he’d unknowingly handed to her.
She was having dinner with his family. Dinner with the Ryders—a private meal where she could ask as many questions as she liked, about growing up, their ranch, their charity trust, their businesses.
She already knew the article would show them in a positive light. Both Jared and Stephanie were hardworking, successful people. The fact that they commemorated their parents’ deaths was admirable, and their grandfather’s recent death would add a poignancy that readers would lap up like kittens with fresh cream.
She lowered herself into the armchair beside the cottage window, struggling to frame her thoughts. It was Friday today. She’d planned to give herself one more day, maybe two at the most, to gather facts at the ranch. Then she’d have to rush back to Chicago and write the article in time to have it sitting on Seth Strickland’s desk for Monday morning.
But that timetable was out the window now. Her greatest interview opportunities would be in the next couple of days. Which meant there was no way to be ready Monday morning. Which meant she’d have to call Seth and confess.
She drew a breath, squeezing the fabric-covered arms of the chair as she tried to still her racing heart. She could only hope her editor’s excitement over the article would overrule his anger that she’d lied to him.
She glanced at her watch. Two o’clock. That made it three in Chicago. No time to lose. She pulled her cell phone out of her bag, pressing the buttons for his number. It rang three times, but then jumped to voice mail, giving her no choice but to leave a quick, vague message.
She replaced the phone in her bag when, over the sound of the continuing rain, she heard footsteps on the front porch. She glanced through the window to see Stephanie, a dripping white Stetson pulled low on her head, waving cheerily through the pane.
Melissa sighed inwardly. She wasn’t ready for this. Being undercover to get a story was one thing, but leading Stephanie on was another thing entirely.
But Stephanie had seen her, and Melissa had no choice but to open the door. She crossed to the little foyer.
“Hi,” said Stephanie, beaming as she entered the cottage.
Melissa couldn’t help but smile in return. The young woman’s grin was infectious.
“I told you so,” Stephanie sang, hanging her hat on one of a long row of pegs on the wooden wall.
The entry area of the cottage was practically laid out. There were pegs for coats and hats. A small bench beneath, with room for footwear under it, and a bright, woven Navajo rug decorating the wooden floor.
The foyer took up one corner of the small living room. The rest of the room boasted a simple burgundy couch, a leather armchair, a small television and two low tables with ivory lamps.
There was a compact kitchen beside the living room, a table and two kitchen chairs under the front window, and a door to a bedroom/bathroom combination on the far side. Melissa had to admit, she adored the brass bed and the claw-foot tub. And the oak tree outside the bedroom window rustled in the night breeze, while the muted roar of the river outside filled in the background.
Melissa took a step back to stay out of the way of Stephanie’s wet raincoat. Not that she wouldn’t have to change clothes, anyway. Standing in front of the open window with Jared had been … well, it had been amazing, of course. But mostly it had been foolish. And not just because she’d ended up with wet clothes.
Stephanie kicked off her boots. “Do you know how long it’s been since Jared invited a woman home for dinner?”
Melissa knew she needed to dial Stephanie’s excitement level way down. “He didn’t exactly—”
“Never,” sang Stephanie. “He’s never invited a woman home for dinner.”
“Your equestrian center is not his actual home,” cautioned Melissa. “And I was already here.”
Stephanie waved a dismissive hand. “Technicalities.”
“No. Facts.”
Stephanie pouted.
“Seriously, Stephanie. You can’t get carried away with this. Jared and I barely know each other.”
Stephanie heaved an exaggerated sigh, dropping down onto the couch. “Are you always this much of a downer?”
Melissa took the armchair again. “I’m always this much of a realist.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“It saves a lot of heartache in the long run.”
“Disappointment, I can handle. It’s never leaving the starting gate that would kill me.”
Inwardly, Melissa conceded there was some logic to the argument. “It’s only dinner,” she said to Stephanie. “And I’m still planning to leave in a couple of days.”
“But you’re here now,” said Stephanie with a sly wink. “What are you going to wear?”
Melissa’s cell phone jangled from her bag on the floor.
“I hadn’t thought about it,” she said, knowing in her heart the call was from Seth. There was no way in the world she could answer it in front of Stephanie.
It rang again.
“Do you want to get that?”
Melissa shook her head. “It can go to voice mail.”
“You sure? I don’t mind.”
Another shrill ring.
“I’m sure. What do you think I should wear?” Truth was, Melissa hadn’t seen anyone wear anything but blue jeans and riding clothes since she’d arrived. Her own wardrobe was plain and meager, since she was pretending to be on a bus trip.
The damn phone rang again.
“You sure you don’t want to—”
“Completely sure.” Melissa reached for the slim phone. A quick glance told her it was, indeed, her boss. She sent the call to voice mail. “There.”
Stephanie paused for a moment. Then her expression grew animated once again as she sat forward. “I was thinking, since it’s Royce’s first night back, we should dress up a little.”
Melissa’s attention went automatically to the downpour and the rivulets of mud streaking the narrow cottage road. Even if she had brought anything dressy, it was a virtual mud bog between the cottage and Stephanie’s house.
“We’ll do it up at the house,” Stephanie went on. “We’re about the same size. You can take a shower up there. We’ll play around with your hair. Put on a little makeup, and you can borrow one of my dresses. I have a bunch I’ve never even worn.”
“I’m not Cinderella,” Melissa admonished.
“Oh—” Stephanie all but jumped up from the sofa “—that makes me the fairy godmother.”
“Did
