Her Cowboy's Caress (Taken by Cowboys: Part 1) A Billionaire Western Romance (2 page)

The next thing she knew her cell phone was
out of her handbag and her fingers were wavering over the keys.
Then she shook herself. Was she really about to call? What would
she say—that she wanted to take off and spend a month in Big Horn,
Wyoming? That was absurd.

Suddenly the phone began to buzz in her
hands, surprising her so much that she almost dropped it. She
accepted the call and put it to her ear.

“Jess! What are you doing right now?” Dani’s
bright, ebullient voice came crashing into her eardrums. As was her
custom, Jess held the phone away.

“Dani, I don’t know how you survive working
at a publishing house with a voice like that,” she admonished
playfully.

“Because I’m damn good at my job, that’s
why. Plus, I like to think I’m a breath of fresh air for those old
fossils,” Dani said cheerfully, without lowering the volume a
notch.

Jess laughed. “To answer your question, not
much. I was just checking the mail.” She looked at the brochure
that was in her other hand and felt a bit guilty, as if she had
been looking at something indiscreet.

“Come on, let’s go get a drink,” Dani said.
“Meet me at Lucky’s in thirty?”

“Make it fifteen,” Jess said, slamming her
mailbox shut.

Lucky’s was their favorite after-work
destination. It was an old neighborhood bar that was comfortable
without being hip, cheap without being a dive. It was also almost
equidistant between their apartments, which were only fourteen
blocks apart. Add seven-dollar cosmos until nine p.m., and it was
hard to beat.

They settled into their favorite booth with
their drinks and Dani began giving Jess the rundown of her day.
Jess was having a hard time concentrating on what Dani was
saying—something about a writer who had been giving her a hard time
over the phone. Her thoughts kept wandering back to the brochure
that was now lying on her kitchen counter. How had Getaway Guest
Ranch gotten her address, anyway? She hadn’t sent for any
brochure.

“Are you okay, Jess? You seem a little
distracted,” Dani said, looking at her with concern. “Is it about
Todd?”

“No, no,” she said quickly. The last thing
she wanted to talk about was her ex. “It’s just work. You know, the
usual. Lauren’s been getting on my case again—”

Dani cut her off. “
Lauren
is a
miserable, malnourished bitch who will probably die an early death
from lung cancer, if that stick up her ass doesn’t get to her
first.”

Jess burst out in laughter, the first real,
hearty guffaw she’d had in days. She picked up her cosmo and took a
sip. “Thanks, Dani,” she said. “I feel better already.”

Back in her apartment, a little woozy from
the second cosmo Dani had made her order, Jess took out the
brochure again and contemplated it. Scampers wove around her
ankles, mewing for attention.

What did she have to lose? The least she
could do was find out a little more information—even find out if
the place was actually real. Before she could talk herself out of
it, she took her phone out and dialed the number. As it was
ringing, she realized how absurd it was—it was after ten p.m. Well,
she could leave a message if she wanted, or just hang up.

But the ringing was interrupted by a man’s
voice. “Getaway Guest Ranch.”

It took Jess a few seconds to find her
voice. “Hello?” the voice repeated.

“Hi! Sorry,” she said, collecting herself.
“I guess I didn’t expect anyone to answer, it being so late.”

“It looks like you’re calling from New York
City, from your area code,” the man said. His voice was pleasant
and warm, though it didn’t have any of the Western lilt Jess had
expected. “We’re two hours earlier here. And anyway, we try to pick
up the phone whenever we can.”

“I see,” she said. “So you’re real,
then.”

The man laughed and Jess felt herself blush.
She was glad he couldn’t see her over the phone. “Indeed, we are.
We’re a full-service guest ranch offering short- and long-term
Western escapes to anyone who needs to get away.” He paused. “Would
that describe you?”

She was taken aback by the sudden question.
She’d expected to be the one doing the asking. “I think it might,”
was the answer that came out of her mouth—the honest one.

“Well, we’d love to have you,” the voice
said. “A lot of city folks tell us that a month here does them a
world of good. You just can’t beat that fresh air and time off the
clock.”

