Wishes for Tomorrow: Westmoreland's Way
She quickly turned back to Dillon, presented him with another smile and whispered, “You know I say that loosely, don’t you, considering your great-grandfather’s reputation.”
Now it was Dillon’s time to chuckle. “The reason I’m here is to find out all I can about that reputation since I only recently discovered he had one and—”
“What does he want, Pamela?”
Before she could respond the shortest of the teen imps said, “We already told you. He wants Pammie.”
The hulk’s frown deepened and Dillon knew the young girl hadn’t meant it the way it sounded, but basically she had spoken the truth. He was attracted to Pamela Novak. Encroaching into another man’s territory had been Raphel Westmoreland’s style, but was not his. However, at that moment Dillon didn’t feel any guilt about the thoughts going through his mind, especially since it was apparent the woman was engaged to an ass. But that was her business, not his.
The man came down the steps and moved toward them and Dillon quickly sized him up. He wore a suit and an expensive pair of black leather shoes. His shirt and tie didn’t look cheap, either, which meant he was probably a successful businessman of some sort.
When he stopped in front of him, Dillon offered the man his hand. “I’m Dillon Westmoreland, and like Ms. Novak said, I’m a family friend. The reason I’m here,” he decided to add, “is because I’m doing research on my family’s history.”
The man shook his hand. “And I’m Fletcher Mallard, Pamela’s fiancé,” he said, as if he needed to stake a claim by speaking his position out loud.
Dillon took it in stride and thought that you could tell a lot about a man from his handshake, and this man had all the telltale signs. He was using the squeezing handshake, often used to exert strength and power. A confident man didn’t need such a tactic. This man was insecure.
Mallard looked at Dillon skeptically. “And just what is it you want to know?”
The smile dropped from Pamela Novak’s lips and she actually glared at her fiancé. “There’s no reason for you to ask all these questions, Fletcher. Mr. Westmoreland is a family friend and that’s all that matters right now.”
As if her words settled it, she turned to Dillon with her smile back in place. “Mr. Westmoreland, please join us for dinner, then you can tell me how we can help in your quest to learn more of your family’s history.”
It would have been so easy and less complicated to decline her offer, but there was something about Fletcher Mallard that outright irritated Dillon and pushed him to accept her invitation.
“Thank you, Ms. Novak, and I’d love to stay for dinner.”
Chapter 2
Pam knew she had made a mistake inviting Dillon Westmoreland to dinner the moment he was seated at the table. She wished she could say Fletcher was in rare form, but she’d seen him behave this way before, when another man had shown interest in her.
But what was strange was that Dillon hadn’t actually shown any interest in her, so she couldn’t understand why Fletcher was being so territorial. Unless...he had picked up on her interest in Dillon.
She pushed such utter nonsense from her mind. She was not interested in Dillon. She was merely curious. What woman wouldn’t be interested in a man like Dillon Westmoreland. He was at least six foot four with coffee-colored features. He had an angular face that boasted a firm jaw, a pair of cute dimples, full lips and the darkest eyes she’d ever seen on a man. She was engaged to be married, but not blind. And when he had sat down at the table to join them for dinner, his presence was powerfully masculine in a distracting way. She glanced around the table and couldn’t help noticing her sisters’ fascination with him, as well.
“So just where are you from, Westmoreland?”
Her spine stiffened with Fletcher’s question. She hadn’t invited Dillon to dinner to be interrogated, but she knew Fletcher wouldn’t be satisfied until he got some answers. She also knew once he got them he still wouldn’t be contented.
“I’m from Denver,” Dillon answered.
Fletcher was about to ask another question when Dillon beat him to the punch. “And where are you from, Mallard?”
The question had clearly caught Fletcher off guard. He had a way of trying to intimidate people, but she had a feeling that Dillon Westmoreland was a man who couldn’t be intimidated.
“I’m from Laramie,” Fletcher said gruffly. “I moved to town about five years ago to open a grocery store here. That was my first. Since then I’ve opened over twenty more in other cities in Wyoming and Montana. It’s my goal to have a Mallard Super Store in every state in the union over the next five years.”
