LITMIR.BIZ

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if his nearness didn’t affect her so much. As it stood, her thoughts scattered like dandelion fluff on a spring breeze whenever he was close.

      She scooped up some raspberries from a chilled dish on one of the kitchen islands and dumped them on her china plate next to a few wedges of cheese and some baguette slices. She’d given up searching the party for April Stephens, the woman she’d met at their shared dress fitting earlier in the day. April had seemed like a promising lead for more information about the Mesa Falls Ranch owners since she, too, was in Montana to investigate the finances of Alonzo Salazar.

      But by all accounts, the woman had left the party alone shortly after Gage had pulled Elena aside to speak to her. As for the other ranch owners, she’d spotted Weston Rivera drinking by himself in a back den, and his brother, Miles, in a heated conversation with Desmond Pierce out by the pool in the backyard. But they’d both stopped talking as soon as she’d stepped outside, making it impossible for her to overhear anything.

      And Gage, the only other owner on-site tonight, was never far from Elena’s side. Even now, he entered the kitchen moments behind her, balancing a trio of half-empty champagne flutes in one hand.

      With his bow tie long gone, he looked deliciously disheveled. The top button of his tuxedo shirt was undone, and his five o’clock shadow had been darkening steadily as the evening wore on. She noticed that other women’s eyes followed him when he walked past. It provided some small comfort that she wasn’t the only person captivated by his dark good looks and athletic physique.

      But she knew better than to get involved. Again.

      “The catering staff not only serves the food, they provide cleanup afterward,” she noted, nodding to his handful of crystal stemware. “That’s what you pay them for.”

      “Thank you, Elena, for the entertaining tips. But when one is trapped in a room where the conversation has turned to which lipstick is the longest-wearing, the urge to escape by any means becomes overwhelming.” Setting the glasses in the sink, he joined her at the kitchen island. “May I join you?”

      He was already helping himself to half a baguette, not bothering with a plate. She hid a smile. His father might have poured a lot of time and money into cultivating an heir with posh manners and social savvy, but Gage had resisted at least some of the efforts to tame him.

      “Only if we can talk about something besides makeup.” She found a napkin and retrieved her glass of water to bring with her. “I’ve had all the party small talk I can bear, too.”

      It frustrated her that she’d learned so little about the Mesa Falls Ranch owners or Alonzo Salazar this evening. But maybe she could still learn something from her host.

      The crowd had thinned out considerably. The only guests still dancing in the great room were younger members of the celebrity entourages. It looked like one of the pop singers was deep in conversation with a European model Elena had spoken to only briefly. The party guests weren’t the kinds of people Gage had normally chosen to surround himself with, but then, the evening had been carefully planned by the ranch’s public relations staff to showcase Mesa Falls for young influencers who might bring more attention to the ranch’s environmental initiatives.

      She admired the intent, even if the crowd was far different from what she was used to. They all seemed so damned young.

      “Let’s sit at the breakfast bar.” He nodded toward the coffee station near the back windows overlooking the darkened pool area outside. “That way I can keep an eye on things until these people run out of gas.”

      Elena slid into the cushioned wraparound bench that surrounded the table on three sides. Even though it was close to the kitchen, the spot was quiet since the catering staff was based in a mobile food preparation truck outside.

      Gage slid in to sit near her, closer than she’d expected him to. To converse? Or to prove his point about her not being indifferent? Glancing over at him, she had to concede that she couldn’t read the nuances of his expression anymore. Or perhaps he’d cultivated a greater skill in keeping his thoughts to himself since she’d known him. No doubt that was a formidable asset in his business dealings.

      “So how long are you in town for?” she asked as she unfolded a linen napkin and laid it over her lap. She might as well dig for answers from the only Mesa Falls Ranch owner she knew personally. “You mentioned staying in Montana beyond tonight, but the last I knew your full-time residence was in Palo Alto.”

      He’d only just purchased that property when she’d met him. They’d talked about moving in together before things fell apart on the ill-fated trip to New Zealand to meet his family.

      “It has been my home base ever since I purchased it.” He tore the baguette in half and offered her a piece, but she shook her head. “But Weston is looking for someone else to oversee the ranch full-time.”

      Sitting so close to him called forth old memories. His aftershave was the same; since they’d broken up, the scent had sometimes tempted her in her dreams.

      Dropping a few raspberries into her chilled water, she tried to refocus on their conversation, needing to learn what she could from him.

      “Is Weston leaving the group?” she asked, mentally reviewing what she knew about the six partners. Weston Rivera was the younger of the Rivera brothers, both of whom owned a stake in the ranch. Weston had diverse investments around the country—mostly in fast-growth start-ups that had made him a very rich man. Miles Rivera ran their family’s ranch in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in central California.

      “No. But now that we’re beginning to attract tabloid attention—” he paused to give her a meaningful look “—Weston doesn’t want to be solely responsible for overseeing the security and privacy of the guests.”

      Either that, or he wanted help ensuring the ranch owners’ secrets were kept on lockdown. She was willing to bet the latter.

      “So you’re moving here more permanently?” She couldn’t envision Gage retreating from the world in this remote corner of western Montana.

      He might not have gone into politics like his father wanted, and he definitely didn’t fit the same spit-shined image his father projected, but he had inherited his family’s comfort in social situations. More than that, he was good with people, and seemed to enjoy working in team settings, not on isolated ranches.

      “For now, yes.” He stabbed a fat strawberry with his dessert fork. “We’ll see how the year unfolds with all the media interest in Alonzo.”

      She sipped her water and watched the antics in the great room as two young men held a dance-off for the enjoyment of the six or seven ladies draped on Gage’s leather sofas. Suit jackets discarded, the men spun on the toes of their slick dress shoes and performed hip swivels that had the women cheering and whistling.

      The DJ seemed oblivious, spinning records and nodding to herself as she cued one song after another. One of her headphones had slipped off her ear.

      “If you keep hosting house parties like this one, your time in town won’t be boring,” Elena observed lightly, amazed at the agility of the dancers.

      Gage looked into the great room and shook his head. “I’m not sure living room dance battles are going to provide much entertainment. Besides, I like ranch life. Don’t forget, I grew up on a cattle station before my father turned his attention to politics.”

      In fact, that detail of his past had slipped her mind. But now it all came back to her. They’d made plans to see the cattle station on her trip to New Zealand with him. But before they could, his father had intervened to confront Elena about her relationship with Gage. She’d flown home early. Alone.

      She was still lost in thought when the DJ finished her set. A woman Elena guessed was part of the ranch’s PR staff arrived in the great room to urge the last of the guests into the swag room, enticing them with the promise of luxe goods and a fitting for a custom Stetson. The great room suddenly went quiet, as the group shuffled out, drinks in hand.

      “What

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