The Ultimate Texas Bachelor

“If we publish it,” Sybil concurred. “And we won’t publish it unless you can come up with something new, factual and fairly sensational.”

And therein lay the challenge, Lainey thought, as she kept reading the terms of the contract. How could she become friends with the McCabes, while at the same time secretly investigating—for public disclosure—the true character of one of their own? If what she found out flattered—and freed—Brad from this nightmare of bad publicity, she could very well be a hero in their view. But if the worst happened, if Brad actually had been a cad, for absolutely no reason, as his ex alleged, what then? If Lainey were the bearer of news like that, the citizens of Laramie would not be happy with her. And that resentment could prevent Lainey from returning to Laramie—with Petey—to live.

“You’ll notice we have the exclusive right to publish whatever you do find out,” Sybil pointed out.

“As well as make any editorial changes you see fit,” Lainey noted, all of which was standard.

Sybil handed over a pen. “I’ll need you to go ahead and sign this agreement—and then we’ll get down to the brass tacks of what the magazine expects from you on this assignment.”

Lainey complied and Sybil countersigned, then handed a contract to Lainey and slid the other back into her carryall.

“So this is what I am proposing,” Sybil said as they sipped their coffee. “I want you to use your knowledge of Brad and anything else you can find out about him and his family that is not currently known. And then I want you to interview Yvonne Rathbone for the magazine and use that intimate knowledge to try to trip her up, see if you can catch her in some obvious lies. And maybe, just maybe, get her to at least give you a clue, if not an outright confession, about what really happened behind the scenes at Bachelor Bliss. Maybe if you get her to admit enough, you’ll be able to use your desire to clear Brad’s name and rep to get his family to tell you where you can find him for a sit-down interview. That way, he’ll see how much you want to help him, and he will fill in the rest for you.”

Did she want to help him? How could she not? Certainly, she wanted to know the truth of what had happened, and be responsible for getting that truth out for everyone to know! “That’s a lot of ifs,” Lainey said finally.

Sybil dipped her spoon into the raspberry sauce on top of the crème brûlée. “I remember very well how tenacious you are when you’re on a story. I have faith you will be able to get the job done.”

Lainey admitted to herself that she wanted all the answers as much as Sybil did—if not more. Thinking about the task ahead, knowing she was up to the challenge, she savored her chocolate cake. It was time to prove she had what it took to be a reporter, time to build a new life for herself and Petey. “What’s the time frame?”

“You have the rest of this week to prepare and do your digging. I’ve set the interview with Yvonne up for Sunday afternoon. She’s going to be in town this weekend to appear at a charity gig—and she agreed to meet with you and a photographer from the magazine at the Fairmont Dallas, where she’ll be staying. I’ll need the article on her and Brad one week from today.”

Seven days. “That’s not much time.”

“It’s enough for a pro. You’re a pro, Lainey. You know it and I know it. You’ve just been off the job for a while. Now it’s time to get back to the work you were born to do.”

“What if I can’t get Brad to talk to me and tell me his version of events? I mean, it’s been almost three months and he hasn’t told anyone what happened thus far.”

Sybil shrugged. “You’ll still have the article you write about his ex—Yvonne Rathbone—after you interview her. And you can write the article about Brad whether or not he allows you to interview him. That fact alone might induce him to cooperate.” She continued. “And even if it doesn’t, you still have your Laramie connections. You’d be surprised what little tidbits you can pick up here and there when people feel comfortable enough to open up to you. Once compiled, they could make a hell of a story, or at least lend powerful insight to what happened to make Brad change his mind about proposing to Yvonne. I’m counting on your intimate knowledge of the family and the town where he spent his teenage years to give you an edge and an in that no one else has had to date.”

“Because unless there’s something new to be told about the breakup, you don’t want it.”

“Right. No sense in rehashing what has already been said a hundred different ways. That won’t sell magazines. Readers want to know how Brad McCabe could seem so head over heels in love with Yvonne Rathbone one minute, and then treat her like dirt the next.”

It was a puzzle.

Brad was ornery but he didn’t seem cruel. And yet on the show he had abruptly seemed so cold, irrationally angry and bitter. Lainey paused. “Everything you’ve said thus far makes sense.”

“And—?”

“I have to tell you,” Lainey sighed, wishing she didn’t have such a guilty conscience. It would be so much better for her career. “It doesn’t feel right going after the story in such an underhanded manner.” It felt like a betrayal. To herself, to the McCabe family, and especially to the target of her story, Brad McCabe. To the point that at least part of her was already regretting signing that publishing contract.

Sybil studied her. “All I am asking you to do is discover the truth and help Brad McCabe regain his reputation as a good and decent guy.”

If Lainey did that, maybe the brooding look would disappear from Brad’s eyes. Maybe he would regain his innate good cheer and the optimism he’d once had about love and life. Maybe then all the McCabes would rest a little easier. On the other hand, if he didn’t, he could easily end up like her late father—embittered, angry and resentful the rest of his life….

“I’m sure all Brad McCabe needs is a journalist to whom he can tell his side of things and he will open up,” Sybil continued.

But how could Lainey get Brad to trust her now, when she had gone out to the ranch to hunt him down? If she told Brad the truth, he would kick her off the ranch so fast her head would spin. If she didn’t, she would be staying there under false pretenses.