Pam couldn’t help but inwardly smile. If Fletcher thought that announcement would get a reaction from Dillon, then he was sadly mistaken. Dillon didn’t show any sign that he was the least impressed.
“Where are you staying while you’re in town?” Fletcher asked, helping himself to the mashed potatoes.
“At the River’s Edge Hotel.”
“Nice place if you can do without cable television,” Jill said, smiling.
Pam watched how easily Dillon returned Jill’s smile. “I can do without it. I don’t watch much television.”
“And what is it that you do?” Fletcher asked in a voice that Pam felt was as cold as the iced tea she was drinking.
Dillon, she saw, gave Fletcher a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes when he said, “I’m into real estate.”
“Oh, you sell homes,” Fletcher said as if the occupation was beneath him.
“Not quite,” Dillon said pleasantly. “I own a real estate firm. You might have heard of it, Blue Ridge Land Management.”
Pam saw the surprise that lit Fletcher’s eyes before he said, “Yes, I’ve heard of it.”
She had to force back a chuckle because she was sure that he had heard of it. Who hadn’t? The Blue Ridge Land Management Company was a billion-dollar corporation, well known in the Mountain States, that had a higher place on the Fortune 500 list than Mallard Super Stores.
Seeing that Fletcher was momentarily speechless, she stepped in to say, “Mr. Westmoreland, you said that—”
“I’m Dillon.”
He had raised his gaze to meet hers and she saw a friendly smile lurking in the dark depths of his eyes. Her heart rate began accelerating in her chest. “Yes, of course,” she said quickly. “And I’m Pam.”
After taking a sip of her tea, she continued. “Dillon, you said that you were here to research your family’s history?”
“Yes,” he said, his gaze still on her. “For years I was told by my parents and grandparents that my brothers, cousins and I didn’t have any living relatives, and that my great-grandfather, Raphel Westmoreland, had been an only child. So you could imagine my surprise when one day, out of the clear blue sky, a man, his two sons and three nephews showed up at my ranch to proclaim they were my kin.”
Intrigued by the story, Pam placed her fork next to her plate and gave him her full attention. “How did they find you?”
“Through a genealogy search. The older man, James Westmoreland, knew that his grandfather, Reginald Westmoreland, had an identical-twin brother. It was discovered that that twin brother was my great-grandfather, Raphel, who had left home at twenty-two and had never been heard from again. In fact, the family assumed he’d died. They had no idea that he had eventually settled in Denver, married and had a son, who gave him two grandsons and then a slew of great-grands—fifteen, in fact. I am the oldest of the fifteen great-grands.”
“Wow, that must have been a shocker for you to discover you had other relatives when you assumed there weren’t any,” Jill, who was practically hanging on to Dillon’s every word, said. “What does your wife think about all of this?”
Pam watched Dillon smile and knew he hadn’t been fooled by the way the question had been asked. Jill wanted to know if he was a married man. Pam hated to admit that she was just as curious. He wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean a thing.
“She didn’t have anything to say because I’m not married,” Dillon replied smoothly. “At least not anymore. I’ve been divorced for close to ten years.”
Pam glanced over at Jill and prayed her sister had the decency not to inquire as to what had happened to end his marriage.
Fletcher, disliking the fact he wasn’t the center of attention, spoke up in an authoritative negative voice. “Sounds pretty crazy to me. Why would you care about a bunch of people who show up at your place claiming they were your relatives, or better yet, why would you want to find out your family history? You should live in the present and not in the past.”
Pam could tell Dillon was fighting hard to hold his temper in check, and his tone was remarkably restrained when he finally responded. “Do you have a family, Fletcher?”
Again, by Fletcher’s expression it was obvious he didn’t appreciate being the one receiving the questions. “No, I was an only child. My parents are deceased, but they didn’t have any siblings, either. I’m the only Mallard around for now.” He glanced over at Pam and smiled. “Of course, that will change once Pamela and I marry.”
