An Intimate Bargain

An Intimate Bargain
Barbara Dunlop

“Nobody even has to know you’re advising me. It’ll be a secret,” Zach offered.

Abby was having none of it. “So you can blackmail me with it later?” she challenged.

He gave an exaggerated eye-roll. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“How is that ridiculous? You’re blackmailing me now.” Her voice came out more shrilly than she’d intended.

“There’s only one thing I want from you, Abby.”

“Don’t call me Abby.” That nickname was reserved for her family.

His gaze stayed on her, while he obviously regrouped. “How can we make this work?”

“You can go away and never come back.”

He strode toward her, his normally laid-back style instantly bold, confident, purposeful. “I’m definitely not going away, Abigail. And from everything I’ve learned in the past week, you’re the one person I need.”

Dear Reader,

I’ve always been fascinated by the differing roles of family members and how those roles impact people’s lives. It seems once expectations are set, brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers feel honor-bound to meet them.

In An Intimate Bargain, Abigail’s family expects her unconditional support on the family cattle ranch. As an orphan, Zach doesn’t understand her obligations. He only wants her to be happy, so he pushes her to pursue her own secret dreams.

I hope you enjoy the further adventures of the Jacobs and Terrell families in book three of COLORADO CATTLE BARONS!

Enjoy!

Barbara Dunlop

About the Author

BARBARA DUNLOP writes romantic stories while curled up in a log cabin in Canada’s far north, where bears outnumber people and it snows six months of the year. Fortunately she has a brawny husband and two teenage children to haul firewood and clear the driveway while she sips cocoa and muses about her upcoming chapters. Barbara loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website, www.barbaradunlop.com.

An Intimate

Bargain

Barbara Dunlop

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

For my husband

One

The last time Zach Rainer felt this level of anxiety, he was walking out of a Texas group home on his eighteenth birthday. Twelve years later, there was more than just his future at stake.

He’d been navigating the Interstate since dawn in his three-year-old Jaguar convertible with nothing but a stale truck stop sandwich and six cardboard cups of coffee to keep him going. His business partner, Alex Cable, had insisted the road trip from Texas to Colorado would clear his head. Zach should have known better. Thinking didn’t solve problems, action did.

Now he checked himself into the Caspian Hotel in downtown Lyndon, Colorado, and accepted his key to an eighth-floor room. While he pocketed his credit card, his attention was drawn to the mezzanine level that overlooked the atrium lobby. Sharply dressed men and glittering ladies circulated at the top of a grand, curving staircase, while chamber music sounded around them.

He put the room key in his pocket and left his bags with the porter. Tugging the sleeves of his travel-worn blazer, he took the friendly clerk’s advice and started for a sports-bar down the hall. The woman had assured him it would be a lot less crowded there. Though, given his wrinkled shirt and day’s growth of beard, he was guessing she thought he’d fit in better with the sports bar crowd. Not that he cared about making any kind of impression. He was too tired and too hungry to worry about anything more than a hot meal and a long night’s sleep.

Tomorrow morning, he’d drive up into the hills behind Lyndon to the Craig Mountain Brewery and take stock of the place. Craig Mountain was the weak link in DFB Incorporated, the microbrewery conglomerate that he and Alex had grown over the past twelve years. At the same time, Craig Mountain had suddenly become the potential salvation of the entire corporation and the hundreds of jobs that went with it.

At the end of the hall, he entered the dimly lit bar through a lighted archway. He blinked to adjust his eyes, then he zeroed in on an empty table across from the wide-screen television. A basketball game was playing, the announcer’s words scrolling in closed caption across the bottom of the screen, while an eighties rock tune came through speakers high in the corners of the room.

It was Lakers versus Celtics. Neither were teams he followed, but watching the action would help his mind rest up for tomorrow. Production at Craig Mountain was currently ten thousand barrels per year. In order to save DFB, he needed to triple that in the next six months.

As he rounded the polished bar, his attention was snagged by a startlingly beautiful, auburn-haired woman. Perched on a leather chair, she was alone at a table and looked seriously out of place in the casual atmosphere. She wore a low-cut, black cocktail dress with spaghetti straps over her smooth shoulders. It clung to her body in a drop waist, then layered out into a full skirt, ending at midthigh.

Her graceful, lavender-tipped fingers were wrapped around the martini glass in front of her. She was obviously deep in thought, her attention fixed on a spot on the far wall. The flickering light from the television highlighted her compelling hazel eyes. They were streaked with gold, mesmerizing and undeniably sexy. Her hair was pulled back in a wavy updo, a few loose strands artfully arranged at her temples, brushing against dangling crystal earrings.

Zach’s feet came to an automatic halt, and he couldn’t seem to stop himself from gaping at her beauty. She glanced up and caught him, drawing back in surprise. He knew what she must be thinking, and immediately opened his mouth to apologize.

But to his surprise, she smiled and nodded a greeting.

Zach might be exhausted and starving, but he still had a pulse. He wasn’t about to walk away from a reception like that.

“Hello,” he offered, seizing the opportunity to ease closer to her table.

“Getting away from the crowd?” she asked, her deep red lips curving into a friendly, open smile.

He nodded. “They told me it would be quieter back here.”

“Well, a different kind of noise anyway,” she acknowledged with a wry glance at the speakers.

Zach had to grin at that. “Not my favorite, either.”

“At least the crowd is thinner.”

“Agreed,” he replied.

“My face was about to crack from all that smiling.”

“You’re smiling now,” he pointed out, taking the final couple of steps that brought him to the chair opposite her. He rested his hand on its back.

“I guess I am.” She tipped her head quizzically, and her beautiful, golden eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember meeting you at the reception.”

Zach knew he was about to be outed as a stranger. He also knew he had about two seconds to figure out a way to prolong the conversation. He boldly pulled out the chair and slid into it.

“That’s because you didn’t meet me.” He took a stab in the dark. “Are you a friend of the bride?”

“What bride?”

Damn. Okay, that was a huge miss. And he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go but the truth. “I confess. I wasn’t at the reception.”