His Marriage Pact

“Not so much,” he said. “I barely remember her. Now let’s get back to the reason why you’re here.”

Being summarily dismissed wasn’t all that surprising to Paris. Most men clammed up when it came to emotional issues, including her own father. “Well, as I was saying, I’m a commercial interior designer, and since it’s apparent you’ll need my services soon, I’m here to apply for the position.”

He frowned. “Why do you believe I need an interior decorator?”

She wasn’t certain if he was kidding, or he really didn’t have a clue. “Look, I saw an article in the San Antonio paper about this Texas Extreme project and how you’re going to cater to people who want to enjoy the whole high-risk rodeo experience.” Though she couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to do that. “I also read about your plans to build a lodge to house your guests, and that’s where I come in. I would like the opportunity to oversee the design of that lodge.”

“We haven’t even broken ground yet,” he said. “In fact, we haven’t seen the final plans from the architect.”

That could definitely work to her advantage. “All the better. If I’m involved in the beginning, then I can make suggestions that will only enhance the guests’ experience. I have extensive knowledge in hotel design. I have a strong attention to detail and—”

“Ms. Reynolds—”

“Paris.”

“Okay, Paris, first of all, these guests are wannabe cowboys. They don’t need a fancy room. They only need a bunk and a bathroom. Hell, they might be satisfied with an outhouse and a creek.”

The thought made her shudder. Yet he had made a good point, darn it. Still... “What if some of them want to bring their wives? Women have much higher standards. What if some of the wives or girlfriends want to participate, too?”

He mulled that over a moment before addressing her again. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

Now she was getting somewhere. “Have you given any consideration to the kitchen? You are having one installed, aren’t you? Or will you be roasting marshmallows and wieners?”

He favored her with a sexy grin. “That’s a thought.”

“Seriously? A wiener roast for every meal?”

“Maybe that’s not a great idea. But the kitchen doesn’t have to be all that elaborate. Just the basics.”

He truly didn’t grasp the concept of hospitality. “How many people do you plan to house at one time?”

“Fifty if we’re at capacity, but we want to be able to accommodate more in the future.”

“Feeding fifty hungry men and/or women will require more than a four-burner stove, a side-by-side refrigerator and a single oven. You’ll need commercial-grade appliances, plenty of prep space—”

“I understand what you’re saying,” he said, effectively cutting her off. “But we don’t plan to open for business for a year, maybe longer if we can’t get all the facilities set up by then. Not only do we have to build the lodge, we have to build a new arena and catch pens, plus a first-aid station and acquire rodeo stock. I wouldn’t even need you for a good six months.”

She would be destitute in two months. The unwelcome sense of extreme anxiety came home to roost, prompting Paris to make a final plea. “Again, you would be better off hiring me now than fixing something later. That will only cost you more money. I could meet with the architect before the plans are finalized. I could take care of all the details from the ground up. Besides, I live in San Antonio and since that’s only an hour and a half away, that’s convenient for us both. And I’m going to work cheaper than many firms you might decide to hire, but I don’t do cheap work or cut corners. To be perfectly honest, you can’t do better than me. And most important, I really, really need this job.”

He tilted his head again and eyed her suspiciously. “If you’re so good at it, why is that?”

She’d gone too far with the tirade, and probably blown any chance at the opportunity to oversee his project. Yet she was somewhat bolstered by the fact he hadn’t kicked her out...yet. “Due to personal circumstances beyond my control, I’ve been forced to start over, but I won’t bother you with the details. I would like to show you my work.”

As she drew a breath, Paris fumbled for the briefcase resting on the floor and lifted it up. “I have my portfolio right here if you care to take a quick look.”

Dallas sat in silence for a few moments while Paris’s pulse raced out of control. “I’m sure you’re more than qualified for the job,” he finally said, “but like I told you, I don’t see the need to hire a decorator—”

“Designer,” Paris corrected without regard to helping her cause.

“Hiring a designer right now doesn’t make much sense to me.”

Plagued with the bitter taste of defeat, Paris stood. “Fine, but you should be aware, in six months, I might not be available.” She might even be in jail. Or worse—living with her folks on a potato farm in Idaho. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you.”