Dillon nodded slowly. “But until that changes, I wouldn’t expect you to understand the significance of what a family means. I already do. Westmorelands are big into family and, after meeting my other relatives, my only regret is not having known them sooner.”
He glanced over at her and, for a second, she held his steady gaze. And she felt it. There was a connection between them that they were trying to ignore. She looked down at her plate as she continued eating.
Nadia asked him a question about his siblings and just as comfortably and easily as a man who was confident with himself and who he was, he began telling her everything she wanted to know. Without even trying, Dillon was captivating everyone at the dinner table...with the exception of Fletcher.
“How long do you plan to stay in town?” Fletcher rudely cut into the conversation between Dillon and the sisters.
Dillon glanced over at Fletcher. “Until I get all the questions I have about Raphel Westmoreland answered.”
“That may take a while,” Fletcher said.
Dillon smiled, but Pam knew it was just for Fletcher’s benefit and it wasn’t sincere. “I got time.”
She saw Fletcher open his mouth to make another statement and she cut him off. “Dillon, I should be able to help you with that. My great-grandfather’s old business records, as well as his personal journal, are in the attic. If you want to drop by tomorrow and go up there and look around, you’re welcome to do so.”
“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “I’ll be happy to take you up on your offer.”
* * *
“I don’t want you meeting with that man alone, Pamela. Inviting him here tomorrow while your sisters are away at school wasn’t a good idea. And tomorrow I’ll be out of town visiting my stores in Laramie.”
Pam glanced over at Fletcher as she walked him to the door. He was upset and she knew it. In fact, there was no doubt in her mind that everyone at the dinner table had known it since he wasn’t a person who hid his emotions well.
“So,” he continued, “I’ll get word to him tomorrow that you’ve withdrawn the invitation.”
Fletcher’s words stopped her dead in her tracks just a few feet from her living room door. She stared at him, certain she had missed something, like a vital piece of their conversation, somewhere along the way. “Excuse me?”
“I said that since you agree that you shouldn’t be alone with Westmoreland, I’ll get word to him that you’ve withdrawn your invitation for tomorrow.”
She frowned. “I don’t agree to any such nonsense. The invitation I gave to Dillon Westmoreland still stands, Fletcher. You’re acting controlling and territorial and there’s no reason for it.”
She saw the muscle that ticked in his jaw, indicating he was angry. “You’re an attractive woman, Pamela. Westmoreland isn’t blind. He noticed,” he said.
“And what is that supposed to mean? I agreed to marry you but that doesn’t mean you own me. If you’re having seconds thoughts about this engagement, then—”
“Of course I’m not having second thoughts. I’m just trying to look out for you, that’s all. You’re too trusting with people.”
His gaze then flicked over her before returning to her face. “And I think that you’re the one having second thoughts,” he said.
She lifted her chin. “Of course I’m having second thoughts. I agreed to marry you as a way to save my ranch. I appreciate you coming to my rescue but you deserve better than that. And that’s why I plan to pay Lester Gadling another visit this week. I want him to go back over those papers. It’s hard to believe Dad did not make arrangements for the balance on that mortgage to be paid off if anything happened to him.”
Fletcher waited for a moment, then said, “If you feel that strongly about it then I agree that you should go back to Gadling, since he was your father’s attorney, and ask him about it. But don’t worry about what I deserve. I’ll have you as my wife and that will make me a happy man.”
Pamela didn’t say anything. She and Fletcher weren’t entering into their marriage under false assumptions. He knew she was not in love with him.
She took a moment to reflect on a few things. She had left home upon graduating from high school with a full scholarship to attend the University of Southern California Drama School. It was during her sophomore year that Alma, her stepmother, had died. Her father had married Alma when Pam was ten, and Alma had been wonderful in filling the void after losing her mother.
She had thought about dropping out of college and returning home, but her father wouldn’t hear of it. He was adamant about her staying in school and insisted that he would be able to care for her sisters, although Nadia had been only three at the time, the same age she’d been when she’d lost her own mother.
“Pamela?”
