The Rancher's Hired Fiancée. Judy Duarte
was ready to give it another go, he didn’t think he’d ever want to get married again.
What a nightmare his marriage had turned out to be.
Of course, if he wanted to have a child, he’d have to reconsider. After all, as the only son of an only son, Ray had no one to leave his ranch and holdings to unless he had an heir. But he was still young—thirty-six on his next birthday—so he had plenty of time to think about having children.
He reached into the shower stall and felt the water growing warm, so he peeled off his clothes and stepped under the steady stream of water. As he reached for the bar of soap, he found Catherine’s lavender-colored razor resting next to it, along with her yellow bath gel.
It was weird to see feminine toiletries in his bathroom again. He’d been living without a woman under his roof for nearly two years, so he’d gotten used to having the place to himself.
Still, he reached for the plastic bottle, popped open the lid and took a whiff of Catherine’s soap. The exotic floral fragrance reminded him of her.
Again he realized that he could get used to coming home to a beautiful blonde like Catherine, to having her ask how his day went, to stepping into her embrace and breathing in her scent. But the Catherine who’d spent the lunch hour with him earlier today wasn’t real.
He’d employed her to be the perfect fiancée, and she was merely doing her job.
Even if he got caught up in the act, if he let down his guard, believing Catherine was different and allowing himself to see her in a romantic light, he’d be making another big mistake.
After all, he’d made up his mind to steer clear of big-city women from here on out—and cities didn’t get much bigger than Manhattan.
Besides, he now realized that he needed someone with both of her feet firmly planted on Brighton Valley soil.
And Catherine was only passing through.
Ray snatched one of the brown fluffy towels from the rack on the wall and dried off. After shaving and splashing on a bit of cologne, he put on his clothes—black slacks and a white dress shirt, which he left open at the collar.
After he’d combed his hair, he removed his black, Western-cut jacket from the hanger and slipped it on. Then he returned to the living room where Catherine waited for him.
She wasn’t watching television this time. She was standing near the window, looking out onto Main Street. She turned when she heard his footsteps, gave him a once-over and smiled. “You look great.”
He didn’t know about that, but he figured people were going to think that they’d planned coordinating outfits.
“Thanks,” he said. “So do you. You’re going to knock the socks off every man at the benefit—married or not.”
“Well, you’re no slouch, Mayor. Especially when you get all dressed up. So maybe I ought to worry about running into a few jealous women tonight.” A slow smile stretched across her face. “I might have to charge hazard pay.”
He chuckled. “There might be a few who’ll be sorry to learn I’m taken, but they’ll be polite about it.” He nodded toward the bedroom door. “I need to get my boots. I’ll be right back.”
Minutes later, he returned to the living room, ready to go.
“So tell me,” Catherine said, as she reached for her small, beaded evening bag. “What made you decide to run for mayor of Brighton Valley?”
“I didn’t actually run for mayor. Six months ago, after a couple of beers down at the Stagecoach Inn, I had a weak moment and agreed to run for a vacant city council seat. I’d never really wanted to get involved in politics, so I almost backed out the next day. But then I realized I might be able to make a difference in the community, so I went through with it.”
“Apparently the citizens of Brighton Valley agreed with you.”
“I guess you’re right, because I won hands down. Then, a few weeks ago, Jim Cornwall, the elected mayor, was trimming a tree in his backyard and fell off the ladder. He suffered a skull fracture, as well as several other serious injuries. He’ll be laid up for some time, so I was asked to fill the position until he returns.”
“That’s quite the compliment,” she said.
“You’re right, which is why I reluctantly agreed. Trouble was, I had enough on my plate already, with a land deal I’m in the midst of negotiating and a new horse-breeding operation that’s just getting under way.”
Then, on top of that, his life had been further complicated by all the single women coming out of the woodwork, now that he was single again. And if there was anything he didn’t need in his life right now, it was more complications—especially of the female variety.
“Something tells me you’ll be able to handle it.”
She was right, of course. Ray Mendez was no quitter. He was also an idea man who could think himself out of most any dilemma.
So here he was, preparing to go to a charity event at the Brighton Valley Medical Center with a hired fiancée, albeit a lovely woman who was sure to make a splash when they walked into the hospital side by side.
Ray had never been one to want center stage, yet he didn’t really mind it tonight, since he knew he’d be in good hands with an accomplished actress. So, with their employment agreement binding them, they were about to make their evening debut.
Now, as he opened the door of his apartment, the curtain was going up and the show was on. He probably ought to have a little stage fright, but he wasn’t the least bit apprehensive.
Catherine, as he’d found out at their matinee performance earlier today, just outside Caroline’s Diner, was one heck of an actress. All he had to do was to follow her lead.
In fact, he was looking forward to being with her tonight, to watching their act unfold.
When it was over, they’d head back to his place. He wasn’t sure what would happen after that. They’d have a debriefing, he supposed. And maybe they’d kick back and watch a little TV.
He really hadn’t given the rest of the evening any thought. Yet something told him he should have. He was finding his hired fiancée a little too attractive to just let the chips fall where they might.
As Catherine and Ray entered the hospital pavilion, which had been decorated with blinking white lights, black tablecloths and vases of red roses, she instinctively reached for his hand.
She wished she could say it had been part of the act, but the truth was, she was having a bit of stage fright—as unusual as that was.
He wrapped his fingers around hers and gave them a conspiratorial squeeze. “Good idea.”
She wished she could have taken full credit for the hand-holding, but she’d done it without any forethought.
During the ten-minute drive from his downtown apartment to the medical center, she’d been so engrossed by the tall, dark and handsome man across the seat from her, so mesmerized by his sexy Texas drawl, that she couldn’t help thinking of this evening as a date, rather than a job. So when they’d entered the pavilion and she’d spotted a sea of strangers, she’d reached for a friend.
At least, that’s the way it had felt at the time.
But he was right; slipping her hand into his had been the perfect move—under the circumstances.
So what if his warm grip was actually comforting and she found herself feeling energized by the connection, strengthened by it.
Ray led her toward a petite Latina who was greeting an older man dressed in a gray suit and bold tie.
“I want to introduce you to Dr. Ramirez,” he said upon their approach. “She’s one of the major players trying to fund a neonatal intensive care unit at Brighton Valley Medical Center.”
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