Samantha's Cowboy

Most people looked like goons in license photos. Samantha resembled a sultry seductress with her long black hair and a half smile that made Wade think of dark corners and slow kisses. “I believe you said you’d rather your father not be informed that you’re accessing your funds.” Please don’t change your mind.

“Will that be a problem?”

“Not at all.” The fewer people who knew about Samantha’s visit today, the better.

“Thank you.”

“Have you contacted a financial planner to assist you with managing the funds once you withdraw them?”

Her teeth nibbled her lip and her gaze shifted to the wall behind Wade. He couldn’t remember Samantha being this unsure. What had happened to the young girl who’d mocked his manhood and delivered a crushing blow to his budding ego? “I’d be happy to advise you on your transactions.”

“I guess that would be all right.”

He blew out a deep breath. “Okay, then. I recommend withdrawing only enough money to tackle one improvement project at a time.”

“I’d prefer to begin several renovations at once in order to get the ranch up and running as soon as possible.”

Wade reached for the antacid tablets. He should have figured she’d make this difficult. “The well needs to be dug before anything else.” Fence posts couldn’t be installed without cement and water was a necessary ingredient in mixing cement.

“All right. I’ll start with the well.”

“In the meantime, you’ll need to acquire estimates on fencing and corrals.”

“Forget the estimates. I’m more concerned with getting the renovations done quickly than with saving a few hundred dollars.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I’ll run out of money.”

Score one for Calamity Jane.

“How long until I receive the first check from my account?” she asked.

“Seven to ten days.” Then he offered, “I’ve got time on my hands this weekend. I’d be happy to contact a drilling company and begin the process for you.” He’d have to raid his 401(k) to pay for the well if he didn’t recover her money by then.

“I appreciate your help. My brother Matt is getting married next Saturday and there’s a lot going on right now.”

Better her brother than Wade. He tore a piece of paper from his legal pad. “Where’s the property located?”

“Southeast of the Lazy River on Route 38. It’s the old Peterson farmstead. There’s a mailbox at the entrance with the name painted on it.” She stood, her pretty chocolate eyes skipping over him. “You’ll inform me when you receive the well estimates?”

“What’s your cell number?” A lengthy pause followed and Wade wondered if Samantha was worried that he’d call her asking for a date—fat chance of that happening. Women like Samantha Cartwright were out of his league. He scribbled the number she recited beneath the directions to the ranch, then handed her one of his business cards. “In case you need to get in touch with me.”

Their fingers bumped, and an electrical pulse shot up Wade’s arm. Samantha grasped the note, spun on her boot heels and walked out the door. Wade shook his arm to dispel the tingling sensation, certain he suffered from a pinched nerve. Samantha Cartwright was a beautiful woman but she was a client and therefore off-limits.

How had twenty million dollars vanished into thin air?

He had a week to recover Samantha’s funds or he might as well kiss his promotion goodbye.

Chapter Two

When Sam exited the building, Dave the security guard drove up in her truck, radio blaring. As soon as he spotted her, he cut the music, left the engine running and hopped out. “Nice ride.”

“Nice valet service.”

He grinned. “Anytime.”

With a wave, Sam pulled away from the curb and merged into downtown traffic. Not until she stopped at a light did she remember to turn on the GPS system. She hated driving in the city and had difficulty remembering street names and exit ramps. She tapped the screen until the favorites menu popped up. She hit Home, then concentrated on navigating traffic. After a few minutes she relaxed her grip on the wheel and merged onto I-75, passing the defunct Indian Nations Amusement Park. A few miles later she took Highway 67 to 64, breathing a sigh of relief as Tulsa faded in the rearview mirror. She flipped open her cell phone and pressed 4. Her brother’s voice mail answered.

“Hey, Matt. It’s me, Sam. I have a surprise. Meet me at the Peterson homestead on Route 38. I’m forty minutes from there. But don’t tell anyone, okay? Bye.”

Sam wanted Matt to be the first to learn of her plans. They were as close as any brother and sister could be. He’d been there for her in the darkest hours when horrifying memories of her accident had tortured her sleep. To this day not even her father knew about the nightmares.

And if she had her way, her father would never learn about her visit to Dawson Investments. The meeting with Wade lingered in Sam’s mind, frustrating her more than Wade’s uncle neglecting to return her phone calls. Concentrating had been difficult in Wade’s presence and she worried she’d made a fool of herself. That she couldn’t remember meeting him years earlier bothered her. He must have visited the ranch around her sixteenth birthday—when she’d been kicked in the head by a horse. The weeks leading up to and following the accident had been permanently erased from her memory.

