A Little White Lie Page 6

  Chapter Six

  Stella turned over in bed for the umpteenth time. Frustrated and tired, she doubled up her fist and punched the pillow next to her.

  “What’s wrong with me?” But she knew the answer. Her bed was empty. Why hadn’t she just let JD spend the night? “Because you let your guard down and got too close.” She rolled her eyes. “Great. Now I’m talking to myself.” She turned over once again, almost falling out of the bed with the sudden pounding on her hotel door. “Who the hell could that be?”

  As her feet touched the carpet, she scanned the room for her bathrobe, but it was nowhere to be found. Her hesitation caused the thumping to grow louder.

  “Hold on.” Another look around the room and she gave up. Whoever it was would get a good look at her body through her almost transparent negligee, and right now she didn’t give a flying fuck. She was exhausted, cranky and it was only Sunday.

  As she peered through the peephole her breath caught. JD was standing in the hallway, and by the scowl on his face he wasn’t happy.

  “Crap.” She looked away. He must have spoken to his grandfather.

  “I know you’re there, Stella. Open up.”

  Glancing back at the clock, she saw that it was only seven o’clock in the morning. If he kept this up, he’d wake everyone up. Her hands shook, fingers fumbling with the lock.

  When she pulled the door open, he pushed inside and jerked her into his arms. The brim of his Stetson creased her forehead. She didn’t have time to even take a breath before his mouth captured hers. Every bone in her body went limp when his tongue pushed past her lips. His kiss was demanding and possessive. The caress ended as roughly as it had begun, leaving her stunned.

  “Get dressed.” He didn’t offer a request, but an order.

  “But—”

  “We need to talk…” he paused spearing his fingers through his hair, “…about this thing between us.”

  Excitement and trepidation surged through her veins. She studied his face noticing the dark circles beneath his eyes. Evidently he hadn’t slept any better than she had last night.

  Stella quickly gathered a pair of jeans, socks, a cotton T-shirt and a clean pair of underwear from a drawer, her mind whirling. For some reason she felt shy, so she stepped inside the bathroom to change. Her hands slid beneath the straps of her negligee and tugged it down, cool air caressing her body as the fabric floated to the tile floor. With each piece of clothing she put on, she became more nervous. Where was he taking her and why?

  When she exited the bathroom, JD held up her boots. “You’ll need these.” He pinned his dark glare on her, his gaze traveling from head to toe, making her feel self-conscious.

  Without a word she took the shoes, sat on the edge of the bed and put them on. Damn. She wished he’d stop looking at her like he was the wolf, which left her to be Little Red Riding Hood. Slowly she pushed to her feet. He pivoted on a toe and headed for the door. She followed, grabbing her purse. Silently he opened the door and eased aside to let her pass.

  The hairs on the back of her neck rose. She could feel his steely glare from behind as she walked through the hotel lobby and out the glass doors. Cool, clean mountain air surrounded her. She inhaled deeply. Spying his truck parked in front, she made a beeline for it, wanting to get to the door first and help herself in. Being near him, smelling his spicy cologne, only added to her anxiety. As her hand rose for the truck handle, the locks clicked, startling her. She jerked the door open and climbed inside. JD did the same.

  He crammed the key into the ignition and the engine started. Shifting the truck into gear, he pulled out of the parking space and headed for the street.

  Neither spoke on the trip. The quiet made the time stretch along the winding roads, but when they passed the Rusty Nail, Stella knew exactly where she was. Yet she had no idea where he was taking her until they grew closer to the Toliver’s ranch. Disbelief widened her eyes.

  No way. He wasn’t going to take her home to meet his grandfather, was he?

  JD glanced at her. “I see you recognize this place.” He turned his attention back to the road. “I haven’t been completely honest with you. I’m JD, Jonathan David, named after my grandfather. I recognized the boxes in your car that first night. I know I should have revealed who I was, but I didn’t feel it was important at the moment.”

  So he knew who she was all along. “And now?” she asked.

