Sunset Surrender

“I’m sorry about your father,” Sophia said out of reverence to Randall Slade’s memory. “He was a decent man. I’m sure you miss him very much.”

From behind his long plank desk, Logan’s stony expression didn’t budge. “We’re not here to discuss my relationship with my father.”

“You won’t even allow me to offer my condolences?” Sophia spoke softly, injured that Logan wouldn’t grant her that much. “He was always kind to me.”

Leather creaked as he lowered down in a swivel chair behind his desk. “He was kind to Montrose women at the expense of my family.”

She stood five feet seven inches tall in bare feet and yet Logan, sitting behind his desk with penetrating eyes locked on her, appeared the more imposing. She swallowed past a lump in her throat. Her mother’s death was still painfully raw to her. She knew Logan resented her mother. Maybe he hated her, but she wouldn’t allow him to speak ill of her. “My mother died several months ago, Logan. I miss her, just as I’m sure you miss your father. I will ask you to keep your thoughts to yourself about what you think you know.”

“I know the truth, Sophia. And there’s no way to sugarcoat it.” His voice held conviction. “Your mother had an affair with my father, right under my mother’s nose. Louisa wanted his money and he was too blinded by her beauty to see what she was doing. Our family was never the same after that. It nearly destroyed us.”

Sophia glanced out the window at the beautiful grounds and the stables where exquisite horses were raised to be sold to the highest bidder. The lodge beyond was a private resort designed to house elite guests who wanted a ranch-type experience with all the trimmings.

The Slade brothers—Justin, Luke and Logan—had endured their mother and father’s deaths but they had each other, and they’d always have Sunset Ranch, whereas Sophia was completely alone. For whatever pain the Slades went through, she was truly sorry, but what had happened between her mother, Louisa and Randall Slade was complicated and not so easily explained.

“My mother saved your parents’ marriage.”

Logan shot back, “You’ve worn too many headdresses in your day, Sophia. All that strutting around half-naked on Las Vegas stages has gotten to you.”

His triumphant gaze penetrated straight through her. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he knew about her profession as a showgirl. She’d managed to keep under the radar for most of her adult life, but when her mother had taken ill Sophia had tough choices to make to provide for both of them and she wasn’t ashamed of it. Nearly everyone within earshot in Nevada had learned about her scandalous marriage to an aging millionaire. What was to be a private union had ended up becoming fodder for the tabloids once the news of her marriage got out. Even in Las Vegas, a twenty-six-year-old showgirl marrying a seventy-one year old oil magnate on the sly was big news.

“So you know?”

“I read, Sophia.”

“My marriage and my last profession aren’t any of your business,” she said softly. Her heart was full of grief and she had no room left for more. Not from Logan and not on her first day back here. There would be more battles to come, she was sure, but she didn’t want to argue with him today.

He swept his eyes over her again, this time more precisely, as if he were ranking her on some kind of male scale. He scanned over the long wisps of black hair that had escaped from the severe knot at the back of her head and then his gaze traveled from her amber eyes to her full lips. He lingered there, and she wondered if he remembered the kiss they’d shared in high school. The one that had left Sophia breathless and wanting more. The one that Logan had used to humiliate her. She’d never gotten over her first real kiss or the pain that it had caused her.

“You’re beautiful, Sophia,” was all seventeen-year-old Logan had had to say as he’d taken her into his arms behind the gymnasium. He’d pressed his body close and kissed her lips as if he were born to do so. It had been glorious and sweet and passionate, all rolled up into one. Sophia had been taken by the sweeping, unexpected feelings stirring around in her belly. On instinct, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and he’d kept on kissing her, Sophia giving in to the older boy’s practiced mouth until laughter, from the other side of the brick wall, interrupted them. Logan had abruptly broken off the kiss and stared solemnly into her eyes for a brief moment frozen in time, before he took off, leaving her standing there dumbfounded as he joined his friends.

News of Logan’s bet with their three high school classmates—that Sophia wouldn’t push him away if he kissed her—had been the buzz all around school the next day. Sophia was easy, just like her mother.

Now she angled her chin down to stare at him, combating the sensations swamping her and wishing she’d never been attracted to Luke’s older brother in the first place. She hated that the heat of his gaze did things to her. Hated that she hadn’t forgotten that one surprising kiss. It was as if Logan had stamped her for life.

