One Night Scandal Page 11

  “Why the secrecy?” Callie asked, glancing up from the rolling rack where she was tucking a lace sleeve back into a garment bag.

  “They won’t want any media attention.” Hannah hoped she hadn’t made a mistake trusting her friend. “I don’t want to be the one to ruin their wedding after all they’ve been through.”

  “Right.” Straightening, Callie thumbed through more hangers, looking over the options for Hannah. “I forget this isn’t Hollywood where everyone says they don’t want media attention, when they actually crave it like their next hit.” She pulled out a blue lace skirt. “What about this? I brought it by mistake. You could wear it with a silk tank and dress it up.”

  “Maybe.” Hannah could already feel Brock’s hands on her waist where the two fabrics might meet. Where a thumb might accidentally brush along bare skin. Shaking off the imaginings, she focused on why she really came to the wardrobe trailer after her time on set. “Callie, I have a question. About...Antonio.”

  She lowered her voice when she said his name. Then for good measure, she turned and closed the trailer door. They were the only ones inside. Callie stared at her curiously.

  “What is it?”

  “Do you remember when you told me about the photo someone posted with the ‘separated at birth’ caption?” At her nod, Hannah pressed on, hoping she hadn’t misunderstood the woman’s previous comment. “You used the word ‘lewd’ to describe him.”

  Callie’s face flushed. She looked confused. Betrayed, even. “Did I?” Her hands slid away from the hangers and she folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

  Flustered, Hannah rushed to reassure her. “I’m not getting at anything. And I don’t mean to be nosy, I just... I’ve heard things about him. And I wondered—”

  “I haven’t heard anything.” Callie shook her head, her eyes bright with emotion, her shoulders tense. “And I think you made a mistake about what I said. Everyone is so quick to judge.”

  “I’m not judging—”

  “Hannah, I think you’d better go, okay? I won’t tell anyone about the wedding, but this is a conversation I’m not comfortable having.” She thrust the blue lace skirt into Hannah’s hands and stalked into the trailer’s tiny bathroom, locking the door with a click behind her.

  Did that seem like the response of a woman who didn’t know anything about Antonio’s behavior? Unsure how to proceed without alienating a potential ally for Hope, Hannah walked toward the closed door. She paused outside, and said softly, “I’m leaving, but I want you to know you can talk to me if you change your mind. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  When there was no reply, Hannah walked out of the trailer, leaving the lace skirt behind. She didn’t want Callie to think she was trying to take advantage of her. Maybe she shouldn’t have used the pretense of borrowing a dress as a reason to come here at an off time.

  But far from being discouraged about what she’d discovered, Hannah hoped she was on to something. Maybe after Callie had time to think it over, she would decide to confide in Hannah.

  Until then, she had a secret wedding to prepare for.

  * * *

  Brock rode home late that night, urging Aurora faster after a long evening working with his brothers to turn an empty barn on the Black Creek Ranch into a wedding venue. The barn they’d cleaned was old and unused, but it was structurally sound with plenty of picturesque appeal. His father didn’t want to hire too many outsiders to help prepare for the wedding in an effort to keep the ceremony out of the media, so Brock had pitched in with Carson and Cody to get the space in shape.

  Working with his brothers had felt like old times. Especially since the barn dated from the days when the Calderon family had owned the land, before Donovan had married Kara Calderon, Brock’s mother. Brock had mixed memories growing up on the Black Creek Ranch, some happy, some—like his mother’s death—gut-wrenching. He’d been only three at the time, but his earliest memories were from that day. Flashes of ambulance lights. His father falling to his knees.

  But life had gone on at the main house after his mother’s death. Paige had joined their lives, becoming a nanny and then, Donovan’s new wife. Yet somehow, she’d never really been “Mom.” She’d always been quiet. Unassuming. A steady presence in their home while their father charged in and out, his bigger personality the driving force of the McNeills.

  It occurred to Brock that while Scarlett favored their mother in looks, she was more like Donovan in personality—someone you noticed immediately. Whereas Madeline, the oldest of the girls, took after Paige, quietly attending to business while running the White Canyon Ranch, a guest ranch where many of the cast members of Winning the West were staying.

  Guiding Aurora toward home, Brock slowed the mare as he neared Hannah’s cabin. He had planned to drop off some things she might need for the wedding earlier, but missed an opportunity when his father asked for help at the barn. He’d had one of the ranch hands deliver the packages instead. Now, it was almost midnight, but the cabin lamps blazed and another opera aria floated on the breeze through an open window. Clearly she was still awake. Besides, the Perseid meteor shower was peaking this week, lighting up the sky with streaking stars.

  How could he let her miss it?

  Reining in, he dropped down to the ground and then climbed the steps onto the porch. Before he knocked, however, he pulled out his phone to text her so she’d know who was at the door. Through the open window, he could hear her phone chime and, a moment later, a soft laugh.

  Then, footsteps.

  Anticipation speared straight through him.

  When the door opened, Hannah was dressed in a worn purple T-shirt that said But First... Coffee, and a pair of cotton pajama pants in bright blue. Her hair was woven in a messy braid, her face scrubbed clean. With no makeup, she was even prettier. There was nothing to detract from her wise gray eyes and expressive mouth.

