The Gentleman Rancher

“Don’t you want your burger?” Taylor slid the sizzling meat onto an open bun.

“Don’t mind if I do.” In stormy silence, Paige added condiments to her sandwich and a handful of chips. She took her plate and bottle of beer with her, calling over her shoulder, “Good night!”

Silence fell.

Taylor added the works to her burger, too. “I think I’ll eat in my room.”

Jeremy clamped a hand on her shoulder, delaying her exit with a sincere look. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Again.”

His apology seemed genuine enough, Taylor noted grudgingly. She set her plate on the kitchen table, next to her beverage, and took a seat. She spread her napkin over her lap. “The real question is, are you going to bring it up again?”

“No.” Jeremy garnished his burger, then sat at the other end of the table. He sat down and dug in. “Especially since it’s obvious I’d be wasting my breath.”

They ate in silence for several minutes.

Aware she had waited years for the chance to go toe-to-toe with him over this very subject, she said, “It’s not as if I never sold a book, you know. I’m a published novelist and a screenwriter.” She didn’t know why she felt she had to keep saying that. If she’d been a doctor, she wouldn’t have been forced to defend the value of her profession. Of course, if she’d been a doctor, people wouldn’t have questioned the value of her job.

He polished off one burger, got up to get another. “Got any copies of your book with you?”

Her defenses snapped back into place. “No.”

He grabbed another handful of chips, too. “I’d like to read it.”

Was this a trick? Another way to continue his crusade to get her back into medicine? It didn’t appear so. More like a way to assuage his guilt. She didn’t need penance from him, either. She made no effort to hide her irritation. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Why don’t you want me to?” he asked, even more curious. He kicked back in his chair and polished off his beer. “I thought all authors wanted to have their stuff read. Isn’t that the point of being a novelist? To be popular? To have your voice heard and all that?”

Maybe for some. She wrote because she had to, because she had something to say, stories to tell that wouldn’t get out of her head until they were written down. Taylor’d been a storyteller as far back as she could remember, always drifting off into daydreams and conjuring up movies in her head. It was a heaven-sent gift that was as much a part of her as her straight black hair, and just as impossible to explain.

She sighed and looked Jeremy in the eye. “The only reason I would want you to read my book is because you enjoy that type of story. Since I can’t really see you ever picking up a chick lit novel by anyone else—to read for pleasure—then the answer is a resounding no. Do not do me any favors!”

Merriment crept into his dark brown eyes. “I could broaden my horizons.”

Taylor snorted and kicked back in her chair, too. “I’m not saying you don’t need to do that.”

“But?” Electricity sparked between them.

She shook her head, aware her heart was racing. “Not at my expense.”

His handsome features tightened into a mock-reproving look. “You’re awfully prickly.”

“You’re awfully pushy,” she retorted.

“And moody.”

“Keep it up, I dare you.”

His grin broadened. “So what’s really going on with your life?”

Taylor jumped up to clear the table. “What do you mean?”

His movements as lazy as hers were restless, he got up to help. “You told Paige you drove eighteen hours straight to get here, when you could have taken a flight and had your Jeep shipped back to—where was it you said you’d been living?”

“Chesapeake, Virginia.” Taylor slid dishes into the dishwasher, straightened, all attitude once again. “What’s your point?”

“My point is,” he explained, his voice as silky-smooth as hers was blunt and impatient, “that you told Paige the move back home could have been done for you, at movie studio expense, if you had been willing to wait another few weeks for it all to be arranged, by their business affairs office. Instead, you got in your car and drove all the way here, on very little notice.”

He was far too observant for comfort. Worse, he’d always seen things that no one else noticed. She tilted her chin at him. “So?”

Jeremy stared at her with a steely resolve that matched her own. “The last time you took off in your Jeep—that I know of anyway—and drove that long and that hard, was the day you quit med school.” He paused, his gaze roaming the contours of her face, lingering on her lips, before slowly returning to her eyes. “So what’s happening in your life that Paige and I don’t know about?” he asked, even more softly. “What are you running from this time?”

Chapter Two

“And Last But Not Least,” Anchor Mandy Stone read the teleprompter with a salacious smile, “up and coming novelist-turned-screenwriter Taylor O’Quinn set tongues to wagging when she skipped the wrap party for SailAway. Insiders were not surprised. Dozens of rewrites for the troubled pic have left everyone feeling frustrated and unhappy—including the film’s two leads, Zak and Zoe Townsend.”

(Cut to film of wrap party.)

“The story had some problems, as it was originally written,” Zak admitted, presenting his best side to the camera and taking his wife’s hand.

“But we’ve done our best to fix them,” Zoe added, pausing earnestly.

“We just hope Taylor’s all right.” Zak wrapped an arm around Zoe’s shoulders and pulled Zoe in close to his side.

Zoe nodded, looking even more doe-eyed and distressed. “When Taylor left the set, and drove off in her SUV, she was in tears…”

June 2 edition of Short-takes! Celebrity Entertainment Network

Taylor couldn’t help feeling relieved when their heated confrontation was interrupted by Jeremy’s pager. As he put in a call to his answering service, she scrambled to come up with a reasonable response to his accusation. Unfortunately, her reprieve was short-lived.

Medical crisis averted, Jeremy snapped his cell phone shut and gazed at her expectantly. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Taylor set the damp dishcloth down with more than necessary care. She turned back to Jeremy, her expression stoic. “I’m not running away.” She enunciated each word distinctly, then moved past him.

Arms folded, Jeremy watched her head for the exit. Her actions evoked bittersweet memories of a time when they could have had everything. If only she had stayed in Texas, instead of heading off for parts unknown… “Then why are you bolting the kitchen?”

As she whirled back around to face him, her long black hair rippled across her shoulders. “Perhaps because I’m done talking to you?” She smiled sweetly.

Jeremy shook his head. “You’re running from me the way you ran from whatever’s going on in Los Angeles.”

Defiance gleamed in her blue eyes. “You’re wrong.”

“I don’t think so.” He closed the distance between them. “I’ve always been able to read you like a book.”

Temper flared in her cheeks, turning them a rosy pink. “Then you know how ticked off you’re making me right now.”

“It doesn’t change the truth,” he drawled.

“I’m going to bed.” She glared at him.