The Texas Rancher's Vow

“Then it’s settled,” Matt said, his eyes fixed on hers in a way that made her stomach tighten.

Emmett regarded his son for a long moment, and Jen sensed a lot more would be said had there not been a lady present. Wordlessly, the older man added ice to three glasses, topped them off with sparkling water, and passed them around.

He gave Matt another long, warning look, then turned and led the way past the sweeping staircase and down a long hallway lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. “We’ll talk in the gallery,” Emmett said as they passed a beautiful outdoor courtyard, which was flanked by an ivy-covered retaining wall and the rest of the U-shaped, two-story house.

When they reached a big open room, at the rear of the home, Jen looked around in awe, trying to take it all in. There was hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of art displayed, all of it set off by perfect lighting.

Momentarily forgetting the family drama, she moved from one piece to another, studying them avidly.

To her annoyance, Matt followed close behind her, as taut and on guard as his father was relaxed.

Emmett sipped his water, watching them both. “You’ll have to forgive my son. He’s become ridiculously overprotective in his middle age.”

Matt swung back around, his irritation apparent. “Only because I’ve needed to be,” he retorted in a low voice.

Jen sucked in a breath, drawing in the sunshine-soap-and-leather scent of him.

Nerves deep inside her quivered.

Oblivious of her reaction, Emmett arched a brow in reproach. “We’ve both made mistakes when it comes to matrimony, Matt.”

Both of them?

Matt had indicated he wasn’t divorced.

And if he wasn’t divorced…what was he?

“It doesn’t mean there have to be any more,” Emmett continued sternly.

Matt pinned Jen with his gaze. “I don’t want there to be.”

Could you make it more obvious that you think I’m a threat? Jen wondered.

“Nor do I.” Emmett stared at his son over the rim of his glass. “So unless you’d like to discuss this further…”

Seeing an opening, Jen stepped between them.

“What I’d really like to discuss is the reason I’m here.” Certain she had both men’s attention, she said sincerely, “This is an amazing collection.” She walked around, inspecting the shelves holding bronze statues and figurines, as well as the paintings on the walls. She turned and smiled at Emmett. “Whoever put it together has a very good eye.”

He beamed with the enthusiasm of a true collector. “It was started by my grandfather. He was an early supporter of Remington, and countless others, and my father and I have continued the tradition.”

“Well, y’all have done a wonderful job.” Jen moved from one to another. Some of the artists were famous, others more obscure, but each work on display was beautiful, detailed and original. “These are all pieces I would have picked.”

She stopped, seeing one of her own first works, and for a second was speechless with surprise. She turned back to Emmett. “I didn’t know you had any of my sculptures.” Never mind this one.

Emmett inched closer, still sipping his water. “It’s my favorite, to date.”

Jen heard that a lot. The bronze sculpture depicted a small girl having her first horseback-riding lesson, while her doting mother stood nearby, holding the reins.

“There’s a wistful, loving quality about it,” he murmured.

Matt paused beside it, too. His guarded expression slipped just a tad.

“Did you know your subjects well?” he asked, eyeing the bronze, then her. “It seems like a very emotional piece.”

It was, but not for reasons either Briscoe would have assumed.

Wishing he hadn’t noticed that, Jen acknowledged the unexpected compliment with a nod. She was way too aware of Matt’s physical presence, and turned away. So what if he had the kind of hot, powerful body no woman could ignore? He didn’t trust her, certainly didn’t respect her. And without that… There was no way she would let him draw her in.

“I conjured this from my imagination,” she murmured in response to his question. Although she wished it had been real.

Matt studied her, as if seeing beyond what she’d said to the yearning for family she felt inside.

And maybe he did know, at least a little bit, she conceded. Emmett had said Matt’s mother had died years ago. Jen had lost hers, too.

Being orphaned was hard at any age.

But although Matt and she shared that experience, it wasn’t a bond she intended to pursue.

Emmett looked from one to the other. He, too, knew there was more going on than what Jen said, but was kind enough to move on to safer territory. “You often work from photographs, don’t you?”

Jen nodded. “Yes, I do. Particularly with commissioned works.”

