With a Stetson and a Smile & The Bridesmaid’s Bet Read online

  “Now it’s your turn,” Quinn said. “What’s with the horse sperm?”

  “It belongs to my friend Cassie’s stallion, Sir Lust-a-Lot. Cassie was my college roommate, and I worked at her family’s stable in upstate New York after graduation. Then I inherited the ranch, and we established a spring tradition—I take the red-eye to New York, shop all morning, meet Cassie for lunch at Tavern on the Green and leave with the sperm.”

  “Are you telling me you don’t have horse sperm in Montana?”

  “Sure, we do, but this is a connection with Cassie, and besides, Sir Lust-a-Lot has extremely viable sperm. Good little swimmers. My mares get pregnant like that.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis, then glimpsed the snake easing out from under her seat. She kept an eye on it and said nothing.

  “Is that what you raise on your ranch? Horses?”

  “No. We try to raise cattle.” Jo sighed as she was reminded of her heavy debt load, most of it accumulated since she’d inherited the Bar None. She might be good with horses, but she was financially challenged. She should have followed Josephine’s advice and taken more accounting courses, but they’d given her a migraine, and she’d really had no idea Josephine would will her the ranch. “We lost quite a chunk of the herd this past winter. I’m already behind on my payments to the bank, so I’m not sure what the future holds.”

  “I guess it’s tough to be a small ranching operation these days.”

  “It is tough. And when the ranch is such a little gem and has been entrusted into your care by your favorite great-aunt, you’d do almost anything to keep it going.” She glanced at him. “I’m sorry you’re not Brian Hastings. One of his advance men came by the ranch last fall and said they were looking for a location for his next film. If you were Brian Hastings, I’d fall to my knees and beg you to use the ranch in your movie.”

  He smiled at her. “And if I were Brian Hastings, I would use your ranch in my next movie.”

  “Thanks.” She really liked that smile of his. Actually she thought it was sexier than Brian’s, but she probably shouldn’t say so. They were only going to be sharing a cab ride, after all. No point in starting anything, especially with a guy whose roots were in New York City. Despite her money problems, she’d discovered a kinship with Montana. Even losing the ranch might not force her to leave. But she intended to find a way to keep the Bar None. Somehow.

  “I take it you haven’t heard any more from the Hastings organization?”

  “Nope. But I shamelessly told the bank that the movie deal was a sure thing. It’s kept them off my back temporarily, but if Brian Hastings never shows, the bank will start demanding money again.”

  “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to stake everything on the whim of a movie star,” Quinn said.

  “Probably not.” Jo watched the snake ease out a little more and poised herself to lean down and snatch it. To distract Quinn from what she was doing, she kept talking. “Considering the shaky condition of my finances I shouldn’t have made the sperm run this year, but Cassie’s decided to geld Sir Lust-a-Lot this spring, so this is my last chance to breed my mares to him, unless we get into freezing sperm, which is too complicated and expensive for me.”

  “Gelding. Is that where they cut off—”

  “Let’s just say he’ll lose the ability to be a family man.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Because he’s a pain in the butt and useless as a saddle horse. Gelding should mellow him out. I don’t blame her. She’s the one who has to put up with his testosterone fits, not me.”

  “So you’re carrying Sir Lust-a-Lot’s last stand?”

  Jo laughed. “I guess you could say that. The sperm’s packed in dry ice, and it’s always stayed fresh for the plane flight home, but I don’t want to miss that plane and risk having it go bad.”

  Quinn stepped on the gas. “Then let’s make sure you don’t.” He started weaving through traffic like a man on a mission.

  Jo smiled. Some men took castration of male animals personally. Apparently Quinn was one of those who did. Maybe that was a good thing, because as long as he was thinking about Sir Lust-a-Lot’s fate he might forget about the snake, which was almost within her reach. “So you’re really an investment banker?” She leaned slowly down, straining slightly against the seat belt.

  “Yeah, I really am.”

  She made a grab for the snake and missed. “Damn!”

  “Sorry I’m not something more exciting, like a movie star.”

