was odd. Eleanor rarely called the office. Alana opened the desk drawer where she kept her cell and saw that she had several messages waiting. “And?”
“She’s lecturing at a conference in Boston this weekend. After that she’s going to the Cape for a few days. She wanted to let you know she’d be away.”
A sick feeling churned in Alana’s stomach. “You didn’t tell her about the move,” she said, not liking the knowing gleam in her assistant’s eye. “Or that the office would be closed.”
“I’m not sure.” Pam frowned, but couldn’t quite keep a straight face. “I might have mentioned it. Was that wrong?”
“I’m not afraid of her.” Not a total lie. Terrified was a better description. The woman wasn’t a monster, nothing like that. But if Alana thought she was good at manipulating people, Dr. Eleanor Richardson was the damn master. Nine out of ten times she could get her only daughter to crumble like a stale brownie. And if her mother knew she was free, she’d insist Alana accompany her to the Cape. “I can say no to Eleanor.”
“Of course you can.” Pam grinned as she moved around the desk toward the door. “But you know, with all the fall foliage, Cape Cod is gorgeous this time of year….”
Sighing, Alana dug out her phone. All three messages were from Eleanor. Oh, crap.
“Have fun with Mom,” Pam said on her way out with a wave over her shoulder.
“That was so beneath you,” Alana muttered, loudly enough for Pam to hear, then drummed her short, pale, manicured nails on her desk while staring at the phone as if it were the enemy.
She had to call her mother back. If she didn’t, Eleanor would inevitably show up at Alana’s apartment. The doormen all knew her. They’d probably lay out the damn red carpet without even giving Alana a heads-up that her mother was in the building.
And why not? Eleanor Richardson was beautiful and charming, a world-renowned psychiatrist who knew exactly how to get what she wanted. With her expertise perpetually in demand, she was wined and dined, courted by some of the most prestigious institutions in the world. The woman knew no humility, though Alana marveled at how well her mother hid her arrogance and sense of entitlement. Her ability was truly something. Almost enviable.
The thought made Alana shudder. She loved her mother and respected her because she really was brilliant and worked hard—her discipline was an amazing thing. But Alana didn’t want to be like her. Eleanor had no friends. Never in a hundred years could Alana imagine her having a conversation like the one she herself had just had with Pam. It was a small thing, perhaps, and there were many qualities passed on to her from her mother for which Alana was grateful.
She also appreciated the top-notch education she’d been provided, the fabulous trips abroad, the trust fund that guaranteed she’d never have to worry about her future. But the perks had come at a price. A normal childhood had been the trade-off. No sleepovers or going off to summer camp or attending Friday-night school football games like her classmates. No father to read her stories or tuck her in at night.
When she was younger, Alana had thought often about how her life might’ve been different if she’d had a more traditional upbringing. She’d even considered inquiring about the man who’d fathered her. One particular time she’d been so furious with Eleanor for planning a Caribbean trip for them the weekend of the junior prom that she’d nearly asked her mother why she’d bothered having a child.
But Alana hadn’t asked. Instead, she’d sneaked out of her room late that night. She’d made it only five blocks in their posh neighborhood when the police picked her up, assuming she was whacked out on drugs, given the way she was furiously muttering to herself. When they’d returned her home, Eleanor hadn’t raised her voice, not even an eyebrow. She’d merely opened the door, thanked the police in that cool, elegant voice of hers, while Alana raced up the stairs to her room.
Until dawn she’d waited in agony for her bedroom door to open, for Eleanor to lash out at her. The lecture never came. She hadn’t been grounded, no privileges were taken away, and later, when they’d sat across the table from each other while the housekeeper served them breakfast, Eleanor had smiled that charming smile she’d perfected, and reviewed the itinerary of their Caribbean trip as if nothing had happened.
It was then that Alana recognized the truth of their relationship. She’d finally understood her role. Eleanor hadn’t necessarily wanted a child; she’d needed a companion. Marriage had never even been considered. After all, what man could meet her expectations?
But a child? Perfect, really, because it gave Eleanor the opportunity to mold Alana into someone who suited her mother’s preferences. Infuriatingly, the plan had worked far too well. For all Alana’s good intentions, she ended up bending to Eleanor’s will far too often.
Alana blinked at the monitor when the unimaginative galaxy screen saver obliterated the picture of the Sundance Dude Ranch that had been there a second ago. She touched the mouse and recalled the website, her gaze sweeping from the beautiful Arabian to the cowboy straddling the animal. Hot guys. Right. What was Pam thinking? She knew Alana’s taste was more sophisticated than that, in clothes, in men….
Although she had to admit these were some pretty nice specimens. She moved in for a closer look at their faces, but two of the cowboys had their hats pulled low. The third one had his brim tipped back and was very good-looking, but on the young side. They were the McAllister brothers, owners and operators along with their sister and mother, according to the blurb. The ranch had been in the family for several generations, but only recently had they opened their doors to paying guests.
Alana had to smile. Yeah, she’d just bet the place was popular, especially with women looking for a vacation fling. Out of curiosity, she clicked on the descriptions of the activities offered and, impressed, started skimming the reviews.
Just as she figured, the ranch was solidly endorsed, and so were the men. Some of the guests had included photos of their vacation, and Montana was undeniably beautiful country, with breathtaking views of the snowcapped Rocky Mountains, open meadows and storybook streams. Though the highlight for most of the reviewers had been—big surprise—the men who worked the ranch. A whole slew of photographs were dedicated to the brothers, the hired hands, the town’s sheriff….
She peered closer. Yes, she could understand why some women might find Sheriff Calder appealing. Alana wasn’t one for a man in uniform, certainly not half a uniform. Along with his official tan shirt, he wore scuffed cowboy boots and worn jeans—wore them quite well, in fact. But it was his strong, chiseled jaw that caught her fancy, even if his sun-streaked brown hair was a bit too long.
Her phone buzzed, signaling an incoming text.
She pulled open her drawer to check the display, though she knew who it was, and that she wasn’t about to answer.
Eleanor’s message was brief. She’d be in a meeting for an hour, but needed to talk to her immediately after.
Alana’s gaze moved back to her computer screen and the blue Montana sky. Outside her door she heard laughter. The mailroom staff had been assigned packing duty, and it sounded as if her office might be next on their list.
Montana, huh? God, was she seriously considering this? Was the idea too crazy? She pushed her fingers through her hair, trying to recall when, exactly, she’d last been horseback riding. But a dude ranch?
Hell, why not? She wasn’t allergic to fresh air.