  “This is getting to be a habit, Cowboy,” she drawled, stepping out onto the welcome mat to look over his shoulder. “What will the neighbors say?”

  He caught a hint of her shampoo as she stood by him. He battled a fierce urge to lean down and breathe in the scent of her.

  “Since there’s no one around for almost a mile, I think we’re okay.” He gestured to his horse. “And Aurora doesn’t judge.”

  “No?” A smile curved her lips. “Then no wonder you chose a career where you’re surrounded by horses.”

  He heard the edge in her voice and wondered if he’d struck a nerve.

  “You’re in a notoriously competitive field,” he said carefully, waving her outside. “And I won’t stay long. I only came to show you something out here.”

  “Outside in the dark?” she asked, her voice full of skepticism.

  “Yes, ma’am. Grab a sweater if you want. Or shoes. But you can see it from the deck.”

  “It’s the least I can do, since I owe you a thank-you for the surprise packages you had sent over here today.” She leaned to one side, pulling a gray cardigan sweater off a hat rack made of elk antlers by the door. “I was stunned to find a few options for dresses to wear to the wedding.”

  “It was my pleasure since you were kind enough to be my date on short notice.” He tugged the lightweight cashmere from her hands. “Allow me.”

  He held the shoulders wide so she could slide one arm in, and then the other.

  Releasing the collar, he let the fabric fall against her neck. Then, unable to resist, he slipped his hand beneath the braid trapped by the material, tugging it free. Her hair was soft as silk on his skin.

  His hand faltered in midair, his brain reeling at how much he wanted to keep on touching her.

  “It was very thoughtful of you. Thank you.” She edged away quickly, stepping out the door and onto the welcome mat after sliding sandals on her feet. He noticed that her toenails were painted br
ight pink. “I’m ready.”

  He took her hand, telling himself it was for practical purposes since he didn’t want her to trip in the dark. “Be careful.”

  Brock wanted to get closer to her. To learn more about her. See if he could unlock the secrets in her eyes.

  Failing that, he just wanted to spend time with her. To lose himself in the warmth of her smile. The ease of being with someone who didn’t want to talk about blackmail and PR strategies. Hell, he just wanted to enjoy the simple pleasure of stargazing with her.

  The opera that was playing ended, giving way to a more haunting melody, the sound growing quieter as he led her to the darker back corner of the deck for the best view.

  “Close your eyes.” He spoke the words softly, against her hair, his jaw against her temple.

  “You’re being very mysterious,” she accused softly. “I can hardly see in front of me as it is.”

  “Just trust me.” He let go of her hand to cover her eyes with one hand, his arm around her. She felt so right against him, like she belonged there.

  But he didn’t let himself get distracted by that now. He tipped her head back.

  “You can open now.” He moved his hand away, staring up into the night sky with her as a streak of light grazed the heavens above their heads.

  She gasped with delight, her face full of wonder in the pale glow of the waning moon. “How did you know that would happen?”

  “I didn’t. That was just good timing.” He pulled over a cushioned patio bench for her. “It’s the peak of the Perseid meteor shower this week. I thought maybe you’d enjoy one of the benefits of living far from city lights. Our views are usually really good out here.”

  “That’s amazing.” Her eyes continued to scan the skies even as she took a seat. “Should I turn off the light inside?”

  “I can get it.” He jogged around to the front of the house again, reaching inside the front door long enough to flip the main switch before rejoining her.

  He dropped onto the bench next to her, tossing aside an extra pillow to make more room for himself. He slid off his hat and set it on the planked floor while the opera ladies sang back and forth on the music still playing inside.

  “Look!” Hannah pointed overhead to a streak of green, white and red. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a shooting star before.”

  “It’s comet rubble, I think. Earth passes through the orbital path of a comet this time of year, so the streaks are bits of cosmic debris hitting the atmosphere.”

  “‘Shooting star’ has a more poetic ring to it.” She kept her gaze fixed on the sky. “I hope your father and stepmother are watching. It seems like a good omen for the night before their wedding.”

  “They’ve got a lock on all things romantic for tomorrow,” he assured her. “I just finished clearing out the barn with my brothers, and my sisters were starting to decorate when we left. Madeline showed me a photo of what they’re going for and it should look really nice.”

  “They’re decorating now? At almost midnight?” She glanced over at him. “I’m surprised the McNeill family doesn’t have a fleet of workers to do things like that for them.”

  “Dad has always stressed the value of hard work. But even if he wanted to hire out the jobs, his hands are tied this week since he doesn’t want to attract any extra attention to the ranch or invite media speculation.”

  “So this will be a low-key event?”

  “Not in the slightest.” He spotted the start of another meteor and pointed toward the arc of white light. Here in the shadow of the house with a wide-open view of the night sky, they had the best possible seat for the event. “My father is determined that Paige feel the full love and support of the family tomorrow, so he’s doing everything in his power to make it memorable.”

  “Such as?” Hannah slid off a shoe and tucked one foot under her. Her knee brushed against his thigh and rogue visions swamped him. Passionate visions that he needed to lock down fast.

