afternoon. He’d been the one to call a halt. He’d broken away and given them both a moment of sanity. If he hadn’t done that, she was sure she would have lost her virginity to a rugged cowboy right there in the middle of a Lyndon Valley meadow.
She shook her head, even as her smile and the warm glow remained. Like any woman, she’d fantasized about her first time making love. It had always involved a posh hotel suite, and a man who’d laid his bow tie and tux over a French provincial armchair before joining her in a lacy, canopied bed. Lyndon Valley, blue jeans, an imperfect nose and a beard-rough chin weren’t even on her radar.
“Katrina?” Mandy rapped lightly on the door.
“Come in,” Katrina called, determinedly banishing thoughts of Reed and tightening the sash of her satin robe.
The door opened. Like Katrina, Mandy had showered recently. Her damp chestnut hair was combed back in a ponytail, and she’d pulled on a hunter-green T-shirt over a pair of beige cargo pants.
“How’re you doing?” Mandy opened, letting the door swing closed behind her, getting comfortable on the corner of the bed and curling her bare feet beneath her. “Ankle holding up?”
“I’m fine,” Katrina answered. “It’s doing okay.”
She really was fine, she realized. Quentin was far away and suddenly easy to push from her thoughts. He’d been obliterated by Reed. She felt buoyant and upbeat from all that fresh air. Her ankle had survived the walk with surprising strength. It felt a whole lot better than it had yesterday.
“Seth called,” said Mandy.
“Is he ordering us back home?” Katrina crossed to her suitcase, open on a low table in the corner of the room. She’d been wondering how long her other three siblings would let her and Mandy hide out at the Terrell ranch.
“Sort of. He wants us to go to Lyndon with him tomorrow. The Lyndon Hospital is hosting a charity ball, and he thinks it’ll be good for the campaign to have a strong Jacobs contingent by his side.”
Katrina glanced over her shoulder. “He wants us to campaign for him?”
“Nah. All we have to do is show up, dance and smile for the cameras. Cakewalk for you.”
Katrina retrieved a simple black knit skirt and a filmy copper cap-sleeved blouse. “Are we talking ballgowns and the whole nine yards?”
Mandy nodded. “It’ll be formal.”
“Then I’ll have to go shopping.” Which was a waste, since Katrina had a dozen perfectly appropriate ballgowns hanging in her closet in New York City. “And maybe do something with my hair. And I don’t know what I’ve got for shoes.”
If she could be positive any photos taken at the event would only be used locally for Seth’s campaign, she wouldn’t worry. But she and her fellow dancers at Liberty Ballet were under strict orders from the publicity department that every single public appearance, every picture, every interview, had to comply with company policy.
From the top of her head to the tips of her toes, she had to be esthetically perfect.
“Lyndon does have stores,” said Mandy.
“And I’m going to need them,” Katrina joked, stepping into the skirt.
“You’ll probably have a lot more fun this trip. You’re dressing up and dancing instead of slogging through the barns and worrying about horses.”
Katrina paused, sensing a conspiracy. “You didn’t tell Seth what I said?”
“No, no.” Mandy determinedly shook her head. “It’s a coincidence, I promise.” She paused. “But there are some nice things about Colorado, you know.”
Katrina fastened the skirt at her waist. “There are some nice things about New York City, too.”
“You mean like traffic and muggings?”
“I mean like Central Park and the Met.”
“Lyndon has an arts center, an orchestra and a museum.”
Katrina slipped off the robe and put on the blouse over her lacy bra, fastening the tiny buttons up the front. “You really love it here, don’t you?” She padded across the bedroom and joined her sister on the opposite corner of the bed.
“I really do,” Mandy agreed.
“Won’t you and Caleb mostly live in Chicago after the wedding?”
“We think it’ll be about fifty-fifty. I’ll put up with Chicago for him, and he’ll put up with Lyndon Valley for me.”
“So, one of you will always be unhappy?” Katrina didn’t want to question the wisdom of her sister’s marriage plans, but theirs didn’t sound like a particularly smart arrangement.
Mandy’s voice went soft. “Caleb hated his father. He didn’t hate Lyndon Valley. And now that Wilton is gone, he’ll remember all the things he loved about the ranch.”
“You sure?”
“I’m positive.”
Katrina plucked at the quilt. “Well, I’ll never leave New York City.”
“Not even for the right man?”
“The right man is already there.”
Mandy straightened, her expression perking up. “I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”
“No boyfriend.” Katrina was taking a page from Reed’s logic. “I haven’t met him yet. But I know he’s out there, picking out an impressionist painting for his penthouse, balancing his stock portfolio and dry-cleaning his tux.”
Mandy laughed, even as Katrina’s thoughts flicked back to Reed.
“Did you know Reed was building a house?” she found herself asking her sister.
“What do you mean?”
“He showed me the building site today. Up in one of the top meadows beside Flash Lake. He’s got it all staked out. I didn’t see the drawings, but he talked like it was all planned. He says he’s going to find himself a wife and start a family. You and Caleb get to keep this house.”
“Really?” Mandy drew the word out in obvious contemplation.
“So this is something new?” Katrina confirmed.
“He told Caleb he was planning to raise a family here on the ranch. But, as far as I know, he didn’t say anything about building a new house.” Mandy shifted on the mattress. “I take it you’re not fighting anymore?”
Katrina felt her cheeks heat and struggled to control the reaction. “We were never fighting.” She glanced away. “It was… He just… He’s helping me with my ankle.”
Good grief. Why was she having trouble with such a simple explanation? It wasn’t as though she was lying. Everything she was saying was true.
Mandy blinked. “Katrina?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you attracted to Reed?”
Katrina formulated an answer. “Reed is Colorado.”
If ever there was a man who was a perfect metaphor for a place, he was it.
“And you hate Colorado.”
“I’m intimidated by it.”
Mandy’s gaze was probing. “So you’re intimidated by Reed?”
“Why does this conversation feel like a chess game?”
“Because you’re being evasive.”
“I like my men in tuxedos,” Katrina answered honestly.
Mandy grinned and chuckled. “Then tomorrow night at the ball ought to be very interesting.”
“Why?”
“Because Reed will be in a tux.”
“Not a problem,” Katrina answered with conviction. It was one thing to dress a man up, but the grit of Colorado tended to stick.
