Fake Fiance, Real Revenge: A Three River Ranch Novel (Entangled Bliss) Read online

  Paris looked as if she wanted to disappear.

  Finally Della clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a dark horse, aren’t you, Mitchell Granger? Keeping this under wraps? And here I’ve been thinking of what lovely babies you and Paris would make. Where’ve you been hiding this girl? You should have brought her tonight!”

  “She’s…” His relief vanished. He had to make this convincing. “She’s in Montana.”

  Really, Mitch? Way to limit your pool of possibilities. A fiancée in Fiji. Now that would have been convenient. And difficult to disprove.

  Where, he wondered, would one go about finding a mail-order bride? Was there even still such a thing?

  “Ah, yes, your hometown. Lutherton, is it?”

  He should have expected Della to look him up. He hadn’t offered many details about his past, but that wouldn’t stop a woman like her. Memories flooded in, wounds he’d long ago vanquished—or thought he had.

  You see, Mitch? You did it again. Another stupid, impulsive idea. He hadn’t heard that voice for years. Perspiration broke out on his back. You don’t stop to think and this is what you get. Stupid, stupid boy.

  “We’re, uh.” Mitch swallowed, wiping the back of his neck. He wasn’t that boy anymore. He was a success. Supported by his non-Fijian fiancée. Who had no name. “We’re taking it slow.”

  Instantly the years fell away and Sabrina’s face popped into his head.

  No way, Mitch. You are not going there.

  Poof! His sultry Fijian fantasy lover vanished in a swirl of thick, honey-colored hair. Sabrina’s hair, which always fell straight and heavy, halfway down her back. Her clear blue-gray eyes that had seen beyond the dyslexic, angry boy, failed by the school system. She was one of the smart kids, and her tutoring had gotten him through final exams. He wouldn’t have graduated without her.

  He wasn’t pretending to be engaged to Sabrina, no way, no how. He didn’t even know her anymore. Well, he knew she’d returned to Lutherton. He knew home and family were important to her. Which just showed how completely unsuited they were for each other. Despite what they’d once thought.

  Taking it slow? They hadn’t taken anything slow back then.

  For almost two years, they’d been in love. Secretly at first. Her family would have never accepted the rebellious loser he’d been then. They’d have happily embraced his younger brother, Carson, though—the smart son. The good one. Even now, Mitch tasted the sourness at the back of his throat. Carson had always had it so easy and now, he even had Three River Ranch, the family home. Plus a wife and a kid.

  Della nudged him with her elbow. “Everyone loves a love story, dear. You should have told me!”

  A crowd was gathering. Mitch felt heat rise along his neck.

  “It just never occurred to me. I didn’t think it was pertinent to our professional relationship.” He heard the stiffness in his words. Damn. He was screwing this up.

  “I don’t give a hoot for ‘professional’ and you know it. My late husband ran things that way, everything at arm’s length, lawyered up the wazoo, all crossed and dotted and signed in triplicate. Nothing wrong with that, but I think you ought to know someone before getting into bed with him, so to speak.”

  She took Mitch by the arm and led him to the bar. “Get this man a couple of fingers of single malt, will you? What the heck, get me one too, while you’re at it.”

  Mitch lifted his glass in a toast, wondering how he could get Della back onto the subject of her prospective business plans.

  And away from his “fiancée.” The scotch seared his throat but did nothing to ease his growing panic. He could have just taken Paris out a few times, been the sophisticated date she needed to polish up her social persona.

  But no, sneered the voice. You had to come up with this awesome lie instead.

  “I apologize, Della,” he said, striving for the right tone. “It never occurred to me that you’d be interested. My situation with…my fiancée… We have a complicated relationship.”

  That was putting it mildly. Since she didn’t exist.

  “I’ve been married four times, you dolt. Of course I’m interested.” But her light tone belied the sharpness in her eyes. “Mitchell, sweetheart, pull that big old stick of firewood out into the sunshine, will you? Relax. That thirty-year-old glass of peat isn’t going to drink itself, now is it? I didn’t mean to insult you or impugn your integrity.” She winked at him. “Isn’t that a great word? Impugn? My second husband was a medieval scholar. Oh, the things that man taught me.”