  “It’s not that.” She tossed her hat in the back seat and unbuckled her seat belt as the snake moved quickly to Quinn’s side of the car. “Slow the car, get in the right-hand lane and hold still.”

  “Oh, God. The snake.” Quinn eased his foot off the gas.

  “Yep. He’s just a little guy, which makes him harder to catch.” She got to her knees on the floor of the passenger side and reached toward Quinn’s ankle.

  “He’s down there? Right by my foot?”

  “Don’t be afraid. He won’t hurt you.”

  “I’m not afraid, dammit! I’m just…” He paused and made a strangled sound. “What’s that?”

  “Hold still. He’s trying to climb up your leg.”

  “Up my leg? What for?”

  “Maybe it’s a girl snake, and she’s curious.” Jo clamped an arm around Quinn’s thigh, noting he had great muscles, and reached under his pants leg.

  “Oh, my God. What’s happening?”

  “Don’t look down here! Watch where you’re going, Quinn!”

  “Holy sh—” Quinn’s voice was drowned out by the loud thunk of metal against metal.

  2

  JO CLUTCHED Quinn’s thigh to keep from being thrown against the dashboard as the cab lurched from the impact. The jolt dislodged the small snake, and she grabbed it behind its head. “Got him!”

  “Jo!” Gasping, he clutched her shoulder. “God, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

  “I think so.” She released his thigh and pushed herself upright. “See?” She dangled the snake in front of him.

  “Real small.”

  Quinn didn’t look so good. In fact, he was breathing hard and looked ready to pass out.

  “Quinn, are you hurt?”

  “No.” He kept staring at the snake. When someone started knocking on his window, he reached around and rolled it down without taking his eyes off the snake.

  A man peered into the cab. “We got a problem here, buddy. You want to call the police?”

  “Uh, sure.” Quinn didn’t move.

  Jo figured if she didn’t get the snake out of the cab he would stay frozen in that position forever. She looked around and discovered they weren’t far from JFK. The vacant lot beside the expressway would have to do. She glanced at the man looking in the window. “Sir, I’m going to take this snake over to that field. In the meantime, Quinn, you can call the police and also call me another cab.”

  Quinn nodded, but he didn’t take his attention off the wiggling snake in her hand.

  Keeping a firm hold on it, Jo climbed onto the seat and opened the passenger door. As she got out she called to Quinn over her shoulder. “Move my stuff over to the other cab while I’m gone, okay? I don’t want to miss that plane!”

  She climbed the knee-high metal railing beside the road and sidestepped down an embankment. “After all this I want to get you far enough away from the road that you won’t get run over,” she said to the snake. “This looks like a good field. There ought to be plenty of bugs, and when you’re bigger you might even find a mouse or two.”

  After hiking about thirty yards through clumps of wild grass, she slowly lowered the snake to the ground. “There you go. Stay away from the road. Have a good life.”

  The snake darted away without so much as a thank-you. But Jo felt immensely better as she walked toward the road. Holding the snake had been like a moment from home, where she’d learned to appreciate all creatures. She’d grown up in a city—her father and stepmother sti
ll lived in Chicago—but cities were no longer home to her. Maybe they hadn’t been for a long time. Her summers with Aunt Josephine at the Bar None had probably ruined her for city life by the time she was ten.

  When she reached the expressway, the police and a second cab had arrived on the scene. Quinn was standing beside the damaged cab waving his arms and looking upset. Even upset he looked damned good—broad shoulders, lean hips. He really was attractive, she thought. Too bad he lived in New York. She climbed the railing and walked to the group.

  The man whose car Quinn had hit glanced at her suspiciously before turning to the police officer. “There was something kinky going on in that vehicle, I tell you. I was riding along next to them, and they were going really slow, so I got curious and went slow. Then they started swerving all over the road, and then she got down and put her face in his lap, if you get my meaning.”

  “She was trying to get a snake out of my pants!” Quinn bellowed.

  The man glanced at the officer. “So who drives to the airport with a snake in his pants?”