  “I don’t want anything between us.” For the first time today his expression softened, making her heart flutter. Uneasy laughter preceded “I know it sounds stupid, but it feels so right with you.” Glancing back toward the road, he swallowed hard. His eyes grew serious when they met hers again. “Truth is it’s only a matter of time before I have to take over Toliver’s Western Wear. My grandfather’s health is failing. Believe me, if I could walk away I would, but I can’t.”

  Every muscle in her body tightened. “So what are you saying?”

  “I want to see where this thing between us is going. If it means taking up the reins of the family business earlier than I had planned, then so be it.” He pulled in front of the large ranch-style house and braked, switching off the engine. He faced her. “I just need for you to tell me how you feel. Do I have a chance with you?”

  Chills raced across her arms. She fought back welling tears. Yes, whispered through her mind, but she was still in shock. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. JD cared for her.

  A squeal squeezed from her throat as her door opened and she nearly fell out. Standing outside the truck with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face, Toliver met her surprised stare.

  “Miss Sinclair, it is so good to see you again.”

  It took Stella longer than she cared to admit to compose herself. When she did, she sat erect, clearing her throat. “Mr. Toliver.” She extended him her hand, and instead of shaking it he assisted her from the vehicle. “Purse.” She leaned in and retrieved her bag. Before she knew it she was sandwiched between the two men who ushered her toward the large oak doors leading into their summer home.

  Stepping inside the foyer, JD turned to his grandfather. “Will you show Stella into the dining room? I’ll ask Mary to fix us some breakfast.”

  “Of course.” Toliver weaved his arm through hers. He didn’t say anything, merely escorted her toward a big leather couch. “Sit.”

  She sat, landing on her purse. Using as much decorum as possible, she pulled her bag from beneath her.

  For a moment the old man just stared at her with those eagle eyes. “You’re good,” he finally said with a look of satisfaction that made her stomach churn. For an elderly gentleman he moved with confidence, taking several more strides before sitting in an overstuffed chair across from her. Again he trapped her within his gaze.

  She scooted to the edge of the couch. “Excuse me?” She raised a single brow.

  Propping the heel of his boot across a knee, he eased back, relaxed. “I hadn’t expected my grandson to come around so quickly. He’s quite enamored with you. Of course, you will let him down easily. I will see that you remain on the account for a time. It will be up to you to patch things up with Jonathan and develop a working relationship in the future.”

  Stella was about to tell Toliver he had it all wrong when she heard footsteps. She whipped around to see JD standing in the doorway.

  “You played me.” It wasn’t a question. The icy glare in JD’s blue eyes made her blood run cold.

  She sprang to her feet. “It’s not what it appears to be.” Oh God. This couldn’t be happening. “I—”

  He held up an imposing palm toward her. “Grandfather, you will ensure Miss Sinclair makes it back to the hotel?” The animosity in his voice made her take a step backward. She nearly fell back upon the couch, but righted herself.

  Toliver straightened in his chair. “Boy, we made a deal this morning that you would take over business. And by God you’ll—”

  His eyes smoldered with contempt toward his grandsire. “D
on’t worry, Grandfather. I stand behind my promises.” Something in his delivery felt like a knife straight to her heart. Without another word he spun around and disappeared into the hall.

  Staring at the empty doorway, Stella felt a tear fall, followed by another. An unexpected sense of loss squeezed her chest. “C-could you p-please call me a cab?” She closed her eyes to hide her emotion, but a sob betrayed her. Dammit. She wouldn’t make a fool of herself. With the back of her hand she swiped several times at her eyes, and then raised her chin. “A cab,” she repeated.

  Toliver approached her as if he planned on comforting her but stopped before reaching her. “You really care for him?” The cunningness in his eyes was gone; concern took its place.

  “Mr. Toliver, I think our business has come to a conclusion. I’ll see myself out.” Her boots padded quickly across the wooden floor, her purse striking against her thighs with each hastened step. She didn’t chance taking a breath until she was outside. Her hand shook as she pawed through her purse for her cell phone. Before she could call information, Toliver exited the house and a truck pulled up beside her. Harrison’s father sat behind the wheel.