Dallas came to his feet and rounded the desk. “One question before you leave. What exactly did you mean by having to start over?”

She certainly wasn’t prepared to get into that, but if it meant he might possibly reconsider, she would tell him everything. Almost everything. “Okay, as long as you understand I’m not looking for pity.”

“Understood.”

Oh, how she hated having to explain the sordid details. “Almost two years ago, my ex-husband left in the middle of the night, took every penny I owned and then took off to the Dominican Republic to get a quickie divorce.”

The anger that flashed in his eyes took her aback. “Where is the bastard now?”

“Still there, with my hard-earned money and a new girlfriend. Shortly thereafter, the firm where I’d been working for eight years laid me off. I have very few funds to maintain my apartment for much longer, so I might be forced to move in with my family until I get back on my feet.” That last part had wounded her pride beyond belief. The part she’d left out—the reasons why she’d lost her job—had caused her great shame.

He attempted a slight smile. “I can relate to living with family.”

“Your stepmothers live with you?”

“No, they live in the main house. I built my own place a few years ago. But I see them every day, whether I want to or not.”

They just stood there in uncomfortable silence until Paris decided to end the meeting and escape from her humiliating revelations. She retrieved a card from her bag’s side pocket and offered it to him. “If you happen to change your mind, here’s my contact information. If not, I wish you the best of luck with your new venture.”

“Good luck to you, too,” he said as he escorted her to the door. “And if I happen to need a date to a surprise birthday party, I just might give you a call.”

Oh, sure he would. In some ways she wished he would. Who wouldn’t want to spend an evening with a gorgeous macho guy? And since he obviously wasn’t going to hire her...“You know, I just might take you up on the invitation.”

Without gauging his response, Paris worked her way back to the front office and out the door, pausing only long enough to tell both mothers to have a good day. Once she slid into her car, she experienced overwhelming dejection over the epic failure. But she refused to cry. She’d already done enough of that to last a lifetime.

* * *

“Why in the hell did you let her leave, Dallas?”

At the moment, a lecture from Maria—his long time maternal influence—was the very last thing Dallas needed. He still hadn’t gotten over the impact of the pretty green-eyed, golden-haired, determined woman named after a European city who had landed on his doorstep. He didn’t quite understand his reaction to her, either. A strong reaction that had had him wanting to suggest things to her that any man with an ounce of honor wouldn’t dare mention to a woman he’d just met. And if Maria Leone Calloway could read his mind, she would nix the speech and wash his mouth out with homemade soap even if he hadn’t uttered a dirty word.

He cleared the uncomfortable hitch from his throat and shifted in his chair. “I don’t know why her departure is bothering you, Mom. I figured you didn’t like her all that much.”

Without invitation, the current burr in his backside took the seat Paris Reynolds had vacated a few minutes before. “She’s a little too uppity in my opinion, mijo. But as bad as I hate to admit it, Jenny was right about one thing. You need to find a woman, and maybe this Paris is that woman.”

Dallas rocked back in his chair and sighed. “First of all, you both need to forget about that. It’s too late. Secondly, I’ve come to terms with staying single and you just need to accept it.”

Maria narrowed her dark eyes. “You’re telling me you’re going to let your no-account little brother gain control over this ranch?”

The thought left a bad taste in his mouth. “Blame your husband for putting that stupid marriage codicil in the will, although it still doesn’t make any sense why Dad would leave this place to Fort. From what Jenny says, the kid was a rebel most of his life, plus he already owns the horse farm in Louisiana.”

Maria tightened the band securing her braid, a nervous habit for as long as Dallas could remember. “You’re right. It doesn’t make a damn bit of sense what J.D. did, particularly since Fort wants nothing to do with you or any of his brothers. Then again, what your father did to me and Jenny didn’t make any sense, either.”

Dallas would never forget that day six years ago when during the reading of his father’s will, he’d not only discovered he had twin half-brothers, he’d learned his father had been living as a bigamist. “I’m hoping Fort’s disdain for the family will be enough for him to ignore the stipulation.” Even if he wasn’t banking on it.