  “Nobody!” Quinn’s jaw worked. “I’m sure my friend Murray is behind this snake thing. He probably paid the guy with the snakes.”

  The officer cleared his throat and gazed at Jo. “Would you like to tell us your version?”

  She glanced at her watch and gauged the distance to the airport. “I would love to, but I’m warning you that unless I catch my plane, my sperm will spoil.”

  Quinn groaned.

  Jo realized she should have phrased the sentence differently as soon as it left her mouth. “I was referring to horse sperm, Officer, which I am transporting, with all the necessary health department papers, to Montana. Quinn’s previous passenger left a snake in his cab, and I was indeed trying to catch it when the incident occurred. I just released the little fellow in that field over there.”

  Quinn stepped forward. “Look, she really had nothing to do with the accident. I’ll vouch for that. The cab company will assume all liability for this.” He turned to the owner of the other car. “The sperm she’s carrying is from a stallion that’s being castrated, maybe right this minute. She has to get on that plane to Montana so the poor horse can have one last shot at immortality, okay?”

  The man’s belligerent expression evaporated. “Oh, well, in that case…” He turned to the officer. “Never mind the kinky thing. Just a routine fender bender. I’m sure the cab company will handle everything. This poor slob should be fired, though.”

  “I’m sure I will be,” Quinn said.

  “So I’m free to go?” Jo asked.

  “After I get some basic information,” the officer said.

  Jo gave him what he needed and turned to Quinn. “I guess this means you lose your bet with Murray.”

  “Afraid so. Jo, I’m sorry about this. It’s just that—”

  “You’re petrified of snakes.”

  He flashed her a little-boy grin. “Yep.”

  “There are worse flaws,” Jo said. “Listen, I gotta go. Is all my stuff in the other cab?”

  “Bill transferred it as soon as he pulled up. I think he consolidated a few things so it’d be easier to carry up to the gate.”

  “That was nice of him.”

  Quinn stuck out his hand. “Good luck with the ranch.”

  “Thanks.” She liked the feel of his hand—warm, strong, secure. “Good luck with Murray.” With a smile she released his hand and hurried to the waiting cab.

  Approximately thirty-five minutes later, as she was checking into the gate, she realized that the cooler of horse sperm was nowhere to be seen.

  QUINN didn’t find the cooler of horse sperm on the floor of the back seat until the tow truck arrived. Just before the cab was winched on the flatbed, Quinn put in a quick call to Bill and had him pick him up.

  Bill grinned as Quinn climbed into the cab. “You’re lucky you caught me. I was next in line for a fare at the airport.”

  “You’re lucky I caught you, too.” Quinn held up the cooler. “You forgot to transfer this. It belongs to Jo, the woman you just took to the airport. We have to try and catch her before she boards that plane.”

  Bill gunned the engine and zipped into a break in traffic. “I thought that was your lunch, man!”

  “It’s sperm from a stallion that is probably being castrated even as we speak.”

  “Get outta here!”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but she came to New York to pick this up and take it back so she can give it to her mares in Montana.”

  Bill shook his head. “Me, I don’t believe in those methods. I know a guy who donated to a sperm bank. Now what fun is that?”

  “Don’t know. Never tried it.”

  “Me, neither.” Bill glanced at Quinn. “How do you figure they do it with stallions?”

  Quinn had been wondering the same thing ever since Jo had convinced him she was really transporting horse sperm. “Let’s not even go there. Listen, drop me at the airline where you let her off.”

  “Good luck, but I really don’t think you can make it. She was running behind. She thanked me for getting her packages all organized, and I guess she thought the cooler was in one of the bags.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s been a crazy day.”

  “No kidding. Everybody knows about your little brush with the law, by the way. Murray’s busting a gut laughing.”

  “I knew it! I knew he was behind that snake thing.”

  “No, he wasn’t, swear to God! He said he couldn’t have planned a better day for you if he’d tried.” Bill maneuvered next to the curb. “Should I wait?”

  “Nope.”

  “Yeah, but if you don’t catch her, what are you gonna do? You can’t follow her to Montana.”

