question is, are you up to tackling this sort of job?”
Excitement. That was what Gloria felt as she contemplated the challenge the ranch house presented. However, she was also a realist. “I’ll be honest, Max. Back in Chicago I could do it. I’ve got the contacts there—contractors, furniture suppliers. Here?” She shrugged. “I don’t know where to start. We’re out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Well, now, we may be isolated but I imagine Butte’s got what you need in terms of furniture and supplies.”
“What if we can’t rent? Can your client afford what I’m talking about?
“We can ask.”
Not for the first time, Gloria wondered who the mystery client was.
“So,” Max prodded. “What do you think?”
She smiled. “I think it’s an exciting proposition.”
“Good, glad to hear it. You come highly recommended.”
She did? She was just going to ask who’d recommended her when Max nodded toward the window. “I just saw the client ride past. Why don’t we go talk over the fine points with him and then he can take you on a tour of the rest of the property.”
“Sounds good.”
Already Gloria’s mind was spinning with ideas, a southwestern theme infused with modern touches. The log home, with its warm honey tones, would be ideal for brightly colored furniture and accents. With her head buried in her notebook, jotting down the ideas before she could forget them, she followed Max back outside to the yard.
When she glanced up, all she saw was a big man striding toward them, the sun at his back blinding her so that she couldn’t make out his features.
“Hi, Gloria. Glad you came.”
That voice. She recognized that voice.
Oh, no.
She shielded her eyes from the sun and his features came into focus. She pointed at him as if he was an apparition, not a flesh-and-blood man. “Dillon?”
“That’s me.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
He took a couple steps closer. She stumbled back.
“What do you mean what am I doing here?”
“I mean. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”
He frowned. “This ranch is mine. For now. Until you help me sell it, that is.” He opened his arms wide. “Welcome.”
Gloria could not believe it. She propped her fists on her hips. “You tricked me into coming here?”
“Tricked you?” Dillon tilted his head to one side, the wide brim of his cowboy hat hiding his eyes. “Is that what you think?”
“Yes, that’s what I think.” Gloria angled her chin up at him. Good Lord the man was big. She’d forgotten how big he was. “For what reason, I can only guess.”
The real estate agent cleared his throat and Dillon turned to him. “Give us a few minutes, will you, Max?”
“Sure thing.”
Dillon waited until Max was out of earshot before taking a measured step toward her. “Tell me, who did you think was behind the contract?”
Gloria bit down on the end of her pencil. “Well...”
“Who do you know who lives in Montana, besides me?”
“Oh, um...”
“Anyone?” With each step he took toward her, his voice became lower.
“I thought you lived in Wyoming,” she said with a lame laugh.
“Why would you think that?”
Before answering, she took a moment to think about it. She had a vague recollection of Dillon telling her where he hailed from—twice—so why didn’t she remember? She’d like to believe it was because she didn’t care, but that wasn’t exactly true.
God, I’m an idiot...
He frowned, as though he’d heard her unspoken words, and then he removed his hat and raked his fingers through his thick dark brown hair before positioning it back on his head.
Why did such a simple act have such a profound effect on her? Maybe it was because she was so aware of him whenever he was around—his presence, his size, seriously the man just took up too much space—it made her uneasy. So, when he spoke in that melodic, ambling drawl of his, the words just strolled right on by.
Because you’re too busy checking out his package.
Oh, God! Gloria tore her gaze from the front of Dillon’s well-fitting jeans. Had he caught her? It was hard to tell with the brim of his hat shading the top half of his face. She faked a scowl, hoping to cover her lapse in concentration.
“Look, Gloria. I’m selling this ranch and I need a stager. You’re the only one I know.”
She tilted her head back so far it felt as if her neck might snap. He was doing this on purpose, coming closer, making her feel so...small. Her instinct was to back away, but she didn’t. She stood her ground. “There’s this amazing thing called the internet and all you have to do is type the word stager into a search engine, and you’ll get a whole list of people. It’s amazing.”
She may not have been able to read his eyes, but there was no mistaking the taut line of muscle along his wide jaw that told her he was clenching his teeth. Yep, he was clenching his teeth, all right, because when he spoke, it was through those closed teeth. “I may not have grown up in the big city, but that doesn’t make me stupid.”
“I never said—”
“No. But you implied it.”
Gloria opened her mouth to refute his claim and then stopped because, while she couldn’t see his eyes beneath his hat, she felt the intensity of his stare, daring her to deny the insult.
“I’m sorry.”
That muscle along his jaw tightened again and Gloria found herself fighting an irrational urge to touch it, run her finger tip along it. Lightly. She clenched her hands into fists instead.
“Look, Gloria, I have no idea what I did to you to make you think I’m some asshole with an agenda. But here’s the deal. I saw how efficient you were at the fund-raiser you threw for Daisy. According to Jamie, you pulled that event off in less than a month. You’re organized, professional and experienced. You can get the job done and that’s what I need.”
The last bit was said so low, the words threatened to sift through her hair before floating by on the wind. Gloria wasn’t even sure she heard him right, all she knew was that the sound of the letters strung together evoked a tingling sensation at the base of her spine.
Dillon’s