“That’s a big chance you’d be taking, Dallas,” Maria said. “If you’re wrong, he’ll put a stop to your dream of turning this place into Texas Extreme. Hell, he could even toss you and your brothers off the property, take over the houses you all built and legally he could do it.”

He knew that all too well. He also knew Fort would probably turn the place into a subdivision just to spite them. “I don’t have a choice, Mom. I can’t find a proper wife in four days, nor do I even want to attempt it.”

The other mother—every bit the Southern belle—suddenly breezed into the room and stood behind Maria. “I think Paris is quite proper and sophisticated, and a man of your financial means and social status needs that in a life partner. If you make an effort to get to know her, who knows what could happen in a few days? You might find yourself falling hopelessly in love for the first time in your life, sugar. Why, I met your father on a Saturday night and we were married two weeks later.”

“And look how that turned out, Jenny,” Maria said. “Don’t give him reason not to give this a shot.”

Over the past few years, Dallas had learned one important thing about Jenny Parks Calloway—she was a flighty romantic who spent most of her days with stars in her eyes. “That’s good in theory, Jen, but the chances of it happening are slim to none. And even if I wanted to pursue a relationship with Paris Reynolds, who’s to say she would agree? And even if she did agree to go out with me, do you really think she’d jump at the chance to marry me two days later? Get real.”

“She sounded pretty desperate to us,” Jenny chimed in, then clamped her mouth closed after Maria shot her a nasty look over her shoulder.

Dallas wasn’t all that shocked, but he was pretty pissed off over the intrusion. “You two were listening to our conversation?”

“Just a little bit,” Jenny said sheepishly. “Your phone’s intercom was on.”

He looked at the key pad, noted the button was depressed and then muttered a few mild oaths. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We didn’t want to disturb you, mijo,” Maria said.

Dallas didn’t buy that for a minute. “You wanted to eavesdrop. Regardless of how desperate Paris might be, I don’t see her as the kind of woman who’d agree to marry a stranger in exchange for a job. And I’m not the kind of man who would ask that of any woman.”

Jenny put on her sweeter-than-honey expression. “Sugar, I love my son, but I also know Fort doesn’t deserve this place given how much grief he’s showered on me and Worth. Why don’t you just invite Paris to dinner tonight and see what happens?”

He’d like to see what happened, but not in the way she was thinking. “I’m sure she’s already halfway to San Antonio by now and I’ve got a lot do before I fly to Houston in two days.”

“You can take one night off,” Maria stated, a totally out-of-character comment.

“Yes, you can, for the cause,” Jenny added. “Now go after her, sugar, and escort her back here. I can make you both my famous chateaubriand.”

He saw one big problem with that, and a prime excuse to halt all the nonsense. “She’s a vegetarian.”

Maria shook her head. “Yeah, we heard her say that, but it’s not normal. Not normal at all.”

“We’ll work around it,” Jenny said. “I’ll make a wonderful assortment of spring vegetables. That will allow Dallas and Paris to get to know each other better in an intimate setting, not a crowded restaurant.”

Dallas barked out a laugh. “Sure, while the two of you hang out in the next room, listening to every word we say.”

Jenny raised her hand like she was about to take an oath. “I swear I will leave as soon as the food is served. Maria will, too. Right?”

Maria stared up at Jenny. “Why do you need me there anyway?”

“For moral support,” Jenny answered. “And you can make Dallas his usual T-bone, since that’s not my forte.”

Maria sighed. “It’s easy. Remove the horns, slap it on the stove, make sure it’s not mooing and put it on the plate.”

Jenny ignored Maria and took his hand. “Sugar, we’ll work out the dinner details. In the meantime, you just have to convince Paris to join you by telling her you want to discuss the particulars of the job, sort of like an interview. Then you can see what comes up after that.”

He had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly what would come up if he didn’t get a rein on his libido. Logical or not, he did like the plan, if for no other reason than to spend a little more time with Paris. As far as the mothers’ harebrained matrimony scheme was concerned, no way would that happen.

After pushing away from the desk, he stood and propped his hat on his head. “All right, you two. Get to cooking and I’ll go get the girl.”