These days, she stayed far away from memory lane. Focusing only on the present. Never the past, nor the future.

Inching closer, Matt said, “So you don’t need to see a subject in person to be able to do justice to his or her likeness.”

She acknowledged that fact with another brief nod. Why not just show me the door now, Matt? “Although it helps to at least hear about the personality of the person I’m depicting.”

“Well,” Emmett boomed, “no problem there.”

No, indeed. His personality was very distinct, his ego strong.

“Dad,” Matt interjected, clearly still worried his father was going to be taken advantage of, “are you sure you want to do this?”

“I have to, son.” His voice was suddenly hoarse and unsteady. “Whether you understand or not.” Emmett cleared his throat and turned to Jen, all business once more. “So…here’s the deal. I want ten bronzes to start. All commemorating my life. And I’ll pay you triple your normal rate—on the condition you set up shop here, start right away and do only my work, under my supervision, until we’re done.”

* * *

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO GIVE my father an answer by evening’s end,” Matt told Jen after Emmett had gone off to tend to other business. “Dad won’t make the same offer to another artist.”

She stared at him. “Are you sure about that?” she asked.

He let out a measured breath. The truth was, he couldn’t figure out what his father was thinking, never mind why he was doing the things he was right now. One minute he’d be ebullient—full of dreams that had to be fulfilled right away. The next, he’d disappear, sometimes for a few hours, other times, a few days.

When Emmett did return, he usually seemed fatigued. Pale and almost shaky.

If Matt didn’t know better, he’d think his dad was binge drinking. But that didn’t make sense. The man could hold his liquor. He just didn’t choose to drink very often.

Instead, Emmett handled stress by spending. Land, works of art, cattle—it didn’t seem to matter what he bought as long as he enjoyed the wealth he had and purchased something.

The big question was what was causing his dad’s anxiety lately. As much as Matt had nosed around, he still couldn’t figure it out. All he knew for certain was the beautiful thirty-year-old woman in front of him was involved. And given Emmett’s history of chasing younger, completely inappropriate women, that couldn’t be good.

“Earth to Matt. Earth to Matt…”

“I’m still here.”

Jen quirked a brow. “Really? You seemed a million miles away.”

Glad he had been tapped to give her a tour of the property while she made up her mind, he shook off his unease and escorted her through the formal dining room.

He paused near the magnificently carved wooden table, which routinely sat thirty guests, determined to find out as much as he could about the beautiful sculptor. Like it or not, that meant spending time with her. “You’ve probably noticed my dad is a strong-willed guy, with a very healthy ego.”

A hint of cynicism lit Jen’s eyes as she paused by the chair where Emmett generally presided. “Seems to run in the family.”

Trying not to think about how alluring she was, or what reaction the two of them might have had to each other if they weren’t on opposing sides, Matt added, “Dad wants what he wants when he wants it.”

Brushing past him, Jen glided along the length of the table, her hips swaying seductively beneath her sundress. She tossed him a look. “Seems the same could be said of you,” she noted drily.

Matt braced his hands on the ornate scrolling across the top of a mahogany chair, trying not to be fascinated by her. “I know enough to realize when I need to slow down. And reevaluate.” Like right now.

Jen eyed the huge crystal chandelier, then stiffened her spine and compressed her lips. “Your father doesn’t seem likely to do either at the moment.”

Something in the speculative way she was studying him, prompted Matt to be completely forthright, too. “Probably not,” he said, with as much indifference as he could muster. “Which is why you need to think long and hard about just what it is Dad is asking you to do.”

Jen slanted him a pitying look and folded her arms again, which plumped up her breasts. “What is it about Emmett’s offer that you think I can’t handle?”

Lazily, he appraised her pretty dress and sandals. Everything about her was feminine and enticing, from her dainty feet and stunning legs to her slender waist and round, perfect breasts. Nothing about her said ranch-ready. “I think the better question is what part of living out in the wilds of rural Texas could you handle?” he drawled.

She scowled. “Hey. Just because I grew up in the city—”

“And live in Austin now, where the population is a million plus.”

Appearing irritated, she shrugged. “So?”

