New Year, New Man: A Kiss on Crimson Ranch / The Dance Off / The Right Mr. Wrong

“You’re avoiding me.”

At the sound of the voice, Sara jumped, banging her head on the top of the refrigerator. “Then take a hint, Ryan,” she said, rubbing the bump.

“We need to talk.” He stood, one hip hitched up on the counter, wearing a wrinkled polo shirt, cargo shorts and flip-flops.

“I don’t think so.” She pointed at his feet. “What kind of help can you be on a ranch wearing those?”

“I had a meeting in Aspen earlier.” He raised a brow. “Besides, I saw you take off with Josh. Looks like I’m not the only one playing hooky today.”

She blew out a breath. “He wanted to take Claire for a ride. It made her more comfortable if I came, too.”

“You’re still as much of an addict as me, Sara.”

“I was in that rehab center for publicity and you know it. I am not an addict.”

“I’m not talking drugs or alcohol. People and their problems. You’re addicted to fixing other people’s issues. Makes it easier to ignore your own.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Tell me why you’re here.”

“Because this house belongs to me now,” she said, holding tight to the refrigerator door handle but unsure why she needed the support. “I can make more money from a successful season than a bust.”

“And what will you do then?”

“Repay April the money that you gambled away. Finally start the yoga center she wants.”

“Her dream. Her problem.”

“She’s my friend, Ryan. The only one who’s stuck with me all these years. And I want to run a business. I want to do something. Something real. Can’t you get that?”

“Read for the part. That’s real. Do you really think you can go back to L.A. and run an exercise studio? Cater to whatever star of the week flounces through the front door looking to use yoga as a front for her latest eating disorder?”

Her eyes narrowed. “It would sure beat waiting tables and clearing up their plates of barely touched food.”

“You’re an actress, Sara. It’s in your blood. You have something to prove still. I know it. Don’t give up on your dream.”

“Acting wasn’t my dream, Ryan. That one belonged to my mother.” It was true, but so was his comment about Sara having something to prove. She hated that her career had fizzled so publicly. If she’d been able to walk away on her own terms, with some of her pride intact...well, maybe that would have made a difference. She didn’t know. What could she do about it now? Read for a part and open herself up to more ridicule? She’d swallowed loads of that in the past and wasn’t sure she could stomach any more.

“Your mother’s here right now.”

Her gaze flicked to Ryan’s face. He looked guilty and sheepish. “Why?” she said on a growl.

“To help you. Sell this place to her boyfriend. He tells me he made you a pretty good offer.”

“It’s not worth what he plans to do to this place. It was my grandmother’s house, Ryan. Her home. I may not have known her well, but I have to respect what she built here. I can’t let it be destroyed without at least trying to save it.”

Her mind strayed to the photo album on the dresser upstairs and the genuine smile on her eight-year-old face sitting on that porch swing. She thought about the pure joy she’d felt racing through the forest earlier, the way the mountain peaks felt like they cradled this valley and the peace it brought her. A feeling she hadn’t known for years, if ever.

Ryan’s voice broke through her reverie. “He wants the property, Sara. He’s going to get it one way or another.”

“Not from me.” Sara didn’t have much to hold on to in her life, but that feeling of peace was worth fighting for. She wouldn’t give it up. She glanced at the doorway to the family room. “Is she waiting?”

“In the office.”

She released her death grip on the refrigerator, flexing her cramped fingers. “Put some decent shoes on and go find April. Whatever she’s doing, I’m sure she can use some help.”

Ryan’s full mouth twisted. “She doesn’t like me.”

“Do you blame her?”

“I’m a cad. That’s my deal. But women still like me. They can’t help themselves. She’s different.”

Sara stifled a laugh. “I can’t believe you just said that line out loud. This isn’t the nineteenth century. I’m a cad. So what? You can’t flirt and charm your way out of what you did to April. This time you may have to actually work at making things better.” She paused. “Trust me, Ryan. It’s worth it.”

He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Fine. You deal with your mother. I’ll face the wrath of the hippie princess.”

“You’re so brave.” Sara patted his cheek as she passed him.

He held on to her wrist. “I really am sorry, Sara.”