Two

Seated in her compact sedan, Paris stared at the private number displayed on her phone. Normally she would ignore the call, but some mysterious force propelled her to answer. “Hello?”

“Where are you right now?”

Overcome with sudden paranoia, she looked around the almost empty lot for some seedy no-account who’d magically come upon her cell number. “Who is this?”

“Sorry. It’s Dallas Calloway. Are you back in San Antonio?”

“No,” she said after she’d regained enough composure to speak. “I’m at a convenience store somewhere between Cotulla and Dilley. Or maybe I’ve already passed Dilley and missed it when I blinked.”

“Right off the interstate?”

“Yes. It’s a red-and-white building with some weird creature on the sign, but I can’t see the name from here.”

“I know the place. Stay put. I’ll be there in a few.”

Paris didn’t have the opportunity to say another word before the line went dead, leaving her with a laundry list of questions bombarding her brain. Why would he want to come after her? Had she left something important at the office? She glanced at the passenger seat to verify the presence of her briefcase, although only a few moments ago she’d just carried it into the store to pay for gas and buy a snack. Speaking of snacks...she yanked down the visor and pulled up the vanity mirror to check for the presence of chocolate, which she found smeared in the corner of her mouth.

Paris scrambled around in the center console for a napkin, then swiped furiously over the offensive spot while cursing herself for being such a cliché. Have stress, grab candy. Preferably chocolate candy. Dark, light, didn’t matter. As long as it contained cocoa and no nuts.

After reapplying her lipstick, and tightening the hair band securing the low twist at her nape, she waited for the enigmatic cowboy to arrive in a pickup, or possibly ride up on his trusty horse.

The first assumption had been correct, she realized, when a large dual-wheeled black monstrosity of a truck pulled in the space to her right and its dashing driver left the cab.

As Dallas approached the door, Paris powered down her window to find out what his surprise appearance was all about. “Did I forget something?” she asked as soon as he arrived.

“Nope,” he said. “But I forgot to ask you something.”

“What would that be, pray tell?”

“If you’d care to stay for dinner.”

Only moments ago, she’d consumed a large bar of candy and washed it down with cola so dinner wasn’t all that appealing. But maybe this was his way of saying he might be considering her for the position after all. “Dinner would be nice, but wouldn’t it have been much easier for you to call me and ask me to come back rather than you drive all the way here?”

“Yep, that fifteen-minute drive was a real hardship, but here the West is still wild, and the men go after their women.”

She’d give him a speech on the death of chauvinism if he didn’t look so gorgeous displaying that grin and a delightful dimple. “Far be it from me to question archaic tradition.”

He leaned over and folded his arms on the window’s ledge. “Are you going to follow me home, or do you want to ride with me and I’ll bring you back later to get your car?”

Although he seemed harmless enough, Paris wasn’t stupid. If she didn’t have her vehicle, she couldn’t determine when it was time to go. “I know the way now. I’ll drive.”

He pushed away from the car and straightened. “Fine by me. See you in a bit.”

In less time than it took Paris to fasten her seat belt, Dallas shot out of the lot on spinning tires, kicking up a flurry of dust in his wake as he turned onto the access road. She took a little more time following suit, still questioning the reason behind his surprise invitation.

Yet life wasn’t without risk, and she’d taken plenty in her formative years. Some had turned out well, others, not so much. She hoped this risk proved to be a good one.

After traveling ten or so miles, she found Dallas had pulled over on the shoulder to wait for her. He seemed to slow down to accommodate her caution, and remained that way until they turned off the interstate and onto the rural road leading to the ranch.

Once they traveled through the elaborate stone entry containing the iron sign announcing their arrival at the D Bar C, Dallas drove past the office where the barren terrain took a dramatic turn. Paris glanced from the road long enough to ogle the massive white rock ranch house to her left as Dallas continued on. They passed by several other large houses set back off the road, each one appearing to include transplanted trees, lovely landscaping, first-rate barns and expensive vehicles, including one black Porsche that she would wager belonged to Worth. After Dallas took a left, pavement soon turned to gravel as they navigated through pastureland lined with barbwire fence and dotted with mesquite.