“Laramie County is thirty-five square miles with one small town and wide-open spaces—”

“Spaces,” Jen interrupted, “peppered with ranches and horses and cattle, and even, from what I saw on my way over here, the occasional donkeys, sheep and alpacas.”

No doubt this area of West Texas had its share of rugged individualists, Matt acknowledged silently. And like it or not, her work as a sculptress put her in that category, too.

The problem, he thought, as he let his gaze roam her once again, was that Jen was incredibly feminine and unconsciously sexy in a way that drove men wild. Every glance, every movement of her hands, every touch of her fingers, was innately artistic, unbearably gentle and sensual.

Matt had noticed this on sight. And that was something they couldn’t have. Not when it made him continually wonder how that overt sensuality would manifest in lovemaking.

Oblivious to the direction of his thoughts, she argued, “Being out here in the Texas countryside is going to help, not hurt, my art.”

He would concede to that. “Even so…the ranch can be a lonely place.” Which made it all too easy to establish intimacy with someone.

His observation earned him nothing but a smile. “Lucky for me, I work best when I’m not interrupted. Although all the bronzes will have to be finished back in Austin, where the foundry and my studio are located.”

Sounded good, to have her back in central Texas where she belonged. Especially since he couldn’t talk his dad out of this.

Helpfully, Matt suggested, “Why not just negotiate that it all be done there—except the initial consultation?”

“Wow,” Jen taunted softly. “You genuinely want me off the Triple B.”

Her voice seemed to ripple over him like velvet. He folded his arms defensively. No need to mince words now. “I think it would be best for everyone,” he stated flatly.

“In your view,” she corrected without hesitation. “Not Emmett’s. Or mine.”

With effort, Matt kept his distance. “You’re really planning to accept my dad’s offer and stay here?”

“I really am.” Jen sashayed out of the dining room and into the corridor that led past the pantry to the kitchen. “So cowboy up, fella.” She tossed the words over her shoulder. “And get used to it.”

* * *

“JEN,” CELIA WAILED, when told of the plan in a conference call one hour later. “This is such a bad idea.”

“I agree,” Cy added vehemently.

“Driving all the way out there in that wreck of a van was bad enough,” Celia fretted, “but to stay for the next however many months…”

Jen was used to holding the hands of very wealthy, incredibly egotistical clients who were seeking to immortalize themselves for posterity. This, she told herself firmly, would be no different. Even if there was a handsome, sexy, difficult son on the premises. She could handle Matt. She’d just avoid him.

She ran her palm over the silk fabric of the comforter on her bed. “Actually, I’m hoping it will just be for one month.”

“The time it will take you to complete the first statue,” Celia affirmed.

Jen got up and walked to the guest-room window, overlooking the courtyard. “I think once Emmett understands my process and sees the quality of my work, he’ll be amenable to granting me whatever I need to finish.” Which was an environment far, far away from his maddeningly handsome, wickedly provoking son.

“And if he doesn’t? If he plays the rich man card and says you have to stay and do everything his way,” Celia countered, her voice rising with concern. “Then what? It’s obvious father and son have issues. The last thing you need is to put yourself in a situation where you try to fix other people’s problems—again.”

Jen wasn’t going to do that. Once had been more than enough. “Look, it’s obvious Matt and his dad don’t see eye to eye on hiring me to commemorate Emmett’s life. But that’s for the two of them to sort out. I’m concerned about the business.” Not to mention the fact that Cy and Celia were about to have a baby, and Jen’s van needed substantial repair. “The profit from this job will allow me to expand into the next storefront, showcase other artists and hire another employee.” Which meant all their schedules would be a lot more flexible.

“Assuming it goes as planned,” Cy groused, reminding Jen that he and Celia had a financial stake in this.

“It will,” she promised. “You’ll see.” And when it did, the rent for the gallery would be paid for an entire year, and they wouldn’t be living paycheck to paycheck any longer.

She looked up to see Matt looming in the guest room’s open doorway, a thick accordion file in hand.

She turned away to finish her conversation. “In the meantime, I’m emailing you a list of things I’ll need overnighted to me….”

After Cy and Celia promised they would get right on it, Jen ended the call and put her phone back in her bag.