  Toliver grew closer. “Miss Sinclair, I wish you would come back into the house so that we can discuss this matter further.”

  She held on to her control, but barely. “Sir, you have achieved your goal. There isn’t anything more for us to discuss.”

  For a moment he just stared at her. “Jerry will take you back to your hotel,” he conceded.

  Her fingers closed around the door handle and she tugged it open, praying the conversation was over. Sliding inside, she shot a quick glance toward Jerry. “Thank you.”

  He tipped his straw hat and smiled. “My pleasure, ma’am.”

  As they pulled out of the driveway, Stella couldn’t help looking back. Her heart sank a little lower. There was no reason to stay in Billings any longer. She was leaving Montana today.

  Stomping his feet to shake the mud off his boots, JD pushed open the front door of his house and stepped in. Exhausted in both body and mind, he jerked off his hat and placed it on one of the pegs of the hat rack hanging on the wall. With a brush of his hand he wiped his sleeve across his sweaty brow and released a heavy sigh. The more he thought of Stella, the harder he had worked.

  The joints in his fingers were stiff as he splayed them wide before closing them into a fist. He had strung fence wire for half the day, spent an hour restacking hay, followed by branding several calves, but the final coup de grace was a cow that had wandered into a watering hole and gotten stuck.

  “Oh my.” Mary pulled to a sudden halt. The tiny dark-haired woman always moved like she was hell-bent for leather. She dried her hands on the apron around her waist. “Something amiss, Mr. Foster?”

  “No,” he grumbled. Not something—everything.

  She narrowed her eyes, clearly not convinced. “Supper will be in five minutes.” Her gaze slowly scanned his caked boots and clothes. “I’d better make it fifteen.” As quickly as she’d appeared she was gone, disappearing into the dining room.

  Leaden feet carried him down the hall to his bedroom and straight into the adjoining bathroom. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, he jerked one boot off and then the other, and crusts of dry mud sprinkled the floor. He sat there for a minute feeling numb.

  How gullible could he have been to let a city girl reel him in like a damn fish? Hell. She must be laughing her ass off.

  “You fool.” He tore at his soiled clothing as the memory of her betrayal did the same to his heart. Naked, he crossed the room toward the shower and stepped inside. The first spray of water was ice cold. “Sonofabitch.” Cringing, he gritted his teeth, goose bumps rising quickly across his body. It didn’t take long for the hot water to kick in, and he reached for the soap.

  No leisurely shower was in the cards for him. With agitated swipes he lathered his body, trying to wash away her memory, but it did him no good. He closed his eyes and stepped beneath the water, but she was there in his mind—her smile—her laughter—her betrayal.

  “Enough.” He turned the faucets off and reached outside the stall to grab a towel. Each brush of the cloth as he dried off was rough, filled with anger. What a fool he had been, but there was no way to dismiss the hurt he felt inside. Towel-drying his hair, he strolled into his bedroom, heading for the closet. Draping the linen over his shoulder, he pulled a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants off a hanger. For a moment he hung his head.

  Man. How did everything get so screwed up?

  Raising his head, he walked back into the bathroom and tossed the towel into the hamper. Then he jerked the shirt over his head and crammed his arms in the sleeves before he finger-combed his hair and slipped into the pants. Without putting on shoes he walked out of his bedroom and down the hall.

  As always Mary had a feast laid out on the dining room table. Steaming roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, rice pilaf, freshly baked bread, and a melody of vegetables picked from the garden in back of the house. To his dismay his grandfather had beat him to the table.

  He looked up as JD entered the dining room. “Casual tonight?”

  JD ignored him. Instead he pulled out a chair and took a seat.

  Mary, on the other hand, didn’t give him a second look as she waltzed back into the kitchen that was attached to the dining room. The woman was a gem, returning with a beer in her hand.

  “I’ll take one of those,” his grandfather said before he added, “We need to talk.”

  JD tipped the bottle and took a long drag of the beer. The cold amber felt good against his parched throat. Slamming the bottle down on the table, he growled, “I’m not in the mood for conversation.”

