Engaging Brooke

She’d dreamed of showing up in a white wedding dress at the church and telling Jameson to marry her. She understood him in a way she felt no one else did. At times, he seemed to stand in the shadow of his father, whose radical ways of breeding high-end cattle and heritage farm animals had made them incredibly wealthy. His father also had secured an advantageous marriage into the Webb family, who’d made their fortune breeding rare stallions and quadrupled the profits of the ranch. Jameson wasn’t as charming as his younger brother, Wes, but she thought he was better looking. His intense ways could be off-putting, but she knew how much he loved the land and, from her point of view, he was all a man should be.

Unfortunately, Brooke knew that Jameson saw her as a child. He’d never looked at her the way he’d looked at her sister and other women. She was just a little girl to him. He was a man planning his future. She’d even thought of buying him at the recent cowboy charity auction, but she hadn’t been bold enough, considering the history between their families. But now she had a reason to meet with him. She knew he wasn’t a man who liked to date, but she wondered what he thought about marriage.

Brooke took a deep breath then raised her hand to knock on the door just as it swung open. Laney took a step back in surprise. Jameson’s younger sister was as beautiful in person as she was in all the pictures taken of her. Even more striking actually.

“Hi, Laney,” Brooke said when the other woman just stared.

Laney shook her head, as if coming out of a stupor. “Hi.” She opened the door wider. “Sorry, I’m just surprised to see you.”

“Congratulations on your medals. It must be hard getting back to the ordinary life and routine of Granger.”

“No, it’s a relief.”

When she didn’t expand, Brooke searched her mind for something else to say. “You look great.”

“Thanks.”

Brooke shifted, feeling awkward. Laney obviously didn’t want to talk. She was usually more bubbly, but she seemed quiet and reserved. Perhaps she resented her for being the sister of a woman who’d broken her brother’s heart. “I don’t want to keep you. You were getting ready to go somewhere. I just want to see Jameson.”

Laney gestured for her to come inside, clearly eager to leave. “Oh, he’s in the back of the house, gazing at his mistress.”

Brooke felt her heart race. “Mistress?”

“You know,” she called over her shoulder as she stepped outside. “The ranch.”

“Right,” Brooke said, feeling her pulse return to normal. “Thanks,” she said, but Laney was already out of hearing range. Even though Jameson had his own house on the property, people knew he spent most of his time at the main house. Brooke closed the door then walked through the hallway off to the side and saw Mr. and Mrs. Broward sitting in the Great Room. They stared at her, stunned.

“Hello,” she said, wanting to break the silence. She absently pointed to a vague space down the hall. “Laney told me Jameson was down here.”

“How have you been?” Steven said. “We were sorry to hear about your father.”

“Well, thank you.”

Gwendolyn stood up. “Where are my manners? It’s lovely to see you. Would you like something to drink or—?”

“No,” Brooke said, relieved that their welcome had been a bit more cordial than Laney’s. That gave her hope that the favor she needed from Jameson might get a good response. “I just need to ask Jameson something.”

“Well, if you need anything let us know.”

“I will.” Brooke headed to the back of the house and saw Jameson standing just outside the doorway. As he stood staring at the horizon, she took a moment to stare at him. She looked at him through the eyes of an artist. If she were to paint him, she’d depict him as a landscape with shoulders as wide as the Montana sky, skin smooth as the sharp edge of a canyon and height as tall as a mountain. He was lean but muscular, with the intensity of a raging river. Her heart began racing, even though she’d told it to behave. Jameson had always had that kind of effect on her.

Brooke opened the door and cleared her throat to let him know she was there and not startle him.

Jameson didn’t turn and he didn’t seem startled; it was as if he already knew she was there. “Yes? What do you want?” he said, his voice a low, deep rumble.

Brooke swallowed. If he could affect her like this with his back to her, how would she fare when he faced her? She had to find out.

“I want to talk to you,” she said, her voice higher than she wanted, but steady.

She saw his shoulders stiffen. It was just a flash and if she hadn’t known him so well, she wouldn’t have seen it. He turned, in a slow, deliberate manner that only increased the anticipation of seeing his face again. His cowboy hat kept his face in shadow, so she couldn’t clearly read his expression. Brooke braced herself for his response, half afraid of what he would do. Would she get the cold politeness of Laney?

