Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Quinn could think of another scenario that would have him moaning in ecstasy.
Not that Emmy Lou’s cooking wasn’t melt-in-his-mouth perfect, especially considering how hungry he was by the time he bit into her fried chicken, but it wasn’t the housekeeper’s skills at the stove that had him considering a stay on the ranch.
Of course there were the snakes to consider, and he still worried about how the town of Ugly Bug got its name.
Maybe he could just stay inside a lot. Jo awakened basic urges in him, and basic urges were best investigated inside, anyway.
He’d started fantasizing what it would be like to hold her in his arms, kiss those cherry red lips, touch her soft skin.
But her physical attributes weren’t the only draw.
He was also a sucker for a woman in distress.
At first he’d only been concerned with getting the horse sperm to her on time, but now that he’d seen the ranch, he couldn’t help thinking what a shame it would be for her to lose it.
He didn’t know a damn thing about ranching, but he knew a fair amount about money management.
If he stayed a few days he might be able to suggest some things that would get Jo out of the bind she was in.
He doubted that she’d accept a personal loan, and he didn’t have enough liquid assets to make that sort of gesture, anyway.
But he might be able to arrange a new bank loan with one of his contacts or find her some investors.
He mainly wanted to loosen the grip of this local guy and set her on a better course than the one that seemed to be leading her into trouble.
But he’d have to hang around a while and win her trust. The minute he’d seen her walk through the kitchen door, no matter how disappointing her reaction had been, he’d been inclined to do just that.
While he ate, he answered Emmy Lou’s questions about New York. She’d never been there and had a fixation on the place, apparently. She proudly trotted out all the souvenirs Jo had brought her over the years, and Quinn made a mental note to send her something special when he got back to the city.
Finally he finished off the chicken and potato salad and pushed away his plate with a sigh of contentment. “That was delicious. Thanks.”
Apparently his knowledge of New York and his appreciation for her cooking had warmed up the housekeeper considerably. “You have to have a piece of apple pie to top it off,” she said.
He grinned at her. “Twist my arm, Emmy Lou.”
She flushed and put a hand over her heart. “Land sakes, but you look like Brian Hastings when you do that. Makes my heart go pitty-pat.”
“Maybe it’ll also make you serve him some of your famous pie,” Jo said.
Quinn had noticed that Jo was being terrifically friendly and obliging. He’d love to think it was his manly charm causing her to be so nice, but he also had the feeling she might be fattening him up for the kill. He just wasn’t sure what sort of kill.
“Would you like ice cream on top?” Emmy Lou asked as she popped the slice of pie in the microwave.
“Sure, why not?” A piece of pie à la mode wasn’t going to turn him into a mush brain, he decided. He’d navigated the tricky world of high finance without getting his butt kicked. Surely he could handle whatever this pair of women had in mind.
Jo watched him eat the pie with far too much interest. And every time she caught his eye she smiled a secret sort of smile. Something was definitely up.
He glanced at her. “Want a bite?”
“Oh, no, thanks. I just love to see a man enjoy his food.”
Quinn polished off the pie. “I’m afraid the show’s over. But I have to say that was the best piece of apple pie I’ve ever had, and I’ve eaten at some pricey restaurants. They could serve this pie with pride at the Waldorf-Astoria.”
Emmy Lou looked enraptured. “I would love to see the Waldorf.”
“I’ve offered to take you on my sperm runs,” Jo said.
“No, no, not like that. It would break my heart to fly in and out on the same day. I want to see the lights, feel the city’s pulse, breathe in the rich aromas.” She closed her eyes and took a deep, dramatic breath.
“You might want to give the rich aromas a miss,” Quinn said. “New York’s rich aromas can be overwhelming, especially on garbage pickup day.”
Emmy Lou grinned at Jo. “Spoken like a man who’s never cleaned out a chicken coop. You’d better keep him away from shovel duty while he’s here.”
“I had no intention of putting him on shovel duty.”
“Anyway,” Emmy Lou said as she turned to Quinn. “I don’t want to give anything a miss. I want to hear the noise, taste a hot pretzel, mingle with the crowd in Times Square, give my regards to Broadway. I don’t want a tiny bite of the Big Apple.” She spread her arms wide. “I want to have it all.”
Quinn curbed his impulse to immediately invite her there as his guest. It would be a real kick to watch her revel in the sights and sounds of the city.
But he had no business inviting Emmy Lou Whatever to New York.
