The Rancher's Temporary Engagement. Stacy Henrie

“You need to know their closest friends, enemies, ambitions, fears.”

      He threw her a perturbed look. “And what will you be doing while I am ingratiating myself?” His tone still rang sharp and full of frustration.

      “I’m working on that,” she reassured him as she took a sip.

      “Boss?” a voice called from the hallway.

      Edward turned toward the sound. “In here, McCall.”

      A man with a handsome face and curly black hair poking out from underneath his hat strode into the parlor. “Some of the boys just learned about that detective pretending to be a wrangler. They’re worried that since he didn’t find the culprit...” He broke off when he saw Maggy. “Sorry, boss. Didn’t ’spect you to have company. Especially not feminine company.” Removing his hat, he nodded politely at Maggy. She inclined her head in return.

      She was beginning to get a picture of Edward Kent, and it didn’t include the man having numerous female visitors. He was handsome, she conceded, and fairly affable. But clearly his ranch, his horses and perhaps his staff were all his heart had room for. She couldn’t help wondering why.

      “This is West McCall, my ranch foreman.” Edward collected his cup and poured himself some more tea. He was stalling, which meant he was either grappling with how to introduce her or reluctant to reveal to the man that she was a detective. Perhaps both. “McCall, I’d like you to meet...” He took a swallow of tea, his gaze darting to Maggy’s in a silent plea for assistance.

      His unexpected show of confidence in her abilities to come up with a solid cover story brought her earlier idea forward at last, in full form. “I’m Maggy. Edward’s fiancée,” she finished with a triumphant smile. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

      Turning toward him, Maggy only had a moment to register the shock in Edward’s gray eyes before his mouthful of tea came spewing out—all over her.

       Chapter Three

      Edward mumbled an apology, avoiding eye contact with both his foreman and Maggy. Of all the foolish, rash, ridiculous plans, he thought as he set down his cup, scooped up a napkin, and thrust it at Maggy so she could dab her tea-soaked dress.

      Feigning affection for someone, as Beatrice had done five and a half years ago, was the last thing he wanted to do, least of all toward a practical stranger. He fought to keep his expression impassive, but his jaw began to twitch with the attempt.

      “Didn’t know you were engaged, boss.”

      “It is rather sudden,” Edward managed to get out between his clenched teeth.

      Maggy glanced up from wiping her dress and frowned at him. Was his scowl leaking through, or had she heard the sharpness in his tone?

      “So how did you two...” McCall shifted his weight, looking every bit as confused and uncertain as Edward felt. “Are you from England, as well...Maggy?”

      She set down her napkin as she offered the foreman a brilliant smile. “No, I’m not from England, Mr. McCall. But I have come a very long way to see Edward here, so if you’d be good enough to allow us another few minutes in private.” With impressive skill, she linked her arm through the foreman’s and guided him toward the parlor door as if the idea to leave had been his all along.

      “If you didn’t meet in England, then where—”

      “Oh, we have a shared acquaintance,” Maggy said with a nonchalant wave of her hand and a tinkling laugh as she led McCall into the hallway. “Our friend introduced us, and after that Edward and I struck up a lively correspondence.”

      Edward nearly forgot his fury as he watched her win over McCall. The poor man looked a bit in awe of Maggy. Edward had to admit himself that she’d accomplished much in the last hour and with great aplomb. She acted quickly on her feet and had successfully discovered two possible suspects.

      If only she hadn’t gone and ruined everything with this harebrained scheme of them pretending to be engaged.

      “We’ll be just a few minutes, Mr. McCall.”

      Her back was to Edward, but he could tell from her tone that Maggy had graced the foreman with another smile before she shut the parlor door. An outlandish, irrational thought had him wondering what it would be like to have the full power of that charming smile directed at him.

      It certainly wasn’t her smile that she aimed at him when she whirled around. “You are going to ruin this investigation,” she hissed. “Could you have looked any more appalled at playing the role of my fiancé?”

      “Are you mad?” Edward countered, keeping his voice equally low. “Of course I’m going to be shocked and downright annoyed when you announce such a ridiculous fiction.”

      Maggy crossed her arms and glared at him. Her eyes had turned a dark cobalt. “There wasn’t time to ask how you felt about it. Besides I told you that I was coming up with a role.”

      “Yes. But I didn’t think that would be pretending to be my fiancée. Who will believe it?”

      Her eyebrows rose in a haughty look as she motioned to the closed door. “I have no doubt that your foreman believes it.”

      “This is madness.” He threw his hands in the air, then spun to face the fireplace. “There is surely some other role for you to play.”

      He sensed her stepping toward him. “This is the best way for me to ingratiate myself into that club for the ranchers’ sweethearts and wives. If I can get them to trust me, they’ll share their secrets, which will likely include hints or knowledge of their husbands’ nefarious activities.”

      “What about playing a servant at the inn? Or my...my visiting relation?” Edward jammed his hands into his pockets, his chin dipping low. He didn’t need to hear Maggy’s rejection of those ideas—in his heart, he knew they wouldn’t work in the way they needed.

      Her voice came out surprisingly kind and placating. “It’s not enough to overhear their conversations, the way a servant would—I need to be someone they can confide in. You said it yourself, Edward. The only way I can gain access into that club is to pretend to be your wife or fiancée.”

      He had only a moment to realize he liked hearing her say his name before she went on. “Believe me, I wouldn’t choose this role if I didn’t think it absolutely necessary to this mission.”

      Edward wasn’t sure whether to be offended by that remark or not. Turning to face her, he glimpsed a touch of vulnerability on her face, as he had earlier, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. Had she also been hurt in the past?

      “Care to elaborate?” he inquired.

      It was the wrong thing to ask. Maggy jutted out her chin and peered down her nose at him. “I have my reasons, which I do not need to discuss.”

      “And if I refuse to go along with this charade?” He felt compelled to ask the question, though he could feel himself relenting—against his better judgment. Maggy had effectively bested his challenge, and if he let her go, he wasn’t sure where he’d look for another detective.

      “Then I suppose I’ll drive myself back to the station. There’s nothing more I can do to help you.”

      The words themselves were spoken with clipped finality, but the flicker of desperation that entered her blue eyes belied their strength. Did she stand to gain or lose something from this case? Something beyond a paycheck for her time and efforts?

      Edward pushed out a frustrated breath as he eyed the ceiling. The intricate plasterwork was a unique fixture of his home, a nod to his English heritage. He’d been hard-pressed to find someone who could do the work and had been relieved and proud when the old chap he’d hired had finished. This place represented Edward’s hard work and ambition, not to mention his confidence