Worth The Risk

After breakfast, Jackson came out of the bathroom dressed in dark slacks and a western shirt. He’d offered to drive her to the motor hotel to pack her belongings and then take her to the airport to catch her flight to Boston. He plopped his Stetson on his head, looking like a Worth through and through as he stood by the bed, arms folded, watching her slip on her brown leather boots.

“There,” she said, closing up the long zipper and straightening to full height, adjusting her feet in the boots. She met his eyes as she put on her blazer and gave her hair a toss. “I’m ready to go.”

He glanced at her boots and then lifted his gaze to follow the contour of her legs. He had the oddest expression on his face but quickly shook it off. He took her hand and led her out the door. “Let’s get outta here.”

They’d made a pact and the old cliché held true. What happens in Vegas …

Sharing a secret with Jackson Worth could be thrilling. If only it wasn’t so darn necessary.

Two

It was early fall back in Boston, just when the leaves were starting to turn and the entire city was awash with burnt-orange and gold foliage. It was by far Sammie’s favorite time of year, when cooler air replaced summer humidity and fresh breezes rustled the trees. But there was no rustling of trees in Arizona. Not today anyway. The air was still and the land desolate but for the vegetation and shrubbery that had been transplanted to the desert from more tropical climes.

She would miss her hometown, but her life was no longer there and as soon as she’d landed at Sky Harbor Airport yesterday and stepped foot on Arizona soil, new excitement, a thrill she hadn’t felt for a long time, surged through her system. This was it—her chance to make a fresh start. Her life would be here now and she had every intention of looking toward the future.

She stood in the middle of the large empty storefront, her eyes darting from the shiny hardwood flooring covering the expanse of the room, to the clean, unadorned walls. She took in the subtle scent of fresh paint. Lifting her head, she viewed thick beams of wood crisscrossing the ceiling, giving it a rustic charm. The place was perfect and in that perfection, she also saw Jackson Worth’s handiwork. He’d picked a great Scottsdale location for the boutique, right smack in the heart of prime shopping for the middle to upper class of Phoenix society.

The sound of her boots clicking against the floors echoed her movements as she walked toward the front door. It was a lonely sound, one that reminded her of all she’d lost, of the emptiness she’d fought for months, but Sammie wouldn’t allow her mind to go there today. She had too much to be thankful for and heaven knew, she’d cried enough for two lifetimes already.

Poking her head outside, she noted a trendy Southwestern restaurant a few steps down the street, a smoke shop, a fancy children’s boutique and a little café with tables set for two outside the entrance. Warmth filled her chest and she whispered, “This is home now.”

Yesterday, Tagg and Callie had insisted on picking her up from the airport and had driven her to her new apartment. Callie must have offered a dozen times for Sammie to stay with them at Worth Ranch, but Sammie would never impose on them. Callie was eight months pregnant and the expectant couple deserved to enjoy this very special time in their lives without a houseguest.

Upon Jackson’s recommendation, Sammie had used an online service to find a furnished rental in a Spanish-style building with adobe archways and a red stone tiled garden patio. She’d sold everything she’d owned in Boston in a symbolic act meant to add closure to her old life. Only a few special pieces were salvaged from her father’s meager estate. She’d placed in storage her father’s favorite lounge chair, an antique grandfather clock that cuckooed on the hour and a few other items she couldn’t bear to part with belonging to her parents.

“Welcome to Arizona, neighbor.” She jumped at the sound and turned to find a man wearing a chef’s apron approaching from the café. His broad smile creased the perfect planes of his olive-toned face. His voice held the slightest hint of a Spanish accent as each word was enunciated with emphasis when he spoke.

He came to stand before her and stretched out his hand in greeting. “I’m Sonny Estes. I own Sonny Side Up Café.”

“Hello. I’m Sammie Gold. Great name, by the way.” She slipped her hand in his grasp and he gave it one distinct shake, before releasing her. “Sonny Side Up, I mean. I noticed your storefront this morning.”

“Thanks. You’re putting a boot store in here, correct?”

Surprised, she inclined her head a little with curiosity. “That’s right. How’d you know?”

“Jack’s a friend of mine. And my landlord, but I forget that on occasion. Like when I crush him on the court.”