Pam blinked upon realizing Fletcher had called her name. “I’m sorry, Fletcher. I was just thinking about happier times, when Dad and Alma were both alive.”
“And you will have even happier times once we’re married, Pamela,” he said, reaching out and taking her hand in his. “I know you don’t love me now, but I’m convinced you will grow to love me. Just think of all the things I can give you.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m not asking for you to give me all those things, Fletcher. The only things I’ve asked for, and that you’ve promised, are to make sure my sisters retain ownership of our home and to put my sisters through college.”
“I promise all of that. And I’ll promise to give you more if you would just let me,” he said in a low, frustrated tone.
She didn’t say anything for a long moment and knew her silence was probably grating on his nerves, but she couldn’t help it. “I don’t want anything more, Fletcher, so please let’s just leave it at that.”
Pam had met Fletcher four years ago on one of her trips back to Gamble to visit her family. After that, whenever she came to town, he would make it a point to ask her if she would go out with him.
After her father died and she’d moved back home, he had come calling on a regular basis, although she had explained to him that friendship was all there could ever be between them. At the time, he had seemed satisfied with that.
Then Lester Gadling had come visiting and dropped the bombshell that had changed her life forever. Fletcher had stopped by that evening and she had found herself telling him what had happened. He had listened attentively before presenting what he saw as an easy solution. She could marry him and her financial problems would be over.
At first, she’d thought he’d fallen off the deep end, certain he had taken leave of his senses. But the more she’d thought about it, the more his suggestion had taken shape in her mind. All she had to do was marry him and he would see to it that her ranch was saved and would establish a trust fund for her sisters, so when the time came for their college, everything would be set.
She didn’t accept his offer at first, determined to handle things without Fletcher’s help. She had gone to bank after bank trying to secure a loan but time and time again had been turned down. She had only accepted Fletcher’s proposal when she’d seen she had no other choice.
Glancing down at her watch, she said, “It’s getting late.”
“All right. Don’t forget to be careful around Westmoreland. There is something about him that I don’t trust.”
“Like I said, Fletcher, I’ll be fine.”
He nodded before leaning in closer to brush a kiss across her lips. As always she waited for blood to rush fast and furious through her veins, fire to suffuse her insides, but as usual, nothing happened. No stirring sensations. Not a single spark.
For months she had ignored the fact that she was not physically attracted to the man she was going to marry. It hadn’t bothered her until tonight when she discovered she was very physically attracted to another man. And that man’s name was Dillon Westmoreland.
* * *
Dillon eased his body into a huge bathtub filled with warm water. Whatever amenities the little hotel lacked, he would have to say a soak in this tub definitely made up for them. There weren’t too many bathtubs around that could accommodate his height comfortably.
He closed his eyes and stretched out, thinking he’d never been able to relax in a tub before. It had been a while since he’d been able to sit in a tub and not worry about being disturbed by some family member needing his help or advice.
Family.
Damn, but he missed them already. He wasn’t worried about the family he’d left in Denver since he’d left Ramsey in charge. He and Ramsey were only separated in age by seven months and were more like brothers than they were cousins. If truth be told, Ramsey was his best friend. Always had been and always would be.
He couldn’t wait until he began digging into information about Raphel. He could have hired an agency to do it for him, but this was something he wanted to do himself. Something he felt he owed his family. If there was something in his great-grandfather’s past, then he felt he should be the one to uncover it. Good or bad.
Dillon shifted his body. He kept his eyes closed while thinking that tonight he’d met the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. A woman who looked totally out of place in Gamble, Wyoming. A woman whose voice alone could stir something deep inside of him.
A woman who was already taken.
There was no denying he was attracted to her, but wanting her was taboo. So why was he thinking about her even now? And why in the hell was he so eager to see her again tomorrow?
He inhaled deeply, wondering how Fletcher Mallard could get so lucky. It was easy to see the man was a jerk, a pompous pain in the ass. But Fletcher was no concern of his, and neither was the man’s engagement to Pamela Novak. Dillon was in Gamble for one thing and for one thing only. He was there to find out everything he could about Raphel, and not to encroach on another man’s property.
