Modern art graced his office walls, along with framed posters of New York. In moments of real nostalgia, he could almost convince himself that those were the views outside the office. He’d actually framed one skyline scene behind an old window he’d found at a flea market. As illusions went, it wasn’t half-bad.
Only rarely did he look outside and risk the sight of a stray cow peering back at him. That and the wide-open spaces reminded him all too vividly that he was a very long way from home and way, way out of his element. The sound of rain splattering on the refurbished warehouse’s tin roof could shatter the illusion in a heartbeat. Fortunately it had been a dry few months.
In general, though, he thought he’d adapted pretty well. He owned a Stetson, cowboy boots and a pair of jeans. Much as he hated to admit it, he’d discovered the outfit was actually comfortable.
Recently he’d nearly decided to stop bugging Megan for hazardous-duty pay, but then he’d recalled the driving he had to do to get anywhere in this godforsaken, spread-out land. The thought of getting behind the wheel of a car had almost been enough to make him quit and head back to a city where it was possible to get everywhere on public transportation.
Over the years, though, he had prided himself on never giving in to panic, on doing what had to be done in any and all circumstances. He’d told himself that this was just another role he had to learn to play. Only by distancing himself in that way had he been able to get his license.
Then he’d reluctantly gone car shopping. Megan had recommended an outrageously expensive but sturdy sports utility vehicle. He’d found himself gravitating toward something slightly less ostentatious, something a true westerner would drive.
He’d walked out of the showroom with a great big, fancy pickup truck. That sucker could haul a lot of hay, maybe even a dead moose. Not that he had any intention of loading it up with either. As he’d driven off the lot, he’d been convinced he was doing a darn fine job of turning himself into the image of a rancher. Who would ever have thought it possible? Certainly not him, not in his wildest dreams. And while he would never in a million years admit it to his boss, he loved that truck. He just hated getting behind the wheel.
He glanced up at the television monitor in his office in time to see Megan and Peggy pull a perfect chocolate raspberry soufflé from the oven. His mouth watered. The town of Whispering Wind might not have the caliber of restaurants he’d frequented in Manhattan, but the recipes Megan and Peggy whipped up on their cable show almost made up for it. Unfortunately the show was taped and that soufflé was a distant memory. This week’s tapings were heavy with summer salads, which were healthy enough but hardly appealed to his taste for the exotic.
“Can you believe how incredibly well that soufflé turned out?” Megan asked, walking into his office just in time to see the close-up of the finished product. “It never ceases to amaze me that I can actually cook when I put my mind to it.”
“You don’t cook. You let Peggy do all the tricky stuff,” Todd reminded her with a grin. “Boiling water tests your skills. That’s why you refuse to let the housekeeper out at the ranch retire. Whispering Wind doesn’t exactly cater to your best culinary achievement—ordering in.”
His boss frowned at him. “Have you forgotten who’s in charge around here?” she asked with feigned indignation. “Besides, I was cooking all alone on the show for quite a while before we asked Peggy to take over those segments.”
“All alone?” he repeated skeptically. “I seem to remember finished products being prepared by expert chefs so you wouldn’t look like an idiot at the end of the show.”
“Okay, okay, so cooking isn’t my strong suit, which brings me to the reason for dropping in. What would you think of spinning Peggy’s segment off into a full half-hour show? The response has been terrific. The audience is growing. Requests for recipes are up and that catalog we put together to sell gourmet ingredients is doing terrific business. Maybe we ought to capitalize on all that.”
“How’s Johnny going to feel about that? They’re just beginning to get their marriage back on track. A show of her own will eat up a lot of Peggy’s time.”
Megan frowned at the mention of her best friend’s rocky marriage. “It’ll be up to Peggy, of course, but I think she needs to maintain as much financial independence as she can. It was only when Johnny began to see that she could walk away from him that he finally started to shape up. If you ask me, the relationship is still on shaky ground.”
“Okay, so the ball is in Peggy’s court on that one. How about you? Don’t you have enough on your plate without starting up another television show?” Todd asked, even as the idea began to take hold in his imagination.
Megan’s friend had turned out to be a natural in front of the camera. The viewers loved her. Advertisers clamored for the available commercial spots during her segments. Selling her show to the syndicator would be a breeze. And, to be perfectly frank, she was a whole lot less demanding than the woman seated in front of him. Peggy was a nurturer. Megan was a type-A control freak.
“It wouldn’t be on my plate,” Megan said. “It would be on yours. You’re the executive producer around here.”
“That’s my name on the credits,” he agreed. “But you’re in charge. You still oversee every detail on the show and for the magazine. You vowed to let up once you married Jake, but I haven’t seen any evidence of it.”
“I’m letting up now,” she said, an uncharacteristic blush on her cheeks.
“And I’m a full-fledged cowboy,” Todd retorted, not believing her for a minute. Megan was far too obsessive-compulsive to give up any control of her empire.
“No, I am letting up,” she insisted, then took a deep breath and blurted, “I’m pregnant.”
Todd stared, then jumped up and let out a whoop as he scooped her out of the chair and spun her around. He was genuinely delighted for her. The ultimate career woman, Megan had taken a long time to realize that she was mother material. Thrust into the role when she’d assumed guardianship of her grandfather’s illegitimate eight-year-old daughter less than a year ago, she’d panicked, then thrived, ultimately proving that she could handle career and motherhood without missing a beat. Over time she and Tess had built a better relationship than most kids had with their natural parents. She’d even found room in her heart and in their lives for Tess’s biological mother, Flo.
“Congratulations! It’s about time,” he enthused.
“We haven’t been married that long,” Megan reminded him. “Just a few months.”
“From what I’ve heard it only takes one night, especially if you’re not planning on it. What does Jake think? Never mind. He’s probably over the moon. How about Tess?” he asked.
“Still full of surprises. Jake and I worried how she would react, since she’s just beginning to believe that I intend to be a real mother to her. Apparently, though, she thinks this is something we’ve done especially for her. She’s looking forward to having a little brother or sister she can boss around. Says it’ll be even better than all those kittens she’s managed to sneak into the house.” She surveyed him intently. “How about you? Think you’re ready to be a godfather?”
Taken by surprise, his palms began to sweat. “Me? You can’t be serious. I can’t even remember the last time I set foot in a church. What kind of role model would I be?” he asked, dismissing the idea out of hand.
