Seduction Of The Reluctant Bride - Barbara McCauley

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for them to register. Of all the things he might have expected her to say, that was the last. “You’re here to see me?”

      “You are the man that Mr. Montgomery appointed as executor of his estate, aren’t you? Owner of the Circle B ranch in Stone Creek County?”

      How would she know that? And why did she keep referring to Mr. Montgamery? Digger had a tendency to punch anyone who called him by his real name.

      “Yes,” he answered slowly. “Digger did appoint me executor. But I doubt that you’re interested in a stuffed grizzly bear or set of frying pans.”

      “Pardon me?”

      “Never mind. I have a reception to go to over at the hotel. You’re welcome to join me, but why don’t we just get whatever it is you came here to say out of the way first.”

      “Yes, of course.” She cleared her throat. “Mr. McCants—Sam—I’d like to inform you that I—we—at Elijah Jane Corporation are most anxious to work with you toward settling the matter of Mr. Mont—Digger’s—holdings.”

      “Elijah Jane Corporation? As in the restaurant chain?” Sam frowned. “Why would they be interested in Digger? And what holdings are you talking about? Digger ran a small diner here in town, in a rented space, and lived in a tiny apartment at the hotel. He had an old truck, at least he had one until six months ago when Andy over at the gas station gave it last rites. That, other than the grizzly bear and frying pans I already mentioned, are the extent of Digger’s holdings.”

      Her incredible blue eyes widened. “You mean, you don’t know?”

      Her startled question, sort of a throaty whisper, skimmed over him like silky fingers. “Know what?”

      Her composure was back now, her face controlled and voice steady. “Mr. McCants, Francis Elijah Montgomery, known to you as Digger Jones, was the sole owner of Elijah Jane Corporation, a company with gross sales of over twohundred-million dollars and a net worth of approximately twenty-million dollars.”

      Two

      Faith watched Sam’s face go blank as he stared at her. His eyes, filled with impatience only a moment ago, were empty now, void of any emotion.

      Then he began to laugh.

      It started off as a low rumble in his broad chest, then spread to a rolling wave of hilarity. He sat in the pew, shaking his head, and the sound of his laughter echoed in the now empty church.

      Faith had no idea how to respond to Sam’s display of amusement. She’d negotiated million-dollar deals with the toughest clients in Boston and Colorado, calmed an entire room of excited stockholders, settled disputes between employees and management. Those things were all in a day’s work. She thrived on it, flourished in the order and control she executed. And still, at this moment, she couldn’t seem to manage one discomposed cowboy.

      Why was this one man throwing off her equilibrium so badly?

      Certainly not because he was handsome. She met handsome men all the time. Faith Courtland was not the type to be influenced by a pretty face. Sam McCants might have the darkest, most extraordinary eyes she’d ever seen, and maybe there was an aura of blatant sexuality she’d never encountered before. That cute shock of black hair falling over his forehead might even tempt a weaker woman. But not her. No way.

      “Twenty...million...dollars,” he managed between guffaws. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s ripe. You’re good, I gotta tell you. Real good. You almost had me there.”

      Almost had him? He still didn’t believe her? Exasperated, she tucked her hair behind her ear and straightened. “Mr. McCants, let me assure you—”

      Faith let out a small squeak as Sam grabbed her hand and pulled her down beside him. “Sweetheart, I’ll let you do anything you like to me. Just tell me, was it Jared or Jake? Both, right? I don’t know where they found you, but you’re one sweet filly. Damn, those boys are good.”

      This was going all wrong. Every rehearsed statement, every carefully developed stage of her agenda here was being shot to hell. She had no idea what this man was talking about, and with his chest suddenly pressed up against her, pushing her back against the pew, she suddenly found it difficult to think at all.

      She felt the heat of his body seep through her silk jacket and slide over her skin. His mouth hovered mere inches from hers, those sexy eyes of his half closed, barely revealing a mixture of amusement and desire.

      “Mr. McCants, Sam, please.”

      His breath fanned her earlobe, then her cheek. “I love the way you say please,” he murmured huskily. “Say it again.”

      She almost did, then stopped herself, pressing a hand to his chest and pushing him away. Heart pounding, she stood on shaky knees and tugged at her jacket.

      “I don’t know anyone named Jared or Jake,” she said, embarrassed that her voice cracked. “And no one ‘found me,’ as you so crudely put it. I’m here as vice president of Elijah Jane Corporation, and whether you believe it or not, Digger Jones does—did—indeed own the company.”

      Her fingers were shaking as she reached inside her purse and pulled a business card from her wallet. Sam held his gaze on hers as he took the card.

      “Elijah Jane Corporation,” he read aloud. “Boston, Massachusetts. Faith Alexis Courtland, Vice President.” He glanced back up at her. “So the Stone brothers didn’t hire you to snooker me?”

      Snooker? Faith wasn’t sure what it meant, but she didn’t like the sound of it one little bit. “A man’s funeral is hardly the time to ‘snooker’ anyone, Mr. McCants. Elijah Jane Corporation is devastated over Mr. Montgomery’s tragic accident.”

      She was serious, Sam realized, taking in the firm set of her upturned lips and the fixed look in her pretty eyes. Completely serious. This woman really believed what she was saying.

      There was a mistake here, of course, Sam knew. Some bizarre twist of fate had mysteriously mixed up Digger Jones of Cactus Flat with some other fellow, who just happened, by some weird coincidence, to have the same name: Francis Elijah Montgomery.

      But bizarre or not, who was he to question fate? She’d find out soon enough she had the wrong man. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too soon. This time of the year was slow at the ranch. A little diversion—especially one with bottomless blue eyes and enticing curves—would be more than welcome.

      Faith snapped her purse shut and tossed back her neatly trimmed, shoulder-length blond hair. “In case you haven’t heard of us, we have fifty restaurants across the country, plus an extensive frozen food line carried by most grocery stores. We’re famous for our steaks and ribs,” she said proudly.

      Sam might have mentioned to Faith that he had a freezer full of Elijah Jane’s Hearty Homestyle Meals for the nights that Gazella, his housekeeper, had off, but that clipped, cool tone had crept back into her voice and he wouldn’t give Miss Faith Courtland, Vice President, the satisfaction. And he wondered what she might say if he told her that he supplied the beef, through a distributor, for those steaks Elijah Jane was so famous for.

      He pocketed her business card, then settled his arms over the back of the pew as he looked up at her. Damn, but this woman was easy on the eyes...and hard on the hormones. “I believe I’ve heard the name before, once or twice.”

      He was making fun of her, Faith was certain of it. But in spite of herself, and as hard as she wanted to be offended, she found the glint of humor in his eyes fascinating, and much to her distress, extremely appealing.

      “Mr. McCants—” she began, clearing her throat “—Mr. Montgomery, Digger, has always been reclusive. A mystery owner who preferred to stay in the shadows and let his carefully selected employees run his company. His only demands were the highest quality food, absolute best service, and detailed weekly reports.”

      He watched her for a long moment, his arms draped casually

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