Her first impression of Wade with a D hadn’t been very complimentary. Her job at her father’s oil company often brought Sam in contact with arrogant, self-centered and opinionated businessmen. Bankers and investors considered themselves intellectually superior. Heaven forbid if they made a mistake or misjudged a situation—they’d never admit as much. But unlike most financial investors Wade had tempered his I-know-what’s-best attitude with generosity—offering to contact a drilling company and obtain estimates for a well. He’d gone out of his way to help her—maybe because he’d felt guilty his uncle had ignored one of the firm’s most wealthy clients. Although he’d given her no reason to trust him, she sensed Wade was an honorable man who would keep his word and not contact her father.

Genuine niceness aside, Wade was handsome in a nerdy kind of way. She’d grown up around dusty cowboys and sweaty ranchers all her life and was surprised that she’d found Wade’s clean-shaven face, neatly styled hair, crisp clothes and clunky glasses attractive and…sexy. That was good and well but she had little in common with him. If she was smart she’d focus on the horse ranch and not her financial adviser.

If Sam’s father caught wind of her plans he’d meddle in her affairs and guilt her into giving up her dream. She understood and sympathized with his overprotectiveness following her near brush with death and her long and arduous recovery. But the accident happened sixteen years ago. The time had come for both father and daughter to put the past behind them and move on.

For years, she’d bowed to her father’s fear, allowing him to choose her path in life. No more. If her brothers, Matt and Duke, had the courage to defy their father and pursue their heart’s desire, then she could do no less.

She wanted to make a difference and do something with purpose. She’d dreamed of opening a sanctuary ranch for years but worried she’d never overcome her fear of horses. She’d decided if her dream was to come true she needed to conquer her fears. A few months ago, behind her father’s back, she’d begun volunteering at the Tulsa SPCA equine center. Although horses terrified Sam, her previous injury hadn’t erased the memory of her love for the animals. She hoped by the time she completed renovations on the Peterson property she’d have no qualms about handling horses on her own.

Sam admitted horses alone wouldn’t fill the void in her life. She dreamed of falling in love. Of finding a man willing to overlook her faults and put up with her memory lapses. With Duke happily married to Renée and living in Detroit and Matt heading down the aisle with Amy in a matter of days, Sam realized how alone she would be. Sure, her father pampered her when he was around, but his business travels took him away for weeks at a time.

Juanita, their housekeeper, generously included Sam in her family activities but it wasn’t the same as having a husband of her own. One day Sam hoped to find a man who didn’t want children. As much as Sam loved children—motherhood was out of the question. Never again would she allow her handicaps to cause harm to a child.

Her one serious relationship had ended in disaster when her absentmindedness had put Bo’s daughter, Emily, in danger. Not even the promise of inheriting the Cartwright fortune had kept Bo from believing he and Emily were safer without Sam.

Matt had tried to heal her broken heart by setting her up on dates with his rodeo buddies. To this day, her brother wasn’t aware that one of the cowboys had used Sam’s forgetfulness to his advantage and had wiped out her checking account before riding off into the sunset.

Although Sam was grateful for her family’s love and concern, their smothering had hindered more than helped her. The time had come to stand on her own two feet and make a play for the future she wanted—not the future others believed best for her.

The Peterson mailbox came into view and she flipped on the blinker. As the truck bumped along the rutted road she made a mental note to add a fresh layer of gravel to her ranch improvement list. Halfway to the house Matt’s truck appeared in the rearview mirror.

As soon as they parked their vehicles and got out, Matt motioned to the crumbling farmhouse. “What’s up with this place?”

Flinging her arms wide Sam spun in a circle. “This is my birthday present to myself.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope.” Her smile faded at her brother’s grimace. “It’s not so bad,” she insisted, studying the home’s caved-in roof and broken windows. The outer walls leaned inward in danger of collapsing from a strong wind and the porch bowed like an old swaybacked nag. Sam’s stomach churned. Had she gotten in over her head? She hated when she second-guessed herself. “Say something,” she demanded at her brother’s silence.

“I’m guessing Dad’s in the dark about this…present?”

“Yes, and he’d better stay in the dark.” Matt’s eyes narrowed and she blurted, “I know what you’re thinking.”

“No, sis, you don’t.”

“You’re wondering if this is another one of those spur-of-the-moment decisions I’m famous for making.” The lingering side effects from the injury to her brain years ago weren’t horrible, just a nuisance—similar to a mosquito bite. One minute you were scratching, the next you forgot about the itchy bump.