“Brooke Palmer,” he said in a low, deep voice that to her was as sweet as hot maple syrup drizzling on warm pancakes. It sent a thrill through her; no one said her name the way he did. He didn’t seem surprised to see her and gestured to one of the chairs inside the house. “Sit down,” he said, walking past her and taking off his hat.

“Thanks.” Brooke took a seat and fought not to stare. Without his hat, his brown eyes were clear, reminding her of Montana oil—dark and rich. He was better than the finest wine. And he also got sexier with age.

“I’m sorry about your father.”

Brooke blinked, touched by the compassion in his eyes. She forced herself to focus on her reason for coming. Her father had died suddenly and he was the main reason she was there. “Thanks.”

“How’s Meredith?”

She paused, surprised he’d even ask. “She’s in New York with Richard.” He was her second husband, but Brooke didn’t mention that, not sure Jameson would care.

“I’m glad.”

Brooke furrowed her brows in confusion. This wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. Who was this even-tempered, controlled man? The Jameson of the past had been more passionate. Especially with her sister. Brooke remembered overhearing an argument they’d had when her sister was preparing to go to college. She had been passing by the family room when she had heard them.

“I don’t want to be without you,” Meredith had said near tears.

“You know my place is here.”

“It doesn’t have to be. You’re good at so many things. Why can’t you attend college in the East with me?”

“I told you what I plan to do.”

“You need to stretch your horizons. Get away from farming—”

“You know I’m not just a farmer. You say that just to annoy me.”

“I’m trying to find your sense of humor.”

“I don’t joke about the ranch.”

“That’s the problem. You already sound like an old man and you haven’t even reached twenty yet. Why do you take things so seriously? You don’t need to work so hard. You have enough money and the ranch basically runs itself.”

“By itself?” he said in surprise. “You talk about the ranch like it’s some toy that runs on batteries. Do you know how much it costs to get a cow bred? Or fed? How about vet expenses? And then there are the chickens and—”

“Your family has more than enough money to take care of all of that, and you know it.”

“It’s not about money. It’s about business and I’m going to run it well. For the sake of my family and the sake of our children. Meredith, you know I love you and I will provide the best for us. But my place is here. I like being my own boss and living my life by my rules.”

“You mean your family’s rules,” she snapped.

“They’ve served me well. This is home.”

But, back then, Brooke knew her sister hadn’t felt the same about ranching and the land when she was dating him, although she’d pretended she did. Early on, Meredith had always wanted to get away from Granger and thought she could persuade Jameson to do the same. Meredith didn’t understand Jameson the way Brooke did. Her sister didn’t know how much her teasing words hurt him. As she listened to the argument, Brooke had wanted to run into the room and tell Jameson how much she knew he loved his ranch and his family, and that, if he’d have her, she’d never leave him. But at that time, just like now, he didn’t see her in that way. And now she hoped she could change that.

“So what can I do for you?” Jameson asked, his deep voice pulling Brooke out of her memory.

Everything, she wanted to say. For a moment she didn’t know herself anymore. She didn’t know how to behave with him. She was no longer the awkward girl of fifteen, and he certainly wasn’t twenty-two. He was older, a little harder, almost a stranger to her, despite his welcome and patience. But, in spite of her apprehension she knew he was a man she could trust.

“Brooke?”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, shifting in her seat. “I was just wondering how to say this.”

“Don’t think about it—just say it.”

She gripped her hands in her lap and met his eyes. “I want you to marry me.”

Chapter 3

Jameson didn’t move. He didn’t smile or frown or give any indication of how her request had affected him. He just looked at her with an inscrutable expression.

Brooke gripped her hands tighter. She couldn’t have thought he’d get on his knees and propose, although she’d dreamed of a moment like that many times. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it hadn’t been this. She could take him being outraged, shocked or even appalled, but his dark steady gaze held her paralyzed. She didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. She’d said what she’d wanted and she knew she needed to explain but she didn’t know how.

