His Marriage Pact. Kathie DeNosky

getting somewhere. “Have you given any consideration to the kitchen? You are having one installed, aren’t you? Or will you be roasting marshmallows and wieners?”

      He favored her with a sexy grin. “That’s a thought.”

      “Seriously? A wiener roast for every meal?”

      “Maybe that’s not a great idea. But the kitchen doesn’t have to be all that elaborate. Just the basics.”

      He truly didn’t grasp the concept of hospitality. “How many people do you plan to house at one time?”

      “Fifty if we’re at capacity, but we want to be able to accommodate more in the future.”

      “Feeding fifty hungry men and/or women will require more than a four-burner stove, a side-by-side refrigerator and a single oven. You’ll need commercial-grade appliances, plenty of prep space—”

      “I understand what you’re saying,” he said, effectively cutting her off. “But we don’t plan to open for business for a year, maybe longer if we can’t get all the facilities set up by then. Not only do we have to build the lodge, we have to build a new arena and catch pens, plus a first-aid station and acquire rodeo stock. I wouldn’t even need you for a good six months.”

      She would be destitute in two months. The unwelcome sense of extreme anxiety came home to roost, prompting Paris to make a final plea. “Again, you would be better off hiring me now than fixing something later. That will only cost you more money. I could meet with the architect before the plans are finalized. I could take care of all the details from the ground up. Besides, I live in San Antonio and since that’s only an hour and a half away, that’s convenient for us both. And I’m going to work cheaper than many firms you might decide to hire, but I don’t do cheap work or cut corners. To be perfectly honest, you can’t do better than me. And most important, I really, really need this job.”

      He tilted his head again and eyed her suspiciously. “If you’re so good at it, why is that?”

      She’d gone too far with the tirade, and probably blown any chance at the opportunity to oversee his project. Yet she was somewhat bolstered by the fact he hadn’t kicked her out...yet. “Due to personal circumstances beyond my control, I’ve been forced to start over, but I won’t bother you with the details. I would like to show you my work.”

      As she drew a breath, Paris fumbled for the briefcase resting on the floor and lifted it up. “I have my portfolio right here if you care to take a quick look.”

      Dallas sat in silence for a few moments while Paris’s pulse raced out of control. “I’m sure you’re more than qualified for the job,” he finally said, “but like I told you, I don’t see the need to hire a decorator—”

      “Designer,” Paris corrected without regard to helping her cause.

      “Hiring a designer right now doesn’t make much sense to me.”

      Plagued with the bitter taste of defeat, Paris stood. “Fine, but you should be aware, in six months, I might not be available.” She might even be in jail. Or worse—living with her folks on a potato farm in Idaho. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you.”

      Dallas came to his feet and rounded the desk. “One question before you leave. What exactly did you mean by having to start over?”

      She certainly wasn’t prepared to get into that, but if it meant he might possibly reconsider, she would tell him everything. Almost everything. “Okay, as long as you understand I’m not looking for pity.”

      “Understood.”

      Oh, how she hated having to explain the sordid details. “Almost two years ago, my ex-husband left in the middle of the night, took every penny I owned and then took off to the Dominican Republic to get a quickie divorce.”

      The anger that flashed in his eyes took her aback. “Where is the bastard now?”

      “Still there, with my hard-earned money and a new girlfriend. Shortly thereafter, the firm where I’d been working for eight years laid me off. I have very few funds to maintain my apartment for much longer, so I might be forced to move in with my family until I get back on my feet.” That last part had wounded her pride beyond belief. The part she’d left out—the reasons why she’d lost her job—had caused her great shame.

      He attempted a slight smile. “I can relate to living with family.”

      “Your stepmothers live with you?”

      “No, they live in the main house. I built my own place a few years ago. But I see them every day, whether I want to or not.”

      They just stood there in uncomfortable silence until Paris decided to end the meeting and escape from her humiliating revelations. She retrieved a card from her bag’s side pocket and offered it to him. “If you happen to change your mind, here’s my contact information. If not, I wish you the best of luck with your new venture.”

      “Good luck to you, too,” he said as he escorted her to the door. “And if I happen to need a date to a surprise birthday party, I just might give you a call.”

      Oh, sure he would. In some ways she wished he would. Who wouldn’t want to spend an evening with a gorgeous macho guy? And since he obviously wasn’t going to hire her...“You know, I just might take you up on the invitation.”

      Without gauging his response, Paris worked her way back to the front office and out the door, pausing only long enough to tell both mothers to have a good day. Once she slid into her car, she experienced overwhelming dejection over the epic failure. But she refused to cry. She’d already done enough of that to last a lifetime.

      * * *

      “Why in the hell did you let her leave, Dallas?”

      At the moment, a lecture from Maria—his long time maternal influence—was the very last thing Dallas needed. He still hadn’t gotten over the impact of the pretty green-eyed, golden-haired, determined woman named after a European city who had landed on his doorstep. He didn’t quite understand his reaction to her, either. A strong reaction that had had him wanting to suggest things to her that any man with an ounce of honor wouldn’t dare mention to a woman he’d just met. And if Maria Leone Calloway could read his mind, she would nix the speech and wash his mouth out with homemade soap even if he hadn’t uttered a dirty word.

      He cleared the uncomfortable hitch from his throat and shifted in his chair. “I don’t know why her departure is bothering you, Mom. I figured you didn’t like her all that much.”

      Without invitation, the current burr in his backside took the seat Paris Reynolds had vacated a few minutes before. “She’s a little too uppity in my opinion, mijo. But as bad as I hate to admit it, Jenny was right about one thing. You need to find a woman, and maybe this Paris is that woman.”

      Dallas rocked back in his chair and sighed. “First of all, you both need to forget about that. It’s too late. Secondly, I’ve come to terms with staying single and you just need to accept it.”

      Maria narrowed her dark eyes. “You’re telling me you’re going to let your no-account little brother gain control over this ranch?”

      The thought left a bad taste in his mouth. “Blame your husband for putting that stupid marriage codicil in the will, although it still doesn’t make any sense why Dad would leave this place to Fort. From what Jenny says, the kid was a rebel most of his life, plus he already owns the horse farm in Louisiana.”

      Maria tightened the band securing her braid, a nervous habit for as long as Dallas could remember. “You’re right. It doesn’t make a damn bit of sense what J.D. did, particularly since Fort wants nothing to do with you or any of his brothers. Then again, what your father did to me and Jenny didn’t make any sense, either.”

      Dallas would never forget that day six years ago when during the reading of his father’s will, he’d not only discovered he had twin half-brothers, he’d learned his father had been living as