There was something entrancing about his
voice—something that seemed to be pulling her in through the phone.
She didn’t know why, but she wanted to be closer to that voice.

“That does sound nice,” she managed, a
little breathlessly.

There was another slight pause. “What’s your
name, if I may ask?”

“It’s Jess,” she said.

“Jess,” he repeated. His voice formed her
name in a way that seemed full of hidden meaning, sending a very
real shiver through her body. “Well, Jess, if you do decide to join
us, you can go online and book your stay. You buy the plane ticket,
and we’ll take the rest from there. Easiest vacation you’ve ever
booked.”

“I’ll certainly think about it,” she said.
She fingered the brochure on the counter.

“Feel free to call, any time of day or
night,” he said. “Good night.”

There was a soft click as the line went
dead.

“Good night,” she said into the silent
phone.

For a moment she remained at the counter,
staring transfixed at the phone in her hand. Beyond her line of
focus was the bright-covered brochure, open to a picture of smiling
faces around a campfire.

“Come on, Scampers,” she said, giving
herself a shake and picking up the cat. It had to be the vodka.
“Let’s go to bed.”

As she wandered into her room, she tried
hard to leave the conversation behind. It had been a simple one, so
why was it echoing in her mind? Who was the voice on the other end
of the line, and why was it having this effect on her?

The day had arrived. As she waited in the
long, winding security line full of impatient passengers at JFK
Airport, she felt her heart palpitate. She squeezed the handle of
her suitcase to steady herself.

The previous two weeks had been a whirlwind.
The day after she’d had the conversation with the mysterious man on
the other end of the phone line, Lauren had made yet another
comment about both Jess’s general incompetence and her weight.

She had been plugging away at one of the
accounts Lauren had thrown at her at the last minute the day
before, when Lauren had come striding over to her desk. She was
wearing a short black sheath over black tights and four-inch spike
heels.

“Still working on the Triptych account,
Jess?” she asked, scorn dripping from her voice.

“I’m almost done,” Jess muttered, clacking
away at her keyboard as she sent out yet another confirmation
email. She had been on the phone all morning and her voice was
hoarse from all her negotiating and fast-talking with various
vendors.

“If only you could get these things done as
fast as you could crush a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough,”
Lauren said.

Jess felt her face heat up. Her fingers were
shaking. Slowly, she looked up. Lauren was fumbling in her bag for
her pack of cigarettes a few feet away.

“You know what, Lauren? I’ve had it up to
here with you and this job,” she said. “I’m not going to be bullied
by you anymore. Consider this my two weeks’ notice. I quit.”

The look on Lauren’s face alone made it
totally worth it.

The next two weeks had been surprisingly
easy. Lauren and the other girls in the office had been almost nice
to her, as if Jess’s quitting made them realize how unfairly they’d
treated her. That, or they were just glad to see her go. She didn’t
really care which.

Quitting had given her a heady sense of
recklessness. Right after putting in her notice, she’d gone online
and signed up for a month’s stay at Getaway Guest Ranch.
Screw
it
, she thought as she filled out the form and put in her
credit card number.
I’ve been saying I need to get out of this
city. This is my chance. The stars are finally aligned.

Dani had been shocked to hear about Jess’s
plans. “You quit your job to do
what
?” she’d asked that
night at Lucky’s, her cosmo forgotten. “You’re going
where
?”

She knew it didn’t make sense, picking up
and going to Big Horn, Wyoming. It sounded more like a quarter-life
crisis than a reasonable plan. Yet it didn’t feel like chance.
First she’d been staying up late night after night watching
Westerns, dreaming about a cowboy adventure (while hating every
minute of her job at the same time). Then that brochure had come in
the mail like a sign. The conversation with the mysterious man had
sealed the deal. His voice had pulled her like a dragnet.

Standing in line at security now, though,
she didn’t feel quite so confident. The more she thought about it,
the crazier it seemed. Leaving her job and going to spend a month
in Middle-of-Nowhere, Wyoming, riding horses and singing “Home on
the Range” around a campfire? What was she thinking? What would she
do when she got back?