  Quinn stared at Bill as he considered the idea for the first time. He hadn’t planned his next step if he missed the plane, but he’d been mostly to blame for this whole mess, and Jo would be bitterly disappointed to lose Sir Lust-a-Lot’s sperm on top of all her financial problems. He didn’t like to think about her being bitterly disappointed, especially if it was his doing. And it wasn’t as if he couldn’t get away from the office for a few days…. “Sure, I can,” he said.

  DRIVING a back road miles from Bozeman, Quinn felt as small as a flea on the back of a woolly mammoth. The headlights of his rental car cast the only light for miles around, not counting the moon and stars overhead. The mountains loomed threateningly around him, pitch-black except for a pale topping of moonlit snow. There was so much space in Montana. If his rental car broke down, he could imagine waiting for days before another vehicle came down this two-lane highway.

  Belatedly he wished he’d brought food and water, a sleeping bag, a…a rifle. He’d never shot a gun in his life, but this was the sort of country that seemed to require fire-arms. And it was Jo’s country. His estimation of her grit and determination rose with every bend in the increasingly lonely road.

  He hoped to God he was on the right lonely road. While he’d waited for his flight he’d asked his secretary to call every chamber of commerce in Montana until she found somebody who recognized the name Bar None. Fortunately she’d hit pay dirt within the first half hour of phoning. Unfortunately it was located near a town named Ugly Bug, on the banks of Ugly Bug Creek. After snakes and lizards, Quinn listed bugs as his third least favorite creature.

  If he was on the right road he might miss the turnoff to the ranch, but at least he’d eventually get to Ugly Bug. If he was on the wrong road he’d probably drive until he ran out of gas, and then a bear would eat him.

  He’d always been fascinated with the West, but he realized that his picture of it had been highly romanticized. Cowboys around a campfire, the comradery of a roundup, card games in the local saloon. His image of the West had been cozy, quaint and not nearly big enough. This country was enormous.

  He rounded another bend and saw a spark of light nestled in a valley. Checking his odometer, he decided it could be coming from the Bar None. Maybe he’d defied the
odds and found the place. Maybe they wouldn’t find his bleached bones lying beside a dried-up watering hole.

  A few more bends in the road, and sure enough, on his right stood a big wooden gate. Two upright poles supported a crossbeam, and from that dangled a sign. Quinn couldn’t read it in the dark, but he’d bet it said Bar None.

  He shone his car’s headlights on the gate and got out to open it. The thing was wired together instead of padlocked, which was fortunate for him. The barbed wire fence on either side of the gate wasn’t something he wanted to tangle with. He drove through and went back to hook the gate closed again.

  Driving slowly down the dirt road toward the cluster of lights he assumed was the ranch, he noticed dark shapes scattered across the moonlit landscape. Either cows or bears, he concluded. He remembered Jo mentioning timber rattlers with bodies as thick as his forearm, and he shuddered. With luck, none of those would be hanging around the front porch of her house tonight.

  Finally he arrived at a cluster of buildings and corrals. With his limited knowledge, he figured the two-story white clapboard one was the main house, the rust-colored structure was a barn and the third, also rust-colored, was probably a bunkhouse. Light spilled from the ranch-house windows onto the front porch with its wide swing and two rocking chairs.

  The whole arrangement was right out of a Brian Hastings movie. Cowboys were making a comeback these days, and Hastings was cashing in on the new craze. Quinn hoped to hell Hastings would contract with Jo for the use of her ranch. Any woman who could keep her cool under fire the way Jo had today deserved a break.

  Taking the cooler from the passenger seat, Quinn got out and closed the car door. A plump woman of about forty opened the door and peered out. Such a thing would never happen in the city, Quinn thought, remembering his triple-locked apartment door.

  He smiled at the woman. “Hello, I’m—”

  “Glory, hallelujah.” The woman gazed at him as if she were witnessing the second coming.

  Quinn figured she must have recognized the cooler he carried, but even so he was a little taken aback at the woman’s worshipful expression. “Hey, glad to be of service. It’s the least I could do, under the circumstances.”