She blinked and tried to picture the GQ cowboy in white shorts. “Tennis?”

His eyes crinkled with amusement. “No, no. Basketball.”

“Oh.” That made more sense to her for some reason.

“He told me you’d be coming by to see the place.” He peered over her shoulder at the empty shop behind. “What do you think?”

“It’s great. I mean it will be once I get my merchandise in here. I’ve got a pretty good idea already how I want this place to look.”

“The location can’t be beat. We get our share of local shoppers, but we also do well with tourists. Scottsdale is the Beverly Hills of Arizona.

She smiled. She’d heard that before. “All the better then.”

“I’m glad Worth finally filled this spot. Not good for business, you know, to have empty shops on the boulevard.”

“That’s true.”

“Stop by the café sometime and I’ll buy you a meal.” He winked and started walking backward. “I must get back to the kitchen. We usually pack the house at lunchtime.”

Sammie waved goodbye to him and returned to the empty store, walking toward a back room that would serve as her office. She sat down on a neon green children’s chair that was left behind, she presumed, when the space was called Kyra’s Korner, a playland venue for small children. Jackson said the idea of an indoor babysitting activity center was sound, but it hadn’t been situated in the right location. He had more faith in Boot Barrage.

The thought made her smile. Jackson liked boots. On women. Oh, who was she kidding? Jackson simply liked women, period. And they liked him back.

She leaned forward in the teensy seat, trying to forget about her little rendezvous with him in Vegas. The more she thought about it, the more she was glad she couldn’t remember much of the night she spent in his bed. You can’t long for what you can’t remember. So, it was a good thing her memory of that night was virtually nonexistent.

The back door opened with a yawning sound and she spun her head to find Jackson stepping over the threshold. He bolted the door shut behind him and approached her with a laid-back smile. “Hey, Sammie.”

“Oh, hi.” She wished her breath wouldn’t catch every time she set eyes on him. He was beautiful, no matter what expression he had on his face or what clothes he wore on his body, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Today he had on jeans and a black jacket over a white cotton shirt. His hair, thick and rich as dark wheat, was covered with a tan felt hat. His eyes held a perpetual hint of mischief and were aimed at her calf-length boots.

He studied them, his eyes raking over the soft mocha leather straps and silver studs. She had her jeans tucked into them today, making her feel more like a Southwest woman than a Boston greenhorn.

He met her gaze. “Nice.”

Self-conscious and a little flustered, she rose from the table to face him. “Thanks. I’m a walking advertisement for my boots.”

“Who wouldn’t stop to admire … them,” he asked as his gaze flowed over her legs, moved higher to touch on her breasts and then finally landed on her eyes.

Rattled, Sammie stammered, “I—I uh, didn’t expect you this morning.”

“It’s almost lunchtime.”

She shrugged. She wouldn’t argue semantics with him. “Oh, I guess it is. I’ve been busy and didn’t realize the time.”

“Busy? Doing what?” Jackson scanned the room. “The place is empty.”

“I know. I’ve been busy thinking… about what it’ll look like when it’s not empty.”

“Can you put those thoughts down on paper?”

“I already have. I’ve worked on a draft. It’s at my apartment.”

“I’d like to see it, darlin’.”

Sammie balked. “My apartment?”

“That too,but we have that dang pact, remember?”

How could she forget?

“I’m talking about the drafts. I’ve got a crew lined up to build the shelves and counter space and whatever else you decide you want. But I’d like to see your ideas first and go over them. Sound fair?”

Sammie had to get her head in the game. Jackson, obviously, didn’t have a problem being around her, even if he teased her a bit, so she had to stop thinking of him as anything other than her very smart, very business-minded partner. “Yes, that sounds fair. I guess I didn’t think you’d have much time to devote to Boot Barrage.”

Jackson tipped his hat farther back on his head. “Seeing one of my enterprises get off to a good start is always smart business, Sammie. I invest not only my money, but also my time and ideas. So how about we shoot by your apartment, pick up your drafts and then discuss them over lunch?”

Lunch? With Jackson? She supposed there was no getting around spending time with him. He was successful and if he could show her how to make a go of her business in Scottsdale, she should be grateful. “Sure.”

