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Her shower was quick and efficient. If circumstances were different, she would have luxuriated in the giant-sized marble enclosure with three directional faucets and lingered under the waterfall-like spray. She would have lathered herself with smooth-as-silk body wash and then treated her limbs to a citrus lotion massage. But Jackson was waiting and they had some serious talking to do.
She dressed in the clothes she’d worn to the convention yesterday, a little rumpled now from their night on the floor. With fingers gingerly moving through her hair, the thick, short layers fell back into place without much fuss. There was something to be said about good-hair days even when all else seemed to be going downhill.
She padded out of the bathroom in bare feet and noted Jackson was still standing by the window, but this time with a coffee cup in his hand. Sometime during her shower, room service had arrived. It always amazed her how magic seemed to happen to wealthy people and how much they took it for granted. With a snap of fingers, their every wish was granted.
Perhaps it was a good thing that Jackson was wealthy though, because he, unlike so many others that had refused her, had entered into a business arrangement with her. They were partners now, and Sammie had no illusions about his reasons. Normally, a cattle baron with investments in major real estate developments and the stock market wouldn’t give a small-time boot seller the time of day, but Jackson was doing Callie a favor by backing Sammie’s boutique. It made Sammie even more determined to make her business a success. She didn’t want to disappoint Callie or have the Worth family look upon her as a charity case.
The dining table was set for two with white linens and a cheery vase of flowers. A vast assortment of breakfast foods covered the surface from end to end. Her appetite had waned the second she’d woken up next to Jackson, but now, after a good cleansing had given her a slightly better outlook on life, she heeded her stomach’s grumble for nourishment. Those white-chocolate raspberry muffins were calling to her.
Jackson turned from the window to meet her eyes. His gaze slid up and down her body, then his lips came together in a smile he couldn’t hide. He quickly took a sip of his coffee.
“What?” she asked.
He gave his head a quick shake. “You don’t want to know.”
“I do,” she blurted.
His eyes raked over her one more time, then he shrugged, as if giving her the answer wouldn’t be the end of the world. “You look cute.”
“Cute?” She glanced down at the cream-and-brown plaid pleated skirt and narrow tailored ivory blouse she’d tucked into it. The whole ensemble was designed to be worn with a solid cream blazer and her classic brown zippered knee-high boots, which tied the entire outfit together. She’d dressed for the convention to show how an entire look can be created and changed simply by wearing the right boots. It all came down to the power of the boot.
She wiggled her bare toes. Her boots were on Jackson’s side of the bed. Her blazer was slung across a wing chair in the far corner of the room. No boots, no power. What was left was cute?
“You hungry?” he asked, glancing away from her toward the dining area.
“Yes. I could eat.”
He gestured for her to go first. She moved across the room and took a seat at one end of the table. Jackson, still in his plush robe, sat down adjacent to her. He poured her coffee and waited for her to sip it. Once. Twice. The French roast was pure heaven, warming her throat and giving her the fortification she needed to get through this conversation.
His eyes stayed on her with interest and a surge of uneasiness gripped her. “What’s up?” she said.
Jackson smiled again, that killer I-know-something-you-don’t-know smile. “You really don’t want to know.”
She swallowed coffee so fast it burned her throat. Her traitorous eyes dipped below his waist, not that she’d see anything beyond the table’s edge, but the intent was there and Jackson noticed.
“Oh.”
“Listen,” he began, shifting in his seat to face her fully. “I’m not the kind of guy to kiss and tell, but especially now, because of my relationship with Callie—and yours—I think it’s best if we put last night behind us. It was a mistake and I take full responsibility.”
Sammie winced inwardly. She knew what he was getting at, but for a man to say sleeping with her was a mistake was hard to hear, regardless of the man. But to hear it coming from Jackson Worth was really a slam to her ego. “It’s not entirely your fault, Jackson. I played a part in it. Not that I remember … too much.”
Jackson pulled a deep breath into his lungs as his eyes gleamed with private knowledge. “That’s probably a good thing.”