“I know. Now go make it better.” She slipped from his grasp and walked out of the kitchen, hesitating at the doorway to the office.

Go make it better.

Could she take her own advice? Was it possible to make better all the things that were wrong in her relationship with her mother? Did she even want to try? Since her career had gotten so far off track, Sara hadn’t seen Rose often. She’d quickly tired of the never-ending litany of advice and criticism. Without the spotlight, Sara didn’t have much to offer her mother. Rose was a stage mother in the worst sense of the word—Sara could give Lindsay Lohan or Brooke Shields a definite run for their money in the bad-mama department.

As awful and contentious as their relationship had become, some part of Sara still craved her mother’s approval. That knowledge upset her more than anything. The fact that Rose could still send her into a tailspin with a well-chosen dig or subtle jab ate at her self-confidence before either of them spoke a word.

Laughter rang down to where she stood. Not her mother’s voice. Claire. Sara took the steps two at a time but slowed in the hallway outside Claire’s bedroom.

“That’s right, dear,” she heard her mother say. “Look over your shoulder. Just the hint of a smile. Make them want more of you.”

Sara’s stomach lurched. She’d listened to that same litany of advice for years. Before every Hollywood event, premier or even trip to the mall Rose had coached her on what to wear and how to carry herself. According to Rose, being an actress was a 24/7 occupation. Sara had never been allowed to be truly off. Even now she’d catch herself doing an unconscious hair toss when someone recognized her. Maybe the training had served her well, she thought, as it was the one thing that had made her hold her head high in the face of many moments of ridicule.

But that had nothing to do with Claire.

“What are you doing?” she asked, bracing one hand against the door frame.

Claire beamed at her. “Auntie Rose is giving me lessons on how to be a star.” The girl breathed the word star with such reverence it made Sara’s teeth hurt.

“Auntie Rose?” She flashed a pointed glance at her mother.

“Do you know who Claire’s mother is?” Rose asked by way of an answer.

Sara nodded and tried not to roll her eyes.

“Jennifer Holmes, the supermodel,” she answered anyway. “The girl has an in. You know how much that can help, Sara. How my fame opened doors for you.”

Give me a break, Sara thought to herself. “Claire doesn’t need doors opened for her, Mom. She’s thirteen.”

“I know it’s a late start.” Rose walked around the desk and stood next to Claire, running one finger along her cheek. “But look at her bone structure. She was meant to be on screen. The camera will love her. I have a friend over at Disney. They’re always looking for the next big thing.” She tipped Claire’s face to hers. “You could be it. Can you sing?”

“I think so,” Claire said, looking dazed.

“Mom! Stop.” Sara stepped forward and pulled Claire away from Rose. “She has a life here. A good, normal life. She’s not going to California or anywhere with you. Leave her alone.”

“Just because you crashed and burned...” her mother began.

At the same time Claire asked, “Don’t you think I’m good enough?”

Sara squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out the sharp stab of pain Rose’s words caused. She focused on Claire. “Honey, of course you’d be amazing. That’s not the point. It isn’t all fun and glamour. It’s not a good place sometimes. There are a lot of bad people in show business.” She threw a glare at Rose. “People who only care about themselves.”

“Maybe it would give me something in common with my mom. If I was famous she might come be with me instead of...” Her voice trailed off and she swiped under her eyes.

“Oh, Claire.” Sara enveloped in her in a tight hug. “Why are you doing this?” she asked her mother over Claire’s shoulder.

Rose smiled sweetly. “I came here today to talk to you about this house. Richard wants to stay in Colorado until you decide to sell. I need a something to keep me busy. Claire is a lovely girl. Maybe she’s it.”

Sara’s throat tightened. “Leave her alone, Mom.”

“You know how to get rid of me,” Rose said softly, and tapped the corner of the bed where a stack of paperwork sat. “Are you ready to sign?”

Chapter Seven

Sara swallowed against the lump of regret balled in her throat. She’d spent years avoiding Rose, and now she wanted nothing more than to get rid of her mother. But not at the expense of her grandmother’s dream. Selling would be simple and give her the money she desperately needed to repay April and get her own second chance.

Yet what would it cost her soul?

