Brand (The Donovan Dynasty) Read online

  “Off to San Antonio?”

  “Yeah.” Since she’d be at a hotel at least one night, she had a bag in the vehicle.

  “Tell your mom I said hello.”

  “I will.”

  “How is it working out with everyone under one roof?”

  “I think my mother’s in her own little part of heaven. She loves having the babies around.”

  “So you’ll be in tomorrow before you head out?”

  “Yeah. I’ll want to give you an update.” In the far distance, thunder rumbled again.

  “Be careful out there.”

  Tyrone checked his phone. “Radar is showing light rain moving our way.”

  She nodded. There was nothing unusual about unsettled spring weather in South Texas.

  After saying goodbye, she headed outside to her SUV. Printed instructions to the ranch were on the passenger seat. In an email exchange, Cade had warned her that her GPS wouldn’t do a lot of good once she left the local highway. The ranch had miles of roads, and most of them weren’t paved.

  He’d informed her that house itself was more than a mile from the first gate. Taking wrong turns could lead her deeper onto the property, so he’d suggested she memorize the directions.

  Once she was free of downtown Corpus Christi, Sofia pushed a button on the dash to dial Cade’s phone number.

  As she listened to it ring, a frisson of nerves skated through her stomach.

  No matter how much she’d tried to shove thoughts of him away, they’d returned relentlessly, teasing her senses, making her want more, making her wish he hadn’t been a perfect gentleman Saturday night.

  Just when she thought the call might go to voicemail, he answered. “Donovan.”

  Since the phone was connected to the car’s sound system, his deep voice surrounded her in a rumbling, masculine tone that took her immediately back to their conversation on the terrace at the country club. Now, as then, every feminine reaction flared. Instinctively she reached to turn down the volume. “It’s Sofia McBride,” she said, a bit amazed by how steady her voice was. “I’m confirming our three o’clock appointment.”

  “That’s brave.”

  His tone contained an edge that should have scared her, but instead intrigued her. “I told you I’d be there,” she said.

  “Where are you now?” he asked.

  “On Highway 44, a few miles west of Corpus.”

  “Right on time. I’ll see you in less than an hour. Unless you’d like me to meet you in Waltham?”

  “I should be fine.” A fat raindrop splatted on the windshield.

  “And have you worked a bump gate before?”

  “Well…” She hesitated. “No.” In his email, he’d explained that in many cases on the ranch roads, they’d opted to use gates that swung open when you hit them with a bumper. According to Cade, it saved a tremendous amount of time. “But it seems pretty straightforward.”

  “You’ll have seven seconds to get clear before it swings shut. It’s plenty of time, but if you dawdle, we’re not responsible for the damage to your car.”

  “Did your lawyer tell you to say that?”

  He laughed, the sound low and deep, filling the inside of the vehicle with intimacy.

  “I’ve seen plenty of vehicles damaged over the years. When I tell people to hurry, they don’t. Warning them that a thousand pound hunk of metal will smack ’em in the ass gets them moving.”

  “Is that your version of a motivational speech?”

  “The threat of an ass smacking gets most people moving.”

  She shivered at the image of his big hand landing on her butt. Her breath caught, and she couldn’t tell whether or not he was teasing. And what if he wasn’t?

  “Tell me the directions once you leave the main road,” Cade instructed, breaking into her thoughts.

  “First right,” she said after shaking her head to clear it. “Third left. Then it’s about a quarter of a mile farther in. Follow the dirt road until it becomes paved. Park in front of the house.”

  “You memorized it like I told you to.”

  Warmth and approval deepened his voice, and something inside her unfurled. “I figured it was easier than trying to drive and look at a piece of paper at the same time.”

  “Buzz me from the intercom when you reach the main gate,” he reminded her.

  “Will do.” She disconnected the call.

  Sofia checked her speed and focused on the road to regain her equilibrium. She forced herself to focus on the fact he was a potential client. This was nothing different than a dozen other sales calls she’d been on over the years. She’d inspect the site, listen to the client’s ideas, ask as many questions as needed, do some brainstorming, discuss budgets and options then formulate her plan.

  But a niggling voice told her this was different because she was attracted to Cade.

  A sudden downpour with brisk bursts of wind forced her to concentrate, and before long, she exited the highway toward Waltham.

  Originally, Waltham had been built as a stop on the railroad. Now it was home to a college and a sleepy tourist town. An old-fashioned drugstore with a soda fountain had been her favorite stop as a child.

  The storm eased and she turned off the windshield wipers. Quick moving clouds darted past to reveal blue skies.

  She stopped for one of the town’s three traffic lights then continued north several miles, slowing as she searched for the road that would lead onto the Donovan property.

  After finding the small green sign, she flipped on her blinker. Unless she had known where to turn, she would have missed it entirely. Considering that the ranch holdings were vast enough to be spread out over several counties, the Donovans didn’t appear to broadcast its location.

  As she worked her way deeper onto the property, she noticed miles and miles of barbed wire fencing, as far as she could see. She continued to follow the paved road and took the first right. Cade had been correct to suggest she memorize the directions. The juncture was four-way, with no indication where any of the roads led. Trees, some palm, others she recognized as mesquite, obscured the view, giving the area the feel of a maze.

