The Marriage Agreement. Renee Ryan
came to mind. “Philomena looked rather lovely today, don’t you agree?”
He cocked his head in a look of masculine confusion. “Mrs. Singletary always ensures her companion looks lovely.”
So, he hadn’t been especially taken by Philomena’s considerable charms. Inappropriately pleased by the revelation, Fanny resumed walking, her steps considerably lighter.
They turned at the end of the block and retraced their route. In the past, this was usually when Jonathon revealed whatever was bothering him.
True to form, he blew out a slow hiss of air. “It confounds me how someone can just show up, unannounced, and expect to be given whatever he wants without consequences.”
At the fire in his words, Fanny belatedly remembered the additional name on Mrs. Singletary’s guest list. “Did Judge Greene contact you directly?”
Jonathon’s face tightened at the question. “Are you saying he showed up at the hotel today, too?”
“No, I just assumed...” She shot a covert glance in his direction. “It’s obvious something is troubling you. I thought it might be because Mrs. Singletary added your father to the guest list.”
Jonathon stopped abruptly. “She what?”
Fanny sighed. “You didn’t know.”
“I did not.”
She sighed again. She knew about Jonathon’s personal connection to Joshua Greene only because the judge himself had told her. He’d misunderstood their relationship. Thinking they were more than business associates, he’d approached Fanny about setting up a meeting with his son. When Fanny had gotten over her shock and told Jonathon about the brazen request, he’d been furious. Not with her, with his father.
Her stomach dipped at the memory. “Would you like me to speak with Mrs. Singletary? I could explain the situation, you know, without actually explaining it.”
For a moment, Jonathon’s guard dropped and she saw the vulnerability that belonged to the boy he’d once been—the one who’d been summarily dismissed by his own father.
She thought he might share some of his pain with her, but his eyes became cool and distant. “Leave it alone,” he said at last. “Mrs. Singletary is allowed to invite whomever she pleases to her charity ball.”
They finished the rest of their walk in silence.
At the hotel entrance, Jonathon stopped Fanny from entering by moving directly in front of her. “Before we go in, I have a request.”
She blinked up at him. “You know you can ask me anything.”
“Have you secured an escort for Mrs. Singletary’s ball?”
“I...no.” She shook her head in confusion. “I have not.”
“Good, don’t.”
“Is...” She cleared her throat, twice. “Is there a reason you wish for me to attend the ball alone?”
His lips curved into a sweet, almost tender smile. “You misunderstand. I don’t wish for you to attend alone.”
Oh. Oh, my. Her breath backed up in her lungs. “No?”
“I would like for you to attend with me.” The intensity in his eyes made her legs wobble. “What do you say, Fanny? Will you allow me to escort you to the ball Friday evening?”
Her head told her to refuse. This man was her employer. He’d vowed never to marry. He didn’t want children. No good would come from forgetting those very significant points of contention between them.
But then he took her hand.
She felt dizzy, too dizzy to think clearly. Surely that explained why she ignored caution. “Yes, Jonathon, I would very much like to attend the ball with you.”
* * *
The following morning, Jonathon stood outside his office and tracked his gaze over the crowded hotel lobby. No matter what tactic he employed, he couldn’t seem to concentrate on the scene in front of him. His mind kept returning to his conversation with Fanny after their walk.
He should not have asked her to Mrs. Singletary’s ball. He knew that, but couldn’t seem to regret doing so.
He enjoyed Fanny’s company. Probably more than he should. Certainly more than their business association warranted. From very early on in their acquaintance, she’d made it clear what she wanted out of life—a satisfying job, marriage, children, a home of her own. Jonathon could give her only one of those things, the job.
But there were plenty of men who could give her the rest, some of whom would be in attendance at the ball tomorrow evening.
Fanny, with her luminous smile and stunning face, would enchant each and every one of those potential suitors. She was unique. Special. The kind of woman a man wanted to cherish and protect, always.
Something unpleasant unfurled in Jonathon’s chest at the thought of her sharing even one dance with someone, anyone, other than him.
Shifting his stance, he ground his back molars together so hard his neck ached. He forcibly relaxed his jaw and once again attempted to focus his attention on the hotel.
Again, his mind wandered back to Fanny and how badly he wanted her by his side tomorrow night. Facing his father would be...well, if not easier, certainly less challenging.
Guilt immediately reared up, producing a dull, burning pain in the back of his throat. Jonathon would not use Fanny as a shield between him and his father.
He should let her attend the ball alone. Yet he could not withdraw his invitation at this late date. He’d gotten himself in quite the quandary, with no simple way out.
He was spared from further reflection when his assistant, Burke Galloway, shouldered his way through the milling crowd.
“Mr. Hawkins, you’ll be pleased to know we’re nearly at 100 percent occupancy.”
Jonathon pulled out his watch and checked the time. Not yet noon. He allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. “Mrs. Singletary will be delighted so many of her party guests have taken rooms in the hotel.”
“The discounted rate was a strong incentive.”
“Indeed.” The cut in price had been Fanny’s idea, a way to show off the newly renovated hotel to the locals. He made a mental note to increase her wages yet again.
“I have a few items we need to discuss.” Burke eyed him with a questioning glance. “I trust now is a good time.”
Jonathon nodded.
Burke retrieved a small notepad from an inside pocket of his jacket and proceeded to run through a series of problems that had arisen. When he’d finished, and Jonathon had given his decision on each matter, Burke flipped the page and addressed the final item scribbled in his book.
“As per your request, I’ve prepared the conference room on the second floor for your meeting with the Mitchell brothers this afternoon.” He tapped the page absently with his fingertip. “Your attorney has already sent over five copies of the agreement, one for each person involved in the transaction and an additional copy to file with the county clerk’s office once the sale goes through.”
If the sale goes through.
Hunter, Logan and Garrett Mitchell still had to agree to sell Jonathon the parcel of land they jointly owned north of their family’s ranch. He would pay whatever they asked, no matter how outrageous the price.
Turning the run-down train depot into a premier stop on the busy Union Pacific line wasn’t just another business venture for him. It was a chance to set a new course for his future, a sort of redemption for the mistakes of his past.
Operating on the notion that the Mitchell brothers would be tough negotiators,