“I think I understand where you’re coming from,” Sybil said gently.

Lainey didn’t see how that was possible, given all she hadn’t told her old friend.

“You’re scared. You haven’t had to work in a long time, whereas a lot of women our age have done nothing but gain experience and devote themselves to their careers the past ten years. But you have to start somewhere if you want a career, Lainey. And I have to be honest with you—offers like mine are going to be few and far between.”

Lainey toyed with the last of her dessert, feeling torn between her own ambition and her loyalties to those she had grown up with. “I know that.”

“Then be sensible and take me up on this wonderful offer. Put your personal feelings aside and act like the tenacious reporter you were when we were in college! Find the facts. Put them in an article. And to help you get started—” Sybil opened her carryall and extracted a trio of DVDs.

“What’s this?”

Sybil smiled. “Copies of the episodes that featured Brad McCabe and Yvonne Rathbone. I know you’ve seen them, along with the rest of the country, but watch them again, slowly and carefully this time. I guarantee you will see things you didn’t see the first time, and that—plus your nose for news—will lead you to the truth about Rathbone and McCabe.”

Chapter Four

Sybil had been right, Lainey thought late that evening as she watched the DVD on her laptop computer screen. Being able to watch the show again—thoughtfully—was going to be a huge help to her as she prepared a list of questions that would need to be answered if she were ever to find out what happened behind the scenes at Bachelor Bliss.

And the people who had known Brad forever were also correct in their assessment, Lainey noted. The Brad on TV was different from the smart, sassy, challenging man in real life. His actions, as he was introduced to each of the twenty women vying for his heart, were stiff, almost scripted, as were his deadly dull remarks. Except when it came to Yvonne Rathbone. When Yvonne approached him on the terrace, sumptuous curves spilling out of a glittering evening gown, flame-red hair flowing over her shoulders, something definitely clicked.

Lainey backed it up, and watched again as Yvonne sashayed toward Brad. Instead of simply clasping his hand or kissing his cheek in the same nervous, formal way all the other contestants had done, Yvonne went up on tiptoe and, covering her microphone with one hand, whispered something in his ear that the viewers couldn’t catch. Brad’s eyes lit up and he grinned, as if he hadn’t expected Yvonne to say whatever it was she had whispered to him. And just that simply and quickly, a connection of some sort was made.

Question #1, Lainey wrote. What did Yvonne say when she and Brad first met?

Question #2. Was Yvonne the only woman in the bunch Brad was physically attracted to?

Because upon closer inspection Lainey realized that he hadn’t looked as if he was enjoying himself with the others.

And if he were the selfish Casanova they had painted him as, Lainey thought as someone knocked on the guest house door, he should have been having fun with all the ladies.

“Who is it?” Lainey called, hurriedly stuffing her paper and pen beneath the sofa cushions.

“Brad McCabe.”

Lainey swore as she switched off the DVD, hid the covers for the other two disks beneath that day’s Dallas Morning News, and moved back to the picture of Petey she used as a screen saver. “Just a minute!”

Satisfied she’d left no clues as to her mission, she hurried to the door.

Brad’s expression was impatient. He got straight to the point. “I need printer paper. I know it’s late—”

“No kidding.” She was already in her pink-and-white-striped cotton pajamas.

For once, he didn’t look at her breasts. Not that he would have seen much. They were covered in the demure fabric. “But I saw you were still up—and Lewis said he knows he has some good quality stuff. He thinks it might be over here in a box marked ‘Pencils and Scissors.’ I’ve already looked through the ranch house from top to bottom, and I have to have this thing I’m working on done by seven-thirty tomorrow morning, or believe me, I would not be bothering you.”

He did look stressed. Lainey realized this might be a good time to get started on gathering her background information from him. “Come on in. You can help me look for the ‘Pencils and Scissors’ box,” she said casually, leading the way past the boxes that were stacked four-high along one wall of the living room, behind the conversation area formed by the green Naugahyde sofa and two easy chairs. A round oak table for four sat beneath the window in the square country kitchen. There were boxes there, too, again pushed against the wall. Lainey noticed Brad had showered sometime that evening. He still smelled of soap and cologne, and his gleaming dark brown hair had the soft, rumpled look that comes from running a towel through just-shampooed hair and letting it dry any which way. Clamping down on her awareness of him—it wouldn’t do her story any good to get distracted by his irresistible male presence—she asked, “What are you working on?”

“A business plan for the Lazy M. I’ve got back-to-back meetings with all three of the town’s bankers tomorrow morning. I’m hoping one will be sufficiently impressed to want to lend me the money I need to get the cattle operation up and running. What are you doing?” He glanced at her personal computer sitting on the coffee table. Lainey tried not to feel guilty—and failed. She knew some reporters lied routinely about everything under the sun as they went undercover to ferret out stories that could not be dug out any other way. Lainey was not one of them.

She planned to get Brad’s cooperation in the Personalities story. That would be a lot easier to do if they were friends and he understood from the get-go that she was there to help him clear up any misconceptions and restore his good name, not malign him as so many others had done. “I was catching up on my e-mail, and doing a few other things on my laptop.” That I can’t tell you about…just yet, Lainey added silently. But I will, I promise, just as soon as I think you trust me enough to understand. “Before that I was lining the kitchen shelves.”