  He dragged in a deep, cooling breath of night air and kept his eyes on the stars.

  “I don’t want to ruin any of the surprises. But he’s having services like the catering truck come through the gates at three in the morning in an effort to elude media interest.” Brock had to hand it to the old man. He’d planned carefully.

  “Very smart of him.” Hannah clutched his knee as another meteor streaked past in a blue blaze. “The colors are so pretty.”

  Brock’s pulse slugged harder as he began to doubt the wisdom of inviting her out here. He wanted to get to know her better, but it wasn’t easy to make friendly chitchat when the attraction rocketed between them hotter than any fiery cosmic debris.

  He closed his eyes for a second, trying to stay in the moment and the conversation. Trying to remember he was here to get to know her better, not test the heat of their chemistry.

  “I’m happily surprised at the level of effort Dad has made. My stepmother has been the unsung rock of our family for as long as they’ve been married, and I’m glad he’s recognizing that.”

  Hannah gave a bitter laugh. “Some men go a lifetime without noticing the good people in their lives. My father walked out on Mom, Hope and me the moment he found a woman whose ambitions matched his own.”

  “I’m sorry you went through that.” He plucked up the end of her braid where it sat on her shoulder, testing the ends against his finger. “And even though that was extremely wrong of him, I wonder if it wasn’t easier on your mother than if she had stayed another fifteen years with a man who didn’t appreciate her enough.”

  Had Paige stayed with his father only because she felt trapped? Because she was hiding from her real family, using the protection of the McNeill name?

  “Maybe it was,” Hannah admitted. “But he sure didn’t do Hope any favors by writing her off.”

  “What about you, Hannah?” Brock set down her braid, easing forward on the bench to see her expression now that his eyes were accustomed to the dark. “It had to be equally difficult for you.”

  “No.” She shook her head, vehemence in her voice. “I don’t need someone who puts more value on material things than people. But my sister was young enough when he left that I think it made her more...susceptible to the promise of love and acceptance.”

  “Susceptible?” He wanted to learn more about her, and he’d sure latched on to something tonight, but he couldn’t quite identify what it was. Resentment, yes. But Brock felt like he was only getting half the story. “You make love and acceptance sound like an illness.”

  “It can be when you seek it too desperately because you weren’t given enough as a child.” Anger tightened her voice. “It makes you a target for people to take advantage of you.”

  He turned that over for a long moment, thinking through the implications of the little she’d shared. The night sky gave them something to focus on so the silence didn’t feel awkward. Finally, he broke the quiet.

  “It sounds like Hope has been through a lot.” He slid his palm over to where Hannah’s rested on the cushion between them. Slipping his fingers between each of hers, he squeezed her hand. “But she obviously has a fierce protector in you, Hannah. You were probably better for her than any inattentive father could have been.”

  For a long moment, he simply felt her pulse gently drumming in the heel of her hand beneath her thumb. But eventually, she turned her gaze toward him.

  “I would gladly trade my own happiness for hers.” She spoke with a conviction that made it sound like she’d already made that devil’s bargain. “But I’m not sure that it will do her any good.”

  Brock couldn’t add up the pieces of her cryptic confidences. Maybe it was because of the amnesia, and his brain was only working at half speed. Or maybe it was because the attraction thwarted his more noble intentions. But selfishly, he wished he could ease that hurt in her eyes.

  “You can’t l
ive your life for someone else. Or give away your happiness to save another person’s.” His free hand found the soft curve of her cheek, his thumb stroking her there. “It doesn’t work like that.”

  Her eyes fluttered as he touched her. Out here, under the natural fireworks of the night sky, it felt like they were all alone on the edge of the world, with no witnesses except the night breeze to hear them.

  He caught himself moving toward her. Knew he needed to hold back.

  “I haven’t given all my happiness away,” she admitted, opening her eyes wide again, her pupils dilated so that there was only the slimmest gray ring around the edges. “I could still have one taste.”

  Her gaze dipped to his mouth, torching his restraint.

  “One kiss. That’s all,” he swore...to himself? To her? To the universe?

  He didn’t know.

  Gently, he angled her chin up and captured her lips with his. Heat spiked in his spine, tightening his shoulders and tensing everything else. She melted into him, her lips parting, back arching, molding delectable feminine curves against him.

  He untwined their fingers because he needed both hands on her to steady her hips. To still her for a moment. Ensure she didn’t end up in his lap. Because if that happened...

  “Brock.” She breathed his name against his damp mouth as her fingers raked down his back and up again.

  She wriggled closer, the heat of her skin warming his palms right through the thick fabric of the pajama bottoms.

  Ah, damn.

  He hauled her across his thighs, knowing they couldn’t take this any further outside under the stars. She straddled him, her knees locked against his waist, the heat of her sex evident right through the denim of his fly.

  Things could go off the rails so fast if he wasn’t careful.

  Especially since he could feel her heart pounding, and the soft moans she made when she kissed him were the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard.

  But there was something fragile inside Hannah Ryder. Some secret or some hurt, he didn’t know which anymore, that kept her from him. So he was going to honor that “one kiss” vow if it killed him.