The Rancher's Hired Fiancée. Judy Duarte

Could they pull it off?

      “Hello, Mayor,” a woman called out in a chipper voice.

      Ray glanced up to see Melanie Robertson approaching the diner wearing a smile.

      Aw, man. This was just the kind of thing he’d been trying to avoid. Where was his “fiancée” when he needed her?

      “Are you waiting for someone?” Melanie asked. “Or would you like to join Carla Guerrero and me for lunch?”

      “Thanks for the offer, but I am meeting someone.”

      “Is it business or pleasure?” she asked, her lashes fluttering in a flirtatious manner.

      “It’s definitely pleasure.” Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Catherine walking down the street. At least, that tall, blonde stranger striding toward him appeared to be the woman he’d met last night.

      She’d told him that she hadn’t brought anything fancy to Texas, but… hot damn. She hadn’t needed a shopping trip for their lunch today. A pair of tight jeans, a little makeup and a dab of lipstick had made a stunning transformation from attractive girl next door to dazzling.

      “Hi, honey.” Catherine burst into a smile as she reached him. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

      Then she leaned forward and brushed her lips across his, giving him a brief hint of peppermint breath mints.

      Her fragrance—something light and exotic—snaked around him, squeezing the air out of his lungs and making it nearly impossible to speak.

      Then she turned to Melanie, offered a confident, bright-eyed smile and reached out her hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Catherine Loza.”

      The same pesky cat that seemed to have gotten Ray’s tongue appeared to have captured Melanie’s, as well. He could understand her surprised reaction to Catherine’s arrival and greeting, but not his own. Not when he’d been the one to set up the whole fake fiancée thing in the first place.

      So why had Catherine’s performance set him off balance?

      Because she was so damn good at what she was doing, he supposed.

      Shaking off the real effects of the pretend kiss, he introduced the women, adding, “Melanie’s family owns the ice cream shop down the street.”

      “It’s nice to meet you,” Catherine said.

      Melanie, whose eyes kept bouncing from Ray to his “date” and back again, said, “Same here. I… uh…” She nodded toward the entrance of Caroline’s Diner. “I came to have lunch with a coworker, so I guess I’ll see you two inside.” Then she reached for the door and let herself in.

      Well, what do you know? Catherine had been on the job only a minute or two, and the ploy was already working like a charm.

      When they were alone, she asked, “So how did I do?”

      “You were great.” In fact, she was better than great. She both looked and acted the part of a loving fiancée, and even Ray found himself believing the romantic story they’d concocted was true.

      “Now what?” she asked. “Did you want to go inside?”

      “Yes, but I’ve got something to give you first. Come with me.” Ray led her to the street corner, then turned to the left. When they reached the alley, he made a second left.

      Once they were out of plain sight, he reached into the lapel pocket of his leather jacket and removed a small, velvet-covered box. Then he lifted the lid and revealed an engagement ring.

      “Will this work?” he asked.

      Catherine’s breath caught as she peered at what appeared to be an antique, which had been cleaned and polished. The diamond, while fairly small, glistened in the sunlight.

      “It was my grandmother’s,” he said.

      “It’s beautiful.” She doubted the ring was costly, but she imagined that the sentimental value was priceless. “I’ve never had an heirloom, so I’ll take good care of it.”

      Then she removed the ring from the box and slipped it on the ring finger of her left hand, surprised that it actually fit.

      For a moment, she wondered about the woman who’d worn it before her, about the relationship she’d had with her husband—and with her grandson. She suspected they’d been close.

      When she looked at Ray, when their eyes met and their gazes locked, she asked, “What was her name?”

      The question seemed to sideswipe him. “Who?”

      “Your grandmother.”

      He paused, as if the reminder had surprised him as much as the question had, then said, “Her name was Elena.”

      Catherine lifted her hand and studied the setting a bit longer. It was an old-fashioned piece of jewelry, yet it had been polished to a pretty shine.

      When she looked up again, he was watching her intently.

      “What’s the matter?” she asked.

      He didn’t respond right away, and when she thought that he might not, he said, “I know that ring isn’t anything most people would consider impressive, but it meant a lot to my grandmother.”

      Catherine’s mother had worn a single gold band, although she wasn’t sure it had meant much to her. And when she’d passed away, the family had buried her with it still on her finger. As far as Catherine knew, not one of her siblings had mentioned wanting to inherit it.

      But Ray’s ring was different—special.

      “It’s actually an honor to wear this.” She studied the setting a moment longer, then turned to Ray, whose gaze nearly set her heart on end.

      So she repeated what she’d told him before, “I’ll take good care of it while it’s in my possession.”

      “Thanks. I’m glad you can appreciate the sentiment attached to it. Not all women can.”

      He’d mentioned being recently divorced, so she couldn’t help wondering if he was talking about his ex-wife.

      Had she worn it? Had she given it back to him when they’d split?

      Not that it mattered, she supposed.

      “So,” he said, “are you ready to have lunch now?”

      When she nodded, he took her hand and led her back to the diner, where they would begin their performance. They were a team, she supposed. Costars in a sense.

      They also had something else in common—hearts on the mend.

      Ray opened the glass door, allowing Catherine to enter first. While waiting for him to choose a table, she scanned the quaint interior of the small-town eatery, with its white café-style curtains on the front windows, as well as the yellow walls that were adorned by a trellis of daisies on the wallpaper border.

      To the right of an old-fashioned cash register stood a refrigerated display case filled with pies and cakes—each one clearly homemade.

      She glanced at a blackboard that advertised a full meal for only $7.99.

      In bright yellow chalk, someone had written, What the Sheriff Ate, followed by, Chicken-Fried Steak, Buttered Green Beans, Mashed Potatoes, Country Gravy and Apple Pie.

      The advertised special sounded delicious, but she’d have to watch what she ate today. When she’d gotten dressed back at the ranch, she’d struggled to zip her jeans and found them so snug in the waist that she’d been tempted to leave the top button undone or to wear something else.

      If she didn’t start cutting out all the fat and the carbs she’d been consuming since arriving in Brighton Valley, she was going to return to New York twenty pounds heavier. And where would that leave her when it came time to audition for her next part?