Smoky Mountain Home

“I drive a truck when necessary,” Jonah told her, feeling his patience start to shred.

“You mean an SUV, right? One of the big, gas-guzzling fancy models with leather seats and Surround Sound and individual heating vents?”

“No. I mean a six-year old diesel pickup with a dented right rear side panel where I hit a fence post.” He stopped to think a second. “It does have leather seats.”

Arms crossed over her chest, she nodded. “Of course.”

“So could I stay around and take the suitcases away when Darcy’s finished with them?” He hated leaving her alone in this place where she knew no one.

Ms. Blakely descended to stand beside him. “Each floor of the dormitory has a box room where the girls store their luggage. Darcy will put all her bags—and whatever’s in them that doesn’t fit into her room—there.” She gripped his upper arm with one strong hand and gazed into his face. “Really, you can leave. We’ll take care of her.”

Hazel. Ruth Ann Blakely’s irises were a mosaic of green and gold flecks, Jonah realized, framed by thick brown lashes. He read empathy in those jade-and-topaz eyes, maybe even compassion. He was surprisingly tempted to accept her understanding, to trust the reassurance she offered.

Fortunately, he came to his senses in the next moment. “Thanks. I’m sure you will.” Pulling out of her grasp, he ran down the remaining steps and only then stopped to look back. “By the way, we have a meeting tomorrow morning at nine. I’d appreciate your timely arrival. My schedule is rather tight. Since your input is vital to the project, I’d like to get started as early as possible.”

He walked away without waiting for her to respond.

And he pretended not to hear when she said, “Oh, yes, sir, of course, sir, Mr. Architectural Pain in the Rear! Sir!”

Chapter Three

Ruth Ann entered the Hawkridge Manor library at twenty minutes after eight the next morning. She settled herself at the far end of the table from the easel set up for Jonah Granger’s use and set about finishing her cinnamon roll and coffee while she waited.

At eight forty-five, Granger strode into the room. Without glancing in Ruth Ann’s direction, he extracted his work from a carrying case and placed the sheets on the easel. Flipping through them, he changed the order a couple of times.

Ruth Ann grinned to herself. The great man seemed a little nervous about his presentation.

What he didn’t have to be nervous about was his appearance. Today’s V-necked sweater in a heathery green wool, worn over a T-shirt and dark jeans, looked every bit as good as last week’s dressier outfit. The man was incapable of showing up unprepared, unlike Ruth Ann, who had to make a special effort to leave the barn without wearing pieces of hay and smears of horse feed.

She would give him the style points, but she claimed a victory when it came to patience. Twice, he looked at the clock on the wall and verified the time there with his watch, then glanced at the doorway and shook his head. Ruth Ann didn’t doubt he was waiting for her to show up.

The third time he checked the clock, she decided to grant his wish. She cleared her throat loudly, taking great pleasure in his jump of surprise.

“What the—?” He jerked around and saw her sitting at the end of the table, relaxed and grinning. His brows lowered in a frown, almost meeting on the bridge of that arrogant, aquiline nose. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough. You just knew I’d be late, didn’t you?”

“I’m surprised that you aren’t.” He fingered through the drawings once more—regaining control, Ruth Ann thought. “I checked in with Jayne on the way up. She’ll be here as soon as nine o’clock classes start.”

“Exactly what is this meeting about, anyway?”

Paging through a notebook, Granger didn’t spare her so much as a glance. “You.”

The answer caught her unawares. Ruth Ann sat up straight in her chair, letting her boot heels thunk on the floor. “What about me?”

He snapped the notebook closed, put it down, then stepped over to prop one hip on the corner of the table.

“You’re the one with the major objections to the project. You’re the one who would be working in the building I design. Therefore, you are the person who has to be convinced that my ideas for the new stable at Hawkridge are feasible.” The grin he sent her had a malicious edge to it. “Don’t you like being the center of attention?”

“No.” She had lost the upper hand somehow. On her feet, Ruth Ann headed for the door, needing light and air, a chance to think….

Jonah Granger stood at the same moment and moved to block her path. Her momentum brought her right up against him, with her chest pressed into his ribs. His hands closed over her shoulders, vetoing any move to escape.

“You’re going to run away instead?” He lifted one eyebrow, giving his face a sardonic expression. “You don’t have the guts to face the situation and really decide which of us is right?”

Ruth Ann glared up at him, speechless with too many emotions to name—foremost among them being fury that he read her too easily, along with a weird sort of shiver as her body touched his. “I—You—”

“Here we are.” Jayne Thomas entered carrying a tray with a coffeepot and cups. Miriam Edwards followed, bearing a basket of pastries and bagels.