“I know this seems crazy,” she said in a rush, desperate to fill the silence. “But I don’t know who else to ask. After my father’s death things just went—well, I don’t know the right word for it really. Then the will was read and he has this requirement in it. And the creditors are knocking down the door and I don’t know where else to turn and—”

Jameson crossed the room, sat down beside her and rested his big, firm hands on her shoulders. “Breathe.”

Instead she stopped breathing, the feel of his hands seeming to burn through the cloth of her thin cotton jacket, his nearness leaving her weak and unable to move. “I’ve forgotten how.”

A tiny smile softened his mouth. “Brooke, it’ll be okay.”

She wanted to believe him; she had to. The alternative was too painful. Brooke took a deep breath, knowing that fainting at his feet would only annoy him. “All right.”

He searched her eyes. “Good. Now tell me what’s going on. Start from the beginning.”

“Meredith and I had expected to inherit the ranch.”

“But you won’t?” he asked when she lowered her gaze.

Brooke licked her lips, wondering if he was even aware that his hands were still on her shoulders. They anchored her, making her feel less alone. With her father gone and her sister away she had no family to turn to. “Dad put a strange codicil in the will. He stipulated that we must both be married before the ranch can be passed on to us. Because Meredith is married, she’s eligible to get her half.”

Jameson sat back and released her. It was as if the sound of her sister’s name built an instant barrier between them. “But Meredith has no interest in ranch life.”

Brooke met his gaze. “I know, and she’s been approached by a private broker who is offering her a fortune to sell her half.” Ironic as it sounded, Brooke knew she couldn’t do that because her father stipulated that in order to inherit the ranch they both had to be married. The only solution Brooke had been able to come up with was that once she was married she would buy out her sister’s half.

“What happens if you don’t marry?” Jameson asked.

Brooke sighed. “The ranch will remain with Mitch, our ranch foreman.” Mitch Stokel had been at her father’s side for years. He was trustworthy and a hard worker. “Daddy feared that I wouldn’t be able to run the ranch on my own, and he’s right.”

“Then what’s the rush? You’re a beautiful woman. You’ll have no trouble finding a husband when you’re ready.”

He thinks I’m beautiful! Brooke had to bite back a smile of satisfaction. She knew she was attractive, and she had grown used to male attention. But Jameson’s was the only one that mattered to her. If he liked her looks, did that also mean he was attracted to her? “I don’t have time to wait. In the will he also stipulated that if I’m not married within thirty days of the reading of the will, ownership of the ranch will legally pass over to Mitch. I’ll be allowed to stay on the ranch as long as I live, and I’ll receive a handsome share of the profit if Mitch ever decides to sell, but the ranch won’t be mine. And, as I said, Meredith is anxious to get her hands on her half so that she can make money from it. I don’t know why he wrote the will the way he did. It seems as if it was his strange way of making sure both his daughters would be married. I don’t understand.”

Jameson rubbed his chin and frowned. “This has to be illegal. It’s blackmail. Have you gotten an attorney to—”

“I’ve had my attorneys look the will over and it’s ironclad. I think, odd though it may seem, my father did this to help me.” As a child, Brooke had always been more expressive than Meredith about how much she didn’t want to stay on the ranch when she grew up. Although she knew her way around, she’d always been more interested in pursuing her art. She made Western-style pottery. She knew her father didn’t want her to feel burdened or obligated. She suspected he felt guilty that the pressure he’d put on his daughters had driven Meredith away. But as she grew Brooke’s feelings had changed. She wished now that she had told her father, before he died, how much she had come to love the ranch.

“I know how much your father loved you,” Jameson said. “Ray Palmer was a person I admired and a savvy businessman. But this codicil still makes no sense. Why not just let you sell the place? Forcing his daughters to get married in order to keep their own land that they have rightfully inherited makes no sense.”

Brooke had asked herself the same question, and she still didn’t know the answer. Perhaps it had to do with her father’s loneliness. Her mother had died when Brooke was five, and her father had never remarried. Maybe by stipulating they both get married, he wanted to make sure that she and her sister didn’t wind up alone. They had been close to their father. He was their life and had always made sure they were provided for. At times spoiling them more than guiding them.