  The prawn canapés squirmed in his stomach. “No offense taken.”

  “So gallant! And such a liar!” She laughed gaily. He could see the gold fillings in her back molars. “But you’re determined to put on a good show and I respect that. You’re ambitious, driven. Good boy.”

  He clenched the glass until his knuckles whitened. “What do you want, Della?”

  “Ah, the bear awakens!” The smile fell off her face like the curtain at the end of a show. “I’m bored, honey-pie. I’m richer than everyone else I know, which means my friendships are all suspect. I don’t have the energy for another husband, not to mention sex.”

  Mitch squeezed his eyes against the image. “Thank you for that.”

  “So I’ve turned my considerable resources to doing whatever interests me at the moment. Right now, you interest me. Your background as a cowboy interests me. Your hometown interests me.”

  But it wasn’t his home anymore and he hadn’t been a cowboy in a long time. A knife twisted in his chest. He’d cut it all off, the good along with the bad. That was the sacrifice he’d been forced to make. And it had all been worth it. He was a new man.

  “That was a long time ago, Della.”

  But sometimes, when business stresses kept him awake at night, he imagined riding, alone, the feel of warm leather against his legs, the smell of grass and earth and horse. Every now and then, he dropped by a local riding stable. It wasn’t the same, following a set trail on a bored, anonymous horse, but it was the best he could get.

  Did remnants of an honest-to-God cowboy still lie dormant within him, deep down and buried? No matter how he tried, he’d never stopped craving the open range, the rugged mountains, the smell of horses and sagebrush. He could never get the land entirely out of his system. He could never let go of his home.

  Only it wasn’t his anymore. It belonged to Carson, who’d earned it fair and square. Who’d met the terms of his father’s will and gained the title and everything that went with it.

  Land, success, community acceptance, space to pursue his dreams…

  And love.

  Carson had been in the right place at the right time.

  Mitch’s luck never went that way.

  “You’re a cowboy, all right.” Della put her hands on her hips. “You’re not spit-shined and hair product-ed to death, like this crowd. A little shaggy, a little of the bad boy about you. But whatever you say.”

  He bristled, then forced himself to smile. “I missed a haircut. That hardly makes me Butch Cassidy.” Not to mention he’d paid an image consultant good money, way back when, to create exactly the right look.

  “Here’s the deal.” She pursed her lips, as if reading his mind. “I’ve got a few properties I want to look at. Foreclosures, rundown places I could get for a song. I’m thinking of a high-end mountain resort. Horseback riding, hiking, maybe golf, plus every spa treatment under the sun and top-notch chefs. What do you think?”

  “I’ll need to see the spec sheets.” His interest was piqued, but there was something about Della’s behavior that set off warning bells in his head.

  “Paris’s father fancied himself a cowboy,” Della mused, ignoring him. “But he made his money in oil. He built himself a little spread. A few thousand acres. Of course, he was tired of it by the time I came on the scene, so we didn’t spend much time there. But Paris did and she misses it. Maybe I should have held on to the place, for her.”

  “Is there
a thread I should be following here, Della?”

  “Before I make any decision,” she continued, “I need to do a little market research. That’s where you come in.”

  “The US of A’s a big place. You wanna give me a clue?” he asked.

  You could just walk away, Mitch reminded himself. Stop this crazy race to the top. Tell Ellis this one didn’t pan out. Go back to your luxury condo, focus on your existing clients, be satisfied.

  Be happy.

  Ah, but that was the problem. He’d tried that. No matter how many deals he landed, no matter how high he’d climbed from construction joe to contractor to investor to bigger investor to the next big thing, it was never enough.

  Underneath, he was still the loser from Lutherton.

  She narrowed her eyes at his tone. “You can’t guess where we’re going?”

  Suddenly he understood. He met her eyes and saw her smile triumphantly.

  “Surprise! We’re going to Montana! Your old stomping grounds, to be precise!”

  “You can’t be serious.” Mitch laughed. “You want to build a resort out there? Why? No one goes there. Not voluntarily, at least.”

