Falling For Fortune. Nancy Robards Thompson

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them now.

      Had Jensen gone home to London?

      Had he stayed?

      Her curiosity was eating her from the inside out, and she was dying to talk to him. But she didn’t want him to think she was stalking him—or that she’d resorted to begging like a lovesick puppy.

      So who should she quiz? Jeanne Marie? That seemed like a more logical choice than Lady Josephine because Amber couldn’t very well discuss that sort of thing with his mother.

      There was also Amelia. Hadn’t his sister said that she thought Amber was good for Jensen and implied they’d make a perfect couple? Well, maybe not perfect. But she’d spotted something between them, just by looking at the photo of them kissing that had been plastered on the front page of the tabloid.

      You’re just what Jensen needs, Amelia had said at the hospital. The camera caught a spark. And I’ve seen the banter between you. My brother hasn’t lit up like that since before my father passed away. And even then...well, I think there’s something going on.

      Right now, it seemed Amber’s only ally was Amelia, so she whipped her cell phone out from her pocket and called the Drummond ranch. She told herself that if by chance Jensen answered, she’d hang up.

      But she was in luck—Amelia said hello after several rings.

      “Do you have a minute to chat?” Amber asked.

      “Clemmie just went down for a nap, so, yes. This is a perfect time.”

      Amber filled her in—not about everything, of course. But she admitted that her attraction for Jensen had led to...well, there’d been no need to deny or hide her feelings at this point. She’d clearly fallen for the stuffy Brit who’d set her world on end, then jerked the rug right out from under her. And she told his sister as much.

      “No wonder,” Amelia said. “My brother is clearly confused. He hasn’t been himself at all. I’m sure that’s why he left.”

      “So he did go, then.” He’d said he would, but she’d somehow hoped that he wouldn’t, that he’d reconsider. He had, after all, admitted to having feelings for her.

      “He’ll return soon. I’m sure of it. And not just because of the weddings in February.”

      Amber wasn’t so sure about that. Even Jensen had said he didn’t know if he’d come back to see his cousins married. That would mean turning around and flying back across the pond again when the weddings were only a couple of weeks away.

      “Thanks for taking time to talk to me.”

      “Call me anytime. And try not to be discouraged. Jensen will come around. We can always count on him doing the right thing, even if he doesn’t know how right that thing is.”

      Amber didn’t feel the least bit hopeful, but she tried not to let his sister sense her discouragement.

      In truth, she was better off cutting her losses—no matter how badly her heart ached.

      She and Jensen were too ill suited to make a match anyway. He was an uptight aristocrat. And she was going to star in the Wild West Show. She’d have to give up her dreams to live a life with him—although, she suspected that her competitive, cowgirl nature is what drew him to her in the first place. And while she might like to travel and see more of the world, she also loved Texas—and Horseback Hollow especially.

      Yet, even if they could work out the geographical issues, there were still so many more differences. He hid from the paparazzi—at least, whenever he was with her. And she would make him front-page news.

      No, it would never work out.

      She’d be miserable. And so would he.

      She deserved to fall in love with an American prince of a man, a real live Texan, a cowboy with roots in Horseback Hollow and not some faraway land where they butchered the English language and didn’t appreciate sweet tea drunk from an ice-filled mason jar.

      * * *

      The next couple of days passed slowly. And in spite of Amber’s resolve to put on her big-girl panties and get on with life, her cherished Horseback Hollow became a difficult place to be.

      She’d avoided going into town whenever she could, but because Gram was often away from the house, spending more and more time with her new beau, running the household fell on Amber’s shoulders. And today, they needed some groceries.

      So she snatched her purse and the keys to the ranch pickup, then headed out the back door. She’d no more than crossed the yard when Gram and Elmer drove up, big band music blaring from the open window of his Dodge Charger and both of them grinning like teenagers.

      “I’ll see you later tonight,” the retired marine said, as he dropped off her grandmother.

      Gram blew him a kiss. “I’ll have dinner ready when you get here.”

      Amber let out a sigh. She supposed she’d have to get used to having Elmer around. He was becoming a fixture, it seemed.

      The green muscle car had no more than turned around and sped off, when Gram approached Amber with a big ol’ smile plastered across her sweet, prim face.

      “What’s got you in such a happy mood?” Amber asked.

      Gram lifted her left hand, which sported a sparkling diamond ring.

      Seriously?

      “You’re engaged?” Amber asked. “To be married?”

      “Yes, isn’t it exciting? Elmer proposed this morning in front of everyone at The Grill, and I accepted.”

      Amber’s shoulders slumped—and not just because she thought Gram had tarnished Pop’s memory by hooking up with Elmer Murdock. In truth, the sweet old coot had begun to grow on her. But that meant Gram would become a bride before Amber would—not that she’d ever been the kind to get all girly and dreamy over white lace, bouquets and promises.

      Still, there was always a first time, she supposed.

      “What’s the matter?” Gram asked. “Aren’t you the least bit happy for me?”

      “I’m just a little surprised, that’s all. I never expected you to get married again. And, if you did, I thought it would be to someone more like Pop.”

      “I loved your grandfather dearly,” Gram said. “So don’t get me wrong when I say this, but I gave up a lot when I married him.”

      Amber furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

      “Come inside. I’ll put on a pot of coffee, and we can talk.”

      Ten minutes later, as Amber and Gram sat at the antique oak table in the kitchen, their chat continued over two cups of fresh-brewed decaf.

      “Your grandfather was a wonderful man and a good provider, but he was a quiet sort. And marriage to him meant that I had to give up my friends and the life I had in town when I moved to the ranch.”

      “I

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