“One more thing,” he said, taking her hand. The connection shot a jolt of heat straight through her system. He tugged her out the back door and into the parking lot. When she stared at him in question, he said with a dimpled smile, “This is for you.”

“I’ve never driven an SUV before.” With trepidation, Sammie sat behind the wheel of the Lincoln Navigator and coasted along the streets of Scottsdale. The new-car scent from the tan leather upholstery filled her nostrils as the shiny dashboard controls twinkled in the early afternoon sun. Everything surrounding her was rich and luxurious, including the man sitting in the passenger seat beside her.

“You’re doing fine, Sammie,” Jackson said nonchalantly, looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world. The Navigator was the biggest car she’d ever driven. “You needed something with good storage space in back for boxes and samples. I figured a truck would be pushing it.”

She gave him a sideways glance. “You figured right. Driving a truck would give me hives.”

“It’s not as hard as it looks.”

“No, it’s probably harder.” She concentrated on the road and the newness of the controls. “I bet you’ve been driving your daddy’s pickup truck since you were fifteen.”

Jackson snickered. “More like thirteen, darlin’. My daddy didn’t have a problem with his kids driving on their own property. He taught us the basics and let us have at it.”

“It’s a great car, Jackson.” Sammie had to swallow past the lump in her throat. She’d been floored when Jackson told her the car was hers. She was overcome with gratitude but felt a little guilty; she doubted that Jackson was in the habit of giving cars to his business partners. He was doing a favor for Callie and Sammie was reaping the benefits. Sometimes it overwhelmed her, but at the same time, it made her all the more determined to make their business a success. Jackson’s generosity wasn’t something to sneeze it. “Tell me it’s a business expense.”

“It’s yours. But on paper it’s the Boot Barrage company car.”

That rationale made her feel a little better. “Okay. I’ll take good care of it.”

They stopped by her apartment first, Jackson insisting on seeing the place. The set of his jaw and his reassuring look were enough to persuade her it wouldn’t be a problem. It wasn’t as if he was irresistibly drawn to her or anything. They could keep their hands off each other.

“I like it,” he said, perusing the living space in the apartment. “Even if it’s a snug fit.”

She glanced at his jeans. They were a snug fit, but the apartment was adequate for her with two bedrooms, a living area and an efficient kitchen’s worth of charm. “It’s more than enough for me.”

Sammie wouldn’t show him the bedrooms but he took it upon himself to walk down the hallway and poke his head into both rooms anyway. Then, as she stood in the middle of the living room with the draft store plans in hand, he sauntered back over to her. “It has potential.”

“It’s a mess right now.” Boxes of her clothes cluttered the floor at her feet. Photo frames and a set of dishes were stacked haphazardly on the kitchen counter. “I had a few things shipped from back East, but I’m mostly starting from scratch.”

“You have a bed.”

“Necessity of life, isn’t it?”

“You got that right.” His blue eyes darkened as he looked at her, and Sammie reminded herself that Jackson was a player. Flirting and teasing women were as natural to him as breathing. He wasn’t a jerk about it either. He was a man who genuinely loved being with women. She couldn’t fault him his killer looks and compelling charm.

Don’t take him seriously, and you’ll do fine, Sammie.

He bent down to flip open one box lid and raised his brows. “And boots.”

She’d packed three large boxes of her own boots. “Another necessity of life.”

He grinned. “Let’s hope the women of Scottsale agree with you.”

“I’m counting on it.”

With a hand firmly on her back, Jackson led her toward the door. Before she locked up, Sammie glanced around at the textured walls and high arched doorways that accented the Southwestern flavor of the place and sighed.

“It’ll feel like home before you know it,” Jackson said, as if reading her mind.

This adventure was so new to her. She’d packed up her Boston apartment, leaving what was familiar to her completely behind. When she thought of it that way, shivers of apprehension rode up and down her spine. After all, she was an only child who’d lost her father and her business in the blink of an eye.

Now she fended off a full-fledged panic attack. She didn’t want Jackson to see her moment of weakness. She’d moved three thousand miles away to a city with no coastline. It was a place foreign to her in most respects. But then, she thought about her best friend, Callie, and the rest of the Worths. They were her family now, Jackson included, and that notion made the knots in her stomach loosen. She bucked up her courage, giving herself a mental pep talk. She could do this and she would be successful. She smiled at Jackson as she turned the key in the lock. “I think so, too.”

