ranch,” she asked.
He gave her a sideways glance, and mostly kept his eye on what he was doing as they rode along the trail. “I thought we weren’t going to get personal.”
“I didn’t know asking you how you learned to ride was all that personal,” she said.
“Truth is, I’d gotten into some trouble in my youth. I was running around with some wild kids and we got caught shoplifting. I was offered camp for the summer.”
She raised an eyebrow. “So you were a budding juvenile delinquent.”
“You could say that. My mother was ready to give up on me.”
“What about your father?”
“Wasn’t in the picture…hadn’t been for a long time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not a big deal. I survived just fine.”
Willow wondered about that. She’d always taken her caring parents for granted. She also knew how much she missed her father now. How could a young boy cope with that kind of void in his life?
“Seems to me a child needs both parents,” she said.
His expression was stony. “Not all of us had a fairy-tale life.”
Her back straightened. “I really get tired of hearing that. You know appearances can be deceiving.” She kicked Dakota’s sides and shot off in a run. She needed time alone, time not filled with another man judging her.
Jack wanted to ride after her, but he’d never catch up, nor would she be happy if he tried. They both had probed a little too deep. He usually didn’t talk about his past. It was nobody’s business. He couldn’t change it, so no use crying about it. That was what Mike always told him when he’d start feeling sorry for himself. He missed his partner’s wisdom, their talks.
Jack watched Willow as she circled the meadow, letting Dakota run at will. No doubt she could handle the large stallion. He liked that about her. Her strength. She would use it to defend her family, too.
He suspected Dean hadn’t inherited the same trait. Was he guilty of a crime? Why would Matt Kingsley’s son have to steal? The family had to be loaded, or was it just a game to the computer wizard?
“If that’s so, Dean, old boy, your family will be the ones who get hurt,” he murmured.
Willow’s yellow hair fanned out as she leaned low over the horse’s neck. The stallion picked up speed as it and its rider did one more pass, then finally slowed and trotted up next to him.
“That was quite a show,” he said.
She patted the horse’s sweaty neck and tried to catch her breath. “Dakota loves to run. Even at eighteen he hasn’t slowed down.”
They walked together for a minute. Jack glanced around the seemingly endless acres of green meadow, skirted by the mountain range and he shifted in the saddle. Cisco made him look good, and responded readily to the slightest command. “This is quite a backyard you have here.”
Willow sighed. “I know. It’s perfect. And developers think so, too.”
“I expect the land is pretty valuable.”
“Well, seven hundred acres is probably too much for just Mom and me.”
The horses moved with a slow, easy rhythm. “But not with the kid’s camp.”
She shrugged. “It’s only open a few weeks out of the summer. I suppose we should be doing much more than just that, but…”
“What about running cattle?”
“We used to have a small herd at one time. Back when Dad filmed westerns here.” She pointed off toward the mountains. “In fact, the movie set still exists out there.”
“You’re kidding. You actually have your own western town with a jail and a saloon?”
“And a one-room school house and a church.” Her smile faded. “Then when my father got sick, he couldn’t work…. So he concentrated on the camp.”
“That has to be an expensive undertaking.”
“Yes, but Dad was good at getting financial sponsors.”
“Enough to keep it going now?”
She shot him a sideways glance. “I don’t like where this is leading.”
“It’s not leading anywhere. It’s just conversation.”
She didn’t seem to accept his explanation. “Are you accusing my brother of stealing—”
He raised a hand. “I’m not accusing him of anything. I was just curious as to how you keep the camp going?”
“For one thing, the ranch is ours free and clear. And Mother and I work hard to get funding to reopen the camp.”
“Sounds like a big undertaking.”
“But well worth it.” She seemed to relax and smile. Jack had trouble concentrating on business. Willow nodded toward Cisco.
“How are you feeling? Tired?”
Every one of Jack’s muscles ached but he wasn’t about to share that with her. “Not bad.”
“Good.” She looked ahead toward a group of trees. “I have something to show you if you can keep up.”
He caught a glimmer of humor in her eyes. “Is that a challenge?”
“Maybe,” she called as she kicked Dakota into a run.
When Jack spurred Cisco, the horse responded and took off after her.
With Willow in the lead, they made it to the edge of what looked exactly like the main street of an old western town.
“Welcome to Liberty.” Willow climbed down from Dakota and walked the animal to the hitching post, then went to the side of the building, turned on a spigot and water came out the end of the hose. She dragged it out to the street and began to fill a nearby trough.
Jack swung his leg over Cisco’s back, feeling every muscle in his body cry for mercy.
“You still okay?” Willow asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He looked around. He’d never been much of a movie buff, but even he remembered the famous television miniseries about an older sheriff hired to tame a lawless town. Of course, it had starred Matt Kingsley.
Willow brought the hose to her lips and took a long drink, then handed it to Jack. “Drink up. It’s spring water.”
“None of that fancy bottled water for you, huh?”
She smiled again. “Nothing tastes better than this.”
He drank deep. She was right. “Very good.”
They left the horses at the trough and headed down the main street. “I feel like I should be wearing a gun and spurs.” He tilted his hat back and looked at the two story weathered structures. “Are the buildings finished inside, too?”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/patricia-thayer/wedding-bells-at-wandering-creek/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
Patricia Thayer
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
Отзывы: Пока нет Добавить отзыв
О книге: P.I. Jack Sullivan, black-eyed and dark-hearted, is at Wandering Creek Ranch on official business–business that doesn′t include falling for the striking blonde who tries to throw him off her land….Willow Kingsley′s ranch in the Hollywood Hills is her sanctuary. She′ll fight the gorgeous stranger and protect her own. What she doesn′t realize is that Jack′s on her side, and when she′s in his arms he′ll do everything in his power to keep her safe….