He continued his visual assault with a gaze that traveled along the neckline of her conservative summer dress and lingered on her ample bustline. For as much as she tried, her clothes simply couldn’t hide the fullness of her breasts. They were evident no matter what she wore, and she’d actually considered a reduction at one point in her life when putting food on the table and paying hospital bills hadn’t yet been a priority. But her body and her exotic Spanish looks had paid the bills when it mattered most. She had to be grateful for that.

Logan’s gaze finally scoured over her legs, which were almost in full view from his place behind the desk. She wished she’d sat down when he’d given her the opportunity, rather than be studied this way. Now, under his scrutiny, she tensed.

When he was through eyeing her, he said, “What’d you do, give the old guy heart failure in the bedroom?”

Sophia gasped at the notion and took the comment as an insult, because that’s exactly how Logan had intended it. He’d rather think the worst of her than offer her even the slightest ounce of respect. “He’s not dead, thank goodness. We’re … divorced.”

Logan contemplated her for a second. “Short marriage. Was Gordon Gregory smart enough to get a prenup?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was the one who demanded it.”

Logan leaned back in his chair and laughed. “You don’t fool me, Sophia. You’re just like your mother.”

“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment. My mother was an amazing woman.”

The smile left Logan’s face. He came forward in his seat to brace his hands on the desk. Serious now, he stared straight into her eyes. “Look, I’ll make you a deal. I’m willing to buy out your half of the lodge. You won’t have to stay on and run the place for a year. I can have my attorney get around that stipulation somehow. I’m prepared to make you a mighty generous offer.”

“No.”

“You don’t want to know the amount?” He had a pen in hand, ready to write down a sum.

“No amount of money will do.”

Logan didn’t seem convinced. He shrugged, and thought she was negotiating. “Let’s cut to the chase, Sophia. I’ll pay you twice what it’s worth.”

He took a knife and stabbed her in the heart with that offer. He wanted to get rid of her, and now she knew just how much. But she wouldn’t allow that to stop her. She had legal rights to the lodge and no matter what he offered, Sophia wasn’t going to leave. “No. I’m staying. I will run Sunset Lodge.”

Sunset Ranch had been her home for twelve years. She’d loved living at the cottage next to the lodge. It was the only place she’d ever wanted to live. The only place she’d ever regarded as her home. And she wasn’t about to let Logan Slade run her off.

She would stay.

And she would be as successful a manager as her mother had been.

“Now please, Logan. Hand over the keys.”

Logan walked Sophia outside to her car. The old dented Camry looked the worse for wear with nearly bald tires and paint getting thin. The scrap of metal was fifteen years old if it was a day. Hardly the kind of wheels he expected a Las Vegas showgirl who’d been married to a loaded old geezer to drive.

He held on to the cottage keys, wishing his dang father hadn’t seen fit to put Sophia in his will. She was too beautiful, too perfect. Every feature on her face was flawless. She had golden eyes, inky black hair and skin that glowed in the Nevada sunshine. She was the kind of woman that made men do stupid things. He didn’t want to think about what kind of trouble she would stir up around here. His men would bend over backward for her, he was sure. They’d done the same for Louisa. All that woman had to do was smile pretty, and the ranch hands would do her bidding. She’d had them eating out of the palm of her hand.

Sophia had grown into the spitting image of her mother and then some. In fact, Logan hated to admit it but Sophia Montrose was even more stunning than her mother had been.

“So, refresh my memory. Why in hell do you want to live way out here with the dust and the flies and horse dung?”

Sophia rolled her eyes, and the deep breath she sucked in lifted her ample chest, stretching the material of her dress to its limit. Logan’s groin tightened. He didn’t like his immediate reaction to her one damn bit.

“Sunset Ranch was my home, too, Logan. For twelve years of my life. It was a happy time, and I loved working alongside my mother at the lodge, which—thanks to your father’s kindness—is half mine now. So why would I not want to live here?”

Logan rubbed the back of his neck. He still didn’t get why his father put Sophia Montrose in his will. “It’s hardly an exciting life.”

Sophia repeated his words. “It’s hardly an exciting life.”

Logan’s brows lifted. “You telling me you didn’t like living in Las Vegas? A woman like you?”

Sophia narrowed her eyes. “You have no idea who I am, Logan.”

He knew she was the kind of woman who wasn’t above sleeping with an old man to get her hands on his money. The old codger must have come to his senses before she cleaned him out, prenup or not.

“I can’t change the past,” she said. “But I’m here to make a life for myself.”

“On Slade land.”

“Yes, on Slade land. Now, are you going to keep jingling those keys in front of me or are you going to hand them over?”