Jackson walked Sammie to her car, and juicy peaches sprang to mind. He figured since peach trees didn’t grow in the desert, the sweet fragrance had to be coming from Sammie. “You smell delicious.”

“It’s my hand lotion. I put some on while we were in the apartment. It’s kind of strong. If I’m making you hungry, I’m sorry.”

There was hunger, and then there was hunger. Jackson glanced at the boots that hugged her calves. Even in a pair of jeans, with no leg showing, she turned him on. It was a damn shame.

Sammie was off-limits.

“Good thing we’re going to lunch. I might have me some peach pie for dessert.”

And it was a good thing he’d begun thinking straight again. He should have never laid a hand on Sammie. He’d been through the reasons in his mind a hundred times and had finally come to the conclusion that it wasn’t only her boots that had appealed to him.

Right before she’d walked into that bar in Vegas, he’d learned that Blair Caulfield was coming back to Red Ridge. Beautiful, rich, deceitful Blair Caulfield, the girl he’d once loved, was on her way to her hometown to cause havoc in the guise of tending to her ailing Aunt Muriel.

Jackson wanted to think he was over her, but one minute he was on the phone hearing the news of her return from a close friend and the next minute he was finding solace in the arms of the unsuspecting Sammie Gold.

In a way, Sammie had been just what he’d needed that night. To make him forget Blair and the heartache she’d caused him.

By the time Sammie had thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him, it was all the encouragement he’d needed. And making love to Sammie had been hot. But his lust for her had shocked him back to his senses the following morning. He’d had to do the right thing and set some boundaries.

“You’re driving this time.” Sammie’s voice broke into his thoughts.

Before he could argue she climbed into the passenger seat and buckled up. She added, “I can get a better feel for the lay of the land this way. Without having to concentrate on the road.”

She had a point. Jackson accepted her decision and settled behind the wheel. Sammie had been through a lot lately and she was trying to cope with all the changes in her life. He couldn’t blame her for being gun-shy of driving in a town she didn’t know in a powerhouse of a new car.

He set the drafts in her lap and started the engine. At least driving would keep his eyes on the road and not on her. When she had driven the Navigator earlier, he’d had freedom enough to look his fill. She was cute, with a slender frame and a pleasant face dotted with a few freckles across the bridge of her nose that she tried to cover up with makeup. But she wasn’t even close to the kind of woman who usually attracted him. So why, he asked himself, was he drawn to her? “Do you like hot and spicy?” he asked.

Sammie stammered, “I, uh …” Then she turned in the seat to face him, her body at an angle and both brows digging into her forehead. “What exactly do you mean?”

Jackson grinned. He added innocence to her list of attributes. “Food, Sammie. I’m talking Cajun. There’s this great place just outside of town.”

“Oh.” She was so dang relieved she might have melted into the upholstery as she sank back down in her seat. “That sounds fine.”

It was refreshing to be with a guileless woman for a change, Jackson thought. Someone whose expression told you exactly what she was thinking. She wasn’t coy or pretentious. It was a rare thing.

An hour later, Jackson spread out Sammie’s drafts for Boot Barrage on the cleared restaurant table. They’d eaten chicken and rice and now sat beside each other sipping iced tea.

Sammie took a big gulp of hers. “Wow, my mouth’s on fire.”

“I thought you liked Cajun food.”

Sammie gave him a sheepish look. “I’ve never tried it before. I’m not into spicy.”

“Is that a fact,” Jackson remarked, not allowing his mind to go wicked. “Why’d you agree to it then?”

She stared into his eyes. “I figured this is my year for firsts.”

Her gaze darted to his mouth and lingered long enough to make his groin tighten. The sweet smell of peaches drifted to his nose again. “I mean … I don’t usually venture too far from my comfort zone,” she said.

“You don’t?”

“No. My tastes aren’t very adventurous.”

“Maybe you should change that.”

She shook her head and her short hair moved and then fell right back into place again. “There are enough changes in my life right now.”

Jackson swallowed the last of his tea. “Are we still talking food here?”

