The Rancher's Marriage Pact Page 6

  She couldn’t believe he would be concerned about cursing in light of what he’d just told her. “No worries. My father speaks the language fluently.”

  Her attempt at humor obviously fell flat when Dallas didn’t even crack a smile. “But that part of the sorry story isn’t even the worst of it.”

  Paris had a difficult time believing it could get much worse. Then again... “Please don’t tell me he had another wife.”

  “Not that we’re aware of, although I wouldn’t put it past him. But he did have it out for me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because he never could control me in life, so he decided to do it in death.”

  She definitely didn’t think she’d care for the late Calloway patriarch. “How exactly did he manage that?”

  “By using ownership of the ranch. He knew my grandfather insisted the controlling interest of the D Bar C be passed down to his first-born grandson, and my dad was forced to adhere to that request. But then he added a condition that would allow me to continue to run this place only if I did his bidding.”

  She was almost afraid to ask. “Such as?”

  “I have to get married before my thirty-eighth birthday. If not, controlling interest reverts to my half brother Fort who doesn’t give a tinker’s damn about this place. He’s so ate up with anger he’d like to see all of us fail.”

  So now she knew why that milestone held so much importance with the mothers. And she suspected she knew the reason behind the spontaneous proposal. “Am I correct in assuming you want me to prevent that from happening by entering into a bogus marriage?”

  He scowled. “When you put it that way, it makes me sound like a jerk. But after I met you yesterday and learned about your current situation, I figured it would benefit us both.”

  “How am I going to benefit from a lie?”

  “Financially.”

  She’d begun to feel a bit like the prostitute Maria had believed her to be. “Marriage for money. Interesting. And out of the question.”

  “Will you at least hear me out?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. But first, I have to know one thing.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “How could you put that much faith in this plan when you know so little about me?”

  He paused for a brief moment. “Your parents are Howard and Sheila Reynolds. You were born in San Diego thirty-two years ago on November second. You graduated from a prestigious college, worked for an equally prestigious firm in Nevada and you married Peter L. Smith in Vegas eight years ago. I didn’t find any record of your divorce though.”

  She was floored he’d gained so much information in such a short time. “I have the documents although they’re in Spanish, and a photo of the book where the registrar recorded the divorce. And exactly when did you do this background check on me?”

  “I couldn’t sleep last night so I did an internet search. This morning I called a friend who’s in security. He took it from there.”

  Security meant criminal history. Momentary panic set in. “Did he find anything interesting?”

  “Nope. Not one felony or misdemeanor or even a speeding ticket.”

  She relaxed for a moment knowing he hadn’t discovered her primary secret, but then no one knew about that. No one ever would, thanks to a nondisclosure order arranged by her attorney. “I’d expect you to thoroughly investigate someone you intend to hire, but not someone you intend to marry.”

  “I’m a businessman, Paris, and this is a business proposition. Maybe that sounds kind of crass, but before we go any further, I wouldn’t want you to have expectations of it being anything else.”

  For some odd reason that stung like a hornet, as if she was stupid enough to think it might be more. “Really? Again I ask, what’s in it for me? Aside from being wed to the object of many a woman’s lust, of course.”

  He didn’t seem affected at all by her sarcasm. “First of all, you have a fairly substantial debt you’re dealing with.”

  Had he somehow discovered the money she owed her former firm? Impossible. Or so she hoped. “Did you run a report on my finances?”

  “No. I figured that out when you came begging for a job, and confirmed it when you mentioned your ex taking your money and cutting out of the country. I also recall some issue with staying in your apartment and possibly having to move to Idaho. Am I wrong?”

  If he only knew the true magnitude of her problems. “No, you’re not wrong.”

  “Exactly how much debt are you carrying?”

  “That’s really none of your—”

  “Business? If you want me to help you, you’ll have to be honest about the money aspects.”

  He had a lot of nerve making the request when she hadn’t agreed to anything. “I believe I asked you for a job, not for your help.”

  “Yeah, but I’m asking for yours. We could help each other. How much debt?”

  She momentarily swallowed her pride. “Over seventy thousand dollars.” Most of which she owed to her former firm.

  “Are you a chronic shopper?” he asked.

  “No, but my ex is. He left me with all the bills.” Including money he’d stolen that she was having to reimburse.

  “Okay. If you agree to this, I’ll make sure you’re debt-free. I’ll give you twenty thousand up front and you can live here rent-free. You can also design the lodge and I’ll pay you monthly for that. If you see that through, I’ll provide a reference and the seed money to start your own company.”

  Wow. She would finally be solvent, liberated from her former employer and on her way to a bright future. But at what cost? A nagging voice told her to go for it. Her mother’s voice told her to proceed with caution. “If I did agree to this, and I’m not saying I am, how long would I be expected to remain in this marriage?”

  “The will states a year,” he said. “It’s going to take at least that long to get Texas Extreme up and running and the lodge ready for guests. If you’ll stay until then, I’ll throw in another bonus. I’ll buy you a new car so you can put that rusty sedan out to pasture.”

