Wishes for Tomorrow. Brenda Jackson

Dillon said pleasantly. “I own a real estate firm. You might have heard of it, Blue Ridge Land Management.”

      Pam saw the surprise that lit Fletcher’s eyes before he said, “Yes, I’ve heard of it.”

      She had to force back a chuckle because she was sure that he had heard of it. Who hadn’t? The Blue Ridge Land Management Company was a billion-dollar corporation, well known in the Mountain States, that had a higher place on the Fortune 500 list than Mallard Super Stores.

      Seeing that Fletcher was momentarily speechless, she stepped in to say, “Mr. Westmoreland, you said that—”

      “I’m Dillon.”

      He had raised his gaze to meet hers and she saw a friendly smile lurking in the dark depths of his eyes. Her heart rate began accelerating in her chest. “Yes, of course,” she said quickly. “And I’m Pam.”

      After taking a sip of her tea, she continued. “Dillon, you said that you were here to research your family’s history?”

      “Yes,” he said, his gaze still on her. “For years I was told by my parents and grandparents that my brothers, cousins and I didn’t have any living relatives, and that my great-grandfather, Raphel Westmoreland, had been an only child. So you could imagine my surprise when one day, out of the clear blue sky, a man, his two sons and three nephews showed up at my ranch to proclaim they were my kin.”

      Intrigued by the story, Pam placed her fork next to her plate and gave him her full attention. “How did they find you?”

      “Through a genealogy search. The older man, James Westmoreland, knew that his grandfather, Reginald Westmoreland, had an identical-twin brother. It was discovered that that twin brother was my great-grandfather, Raphel, who had left home at twenty-two and had never been heard from again. In fact, the family assumed he’d died. They had no idea that he had eventually settled in Denver, married and had a son, who gave him two grandsons and then a slew of great-grands—fifteen, in fact. I am the oldest of the fifteen great-grands.”

      “Wow, that must have been a shocker for you to discover you had other relatives when you assumed there weren’t any,” Jill, who was practically hanging on to Dillon’s every word, said. “What does your wife think about all of this?”

      Pam watched Dillon smile and knew he hadn’t been fooled by the way the question had been asked. Jill wanted to know if he was a married man. Pam hated to admit that she was just as curious. He wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean a thing.

      “She didn’t have anything to say because I’m not married,” Dillon replied smoothly. “At least not anymore. I’ve been divorced for close to ten years.”

      Pam glanced over at Jill and prayed her sister had the decency not to inquire as to what had happened to end his marriage.

      Fletcher, disliking the fact he wasn’t the center of attention, spoke up in an authoritative negative voice. “Sounds pretty crazy to me. Why would you care about a bunch of people who show up at your place claiming they were your relatives, or better yet, why would you want to find out your family history? You should live in the present and not in the past.”

      Pam could tell Dillon was fighting hard to hold his temper in check, and his tone was remarkably restrained when he finally responded. “Do you have a family, Fletcher?”

      Again, by Fletcher’s expression it was obvious he didn’t appreciate being the one receiving the questions. “No, I was an only child. My parents are deceased, but they didn’t have any siblings, either. I’m the only Mallard around for now.” He glanced over at Pam and smiled. “Of course, that will change once Pamela and I marry.”

      Dillon nodded slowly. “But until that changes, I wouldn’t expect you to understand the significance of what a family means. I already do. Westmorelands are big into family and, after meeting my other relatives, my only regret is not having known them sooner.”

      He glanced over at her and, for a second, she held his steady gaze. And she felt it. There was a connection between them that they were trying to ignore. She looked down at her plate as she continued eating.

      Nadia asked him a question about his siblings and just as comfortably and easily as a man who was confident with himself and who he was, he began telling her everything she wanted to know. Without even trying, Dillon was captivating everyone at the dinner table...with the exception of Fletcher.

      “How long do you plan to stay in town?” Fletcher rudely cut into the conversation between Dillon and the sisters.

      Dillon glanced over at Fletcher. “Until I get all the questions I have about Raphel Westmoreland answered.”

      “That may take a while,” Fletcher said.

      Dillon smiled, but Pam knew it was just for Fletcher’s benefit and it wasn’t sincere. “I got time.”

      She saw Fletcher open his mouth to make another statement and she cut him off. “Dillon, I should be able to help you with that. My great-grandfather’s old business records, as well as his personal journal, are in the attic. If you want to drop by tomorrow and go up there and look around, you’re welcome to do so.”

      “Thanks,” he said, smiling. “I’ll be happy to take you up on your offer.”

      * * *

      “I don’t want you meeting with that man alone, Pamela. Inviting him here tomorrow while your sisters are away at school wasn’t a good idea. And tomorrow I’ll be out of town visiting my stores in Laramie.”

      Pam glanced over at Fletcher as she walked him to the door. He was upset and she knew it. In fact, there was no doubt in her mind that everyone at the dinner table had known it since he wasn’t a person who hid his emotions well.

      “So,” he continued, “I’ll get word to him tomorrow that you’ve withdrawn the invitation.”

      Fletcher’s words stopped her dead in her tracks just a few feet from her living room door. She stared at him, certain she had missed something, like a vital piece of their conversation, somewhere along the way. “Excuse me?”

      “I said that since you agree that you shouldn’t be alone with Westmoreland, I’ll get word to him that you’ve withdrawn your invitation for tomorrow.”

      She frowned. “I don’t agree to any such nonsense. The invitation I gave to Dillon Westmoreland still stands, Fletcher. You’re acting controlling and territorial and there’s no reason for it.”

      She saw the muscle that ticked in his jaw, indicating he was angry. “You’re an attractive woman, Pamela. Westmoreland isn’t blind. He noticed,” he said.

      “And what is that supposed to mean? I agreed to marry you but that doesn’t mean you own me. If you’re having seconds thoughts about this engagement, then—”

      “Of course I’m not having second thoughts. I’m just trying to look out for you, that’s all. You’re too trusting with people.”

      His gaze then flicked over her before returning to her face. “And I think that you’re the one having second thoughts,” he said.

      She lifted her chin. “Of course I’m having second thoughts. I agreed to marry you as a way to save my ranch. I appreciate you coming to my rescue but you deserve better than that. And that’s why I plan to pay Lester Gadling another visit this week. I want him to go back over those papers. It’s hard to believe Dad did not make arrangements for the balance on that mortgage to be paid off if anything happened to him.”

      Fletcher waited for a moment, then said, “If you feel that strongly about it then I agree that you should go back to Gadling, since he was your father’s attorney, and ask him about it. But don’t worry about what I deserve. I’ll have you as my wife and that will make me a happy man.”

      Pamela didn’t say anything. She and Fletcher weren’t entering into their marriage under false assumptions. He knew she was not in