Brooke remembered the many summers the two of them spent going down the Blackfoot River in an inner tube with him. One of the favorite things she liked to do with her father was fly-fishing. Although he wasn’t much of a talker, she simply loved being in his presence. He was a good teacher and was always patient, even when she wasn’t. The last time they had gone fishing together, they had traveled up the mountain to a stream where he loved to go. Just to get away. On that trip she had caught a bounty of fish. He had been overjoyed and had congratulated her.

“So, I am a means to an end?” Jameson asked, breaking her reverie.

Brooke blushed. He would be a dream come true, but she couldn’t’ tell him that. She hoped that her story and situation would be persuasive enough. He was an honorable man. “Like I said, I couldn’t think of any other way out of this, and you were the first person I thought of.”

Jameson stood and grabbed his hat. “I can’t help you. I can’t be your fake husband.” He was polite, but it was still a rejection.

Brooke should have expected his response, but it was still devastating. Her heart shriveled a little. She understood. He had a life and he didn’t want it tied to hers. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but I’ll lose everything. And the implications are bigger than you think. Mitch has already been talking to the broker who represents Samara Lionne and she’s interested in buying Meredith’s half of the property. It won’t be long before Samara Lionne owns half of Granger. I have to do something now.”

* * *

Jameson paused. Samara Lionne? The same Hollywood starlet who’d bought Wes’s property? To hear that woman’s name twice in one day wasn’t a good sign. “What does she need with a second ranch?”

“Second?”

Jameson set his hat down. “Yes. Wes sold his parcel of land to her. What could she be up to?”

“I don’t know. But there is one thing I do know, and that is if I don’t get married the entire ranch goes to Mitch, and I’m afraid he’ll sell.”

This changed everything. At first when she’d talked about getting married, he’d thought it was a joke. A mockery. Did she really think he would marry her? Hell, he didn’t even feel like dating. He wasn’t ready to think of marriage, let alone marrying the little sister of the woman who left him. Besides, it didn’t make sense. Brooke could easily get any man she wanted and probably a host of those she didn’t. When he’d first seen her today, it wasn’t her mane of wild curls or her hazel eyes that caught his eye; it was her shy smile.

As strikingly beautiful as she was, a man would expect a coy or sexy expression, not something shy and unassuming, almost sweet. Few things in his life were sweet, but Brooke Palmer’s grin definitely was. It stirred something in him. When he had turned to look at her, he had been surprised to see her, and he was a little glad, too, although he didn’t know why. He’d always liked her. As a child she seemed to appear at the strangest times, when he was roping or returning the cattle to the pen, and always with her little sketch pad. He didn’t mind her presence; she was never a bother or in his way.

He wanted to help her, but he didn’t want to marry her. He didn’t plan to marry anyone. His focus was on BWB, but based on what she’d told him he understood her desperation. He didn’t want her to lose her land. Those facts united them in a way he hadn’t imagined. She understood what was at stake.

Brooke stood. “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

Jameson stopped her. At first he’d thought her idea ridiculous, but he suddenly realized that her request wasn’t about romance or other fleeting emotions. This was a business deal. This was about saving history, their heritage. She understood it as much as he did. He met her startled hazel gaze. She really had grown into a beautiful woman. For a moment she made him think of the Calliope hummingbird—swift and bright. It was common to Montana and its name came from the Greek word meaning “little star.” With a woman like Brooke he could accomplish his goal. He was tired of outsiders messing with his town and interfering with the privacy they’d been able to maintain for generations. She wanted to use him, and he could use her. It would make them equals. A team.

“Brooke,” he said. “You’ve got yourself a groom.” He extended his hand to her. She took it and quickly let go.

* * *

Brooke wanted to hug him, kiss him, dance, maybe even laugh, but instead she rocked on her heels and hugged herself. “Great. We can go to the justice of the peace or just elope.”

Jameson shook his head. “If we’re going to do this, we’ll do it big.”

Her arms fell to her sides. “Big?”