  She took offense to him insulting her car. “Bubba is not rusty.”

  He chuckled. “You gave that clunker a name?”

  “Yes. He’s been very reliable, unlike most men I’ve known.”

  “Bubba sounds like he’s barely running.”

  “He does need a little work.” Now for a very pertinent question. “There is the very important matter of dissolving the marriage. I’m personally not keen on being labeled a two-time loser with another divorce.”

  “We could look into an annulment.”

  “Under what grounds after we’ve hung in there for a year?”

  He streaked a palm over his shaded jaw. “I’m not sure.”

  Neither was she, but she intended to find out. “Mind if I borrow your laptop to do a little research?”

  He reached behind him and offered her the computer. “Knock yourself out.”

  After setting it on her lap, Paris began the search for annulment criteria. She selected the most official-looking article and began to read. “Let’s see here. The first condition states the parties are family members, but I highly doubt we’re related to each other.”

  “Did you not pay attention to me telling you about my father’s philandering ways? I wouldn’t be surprised to discover you’re the sister I’ve always wanted but never had.”

  “Very funny and kind of creepy.”

  “I’m kidding, Paris. I don’t harbor any brotherly feelings for you whatsoever.”

  She looked up to see Dallas’s smile before scanning the text again. “On to the next point. I guess one of us could get drunk during the ceremony and claim we weren’t coherent enough to consent. We could then say we didn’t sober up until aft
er our first anniversary.”

  His low laugh gave her pleasant chills. “Sounds like you could handle that with a couple of Jen’s mint juleps, pre-ceremony. I’m sure she’ll keep you supplied for the next twelve months.”

  This time she didn’t bother to look up. “Clever, but not anything either of us should consider. Coercion is out because I wouldn’t agree to this unless we’re both sure. Bigamy is also out. And fraud unless one of us is lying about our age.”

  “Nope,” he said. “But back to that bigamy thing. Are you sure you’re divorced?”

  Realizing she’d inadvertently hit a nerve bringing up bigamy, Paris closed the computer and frowned. “Yes, I’m sure I’m divorced. Peter couldn’t get out of the marriage quick enough. He’s a CPA so he’s fastidious and detail oriented.” As well as a con artist, a fact she chose to withhold. “That leaves us with the final possibility. Do you have issues with impotence that would lead to the old standby, failure to consummate?”

  He looked more amused than insulted. “You and I both know the answer to that after what happened a few minutes ago.”

  She’d realized very quickly he hadn’t been poking fun. “That’s too bad since it would make the whole failure to consummate much easier, which appears to be our only option. Get married, no whoopee.”

  He looked like he’d just bitten into a dill pickle. “You expect me to go without sex for a year?”

  Paris thought that would be the greatest challenge of all, and a possible reason for him to rescind the offer. “Cowboy up, cowboy. You can handle it if you want to keep the ranch. Which leads me to another question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Does maintaining control of this place mean so much to you that you would enter into a fake marriage that requires celibacy for a year?”

  “I don’t like the celibacy clause one damn bit, but I can only promise I’ll try. And it would have to be a real marriage in order to meet the will’s requirements.”

  She saw a possible alternative. “Who would know if we only pretended we married?”

  “Fort will make a point to check it out.”

  The decision would be so much easier for Paris if that weren’t the case. “You’re obviously a rich guy, Dallas. I imagine you could buy a ranch just like this one anywhere in the world. Maybe even a bigger and better ranch. Then you wouldn’t have to resort to this ruse.”

  “It wouldn’t be the same,” he said. “To risk sounding like Jenny, the D Bar C is equivalent to losing the plantation that’s been in the family for generations.”

  “Wouldn’t it still be in the family if Fort takes over? Have you even bothered to work out some agreement that wouldn’t force you to go to such extremes?”

  Anger flashed in his eyes. “Fort doesn’t talk to anyone but Worth. He’d have the power to do anything he pleases, including selling it off piece by piece. I wouldn’t put it past him to do that just for spite. He hates anything associated with the Calloways, including me. Especially me.”

  A family feud of grand proportions. “Because I grew up traveling the world, I’ve never experienced having a real home place. But I do understand why it would be difficult to give up a legacy.”

  “And even harder to give up the memories.”

  “Of your dad?”

  “Of my mother. I have very few as it is.”

  That revelation yanked hard on her heartstrings. At times her own mother could drive her insane with her penchant for being overprotective, yet Paris couldn’t imagine not having her mom in her life. “How old were you when she passed?”

  “Not quite five years old, but I still recall the little things. If I’m forced to leave here, I’m afraid the memories might fade completely.”

  Hearing the pain in his voice almost pushed Paris over the marriage edge. But she couldn’t let emotions rule common sense. She’d done that too often as it was. “You’ve given me a lot to consider,” she said as she handed him the laptop.

  “Then you’re not completely ruling it out?”