  “Just ’cause it wasn’t your cup of tea don’t mean there’s not busloads of software execs wondering what life would be like if they chucked it all to live off the land. Horses, hard work, sunshine. Never underestimate the power of money, delusion, and regret, Mitch, my boy.”

  Oh, yeah. He knew.

  “Besides, land is cheap right now and I’ve got myself a brilliant land baron who knows the area inside and out.” She reached over and patted his hand.

  Mitch thought fast. He’d stayed away for a long time, when he first left. But now, he’d be there on business. Carson would see the influence that Granger-Ellis had, and if they found a spot and went ahead with the project, the whole town would bear witness to his success.

  “It’ll be the biggest job of your career, Mitchy-boy,” Della said. “You know you want it.”

  Sabrina would see his success.

  “We’ll stay at your old place,” Della said. “You can tell your brother I want to learn about his mustang sanctuary.”

  She really had done her homework.

  Della at Three River Ranch. Carson would shit fence posts.

  But then Della would write Carson a check with a lot of zeroes and he would smile and take it.

  Mitch could see it all. He would arrive in town, the successful businessman, bringing with him a patron. And not just any patron, but one who could make an enormous difference in Carson’s life. Carson would owe him.

  And Carson would hate that. But he’d be able to say nothing.

  And if Della decided to purchase property in the area, she’d boost the local economy immeasurably. Mitch would be the hero.

  Ten years ago, Mitch had broken free of the place, which was what he’d always wanted. He’d left Lutherton in shame, brokenhearted, alone, penniless. He’d made a brief appearance last winter, after Carson’s wife, Rory, begged him, long enough to know that nothing had changed, that Sabrina was still there, that he hadn’t ruined her life. And that she still had some kind of irrational power over him.

  Every second had been torture.

  But to return home victorious, like this? Maybe that’s what he needed to finally be free of the demons that plagued him.

  Della pulled out her cell phone and punched a few buttons. “There. I’ve texted my assistant to charter a flight, book a limo, and reschedule my calendar. I’m thinking a month, maybe two. Maybe you and Paris— Wait. I forgot. You’re already taken.” She grinned at him. “You can introduce me to your lovely fiancée, too, while we’re at it.” She reached a claw out and grasped his arm. “It’ll be so exciting. What’s her name, anyway? This secret love of your life?”

  Maybe it was the crashed mental systems, but he simply couldn’t come up with anything better than the woman who truly had been the love of his life. A lifetime ago.

  “Sabrina.” Her name jump-started his brain and suddenly memories of her, of them, flooded over him.

  Sabrina.

  Chapter Two

  “Who is this?”

  Sabrina held the cell phone awkwardly between her chin and shoulder, paused in the act of digging kibble out of the bin for her dog, who quivered at her feet.

  Silence.

  “Sabrina,” said the voice, softly and slowly. “It’s me.”

  The phone slipped and clattered into the dog dish. She grabbed it, shook it, and wiped the dog slobber off on her shirt, pressing it against her chest for a second before she put it to her ear. She was having a hallucination. She must be more sleep-deprived than she thought.

  But wow, had it ever sounded like Mitch. His voice—with her at least—had always been sweet, gentle. Like his touch.

  Get. A. Grip. Remember, you want to kill him. Or at least, inflict a good maiming.

  “Hello? You still there?” Her words ran together. “Sorry about that. I dropped the phone.”

  Good job, Queen of Obvious-land. She took a deep belly-breath. Slow down, Sabrina. Use your brain.

  Bono whined, unaccustomed to the wait.

  “Sorry, honey,” Sabrina said, setting down his food. “Here you go.”

  “Is this a bad time?” Mitch. No question. Well, that burst the hallucination bubble.

  “It really is you,” she said. She backed up until her butt hit the laundry room counter.

  “I have a favor to ask.”

  And damn if he didn’t sound just a little desperate. Mitch vulnerable was her Achilles’ heel. And he knew it.

  Resist, resist. She steeled herself against him. “I’m great, Mitch, fantastic. How are you? Wait. I don’t care.” And she hung up.

  But she held on to the phone with shaking fingers, both hoping and dreading that he’d call back. When it rang again, she almost dropped it. Again.