“Obviously, you have been invited to stay for dinner, regardless of your decision about the offer my father made.”

Jen wondered what Matt thought could have possibly changed in the last fifteen minutes, since she had already told Emmett her decision and he’d asked Matt to show her to the guest room. “You just won’t give up, will you?”

He came closer, his expression grim. “I was hoping it wouldn’t have to come to this.”

His words had an ominous ring. Jen felt her stomach clench. For the first time since she had arrived at the ranch, she felt she was out of her league as she stared into his implacable blue eyes.

Wordlessly, he handed over the file he held. “You have a very interesting past.”

His statement delivered a punch a hundred times more powerful than she had anticipated. “You had me investigated?”

He let out a breath. “I checked into the backgrounds of all the artists my father was interested in.” Moving closer, he looked at her for a long minute. “Curiously enough, you were the only one who had married for cash. I guess my dad really does have a radar for fortune hunters.”

Jen’s temper rose. “I did not marry for money, Matt. I married for love.” Which, unfortunately, had turned out to be one-sided.

His eyes dipped down to her mouth, then back up again. “His family says otherwise. They say you led their son down the garden path, and had they not intervened, you would have gone through his entire trust fund in a matter of years.”

Jen knew how it looked. But how it looked and how it was were two entirely different things.

Sensing Matt Briscoe wouldn’t believe her even if she did tell him everything that had transpired during the two unhappiest years of her life, she focused on the facts that would vindicate her. At least in Emmett Briscoe’s eyes. She tilted her head and murmured, “Then you also must have uncovered the fact that I left the marriage exactly as I entered it. With five hundred dollars in my savings account. The clothes on my back. An armful of possessions. And the same van I’m driving now.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “A smart move, if you were looking for another rich man to bamboozle.”

“But what if I wasn’t?” Jen swallowed hard. “What if, at the end of the day, all I wanted was my freedom? My self-respect intact?”

A devastating silence fell.

Matt didn’t believe her.

He was never going to believe her.

So Jen did the only thing she could do.

She gave up trying to convince him of the truth and took another approach. One that a man like him would buy.

Dropping all pretext of innocence, she threw up her hands and sashayed toward him like a hussy on the hunt. “You’re right.” Reaching behind him, she shut the bedroom door, then swung back around to face him. “Why deny it?” Her heart pounding, she glided even closer and lifted a hand to his hard chest. “I did come out here looking for another rich husband.” She splayed her fingers over his heart. “But it’s not your father I want, Matt,” she confessed, even more softly. “It’s you.”

His eyes smoldered. He caught her wrist and held her away. “Very funny.”

Her instinct was to fight his grip. Instead, she relaxed into it. Pretended she wanted him to touch her. Moved closer still.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Aware what a dangerous game she was playing, she brought her other hand up to trace his lower lip. “You’re a vibrant and sexy guy.” Surely, in another second or two he’d realize how ridiculous this all was.

“Tall. Dark-haired. Handsome.” She continued her litany of his attributes. “What’s not to like?” She let her fingers sift through his dark, curly hair, stroke the shell of his ear, feel the pulse in his throat.

“It’s not going to work.” He stared at her, daring her to get past his tough exterior.

“Sure about that?” Jen prodded, her ego suddenly in play. She extricated her wrist from his hand. “Sure you don’t want to make a pass at me, just a little bit?”

Again he refused to budge.

“What if I want to make a pass at you?” With both hands free, she wreathed her arms around his neck.

To her disappointment, he didn’t respond.

“What if I want to kiss you…” She rose on tiptoe and, with lust pouring through her, brushed her lips ever so briefly across the scruff on his jaw. “Just like this…”

Matt remained still as a statue. The only hint that he might be affected by her outrageous ploy was the heat emanating from his body, the thudding of his heart and lower, the unmistakable imprint of desire.

“You really want to find out?” he asked hoarsely.

Did she? Jen tilted her head and searched his eyes.

Maybe not…

She stepped back slightly, telling herself that she had made her point.

Then, to her shock, Matt made his. His arms clamped around her, tugging her close again. Suddenly, she was anchored against him in a way that thoroughly outlined the challenge he presented to her.