  After only a hundred yards or so, she saw an industrial-looking gate. Obviously the bump gate he’d referred to.

  It hadn’t seemed difficult, but as she approached, knowing she had to hit it with the front of her vehicle unnerved her.

  Gently she nosed in and touched her bumper to the metal. It didn’t move.

  She backed up. This time, when she moved forward, she nudged it a bit harder.

  The spring released and she sat there, a bit stunned. Then, remembering he’d said she’d only have seven seconds to clear the entry, she hit the accelerator.

  In her rear-view mirror, she saw the gate swing closed behind her, right on cue.

  She continued on and, a few seconds later, the paved road ended. Though the dirt was well-groomed, she had to slow down so chunks of gravel didn’t gouge her vehicle.

  The sun vanished completely behind a cloud, casting shadows across the ground.

  She took the third left. This road was paved, and imposing wrought-iron gates loomed in the distance.

  Since the day continued to darken, she pulled off her sunglasses.

  She braked to a stop near the wrought-iron gates. An ornate R was crafted on one, and a W adorned the other. Massive pillars flanked each side, and there was an impressive concrete statue of a horse with a cowboy on top. The animal’s hind legs were slightly tucked under, and the cowboy was throwing a lariat. She couldn’t think of a more perfect way to welcome visitors to the property.

  Sofia pushed the call button. She expected the gates part, but instead, Cade’s voice greeted her.

  “Welcome to the Running Wind,” he said.

  The gates swung inward, revealing beautifully trimmed trees and sculpted flowering bushes.

  With each moment, her heart added an extra beat.

  She followed the road as it snaked along, passing three
cottages before she rounded a final curve and the ranch house came into view.

  Unable to help herself, she paused to take it all in.

  It was as if she’d stepped back into another time.

  The home’s lawn spanned at least an eighth of an acre and featured a small pond. The area was shaded by several gorgeous live oak trees.

  The house itself was stunning. And she realized it really couldn’t be called a house. It was more of a mansion and shaped like a horseshoe, and it had a turret. The structure was whitewashed stucco that had faded to a soft, inviting cream tone. Bright-red Spanish tiles covered the roof, and two sets of stairs were also red, adding vibrant splashes of color. The building was all the more imposing because it was set quite a bit back from the circular driveway.

  A sudden movement caught her eye. She glanced over to see Cade standing on the walkway.

  Today he wore tight, tight jeans, a brown Western shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a belt with an oversized buckle and a summer-weight straw cowboy hat. The sight of Cade Donovan made it impossible to string two thoughts together.

  She’d expected to see other people, but since she’d left the main road, she hadn’t glimpsed another car. Despite what she’d told Zoe, it seemed they were alone.

  Swallowing deeply, she drove on. After she’d parked, he came around to the driver’s side and opened the vehicle door.

  “Ms. McBride,” he greeted. He tipped his hat and she had to remind herself to breathe so that she didn’t swoon. “You made it safely.”

  “You give excellent directions.”

  “Things go better when people do as I suggest,” he agreed.

  Again she questioned whether or not he was a Dominant. His tone, his easy confidence that bordered on arrogance, made her wonder. She looked away to shut off the vehicle. Then, keeping the conversation light, she admitted, “I was gawking.” She quickly clarified, “At the house.”

  “At the house,” he repeated. A long, slow smile sauntered across his lips. “I do the same thing every time I come home.”

  Being casual was incredibly difficult when he stood this close, branded with the clean scent of the outdoors and the spice of a hot Southern night. “You never get used to it?”

  “No. And honestly, I hope I don’t,” he said.

  Finally, he took a step back to give her some much-appreciated room.

  She reached into the passenger seat for her phone, tablet and clipboard before exiting the vehicle to stand next to him.

  “It’s an honor, and a big responsibility to live here. All the expectations and ambitions of my forefathers are here for the world to see.” He looked off into the distance. “I can’t be the Donovan to fail, to lose Maisie’s Manor.”

  “Maisie’s Manor?” she repeated.

  “My great-great-grandmother was named Margaret, but my great-great-grandfather called her Maisie. According to what I read in a newspaper article, their original house burned down, somewhere around 1909. So when he rebuilt, he wanted to be sure it would survive anything. They moved in on their fifth wedding anniversary.”

  She looked up at the house, ideas forming, helping her to focus on business and keep naughty thoughts of him in the background where they belonged, until she could banish them entirely. Excitement gathered inside her. “Is there a written history of the land and the ranch somewhere?”

  He shook his head. “The only thing I found was that newspaper clipping. I think it was from the 1950s, just a local feature on homes in the area.”

  “We could have something put together for the event,” she said. “Maybe as part of the program.”

  “Program?”