They soon passed a large pond lined with weeping willows where a two-story, expansive home came into view, dealing Paris another stunning mental blow. The structure was also stone trimmed with cedar accents, like the rest of the residences, only this one had a gleaming silver metal roof and seemed to be twice the size, as well as a tad more elaborate. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought she’d happened upon a resort hotel.

Dallas pulled beneath the portico and Paris followed his lead, half expecting to be greeted by a parking attendant. When that didn’t happen, she slid out of the car and joined her host for the evening at the entry. “Nice place you have here,” she said as he opened one of the heavy pine double doors.

“It’ll do,” he replied with surprising nonchalance.

It would more than do, she realized after she stepped over the threshold. A grand staircase with a wrought iron banister centered in the soaring foyer, and dark slate floors could be deemed somewhat elegant. Yet that was where the elegance ended, right before the West began.

As Paris trailed behind Dallas into the great room, the cowboy culture came shining through in the floor-to-ceiling rock fireplace anchoring the room along with the macho leather furniture in shades of gray and black. And hanging from the towering ceiling, a chandelier, for lack of a better term, appeared to be made out of metallic animal horns, although she would swear they weren’t authentic. At least she hoped not.

“Welcome to Dallas’s little piece of heaven, Paris,” Jenny said as she floated into the room wearing a frilly pink apron and a vibrant smile.

Odd that Dallas didn’t have household staff and had to rely on his stepmother to play hostess. “Thanks for having me, and I have to agree. This place is paradise.”

Jenny’s grin deepened. “You should see the veranda overlooking the pool, which is where you two will dine so you can watch the sunset. The view is breathtaking.”

Dallas frowned. “I’m thinking the dining room might be better since it’s still fairly hot outside and the mosquitoes are big as airplanes.”

Jenny waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, posh, Dallas. You don’t have a romantic bone in your body. Besides, the temperature will go down with the sun and it’s too early in the year for a lot of bugs, including mosquitoes.”

A sunset dinner was conducive to romance, but Paris was not in the market for wining and dining or mosquitoes. “The dining room will be fine.” When Jenny looked absolutely disappointed, she added, “Or the veranda. I’m sure the sunset is very impressive.”

“The veranda it is,” Jenny said as she started to back away. “Dinner will be ready very soon and I assure you, Paris, I’m preparing a delectable vegetarian meal. In the meantime, Dallas can give you the VIP tour. His master suite is to die for.”

She questioned the wisdom in viewing Dallas’s bedroom. “I’m looking forward to it. The tour, I mean.”

Jenny smiled before she hurried away, leaving Dallas and Paris standing in the middle of the great room cloaked in uncomfortable silence.

“Are you ready for the tour?” he asked.

As long as he didn’t get too close to her in the boudoir; otherwise she might forget herself in the shadow of that smile. “I’m more than a little curious, so lead the way.”

“Okay. Follow me.”

And she did, up the stairs, trying desperately to avoid studying his butt before they took an immediate right at the top landing. They walked by several closed doors before reaching the end of the corridor where Dallas paused at a pair of double doors.

“Prepare yourself,” he said. “You’re about to see where all the action happens.”

Holding her breath, Paris expected to discover a large bed, but she only saw what appeared to be a cowboy man cave with an at least seventy-inch television screen, a large old-fashioned bar straight out of a saloon and a series of round wooden tables and straight-backed chairs. She strolled toward a large glass display case to her right that housed trophies and belt buckles and trinkets from days past. “Is this the Dallas Calloway Hall of Fame?”

“Not exactly,” he said from behind her. “If I had my way, those things would’ve stayed in the trunk in the tack room.”

She glanced at him over one shoulder. “You should be proud of these. Not many men can lay claim to being a three-time world champion all-around cowboy.”

“Funny, that’s what Maria said.” He came to her side, showing his handsome profile to full advantage. “She set this up after I built the house.”

Time to get to know him a bit better. “You two are close, huh?”

He streaked a palm over his neck. “Yeah. She’s the only mother I’ve ever really known. Then Jen came into the mix and now I have two mothers. Double trouble. They mean well but sometimes they’re both a little too motherly.”