Sammie hesitated, then lifted tentative eyes his way. “Uh, just so you know, I’m not the kind of girl … who experiments with food … just because it’s available.”

No. She wasn’t talking about food. “I knew that about you.”

“Good, because I don’t think I’d try Cajun again … just for the record. Though, it’s pretty on the plate and all.”

Jackson hid a smile. They’d already decided this in Las Vegas. They had agreed not to sleep together again, but apparently Sammie had more to say on the subject. “Okay, no more Cajun food for you.”

She smiled with relief and Jackson pointed to the paper laid out on the table, returning to the business at hand. “Now, about your designs …”

The next few days flew by. Sammie was busier than she’d been in her entire life. She’d made calls to her private boot venders and haggled over prices, set up a whole new Excel spreadsheet for taking inventory, ordered window dressings for the shop and interviewed for part-time help. At night she’d unpack her belongings at her apartment, do laundry and make herself a salad before collapsing into bed.

She’d been in touch with Jackson every day. He didn’t disappoint on the business end of things. He wasn’t lying about helping her get the new enterprise off the ground. What they needed was a good start and Jackson knew some tricks of the trade. He’d stopped by her apartment once to check on her progress, and this morning he’d beaten her in getting to the shop. She saw his king-cab Ford truck as she pulled into the small parking lot behind Boot Barrage.

She opened the back door and walked in on him as he measured a wall with a thick chrome tape measure. His back was to her and he didn’t bother turning around. “Mornin’,” he said over his shoulder. “The crew will be here in a few minutes. Thought I’d speak with the contractor before he gets started in here.”

“Good morning,” she said quietly. She closed the door behind her and tried not to gape at Jackson. He wore a snug cotton T-shirt that hugged his shoulders and a pair of faded blue jeans tight enough for images to flash through her mind of how good he’d looked in the raw.

He also had a leather tool belt wrapped around his waist.

A tool belt.Really?

Sammie held back a sigh. Every time she saw him, she fell a little more in lust with him. But that was only because he was beautiful. Eye candy. A hunk.

“Okay, that’s great. I can’t wait until they get started on this place.”

Jackson grunted in agreement and then went back to jotting down figures on a clipboard. He had arranged for a desk and chair from one of his offices to be delivered the other day. She’d set up her laptop on it and had worked here whenever she could.

“You coming to Callie and Tagg’s for dinner tonight?” he asked, still concentrating on the figures he jotted down.

Her dear friend Callie had been patient with her. She’d invited her over every night this week, but Sammie had been too busy. She’d promised her that tonight would be the night—she’d missed her friend and they were both anxious to spend time together—but Sammie hadn’t known that Jackson was invited, too.

“Yes, I’m going.”

“No sense in both of us driving out there in separate cars,” he said, studying another wall he was measuring. “I’ll drive you to Red Ridge.”

“Oh, no. That’s not nec—”

Jackson turned to her and a jolt of new desire paraded through her stomach. He was every woman’s fantasy, a blond-haired, blue-eyed tool-belt-wearing hunk of a man. Sammie had always prided herself on not being a shallow female until she’d met Jackson Worth. He was in a class all by himself as far as she was concerned. But she’d reminded herself a hundred times that business and pleasure didn’t mix. Especially not for her.

Her creep of an ex-boyfriend, Allen Marksom, had driven that point home.

“Oh,” she said, quickly realizing her mistake. “Callie asked you to drive me there.”

“Carpooling saves the environment.”

“Callie worries about me too much.”

“She’s your friend.”

“But still, if you were only going on my account, you don’t—”

“Two things, Sammie,” he said in a serious tone. “I like spending time with my family. And I don’t argue with pregnant ladies.” He sent her a quick nod. “Just so you know.”

She nodded back. “Got it.”

When the crew showed up for work, she and Jackson went over the plans to make sure they were all on the same page. Excited, Sammie’s mental picture of Boot Barrage was finally coming to fruition.

Her boot boutique would be unique, not only because of the exquisite boots she’d be selling, but also because she’d give them her personal touch and a guarantee of repair, restoration and quality. She’d been given a lifetime’s worth of instruction by a high-end designer as to how to properly maintain and treat the boots to give them the longest life.