“Yes, the bigger the better. Our wedding is going to be one this town will remember. We need to make a symbolic statement and show everyone that the families of Granger stick together.” His eyes were serious and probing. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Brooke met his dark stare. He was giving her a chance to turn back and retain her dignity. He was offering her a warning that he wouldn’t be an easy man to marry, that his heart belonged to the BWB. Not her. But, instead of being uneasy, her resolve grew. Even if their marriage would just be for show, it would be a dream come true for her to walk down the aisle toward Jameson Broward. She knew she was taking a big gamble, but she didn’t care.

“Brooke?” Jameson repeated. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

She smiled. “With all my heart.” She was sure.

Chapter 4

Jameson was sure his mother hadn’t blinked for a full minute. His father just stared at him and then finally said, “You’re doing what?”

The three of them sat in the Great Room, where only yesterday they’d been discussing Wes’s property sale. “I’m getting married,” Jameson said.

“To Brooke Palmer?” Gwendolyn repeated, just to make sure she’d heard her son correctly the first time.

He nodded. “Yes. We’re getting married this month.”

“But you can’t be serious,” Gwendolyn said.

“I am. You know I don’t joke.”

“But Brooke is—”

“I know who she is,” he cut in, not wanting his mother to elaborate. “How I feel about her shocked me, too, but I can’t help it. We’ve been seeing each other for some time.”

“How long?”

“Long enough for me to know I want to marry her.”

“But it’s so sudden,” Steven said. “Why not wait?”

“I don’t want to wait. I asked and she accepted and that’s all there is to it.”

“Really?” Steven said, doubtful.

Gwendolyn frowned. “You know how this will look?”

Jameson couldn’t help a grin. “I plan to make it look spectacular, and I need your help. Brooke has no one to help her so I said I’d take care of everything, but since I don’t know much about weddings...” He let his words fade away and sent his mother a look of hope.

“You want me to organize everything,” Gwendolyn finished.

“With no expense spared.”

And he meant every word. So Gwendolyn went into “planning” mode, and before he knew it, a lavish wedding was quickly set into motion. She had their wedding invitations designed. She also put together a list of dignitaries and guests she knew absolutely had to be there and other lesser-known ones, just so that they didn’t feel snubbed. A wedding planner was hired to assist with the overall organization and all related events including interviewing a number of caterers. Brooke thought she would be able to get to do some things on her own, like select her dress, but Gwendolyn insisted on helping her select her wedding gown.

“No daughter-in-law of mine is going to wear an off-the-rack dress.” And she was good to her word. She flew Brooke, along with Laney, in a private plane to Atlanta, Georgia, where Gwendolyn had made an appointment with a top fashion designer to make a custom wedding dress for Brooke. It was stunning. It had a bare back that plunged just enough to be both revealing and modest, with transparent, off-the-shoulder sleeves that extended into beaded gloves and a cinched, gathered waist, with a long train and a full billowy embroidered silk skirt that accentuated Brooke’s drop-dead figure.

News of Brooke and Jameson’s engagement spread through Granger overnight, like wildfire. But, the closer they came to the actual date, the more concerned his family became. Although his mother no longer expressed her doubts and his grandfather kept whatever thoughts he had to himself, his father was more to the point. One late afternoon, Steven visited his son as Jameson went over some paperwork in his study.

“You sure you know what you’re doing marrying this woman?” Steven asked.

Jameson sniffed, more amused than offended by the question. “I always know what I’m doing.”

His father sat. “That’s what worries me.”

“Why?”

“Because I feel as if you’re up to something. You can try to fool the rest of the family with your story about having a clandestine relationship, but I know you too well. I also know when I see a man in love and from what I’ve seen, that isn’t you.”

Jameson pushed his paperwork aside and rested his arms on the desk, prepared for a fight he planned to win. “I care about her.”

“You ‘care’ about your cattle, but when it comes to loving a woman, you need to feel a little bit more than that.” Steven folded his arms. “I know she loves you.” He smiled when he saw Jameson flinch. “Why does that surprise you?”

Because you’re wrong, Jameson wanted to say. He had to admire Brooke. She was playing her role as his fiancée better than he’d expected. “I didn’t say it did.”