He didn’t even know her last name. The sugar must be affecting his brain for him to even think of doing such a thing.
Jo leaned forward, her dark eyes sparkling. “So, Quinn, are you ready to extend your visit a few days? I think we’re having pot roast tomorrow night.”
Logic warned him to use caution. She was a little too eager. But his libido reacted to that sparkle in her eyes in a very primitive fashion. And he did love a good pot roast. “I think it could be arranged.”
“What about your job?” Emmy Lou asked.
“I can keep in touch by phone. With the help of Erin, my personal assistant, I can probably take care of anything critical from here.” Quinn began to anticipate what it might be like living in the same house with Jo, or more appropriately, sleeping in the same house with Jo.
“Great,” Jo said. “Because I have the most amazing idea. As long as you’re going to be here, what if you told everybody you were Brian Hastings?”
Quinn groaned and buried his face in his hands as his fantasies dissolved. There it was. The catch.
Emmy Lou clapped her hands together. “Josephine, you’re brilliant.”
Quinn took his hands away from his eyes and leaned toward Jo. Damn, but she was beautiful. And treacherous. He lowered his voice. “But you see, I’m not Brian Hastings.”
“You could fool them. You fooled Emmy Lou. And if everyone around here thought Brian Hastings was visiting my ranch, I could hold off the bank a while longer.”
With a sigh of deep regret, he leaned back in his chair. Like too many of the women he’d known, she was only interested in him because he looked like a famous movie star. “And then what happens when Hastings never shows up? You’re in the same fix as before.”
“But by the end of the summer I’ll have some money, and I can make a partial payment. I need to keep the bank at bay until then.”
“There may be other ways around this. It’s possible I could arrange for a line of credit from—”
“No!” She held up her hand like a traffic cop. “I don’t want anyone else getting involved in my financial problems. If I go down, I’ll go down alone.’“
“That’s very noble but totally unnecessary. Jo, this is what I do for a living. I don’t know why I didn’t suggest consulting with you about it before, during the cab ride.”
“Consulting?” She raised her eyebrows. “I’m sure you don’t do that for free, Quinn.”
“Not normally. But we could work something out.”
“I’d rather struggle along on my own. If you’d just agree to be Brian Hastings for a week, that’s all I ask.”
“All?” Quin stared at her. “The guy’s a movie star and a director, so he knows the Hollywood scene inside and out. Besides that, he’s a worldwide sex symbol. Do you realize how intimidating that would be for an ordinary guy like me?”
“Nonsense,” Emmy Lou said. “You can do the sex symbol part with both hands tied behind your back. Just give the ladies that killer grin, throw in a wink or two, and they’ll drop like flies.”
Maybe, but he knew that when women found out for sure he wasn’t really Brian Hastings, they had a tendency to turn nasty, and he’d be in constant fear they’d find out.
Besides that, he was sick of never being evaluated on his own merits, and he wanted no part of this scheme, no matter how nice it would be to spend time with Jo.
As far as he was concerned, this wasn’t the way to handle her money problems, either.
It was only a Band-Aid when she needed a tourniquet.
“As for the movie lingo, we can fake that,” Jo said. “Emmy Lou has seen every interview that Brian Hastings ever gave — Barbara Walters, Larry King, Oprah Winfrey. She can coach you on the show biz angle.”
Quinn shook his head. “Sorry. The whole idea goes against the grain. I’ve hated being mistaken for Hastings, and I sure as hell don’t want to deliberately bring that kind of chaos down on my head. Listen, Jo, don’t reject my financial advice out of hand. I might be exactly who you need. I could—”
“No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I have no guarantee I’ll come out of this with the ranch intact. I don’t want to risk your good name.”
“You won’t ruin my good name, and even if you did, I’d rather involve myself that way than pawn myself off as some two-bit version of Hastings.”
“You’re not giving yourself credit. You’d be at least a four-bit version,” Emmy Lou said.
“That’s what you think.” The more closely Quinn evaluated this stunt, the more impossible it sounded.
“He’s not only a Hollywood insider, he’s a cowboy.
I can’t ride, I can’t rope, and if you put boots and spurs on me, I’d probably trip and fall down before I walked two feet into the local saloon.
Let me do what I do best, which is manipulate money. ”
Jo looked sad but determined. “I can’t let you get involved with my messy finances, Quinn. I just can’t.”
“And I have no interest in masquerading as Brian Hastings.”
“Then I guess that’s that,” Jo said. “But you’re welcome to stay.”