He would do well to remember that.
Chapter 3
Glancing out the window Pam saw Dillon’s car the moment it pulled up in front of the house. She took a sip of her coffee while watching him, grateful that the window was designed in a way that gave her a view of anyone arriving. From what she’d been told, her great-grandfather had deliberately built the house that way to have an advantage over anyone who came calling without their knowledge.
Today she was making full use of that advantage.
After he brought the car to a stop, she watched as he opened the car and got out. He stood for a moment to study her home, which gave her an opportunity to study him.
He was tall—she’d noticed that last night. But last night she hadn’t had time to fully check him out. She couldn’t help but appreciate what she saw now. Nice shoulders. Firm abdomen. Muscled chest. Taut thighs. He was wearing jeans and a blue Western shirt that revealed strong arms, and a black Stetson was on his head.
She sighed deeply, thinking that inviting him to come back today might not have been a good idea after all, just as Fletcher had claimed. She glanced down at her hand holding the coffee cup and couldn’t miss the diamond ring on her finger, the one Fletcher had put there a week ago.
Okay, so she was an engaged woman, one who would be marrying a nice guy in a few months. But being engaged, or married for that matter, didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a fine specimen of a man when she saw one. Besides, her best friend from college, Iris Michaels, would give her hell if she didn’t check him out and then call to give her all the hot-tamale details.
She blinked as she nearly burnt her tongue on a sip of coffee when Dillon looked straight at her through what she’d always considered her secret window. How had he known about the side view? To anyone else it would appear to be a flat wall in the shadow of a huge oak tree.
There was only one way to find out. She pushed her chair away from the table and stood. As she made her way out of the kitchen toward the living room, she decided maybe it would be better for him not to know she’d been sitting here watching him since he’d arrived.
She slowly opened the door and was afforded an opportunity to watch him unseen some more when his attention was diverted by a flock of geese in the sky. While he studied the geese, she again studied him, taking in the angle of his face while his head was tilted slightly backward. He was standing with his legs braced apart and with his hands in his pockets. There was something about that stance, that particular pose—especially on him—that made her just want to stand there and stare.
While living in Los Angeles for five years she’d been surrounded by jaw-droppingly, stomach-stirringly handsome men, many from some of the world’s most elite modeling agencies. But none could hold a light to the man presently standing in her yard. His features were distinct—sharp facial bones, firm jaw and full lips. His hair beneath his Stetson was close cut and trimmed neatly around his head.
A moment passed. Possibly two. When suddenly he turned his head and looked over in her direction.
She had been caught.
And she was immediately enveloped in his intense gaze. She was unable to do anything but return his stare while wondering why she was doing so. Why were her senses, her entire being, homed in on everything about him? This wasn’t good, she thought.
At least that was what her mind was telling her, but her common sense hadn’t gotten there yet. It was being held captive within the scope of the darkest pair of eyes she’d ever seen.
Somewhere in the not-too-faraway distance she heard the sound of a car backfiring and the sound ripped right into the moment. It was only then that she was able to slide her gaze away from his to look over across the wide expanse of yard.
After taking a deep breath she returned her gaze to his, wrestled with those same senses she had lost control of earlier, placed a smile on her face and said, “Good morning, Dillon.”
She wasn’t just off the boat, and knew that during the brief moment when their gazes had held, something had happened. Just as it had last night. She wasn’t sure of what, but she knew that it had. She also knew she would pretend that it hadn’t. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she added.
“Yes, it is,” he said, turning to walk over toward her. Holy cow! she thought, swallowing deeply. The man’s strides were sure, confident and deliberately masculine. He had one hell of a sexy walk, and what was so disturbing about it was that it seemed as natural as the sun rising in the morning.
He came to a stop in front of her and met her gaze fleetingly before glancing up at the sun. His gaze then returned to her. “It might rain later, though.”
She nodded. “Yes, it might.” She knew they were trying to get back in sync and to lessen the intensity of what had passed between them.