  “No, but I have to think about it long and hard. And you’d have to promise we’d find some way to go the annulment route.”

  “Believe me, my lawyer will find a loophole if that’s how we want to end the marriage. And I’d be willing to put all the terms in writing if that would make you feel better.”

  She’d feel better if she had more time to weigh the verdict. “When do you want my answer?”

  “I’m flying to Houston on Friday and I thought we could just do it there. It’ll be easier to blend in at that courthouse rather than do it around here. Word travels fast in small towns.”

  “I don’t know if I can make such a serious decision that soon.”

  “That’s all the time I have since my birthday’s Saturday,” he said as he pushed off the desk. “When it comes right down to it, it makes sense to get it done the day before.”

  If only she could be so sure. “I’m going to go home and think it over,” she told him as she stood. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t get my hopes up. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve made up my mind.”

  After leaving him behind in the barn, Paris managed to return to Dallas’s house, gather her things and sneak out without being detected. She drove the ninety miles home in a haze, ticking off a mental list of pros and cons. She entered her barren apartment and thought about how she’d hoped to settle in a loft downtown, with a view of the River Walk. Yet her budget had only allowed her to rent a one-bedroom in a cookie-cutter complex outside the magic of the city.

  Her life had turned into an absolute mess, devoid of security and absent of even a shred of a sincere social life. She had a closet full of expensive shoes and nowhere to wear them, a large stack of unpaid bills, including one that if ignored could take away her freedom, and a solid sense of defeat. But she still had an option—accept Dallas’s proposal. What was the worst that could happen? Paris could think of one thing—she might lose her heart to a man who didn’t return the sentiment. Again.

  Not this time. Not if she approached the proposal as strictly business. She married for love the first time, why not marry for financial gain the second? A lot of people did it. Unfortunately she’d never imagined herself fitting into that mercenary mold. But she’d never dreamed she would be caught in this dire position.

  Damn her bad luck. Damn Peter Smith for his criminal acts and betrayal and leaving her to take the fall. Damn Dallas Calloway for putting her on the verge of accepting his offer.

  Knowing she needed advice had her reaching for the cell phone, although she would have to be very, very careful.

  On that thought, Paris dropped down onto the sofa and pounded out her parents’ number. After two rings, “Reynolds residence” filtered through the line in Sheila’s usual sing-song voice.

  “Hey, Mom. It’s Paris.”

  “Well I’ll be, it’s the prodigal daughter checking in and it’s not even a holiday.”

  Her mom did have a tendency to make her kids feel guilty at times. “I know, Mother. It’s been a while since I called, but I’ve been rather busy.”

  “Do you have a job?”

  That depended on whether she took a husband. “Actually, I have a good prospect.” Now for adding that other little tidbit of information. “I also have a new man in my life.”

  “Oh, Paris, are you sure that’s a good idea? The ink has barely dried on your divorce decree.”

  “It’s been twenty-two months, Mom.” And four days.

  “Oh. Time does fly, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, it does. Anyway, I think you and Dad would like him.”

  “Does he have a job?”

  “Yes, he does. He’s a rancher. An honest to goodness cowboy.”

  “Interesting. Does he have a nice butt?”

  Heavens, leave it to her matriarch t
o bring that up. “What difference does it make?”

  “Believe me, it does. I married your father for his butt and we’re approaching forty years of marital bliss.”

  Definitely too much information. “Yes, he has a nice butt and a nice house and a lucrative ranching operation. Are you happy now?”

  “I’m happy if you’re happy, dear.”

  Now for the moment of truth. A prelude to what possibly could be in the offing. “Good, because the M word has been mentioned.”

  “Meatloaf? Manners? Mistake?”

  “Very funny, Mom. Marriage.”

  “Darn, I’d hoped that wasn’t it.”

  “Nothing is set in stone yet, but I didn’t want you to be blindsided if it does happen.”

  “I certainly hope we get to meet this one before you take that step.”

  Not likely that would occur in two days. “I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity in the near future.”

  “Paris, if this man treats you well, then you’ll have our blessing. Just make certain this time you’re doing the right thing.”

  An obvious slam on her lack of judgment when it came to her former relationship. “Believe me, I’m going to be very certain before I end up at the altar. A part of me says I should go for it. Another part tells me maybe I’m not cut out for matrimony.”

  “I don’t want to ever hear you say that again,” her mother said in a no nonsense tone. “You have the capacity to make a marriage work, as long as you can trust and love your mate for life.”

  Therein lay the problem—love didn’t figure into the deal. “How do you ever really know that, Mother? Marriage doesn’t come with guarantees.”

  “True, but it does come with certain risks if it’s not right. If you happen to be lucky enough to find your soul mate, then don’t be afraid to take the chance. One bad apple named Peter shouldn’t spoil the whole bunch. By the way, what is this man’s name?”

  “Dallas.” And sadly he would never be her soul mate, though he could be her financial savior.

  “How nice that he carries the moniker of your father’s favorite football team. That should earn him a few points.”