  “Don’t hang up,” he said immediately. “You hate me, I know. You’ve made that clear.”

  “You have no idea.” If only it were that simple.

  “I have kind of a situation here. I’m really sorry to do this to you, Sabrina. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. Just hear me out, okay? Please?”

  She didn’t speak, but neither did she hit the off button. And when he finished, she was too gobsmacked to respond.

  Mitch was coming out here to visit. For a month. A whole month…and…wait. What had he said he needed from her? Bono scratched at the door and absently, she let him outside.

  “Sabrina?” Mitch said. “Did you hear me?”

  “No. What I heard was crazy talk. Hang on, I’m feeding my dog.”

  She set down her cell and opened the screen door to make sure the shepherd-Labrador cross hadn’t jumped the fence to finish destroying the neighbor’s azaleas.

  Plus, she needed the time to catch her breath.

  She’d seen Mitch for all of a half hour last winter, at Rory and Carson’s party. It was the first time in ten years, the only time in ten years, and it had dredged up a world of feelings, some ugly stuff she’d thought she was over. And also some…less ugly stuff that left her restless and confused.

  But Rory was her best friend and for her sake, Sabrina had been pleasant, even danced with Mitch once. No one else wanted to talk to him, so she’d sat with him for a little while, too.

  “Pity, that’s all it was,” she muttered. Bono looked up from his snuffling, his right ear standing cockeyed.

  Great. Now I’m scaring the dog.

  “Don’t worry, honey, it’s not you. It’s me.” Bono sneezed and she laughed, despite the memories.

  Rory wouldn’t rest until her husband had made amends with his prodigal brother, and the winter dance had been, among other things, another attempt to pull Mitch back into the fold. So Sabrina had played nice. In a way, it was easier talking to Mitch than to some guy she had to start all over with. She knew every deep dark secret that made Mitch who he was. As he knew hers.

  Well, almost all her
secrets.

  Surprisingly, that night hadn’t been as bad as she’d expected. But nor had it solved one single thing.

  She had enough Mitch battle scars, thank you very much. And while he obviously had scars, too, they weren’t her fault. The breakup that left her devastated had clearly been a relief for him, quickly forgotten. The fact that he could call her up out of the blue like this, to ask for a favor, well, that said it all, didn’t it?

  While she was left with emotional turmoil. And dreams, disturbing ones, in which she saw Mitch standing alone, looking down into a valley at sunrise. She couldn’t see his face in the dream, but somehow she knew he was hurting, afraid, alone.

  Which was ridiculous. She’d seen enough to know that Mitchell Granger had created a tough shell to protect all that softness. He didn’t do anything now unless it was in his best interest. He had goals, plans. He intended to follow through with them. Anything that got in the way had to go.

  Like her.

  Bono woofed at the door, breaking into her reverie. “Oh! Sorry Bono! Come on in, sweet boy.”

  She picked up her phone.

  “Sabrina?” Mitch was saying. “Sabrina? You still there?”

  “Yeah, sorry,” she said, forcing her mind back to the present.

  Good for him, if he was ready to reconnect with his family. He’d have to work his way back into their good graces slowly, but he could do it. She wanted him to. This was his home, his family. That was what she wanted for Mitch.

  Mostly. She was human, after all. There was still that tiny bit of her that wanted to jam his face into the reality of what he’d done to her.

  Grudges weren’t productive. She knew that. They muddied up the chi, the air, the energy.

  “I’ll be at Three River Ranch for a month. I’m bringing two guests with me. One of them is thinking of hiring me for her next big project. She’s eccentric and I really need it to go well.”

  “Shouldn’t you be talking to Carson about this?” Then her mind snagged on the pertinent fact that registered. Again. Mitch would be here. For a month.

  The fragile reconciliation they’d built last winter only worked because it was a onetime deal, amnesty for the sake of friends and family. But if he was here, in Lutherton, if they had to see each other every day for a freakin’ month, well…friendship wouldn’t be a viable option. She needed all her self-control for the delivery room. She’d either murder Mitch or…or nothing. She’d murder him. Period.