  “Not even to hear the truth?”

  Was that sorrow or regret he saw in his grandsire’s long face?

  Yeah. Right. This was Jonathan David Toliver he was talking about. A man who had built an empire on his business savvies.

  His grandfather sat erect in his chair. “My meddling has caused you pain and that wasn’t my intention.”

  A short, bitter laugh escaped between JD’s thin lips. “You got what you wanted. Let’s end it here. I’ve had a trying day. I’m sore, hungry and I want to go to bed.” He forked a piece of roast beef and placed it on his plate. He picked up his knife and fork, attacking the meat with a vengeance.

  “Son, Miss Sinclair didn’t know who you were until I spoke to her at the barbeque yesterday. In fact, I was surprised, may I say pleasantly so, when I saw how much attention you extended her. Truth is I offered her the account if she could convince you to agree to manage the company. I really left her no choice. Either way she couldn’t win.”

  JD shook his head. “Win? She got what she wanted. She sure as hell didn’t try to stop me from walking away.” He crammed a bite into his mouth, but the tender meat felt more like shoe leather as he chewed.

  “You’re wrong, Jonathan. You and I both know how hardheaded you can be. Would you have stayed or listened to her?”

  No. But that was beside the point.

  “The woman cares for you,” his grandfather added.

  Chewing a little slower, he paused before swallowing the meat like it was a block of wood. “Grandfather, please.” Dammit. He didn’t need to hear this bullshit.

  He pushed away from the table and started to rise, stopping midway when his grandfather continued. “You didn’t stay long enough to see her tears or the pain on her face. I may be nothing but an old fool, but I know affection when I see it.”

  Affection? No way. Stella was just looking out for herself. Even as the thought entered his mind, he knew it couldn’t be true. Not if she hadn’t known who he was from the beginning. The connection he felt between them happened that first night. Saturday had only made it stronger. He drifted back into his chair.

  “Don’t let this one go.” A sly grin spread across his grandfather’s face. “I think she might be a keeper. In fact, she’s just what this family needs.”

&
nbsp; Unanswered questions bombarded JD all at once. What if his grandfather was right? What if Stella did care? JD hadn’t given her any opportunity to explain. Was she as miserable as he?

  Again he pushed away from the table, but this time he stood and left the room, heading straight for his bedroom. Inside, he slid his feet into a pair of loafers. After retrieving his keys from his jeans in the hamper, he wasted no time exiting the house. In seconds he was in his truck heading down the road.

  Each minute that ticked by increased his anxiety. Would she even speak to him? As he passed the Rusty Nail, he pondered how the trip seemed to take longer than usual, or was it that he couldn’t wait to see her again—to hold her?

  When the hotel came into view he tensed. He was parked, out of his truck, through the hotel and standing at her door before he knew it. He rapped his knuckles on the door, praying she would answer.

  “Sir.” He turned to see a young housemaid pushing a cart toward him. “That room is unoccupied.”

  His throat thickened. “There must be some mistake.”

  “No. I serviced it myself.”

  “Thank you.” She couldn’t have left, he thought as he made a beeline for the front desk. But he had no better luck when he inquired about her.

  “I’m sorry, but Miss Sinclair checked out earlier this morning. She’s gone,” the gentleman behind the desk said. He must have read the panic on JD’s face because he asked, “Can I be of further assistance?”

  “No. Thank you. Guess I’m going to New York.”

  Chapter Seven

  Stella stared out the twenty-fifth floor window of the building that housed Maritime Marketing. She had never realized how much the yellow cabs darting around below looked like tiny bugs and the mass of people traveling about appeared to be specks. It made her feel small—insignificant.

  Then again it was Monday and she had to meet with her boss and inform him that she had lost the Toliver account. She wasn’t a fool. No way JD would work with her now. Yet the loss wasn’t what had stolen sleep from her last night. A cowboy’s smile, his tender touch and the memory of a kiss that could melt her were the cause of the exhaustion she felt.