Oh, well. She couldn’t think about that now.
Her turn in line was approaching. She drained the last of her
coffee and took her ID and boarding pass out of her bag. Soon she
would be whisked through security, and then she would find her way
to her gate, buy a magazine and a pack of gum and board the plane.
Whatever lay in store after that was hers to discover.

Nate opened the door to the office and
walked in on exaggerated tiptoes, screwing up his face and
shielding his eyes when Spencer looked over at him. Then Nate saw
the coffee cup in front of him. He let out an exaggerated sigh of
relief, wiping invisible sweat from his brow.

“Thank god I’m safe,” he said, grabbing a
mug from one of the hooks that hung over the counter and pouring
himself a cup from the coffeemaker. “I know better than to try and
talk to you before you’ve had your first cup of coffee.”

Spencer gave him a wry smile. “That much
hasn’t changed over the years.”

Nate threw himself into a chair across the
table from Spencer, pushing his sandy-blond hair out of his eyes.
While Spencer kept his hair neatly combed back, Nate was
perpetually in need of a haircut. “So what’s on tap for today?”

Spencer pulled the clipboard closer to him
and flipped the page. “After breakfast you’re leading a day ride.
I’ll be taking another group out fly-fishing. Leisure activities in
the afternoon, and tonight there’s the usual Friday campfire after
dinner.”

“Sounds good,” Nate said. “Sam delivered a
new stock of flies and leaders in the supply shed, so make sure to
grab them when you go get the rods.”

“Will do,” Spencer responded.

The two men sipped their coffee in
companionable silence, each thinking about the day ahead. It had
become a tradition for them to meet for coffee before the day began
and they got swept up in the tasks of running the guest ranch.
Their morning meeting was a way to keep organized and talk about
any issues that had come up. It was about the only thing that kept
their business on track.

“Do you ever miss the old days, Nate?”
Spencer said suddenly.

Nate looked at him in surprise. He hardly
ever heard Spencer mention their shared past. “I can’t say that I
do. It feels like another life, you know? Like I was someone else
back then.”

Spencer nodded. “I know what you mean.
Sometimes when we get these guests from New York, I start thinking
about it again. Then I’m amazed all over again that I’m here now.”
He gestured out the window, to the stunning view of the sun
cresting over the Big Horn mountains and bathing the wide-open
valley in fresh morning light.

“I get that feeling, too, sometimes,” Nate
said, rising to pour both Spencer and himself another cup of
coffee. “Most of the city people that come here just seem so
desperate to get out of there, you know? It makes me want to ask
them, why do you live there if you feel so miserable?” He shrugged,
and then laughed. “Then again, neither of us is really one to
talk.”

“True,” Spencer admitted.

“Speaking of city slickers,” Nate said, “do
we have any new arrivals coming in today?”

Spencer flicked to another page on the list.
“One,” he said. “From New York, in fact. Jessica Jones. Goes by
Jess.”

“She’s alone?” Nate asked.

Spencer glanced at the paper again. “Looks
like it.”

“Let me guess,” Nate said. “Another
stick-skinny city girl who’s more concerned with keeping her
manicure intact than taking advantage of the great outdoors.”

Spencer frowned. There was something
familiar about the name. “I’m not sure,” he said slowly. He had a
vague memory of having spoken to this Jess. He spoke to so many
people on the phone that it was hard to keep track, but something
about this particular conversation stuck in his mind—a feeling more
than anything else. “I think this one might be different.”

Two flights and a long car ride later, Jess
had finally arrived at Big Horn. She had dropped off almost
immediately after the plane took off and slept for most of the
duration of the trip. She’d been even more exhausted than she’d
thought, working long hours over so many months with hardly a break
and then rushing to make arrangements for her extended stay out of
the city.

As the car drove under the wooden archway
that spelled out “Getaway Guest Ranch,” her fatigue was replaced by
a sudden surge of excitement. She was really there.

“Here we are, miss,” the driver said as they
pulled up to a large wooden lodge. “This is the main building where
you’ll be checking in.”

“Thank you so much,” she said, handing him a
folded wad of bills.