both had happened.
Callie finished her conversation with Sammie and placed the receiver back onto its cradle. With a hand to her belly, she marveled about the new life growing inside her, wondering whether it was a boy or a girl. Wondering if the baby would have her brown eyes or Tagg’s beautiful silver-blue ones. Would the child have a golden bronze complexion like the father or be fair-skinned like Callie?
In only her most selective, perfect fantasies did she entertain thoughts of a future with Taggart Worth. She wouldn’t use the baby as bait to lure him into a relationship. She wouldn’t trap him into marriage. Yes, he had a right to know about the baby, but not yet. Shoving aside the guilt that burdened her by not revealing the truth to him, Callie held firm to her convictions. She needed a little time and a chance to win him over. She’d fallen in love with him and wanted nothing less in return. Before she told him she carried his child.
Callie had set the wheels in motion. Tomorrow she would begin working with the Worths at Penny’s Song.
Two
Tagg’s eyes nearly crossed as he stared at the computer screen. He’d been intent on doing an inventory of Worth Ranch holdings and had spent the better part of the morning staring at numbers.
Tagg’s office space, which was an appendage of his main house, consisted of three rooms. The room where Tagg would conduct business if need be, he had designed himself. Rough wood beams angled across the ceilings, wall-to-wall walnut bookshelves and cabinets spread across the entire perimeter, and his wide desk faced the door. The other two rooms were smaller with walls painted in rustic gold. One he used as a makeshift lounge area, complete with a wet bar, built-in refrigerator and a chocolate leather sofa. The other room was where he kept old file cabinets and outdated equipment. All of the Worths’ business machines and electronics were state of the art now, upon Jackson’s insistence.
“Enough,” he muttered as he shut down the computer. He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. At the age of thirty-one he was too damn young to be feeling so weary before noon.
“You’re doing too much,” his brother Jackson said as he walked into the office. “Why the heck don’t you break down and get yourself some help? A secretary, for Pete’s sake. You know, someone who can answer phones and file, crunch those numbers you’re staring at too long.”
“When the hell did you get here?” Tagg asked, baffled. He was concentrating so hard on his work, he hadn’t heard Jackson drive up and walk into his office.
“Don’t change the subject. You know I’m right.”
Tagg glared at him. His brother was two years older and a whole lot more polished than Tagg. He wore six-hundred-dollar snakeskin boots and dressed like a fashion model for Cowboys & Indians magazine. He operated the Worth offices in downtown Phoenix.
“I’m thinking about it.” He hated to admit it. His brothers were always on his case about hiring someone to help out. The trouble was that Tagg liked the solitude of the ranch. He liked keeping his own hours without answering to anyone. He liked being alone with his thoughts. An employee would cramp his style.
In his younger days, he’d spend all-nighters with the rodeo boys, drinking whiskey until the sun came up without one iota of sleep. But his eyes never burned like they did now, spending hours in front of the computer screen. Of course, after a long bender like that, he’d felt no pain anywhere on his body.
Tagg smiled thinking about his crazy rodeo days and the friends he’d left behind. But then, dark memories immediately flooded in, reminding him why he left the rodeo.
“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re thinking about it,” Jackson remarked. “I can have Betty Sue take a look at the list of résumés we have at the main office. That woman is great at hiring the right employees for the company.”
Tagg waved him off. “Maybe. But not now.”
Jackson persisted with a coaxing smile. “There’s no time like the present.”
Tagg rose from his seat and shot his brother a look. “Give it a rest. I said I’ll think about it.”
Jackson took Tagg’s suggestion and shrugged with nonchalance. “Fine with me. So, are you helping this afternoon with Clay’s project?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there. He wants me to pick out the right horses for the kids coming to the ranch. You going?” He gave the tailored suit his brother was wearing the once-over.
“Not today. I have a meeting in the middle of the day. Gotta get back to Phoenix.”
“Something important?”
“Maybe. I’m thinking the Worths should get into the restaurant business.”
Tagg shook his head. “What?”
“Could be a really sweet deal. We could franchise, eventually.”
Tagg shook his head. Jackson was the go-getter in the family and had done very well for himself outside of Worth Enterprises. He had a gift when it came to making money. “That’s out of our comfort zone a tad bit, isn’t it?”
Jackson smiled wide. “Nah. I’m thinking it’s time to broaden our horizons.”
“Cattle, land development and now restaurants? You’ve got too much time on your hands, Jack.”
“Not true, I’m busier than ever.”
“Then maybe you need some outside interests that don’t include work.”
“Look who’s talking,” Jackson said with a grin. “This, coming from a man who doesn’t step foot off Worth land. Maybe you need to get a life.”
“I’ve got a life, right here. I’m not a recluse. I go out.” Rarely. But he did venture out on occasion. The last time he left town, he’d gone to Reno and had a sizzling hot night of sex with a sultry brunette.
“Okay, whatever you say. You got some time to feed me before you head over to Penny’s Song?”
“Yeah, I think I can wrangle us up some lunch.”
An hour later, Tagg got into his Jeep Cherokee and drove over to the Penny’s Song site. He had to hand it to his brother. Clayton Worth, country-western superstar, had retired from singing at the ripe old age of thirty-seven to live a simpler life on the ranch. Along the way, he’d had the inspiration for Penny’s Song and was making it a reality. All three brothers had pooled their resources and invested in its development. But Tagg felt close to this project for his own reasons.
He climbed out of his Jeep and studied the construction site. At least a dozen workmen applied their trade, though most of the major construction was complete. Shingles were being nailed down, barn doors were being set on hinges and new buildings forming an old-town-style street were wet with paint announcing Sheriff’s Office and General Store. The Red Ridge Saloon had an attached kitchen where the meals would be served. The bunkhouse where the kids would sleep would be run by well-screened volunteers.
“It’s coming along,” Clay said, walking up to him. He pushed his hat back on his head.
“It’s looking better than