She’d given up on so much in her life, compromised her hopes and values to make life easier. She was done running from the hard stuff or letting other people bully her. If nothing else, being in Colorado had made her see that she could live life on her own terms. She had something to contribute. Her mother wasn’t going to rob her of that so soon.

“I’m not selling, Mom. Not now. Not to Richard.”

Rose’s delicately arched eyebrows lifted. “Well, then—”

“And you’re not spending any more time here. I want you to leave.”

“This was my childhood home, Sara.” Rose dabbed at the corner of one eye.

“You hated it here. Counted the moments until you could leave. I know the story by heart, so don’t try to change it.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed briefly. “You always were an ungrateful child,” she said on a huff of breath. “Because of me you had every opportunity to succeed.”

“Because of you I didn’t have a childhood.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Serena.”

“I quit being dramatic years ago, Mother. Now I’m trying for normal.”

“Normal is boring.”

“I’ll take that, too.”

Rose made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl. She wrapped one arm around Claire’s small shoulders. “I’m so looking forward to getting to know you better, dear,” she said, and flashed a smile at Sara. “I’ll make a few calls to agents this week, then see if I can find a decent photographer to do some head shots of you. I bet the camera will love you the way it does your mother.”

“That would be great.”

Sara opened her mouth to argue but before she could get a word out, Josh appeared next to her. “There won’t be any photographers or agents for my daughter, Ms. Wells.” His voice was controlled, but Sara could see a muscle tick in his jaw.

Her mother’s smile broadened. “Mr. Travers, how nice of you to join us. Have you been listening from the hallway?”

“Long enough to know this discussion is finished, ma’am. And I’d appreciate if you’d stop filling my daughter’s head with your celebrity mumbo-jumbo.”

“She has star potential,” Rose cooed.

“I believe Sara asked you to leave.”

“Daddy, don’t be rude,” Claire said, crossing her arms across her chest. “Sara’s mom wants to help me.”

“You don’t need her kind of help.”

Tears welled in Claire’s wide eyes. “You don’t understand anything,” she yelled, and tore past Josh, her angry footfalls echoing from the stairs.

Rose pressed her soft pink lips together. “Well, that’s unfortunate. How do you think her mother would feel about a chance at Claire making it in the big time?”

Josh felt his blood turn from boiling to ice-cold. He knew exactly how Jennifer would feel—thrilled about an opportunity to meet bigger Hollywood A-listers and score better drugs. While Claire’s mother was still one of the most beautiful women in the world, she’d lately gotten more press for her partying than her photo spreads. She’d even lost her contract as the face of one of the big cosmetic companies because of her extracurricular activities.

The only saving grace was that the further she spiraled out of control, the less Jennifer took an interest in Claire. Josh planned to go back to court and file for sole custody once the ranch was stable and profitable. He didn’t figure Jen would fight him, but that would change if she thought Claire was useful to her.

He took a step toward Rose. “Stay away from my daughter and out of my family’s business,” he commanded, not trying to hide his anger.

To her credit, the older woman didn’t flinch. “It’s too bad you’re building your business in a house that should rightfully belong to me.” She tapped one finger against her mouth, a slight smile playing at her lips. “Claire really is lovely. Plus she has a budding flair for the dramatic. I like that in a girl.”

Sara moved in front of him before he could wrap his hands around Rose’s birdlike throat. “Enough, Mother. The house belongs to me. I’m telling you to leave. Now.”

Rose backed away, palms up. “I can take a hint, honey. But I’ll be back. One way or another, mark my words.”

“This isn’t The Terminator, Mom.” Sara leaned in and said softly, “Are you so desperate to keep your boyfriend that you’ll stoop this low this to get what you want? I always thought you had a replacement guy waiting in the wings. I guess things get tougher as you age. How sad.”

Josh watched Rose’s perfectly bronzed cheeks turn a deep shade of pink. “I don’t know what I did to deserve such an awful daughter,” she said with a sputter. “I gave up everything for you and this is how you repay me? You were a horrible, colicky baby and a demanding child. You couldn’t even make something of the career I practically gift wrapped for you. Does it make you happy to watch your own mother struggle when we both know you could help me if you wanted to? You make me sick.”

