Wishes for Tomorrow: Westmoreland's Way

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“I said that since you agree that you shouldn’t be alone with Westmoreland, I’ll get word to him that you’ve withdrawn your invitation for tomorrow.”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.