Suddenly free, Ruth Ann took a long step back at the same time as Jonah pivoted to face the new arrivals. “Good morning, Miriam,” he said smoothly. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Miriam gushed over him, paying Ruth Ann no attention whatsoever. And Ruth Ann was grateful, for once, because she could feel her face flaming red, the way it did whenever she was embarrassed. While the others poured coffee and debated over calories, she walked back to her chair at the end of the table, rubbing her hands over her shoulders to erase the tingles lingering there. Picking up her favorite mug—the one with a cartoon of the front end of a cute pony on one side and the tail end on the other—she took a deep breath, then turned to confront the situation.

“Okay,” she said, glad that her voice didn’t shake. “I can’t spend all morning in here—I’ve got work to do at the barn. What are we supposed to accomplish?”

She heard Jayne sigh at her bluntness, but Miriam was the one who spoke. “Now, Ruth Ann, dear, I know how attached you are to the old stable, and for good reasons—certainly your family has a history there and we understand that means a lot to you.”

Miriam was a well-preserved sixty years old, a lawyer’s wife who advertised his success with cashmere sweaters, triple strands of real pearls at her throat and diamonds set in platinum on her fingers. Her coppery hair gleamed in the light from the library’s overhead lamps and swung smoothly around her face as she nodded. She kept a string of hunters and polo ponies in her own stable, and wanted the barn at Hawkridge named in her honor.

“I’ve been thinking since our meeting last week,” she continued, including Jonah in her glance, “and it occurred to me that perhaps we don’t have to raze the old building. Once we’ve built the new equestrian facility, we could get the old one cleaned up and use it for…some other purpose.”

Before Ruth Ann could object, Jayne leaned forward in her chair. “Come and sit at this end of the table, Ruth Ann. You’ll be able to see better. And I can pour you some fresh coffee. I know you live on the stuff.”

Reluctantly, Ruth Ann sat down beside Jayne, with Miriam across the table and Granger sitting closest to the easel. A glance at his superior smile set her teeth on edge. Once Jayne handed back her mug, Ruth Ann made sure that the back end of the pony faced Jonah as she took a long sip.

His eyes narrowed as he took in her message. In the next instant, though, the frown smoothed away as he got to his feet. “Miriam, I think that’s a good idea, though we’re not quite to the stage yet where Ms. Blakely has agreed to cooperate. I thought I would go through my elevations and floor plans again, Ms. Blakely—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she interrupted. “Call me Ruth Ann. It’s hard to argue effectively using last names.”

His grin, now filled with real amusement, surprised her. “True. I’m Jonah. As I was saying, I thought this would give you a chance to voice any thoughts, ask any questions that occur to you.”

For Jayne’s sake, Ruth Ann bit back the sarcastic comment on the tip of her tongue. “Go ahead,” she told Jonah. “Impress me.”

The exterior drawings were beautiful renderings of an imposing structure fit for a king, not merely the king’s horses. Ruth Ann looked at the headmistress. “Our girls should have such nice quarters. Why don’t we make this the new residence hall, instead of a stable?”

Jayne frowned at her. Miriam said, “My sister’s new barn blends with its environment and looks like it’s always been there. I expect Jonah can do the same with this building, by the time construction and landscaping are complete.”

“My stable blends with its environment,” Ruth Ann countered, “because it’s been there for more than a hundred years. Howard Ridgely used the same brick and stone and timber for the house and the barn. You’ll never get new materials to match.”

“You’d be surprised what can be achieved with the right tools.” Jonah shifted the pages to display an interior view. “A new building can be aged to complement its surroundings.” He held up a hand when Ruth Ann started to say something. “Without the kind of deterioration that natural aging inevitably brings about. You get a stronger building with a similar appearance.”

And so it went. For every objection Ruth Ann raised, Miriam and Jonah had an explanation of how their stable would be superior. High ceilings, expensive materials, too much space or not enough…nothing she could say broke through their certainty. Jayne appeared to be listening to both sides, but Ruth Ann couldn’t tell what conclusions she drew. Anyway, she was only the headmistress—the Board of Directors would tell her what they wanted done and she would execute their orders.

“It’s okay, I guess,” Ruth Ann said, once Jonah had finished his presentation. “I mean, I’m sure some people would feel privileged to have a barn like this for their horses. But it’s too big, for one thing—the number of extra steps you would add to my day would become miles before long. The tack room down there,” she said, pointing to the room plan, “and the stalls over here—you’ve got me carrying saddles and bridles and blankets from one end of the place to the other.”

“These details can be modified,” Jonah replied in a stiff voice.

“There’s no room for hay storage without using stall space. The feed room is on an interior wall, meaning I’ll have to bring bags through the aisle rather than being able to use an outside door.