Why? Was it that good between them? Or that bad? She didn’t have the nerve to ask.
She bet few if any of his women had forgotten what it was like to make love with Jackson. And if his ego was bruised, he wasn’t letting on. Sammie wished she’d had a memory to take with her of a night she’d often fantasized about, but that wasn’t the most important thing now.
“I really want a fresh start in Arizona. Callie’s friendship is important to me. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other and I would rather not lie to her, but not telling isn’t exactly the same as lying, is it?”
“No, it’s not. It’ll be our little secret. No one has to know what happened and we’ll move on from here, Sammie.”
“Okay, we’ll keep it a secret. I’m not one to go bragging either. I mean, it was just sex, right?”
Jackson began to nod and then stopped himself. His lips pursed. “I’m taking the fifth. Any man in his right mind wouldn’t answer that question.”
Sammie smiled for the first time since she’d opened her eyes this morning. “You’re a wise man.”
“Am I?” His gaze swept over her again and Sammie felt the heat down to her bones.
“You think I’m cute.”
He grinned. “Cute can be sexy.”
“Obviously.”
He laughed.
She grabbed a muffin and took a big bite. She was feeling a little better now that they’d cleared the air. Neither one of them had any expectations, which was half the battle. The other half was to remember that Jackson Worth was her business partner and strictly off-limits. She could do that. She had to—there was no other option.
After breakfast, Jackson came out of the bathroom dressed in dark slacks and a western shirt. He’d offered to drive her to the motor hotel to pack her belongings and then take her to the airport to catch her flight to Boston. He plopped his Stetson on his head, looking like a Worth through and through as he stood by the bed, arms folded, watching her slip on her brown leather boots.
“There,” she said, closing up the long zipper and straightening to full height, adjusting her feet in the boots. She met his eyes as she put on her blazer and gave her hair a toss. “I’m ready to go.”
He glanced at her boots and then lifted his gaze to follow the contour of her legs. He had the oddest expression on his face but quickly shook it off. He took her hand and led her out the door. “Let’s get outta here.”
They’d made a pact and the old cliché held true. What happens in Vegas …
Sharing a secret with Jackson Worth could be thrilling. If only it wasn’t so darn necessary.
Two
It was early fall back in Boston, just when the leaves were starting to turn and the entire city was awash with burnt-orange and gold foliage. It was by far Sammie’s favorite time of year, when cooler air replaced summer humidity and fresh breezes rustled the trees. But there was no rustling of trees in Arizona. Not today anyway. The air was still and the land desolate but for the vegetation and shrubbery that had been transplanted to the desert from more tropical climes.
She would miss her hometown, but her life was no longer there and as soon as she’d landed at Sky Harbor Airport yesterday and stepped foot on Arizona soil, new excitement, a thrill she hadn’t felt for a long time, surged through her system. This was it—her chance to make a fresh start. Her life would be here now and she had every intention of looking toward the future.
She stood in the middle of the large empty storefront, her eyes darting from the shiny hardwood flooring covering the expanse of the room, to the clean, unadorned walls. She took in the subtle scent of fresh paint. Lifting her head, she viewed thick beams of wood crisscrossing the ceiling, giving it a rustic charm. The place was perfect and in that perfection, she also saw Jackson Worth’s handiwork. He’d picked a great Scottsdale location for the boutique, right smack in the heart of prime shopping for the middle to upper class of Phoenix society.
The sound of her boots clicking against the floors echoed her movements as she walked toward the front door. It was a lonely sound, one that reminded her of all she’d lost, of the emptiness she’d fought for months, but Sammie wouldn’t allow her mind to go there today. She had too much to be thankful for and heaven knew, she’d cried enough for two lifetimes already.
Poking her head outside, she noted a trendy Southwestern restaurant a few steps down the street, a smoke shop, a fancy children’s boutique and a little café with tables set for two outside the entrance. Warmth filled her chest and she whispered, “This is home now.”