  “Since it’s a centennial celebration, I figured you’d want to at least say a few words. You know, you’ll want to welcome people, let them know how glad you are that they came, maybe acknowledge relationships that have helped ensure the success of the ranch. Perhaps your grandfather could talk? Or your grandmother? Long-time employees? Vendors? Community leaders, like the mayor, talking about the importance of the Running Wind. Maybe a video presentation, if you have pictures of the ranch as it was a hundred years ago? And we can find a photographer to recreate them from the same angle today. Of course, we’ll want press coverage. You know, we may want to consult with a PR firm about the whole thing. And of course, we’ll need an audio-visual budget.”

  “Whoa. This started as some hot dogs and burgers on the grill.”

  “The ranch and its history are, in a way, the history of this part of Texas. As you said, it’s a huge honor and responsibility. It could be good for your image to show it off, let it be featured in the press.”

  “Why do I feel as if I’m losing control?”

  “Don’t worry. It won’t hurt a bit.” She smiled sunnily. She hadn’t had the chance to handle many events with this much significance, not just because of who the Donovans were, but because of the history. If she recalled, his great-great-grandparents had donated the land where Waltham had been built. Zoe had been right. If they pulled this off, it could gain Encore much-valued publicity. All of a sudden she wanted to get a contract signed so they could get busy. She worked to tamp down her excitement so that she didn’t appear overeager. “As I said on Saturday, you’re getting started at least six months late. For a project of this scope, a couple of years would have been ideal.”

  “Maybe we can forget this one and plan to celebrate the one-hundred-and-twenty-five-year anniversary?” he suggested.

  A big fat raindrop splatted on her belongings then another smacked her on the shoulder.

  “It’s been smelling like rain for a couple of days,” he said. “Keep getting teased by glimpses of it, but we haven’t had a downpour.”

  “Fine with me.”

  “Spoken like someone who doesn’t depend on the weather for their livelihood.”

  “Not true,” she countered. “My business can live and die on the weather. Hell hath no fury like a bride whose wedding reception gets rained on.”

  He winced.

  “But that’s better than the other option. Her crying,” she added.

  “You’re right. I’ll keep my problems.”

  She slid her phone into the back pocket of her slacks.

  “Where would you like to start?” he asked.

  “Do you have any special requests that I need to take into consideration? For example, are you going to have the house open for tours? If so, what parts? Are you going to try to keep people outside?”

  He shook his head. “Hadn’t thought about it. I don’t have ideas, but my grandparents might.”

  “I was assuming we’ll need a tent that will be able to seat everyone, maybe big enough for a dance floor, as well.”

  “I was wondering if the barn would work?”

  “I’d have to see it to give you my opinion. We’ve done plenty of parties in barns. What’s it used for now?”

  “It’s mostly empty, except for some storage. I have a garage for my machinery and vehicles. I found it easier to keep everything all together.”

  She shrugged. “I’d like to see it. Barns can be a success as long as you have air conditioning.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that.”

  “We can still have plenty of heat in October or November. Especially when you get that many people together. At the very least, you’ll need to have fans to move the air around.”

  He nodded.

  “We have cooling units that can be used, so it’s really not a problem. We’d be doing the same thing for a tent. Have you thought about a theme?” she continued. “A dress code?”

  He took off his cowboy hat and ran his palm down his face. “Dress code? I have to tell people what to wear?”

  “If you don’t, some people may assume you want sequins and tuxedoes. Others will show up in jeans or shorts.”

  “I’m trusting your guidance as a professional.”

  “I’ve already warned you, I’m not cheap.”

  “You’ll earn every penny.” With that
, he replaced the hat.

  It seemed to change him, as if it were part of his dominant aura.

  “Why don’t you walk me around the property? Show me what we have to work with? I have a few ideas already loaded on my tablet, and we can sit down and go through them.”

  “It seems like you should be asking other people. I didn’t even show up to my high school graduation party.”

  “I can. If you hire me, I’ll be happy to contact your family members myself, get their ideas then make my recommendations to you.”

  “Yeah. You’re definitely going to earn every penny you’re paid.”

  From nowhere, a gigantic, seemingly unkempt, barking dog raced toward them. She took an instinctive step back.

  “That’s Loopy. My mother got her when she was about a year old. She got too big for her previous owners and they were going to abandon her. My mother couldn’t let that happen, so Mom took her in.”

  “What is it?”

  “A mutt. We know she’s part Old English sheepdog.”

  “And part polar bear?” she asked.

  “Could be.”

  The gargantuan four-footed ball of fluff skidded to a stop in front of them, tail wagging furiously and her tongue hanging out.

  “Does her name have any significance?”

  “You tell me,” he replied.

  “I’m guessing she wasn’t the pick of the litter?”

  He grinned, showing his affection for the pup, and allowing her to see another side of him. How many grown men adored crazy dogs?

  “Loopy, say hello to our guest.”

  Obediently, the dog lifted her giant paw in Sofia’s general direction. Overgrown hair covered the animal’s eyes.

  “How does she see anything?”

  The dog whined and batted toward her.

  “Her feelings will be hurt if you don’t shake,” he informed her.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Oh yes. She’ll resort to licking and jumping up on you if you don’t say hello.”

  Grateful she’d worn black pants instead of the white ones she’d considered, she handed her belongings to Cade then bent to accept the proffered, muddy paw.