He saw Sara’s sharp intake of breath as Rose stormed past them both, slamming the door shut in her wake.

“Okay, then,” Sara whispered after several moments, her back still to him. “That was fun and a great trip down memory lane.” She said the last with a laugh that caught in her throat and turned into a strangled sob.

Josh reached for her and slowly turned her so she was facing him. His gut twisted at the tears that filled her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “You don’t deserve that.”

She shook her head. “I’m the one who’s sorry. That she’s giving you so much trouble. For ideas she may have put into Claire’s head.” She swiped her hands across her face. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she doesn’t corrupt Claire, Josh. She’s an amazing girl. I know you only want what’s best for her.”

He trailed a thumb across a stray tear that ran down her cheek. “Even if I’m an idiot about knowing how to talk to my own daughter?”

She sniffed. “All men are idiots sometimes.” Holding up her fingertips, she cringed. “I can’t cry anymore. My makeup is going to run all over the place.”

He wrapped his hands around hers. “Why do you wear so much makeup anyway? You don’t need it.” As soon as the words were out, he regretted them. Jeez, maybe he should ask her if she was pregnant next or say her thighs were fat. He really was an idiot.

She stared at him for what seemed like minutes as he braced himself for an explosion. Instead, she said softly, “It makes me feel protected—like armor. People see the goop and not me. I like it that way.”

The brutal honesty of her words contrasted with the stark vulnerability in her eyes. His breath caught and his cold, hard heart melted. She leveled him. He bent forward and dropped a soft kiss on each of her eyelids. Up close she smelled like cinnamon and honey, sweet and spicy at the same time.

“I see you,” he whispered against her forehead.

“That’s a James Cameron line,” she answered, her voice not quite even. Her hands pressed against his chest as she pressed into him. “From Avatar.”

He smiled and brushed his mouth across hers. “You know a lot of movies.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you talk too much.”

“Probably. I think it’s because—”

He covered her mouth with his, ran his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opened for him. Everything about her drew him closer. He savored the feel of her in his arms. His hands trailed up and down along her back, played with the soft strands of her hair. Her whole body pressed into him, and for a moment he tried to hide the evidence of his desire. Then she moaned into his mouth and he lost all coherent thought.

She pulled his shirt out of his waistband, and her long fingers were cool on his skin. “Good lord,” he muttered as what was left of his brain cells took the fast train south.

He tugged at the top of her shirt and trailed kisses from her jaw down her neck and across her collarbone. Just as he moved aside her bra strap, a horn honked from the driveway below. He bolted upright. The horn blared again, this time followed by a chorus of loud whooping and slamming doors.

“Travers, where the hell are you? Let’s get this party started, man!” a deep voice called.

Josh met Sara’s gaze, knew his eyes were as hazy as hers. He stepped away and cursed under his breath, dug the heel of his hand into his forehead, willing his brain to start functioning again.

“Who is that?” she asked, her voice shaky as she readjusted her shirt.

He cursed again. “Our first guests.”

“Your friends from the rodeo? I thought they weren’t coming until next week.”

“Sounds like they’re early.”

She blew out a breath. “Right. We can do this. I’ll find April and have her whip up something for dinner. Most of the things on the itinerary can be moved up to the next few days. I’ll make calls once everyone is settled. Ryan can at least put sheets on a few beds.” She turned toward the door, all business.

He tugged on her arm, pulling her back against him, and wrapped his arms around her. “Are you okay?” he asked, his lips just grazing her ear.

“No, I’m freaking out. These are the first paying guests. Things have to be perfect.”

“As long as we have cold beer and lots of food, they’ll be fine. I mean, are you okay?”

She stiffened in his arms and he held her tighter. “I’m fine. I’m sorry about my mother. I’ll try to control her better.”

“You’re not responsible for your mom. She shouldn’t have said what she did to you. It will work out in the end. I’m not giving up.” He paused then asked, “Are we okay?”

She wiggled until he released her. “There is no we, Josh.”

Irritation bubbled in him. “That’s funny, because I don’t think I was kissing myself just now.”

She threw him an eye roll over her shoulder. Her big blue eyes held none of the spark he’d seen earlier. She’d been so relaxed on the mountain, more of whom he believed she truly was. Not the guarded, fragile woman who stood before him now. “We were both upset. No big deal. It was a kiss, not a marriage proposal.”