Yesterday, Tagg and Callie had insisted on picking her up from the airport and had driven her to her new apartment. Callie must have offered a dozen times for Sammie to stay with them at Worth Ranch, but Sammie would never impose on them. Callie was eight months pregnant and the expectant couple deserved to enjoy this very special time in their lives without a houseguest.
Upon Jackson’s recommendation, Sammie had used an online service to find a furnished rental in a Spanish-style building with adobe archways and a red stone tiled garden patio. She’d sold everything she’d owned in Boston in a symbolic act meant to add closure to her old life. Only a few special pieces were salvaged from her father’s meager estate. She’d placed in storage her father’s favorite lounge chair, an antique grandfather clock that cuckooed on the hour and a few other items she couldn’t bear to part with belonging to her parents.
“Welcome to Arizona, neighbor.” She jumped at the sound and turned to find a man wearing a chef’s apron approaching from the café. His broad smile creased the perfect planes of his olive-toned face. His voice held the slightest hint of a Spanish accent as each word was enunciated with emphasis when he spoke.
He came to stand before her and stretched out his hand in greeting. “I’m Sonny Estes. I own Sonny Side Up Café.”
“Hello. I’m Sammie Gold. Great name, by the way.” She slipped her hand in his grasp and he gave it one distinct shake, before releasing her. “Sonny Side Up, I mean. I noticed your storefront this morning.”
“Thanks. You’re putting a boot store in here, correct?”
Surprised, she inclined her head a little with curiosity. “That’s right. How’d you know?”
“Jack’s a friend of mine. And my landlord, but I forget that on occasion. Like when I crush him on the court.”
She blinked and tried to picture the GQ cowboy in white shorts. “Tennis?”
His eyes crinkled with amusement. “No, no. Basketball.”
“Oh.” That made more sense to her for some reason.
“He told me you’d be coming by to see the place.” He peered over her shoulder at the empty shop behind. “What do you think?”
“It’s great. I mean it will be once I get my merchandise in here. I’ve got a pretty good idea already how I want this place to look.”
“The location can’t be beat. We get our share of local shoppers, but we also do well with tourists. Scottsdale is the Beverly Hills of Arizona.
She smiled. She’d heard that before. “All the better then.”
“I’m glad Worth finally filled this spot. Not good for business, you know, to have empty shops on the boulevard.”
“That’s true.”
“Stop by the café sometime and I’ll buy you a meal.” He winked and started walking backward. “I must get back to the kitchen. We usually pack the house at lunchtime.”
Sammie waved goodbye to him and returned to the empty store, walking toward a back room that would serve as her office. She sat down on a neon green children’s chair that was left behind, she presumed, when the space was called Kyra’s Korner, a playland venue for small children. Jackson said the idea of an indoor babysitting activity center was sound, but it hadn’t been situated in the right location. He had more faith in Boot Barrage.
The thought made her smile. Jackson liked boots. On women. Oh, who was she kidding? Jackson simply liked women, period. And they liked him back.
She leaned forward in the teensy seat, trying to forget about her little rendezvous with him in Vegas. The more she thought about it, the more she was glad she couldn’t remember much of the night she spent in his bed. You can’t long for what you can’t remember. So, it was a good thing her memory of that night was virtually nonexistent.
The back door opened with a yawning sound and she spun her head to find Jackson stepping over the threshold. He bolted the door shut behind him and approached her with a laid-back smile. “Hey, Sammie.”
“Oh, hi.” She wished her breath wouldn’t catch every time she set eyes on him. He was beautiful, no matter what expression he had on his face or what clothes he wore on his body, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Today he had on jeans and a black jacket over a white cotton shirt. His hair, thick and rich as dark wheat, was covered with a tan felt hat. His eyes held a perpetual hint of mischief and were aimed at her calf-length boots.
He studied them, his eyes raking over the soft mocha leather straps and silver studs. She had her jeans tucked into them today, making her feel more like a Southwest woman than a Boston greenhorn.
He met her gaze. “Nice.”
