The Man Who Had Everything

“All right. Noon on Tuesday,” he heard himself say.

“Good night, Grant.” She stepped back.

He tipped his hat and turned his horse to go.

The whole ride back, he called himself a hundred kinds of damn fool. Now, he’d have to call her. Tell her how something had come up and he just couldn’t make it on Tuesday, no way.

He was so busy stewing over how he shouldn’t have kissed her, shouldn’t have agreed to any damn picnic, that he didn’t even think about what he’d forgotten to do until he was back in his suite at the resort, changing his clothes. He stopped with one leg out of his Wranglers and gaped at his image in the wall-to-wall mirror of his dressing area.

He’d never told them he was selling the ranch.

“Mom?” Steph leaned in the archway from the front hall.

Marie looked up from her mending and smiled a tired smile. She took off the dimestore glasses she wore for close work and rubbed the bridge of her nose. In the pool of light cast by the lamp, her round face looked shadowed and lined, older than her forty-nine years. “Off to bed?”

“Mmm-hmm.” It wasn’t quite nine yet, but Steph—and her mother, too—would be up and working long before first light. “Just wanted to say good-night.”

Marie set her mending in her lap and reached to pat the arm of the sofa a few feet from her favorite chair. “Sit a minute.”

Something in her mother’s tone alerted Steph. “What’s wrong?”

“Come on. Just sit with me. Not for long…”

Reluctantly, sensing she wasn’t going to like what her mother had to say, Steph left the archway. She took the spot at the end of the sofa. “What is it?”

Suddenly Marie just had to take a couple more stitches in the sock she was mending. Steph stared at her bent head, feeling fondness mixed with apprehension. She loved and respected her mother. Most of the time, the two of them saw eye to eye.

But tonight, Steph had a feeling they were about to disagree.

At last, Marie looked up again. “You and Grant got something going on between you?”

Steph couldn’t hide her trembling smile. “Oh, I hope so.”

Marie stitched some more. Then, abruptly, she lowered her work to her lap again. “He’s far from ready to settle down.”

“I know, Mom.”

“You two want different things from life.”

“True. But…you never know how things might turn out.”

Her mother shook her head. “You should see yourself. Pink cheeks and stars in your eyes…”

“Is that so bad?”

“You watch your heart, honey.”

“Oh, Mom. There’s nothing to watch. My heart belongs to him and it always has.”

Grant had meetings all day Monday. From concierge to housekeeping to the AspenGlow Spa to food service to sales to public relations—and more—Grant was responsible for overseeing it all.

The longest meeting was first thing. From nine until eleven-thirty, he pored over plans for the projected 18-hole, par seventy-two championship golf course, which was still in the early stages of development, with construction scheduled to begin next summer.

At eleven forty-five, he met with his assistant to go over the calendar for the week. After that, he could have stolen a few minutes to call the ranch and tell them about the sale.

But no. It really wasn’t the kind of news he wanted to deliver in a phone call. He felt he owed it to the hands and Steph and her mom to give it to them face-to-face. And there was just no opportunity for that, not that day.

True, he had no appointments that evening. He could make the time to drive out there after six. And maybe he should…

But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed best to clear his calendar for a few hours Tuesday afternoon and meet Steph for that picnic as planned. He could tell her then. And after he told her, he could ride back to the ranch with her and share the news with the rest of them.

In the meantime, he needed to prove to himself that what had happened the day before was not going to happen again. He needed to be sure that yesterday was just…some kind of fluke. A strange, over-the-top reaction to seeing Steph naked down by the creek, an offshoot of the sudden realization that she wasn’t a kid anymore.

Now that he had some distance from the situation, he knew there was really nothing to worry about. Steph might be all grown-up, but she was still like a sister to him. A sister. Nothing more.

And there were a whole lot of pretty women in the world. A nice romantic evening with a fun, friendly gorgeous female would do the trick, put things firmly back into perspective for him.

As luck would have it, just such a woman called while he was in the first of his afternoon meetings. She left him a message in voice mail. She lived in San Diego and had come for the skiing in January when they’d hooked up. He’d enjoyed every moment he’d spent with her.

“I had such a great time last winter,” her recorded voice teased, “I decided to try my luck over the Fourth. I’m up in the Thunder Ridge condos with a girlfriend. Give me a buzz when you get in. I can’t wait to see you. All of you…”

He returned her call and set up a date for that night. His receptionist beeped him just as he was saying goodbye.

He hung up and punched the other line. “What?”

“Eva Post’s on two.”

Eva was his realtor. “Eva. Hey.”

“Grant. I’ve got the offer. It’s exactly as promised. The acceptance deadline is tomorrow at five, so we need to get together. We’ll go over all the points in detail, as a matter of course, before you sign. But I guarantee you’re going to be very happy. They’re giving you everything you asked for.”

“What about the closing date?”

“September first. The buyer was hoping we could make it sooner, but I explained that you needed time to shut your operation down.”

“September first…” It was a reasonable date and he knew it. But still, it seemed like no time at all.

“No worries, I promise,” Eva coaxed. “It’s in the contract that you can take whatever time you need over the next six months to sell off the stock and equipment. As long as the main house, the bunkhouse and the foreman’s cottage are ready for the buyer to move in by nine-one, she’s happy.”

She was Melanie McFarlane, an Easterner who’d shown up in town a few weeks ago and was staying in the main lodge at the resort. Melanie came from money. She had a degree in hotel management and she was buying Clifton’s Pride as an “investment,” she said. She planned to make the place into a guest ranch.

Grant’s father would never have allowed such a thing. But John Clifton was dead. The price was more than right and Melanie’s financing was rock-solid.

The only problem: Grant’s concern for his people. Damn it, he should have carried through yesterday as planned, not let himself get side-tracked by the new, grown-up Steph. It was plain wrong for him to sell Clifton’s Pride out from under them before he’d even told them he was doing it. And as things stood now, he wouldn’t be telling them until tomorrow afternoon.

Eva asked, “How about four o’clock? You can come out to my office, or I can come to you.”

“Four o’clock…today?”