Her attitude got under his skin and he couldn’t help baiting her. “Are you looking for a marriage proposal, Sara?”

“Not from you, cowboy,” she answered with a scoff, but her shoulders tensed even more.

He wanted to grab her, kiss her until she was once again soft and pliant in his arms. The horn honked for a third time and he heard a loud knocking at the front door.

Sara smoothed her fingers over her shirtfront. “Go greet your buddies. I’ll get everyone moving.”

“This conversation isn’t finished,” he told her as he headed for the stairs.

“My end of it is,” he heard her say under her breath.

He smiled despite his frustration, wondering how the fact that she always had to get in the last word could be so endearing to him. He shook his head, making a mental note to start thinking with his brain rather than other parts of his anatomy.

* * *

Sara came through the back door of the main house an hour later. Music streamed into the kitchen as April appeared from the family room, two empty platters in her hand.

“You’d think those guys hadn’t eaten in months,” she grumbled. But Sara noticed her grin and the light in her eyes. April was at her best when she could take care of people.

“I’ve got the two big cabins made up. That should hold everyone. Do you need anything?”

“I’ve got another batch of wings ready to come out and a vat of queso dip almost heated. I’ll need to run to the grocery tomorrow. We should at least make it through breakfast.”

Sara glanced at the spotless counters. “Can I help clean up?”

April gave her a knowing look. “Go introduce yourself. They’re rowdy but seem nice enough. Four guys and one girlfriend. Her name is Brandy. She’s a looker in that farm-fresh way.”

Sara took a tube of deep plum lipstick from her jeans pocket and applied a liberal layer to her mouth. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

“It’s a party in there,” April countered. “The more the merrier.”

“Has he told them who I am?”

April’s smile turned gentle. “I don’t think so. It’s not a big deal, you know. Maybe they won’t recognize you.”

“How old is Brandy?”

“Early twenties.”

“Unless she was raised without a TV in the house, she’ll know me.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter in L.A. Much. I can blend in a little in the land of falling stars. Especially with a new crop of beautiful losers coming through every year. But here it’s just me—the only big fat failure for miles.”

April took a pot holder and opened the oven to pull out a baking sheet of wings. They smelled delicious. “Did you ever consider you might be the only one who believes you’re a failure?”

“My mom thinks I’m a failure,” Sara said with a shrug.

“Your mom is a witch.”

Sara snorted. April didn’t call people names. Ever. “Whoa, there, lady. Them’s fightin’ words.”

“Bring it,” April said as she dumped the wings into an oversize basket. Her hands free, she turned and hugged Sara. “I’ll take down your mother and the broom she rode in on.”

“You’re a Buddhist.”

“I’ll make an exception for her. And you. Go out there for a few minutes. Have fun tonight, Sara. You deserve it.”

“What would I do without you?” Sara gave her friend one last squeeze and walked into the family room.

Josh and his four friends sat on the sofas and chairs surrounding the coffee table, filling the large room with their presence. Three of the men looked around Josh’s age. The last one was so young he seemed barely out of puberty, despite having the broadest build in the group. Two were clearly brothers, both blond, tall and lanky. The third had a thick head of midnight-black hair and deep brown skin. The young one reached for another handful of chips, a shock of red hair falling over one eye. As a whole, they were tough, rangy and utterly male. Something Sara was unused to in Hollywood.

“It’s enough testosterone to choke you,” a voice said close to her ear.

Sara turned to see a young woman standing at her side who was as “farm fresh” as April had described. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a plastic clip and cascaded in healthy, unprocessed waves to the middle of her back. She wore little makeup other than a hint of lip gloss, and her soft denim shirt was tucked into a pair of high-waisted jeans. Actual Wranglers, if Sara guessed right.

“You must be Brandy,” she said and held out her hand. “I’m—”

“Serena Wellens,” the woman finished, her eyes widening.

“I go by Sara now. Sara Wells is my real name.”

Brandy pumped Sara’s hand at fever pace. “I loved Just the Two of Us. My sister and I lived for Tuesday nights.”