Self-conscious and a little flustered, she rose from the table to face him. “Thanks. I’m a walking advertisement for my boots.”
“Who wouldn’t stop to admire … them,” he asked as his gaze flowed over her legs, moved higher to touch on her breasts and then finally landed on her eyes.
Rattled, Sammie stammered, “I—I uh, didn’t expect you this morning.”
“It’s almost lunchtime.”
She shrugged. She wouldn’t argue semantics with him. “Oh, I guess it is. I’ve been busy and didn’t realize the time.”
“Busy? Doing what?” Jackson scanned the room. “The place is empty.”
“I know. I’ve been busy thinking… about what it’ll look like when it’s not empty.”
“Can you put those thoughts down on paper?”
“I already have. I’ve worked on a draft. It’s at my apartment.”
“I’d like to see it, darlin’.”
Sammie balked. “My apartment?”
“That too,but we have that dang pact, remember?”
How could she forget?
“I’m talking about the drafts. I’ve got a crew lined up to build the shelves and counter space and whatever else you decide you want. But I’d like to see your ideas first and go over them. Sound fair?”
Sammie had to get her head in the game. Jackson, obviously, didn’t have a problem being around her, even if he teased her a bit, so she had to stop thinking of him as anything other than her very smart, very business-minded partner. “Yes, that sounds fair. I guess I didn’t think you’d have much time to devote to Boot Barrage.”
Jackson tipped his hat farther back on his head. “Seeing one of my enterprises get off to a good start is always smart business, Sammie. I invest not only my money, but also my time and ideas. So how about we shoot by your apartment, pick up your drafts and then discuss them over lunch?”
Lunch? With Jackson? She supposed there was no getting around spending time with him. He was successful and if he could show her how to make a go of her business in Scottsdale, she should be grateful. “Sure.”
“One more thing,” he said, taking her hand. The connection shot a jolt of heat straight through her system. He tugged her out the back door and into the parking lot. When she stared at him in question, he said with a dimpled smile, “This is for you.”
“I’ve never driven an SUV before.” With trepidation, Sammie sat behind the wheel of the Lincoln Navigator and coasted along the streets of Scottsdale. The new-car scent from the tan leather upholstery filled her nostrils as the shiny dashboard controls twinkled in the early afternoon sun. Everything surrounding her was rich and luxurious, including the man sitting in the passenger seat beside her.
“You’re doing fine, Sammie,” Jackson said nonchalantly, looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world. The Navigator was the biggest car she’d ever driven. “You needed something with good storage space in back for boxes and samples. I figured a truck would be pushing it.”
She gave him a sideways glance. “You figured right. Driving a truck would give me hives.”
“It’s not as hard as it looks.”
“No, it’s probably harder.” She concentrated on the road and the newness of the controls. “I bet you’ve been driving your daddy’s pickup truck since you were fifteen.”
Jackson snickered. “More like thirteen, darlin’. My daddy didn’t have a problem with his kids driving on their own property. He taught us the basics and let us have at it.”
“It’s a great car, Jackson.” Sammie had to swallow past the lump in her throat. She’d been floored when Jackson told her the car was hers. She was overcome with gratitude but felt a little guilty; she doubted that Jackson was in the habit of giving cars to his business partners. He was doing a favor for Callie and Sammie was reaping the benefits. Sometimes it overwhelmed her, but at the same time, it made her all the more determined to make their business a success. Jackson’s generosity wasn’t something to sneeze it. “Tell me it’s a business expense.”
“It’s yours. But on paper it’s the Boot Barrage company car.”
That rationale made her feel a little better. “Okay. I’ll take good care of it.”
They stopped by her apartment first, Jackson insisting on seeing the place. The set of his jaw and his reassuring look were enough to persuade her it wouldn’t be a problem. It wasn’t as if he was irresistibly drawn to her or anything. They could keep their hands off each other.
“I like it,” he said, perusing the living space in the apartment. “Even if it’s a snug fit.”