Aware that it was her turn to call his bluff, she narrowed her eyes and declared, “You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”

Matt lifted an eyebrow, lowered his head and growled, “Yeah? Watch me.”

Chapter Three

Matt had not expected their confrontation to end with a kiss. But as he gave into instinct and flattened one hand against her spine and slid the other through the silk of her hair, he knew that was exactly where it was headed. Trouble was, one kiss wouldn’t begin to satisfy the desire pouring through him. Not when he brushed her mouth lightly with his; not when he responded to the slight opening of her lips and moved in to kiss her hard and deep. And

especially not when he heard her make a soft, sexy sound that was part frustration, part need.

And then, suddenly, she was surprising him again by meeting his demand. Going up on tiptoe. Wreathing her arms about his shoulders once again.

Her breasts pressed against his chest. He felt the hardness of her nipples, the quick beating of her heart, the erratic rasp of her breath. And knew he had invited way more than should be happening….

Jen knew Matt was only trying to prove a point.

She was proving one, too. Not only could she handle a forbidden kiss. Or two. Or in this case, three… She could handle him.

Yes, he was hard and sexy. Yes, he looked really hot, whether dressed up, as he’d been the first time they’d met, or in a simple chambray shirt and worn jeans, as he was now.

Yes, he knew how to fit her against him for maximum contact, angle his head and kiss her breathless.

He tasted good. A combination of cool spearmint, warm summer sun…and man.

And he made her feel wonderful.

All soft and willing and womanly.

Even when she knew she was not going to let this go any further than it already had, for fear her knees would collapse under her and she’d lose what precious little common sense she had left.

Not when this was solely for the purpose of proving a point.

Deliberately, Jen broke off the kiss.

Ignoring the molten look in his eyes, she drew a halting breath and stepped back. Watched him get control of his faculties, too.

She struggled for calm, reminding herself this was very dangerous territory they were in. “Look. I get you trying to control everything, because there have been times when I tried to do that, too. But life doesn’t work that way. You don’t get to control someone else’s actions or prevent their mistakes. Never mind engineer their epiphanies.”

He quirked a brow but allowed her to continue.

Jen aimed a lecturing finger at the center of his chest. “You get to be the master of your destiny. Make your own decisions. Control your own reactions to things. And that, pal, is it.”

Matt’s lips compressed. “Sounds like the credo for Al-Anon,” he said, in a voice dripping with cynicism.

Reeling from the verbal left hook, Jen sucked in an anguished breath. She had expected Matt to fight hard. But this was a low blow. She scowled at him, making no effort to hide her resentment. “Nice, Briscoe, bringing that up.”

Shock had him going completely still.

Jen groaned and bit down on an oath. Darn it all. He didn’t know!

Working to get her pulse under control, she slid him a look. “I thought you had me investigated.”

He met her gaze, his eyes dark and heated. “Briefly. Just in terms of your professional expertise and general background.”

She studied him intently. “Then you know I grew up in the economically disadvantaged part of Austin.”

“And that your mom died when you were three, and your dad raised you,” he stated in a quiet voice.

Her stomach quivered. This was stuff she never discussed. “What else?”

Matt cocked his head, still studying her. “That your father was a self-employed housepainter who worked sporadically, usually eking out just enough to get by.”

The hardships of that time still haunted her. Jen was working on being okay with it, but she hadn’t quite gotten there yet.

Deciding if Matt was going to hear this, he was going to hear it from her, she moved a step closer and asked, “Do you know why?”

Matt continued watching her as if something didn’t quite add up. “The investigator didn’t get that far, but I can go back and see what else can be found out….”

Jen shook her head and lifted a staying palm. “No need for that,” she declared firmly, forcing herself to hold his steady gaze.

Might as well get this over with.

“I’ll just tell you.”

She swallowed as another wave of emotion swept through her. “My father drank.” Her throat closed in a way that made it difficult to get the words out. “A lot. Not all the time, but…whenever something set him off. Instead of dealing with his frustration and anger over the hand that fate had dealt him, he would self-medicate with booze.”