"Sam came later."
Jonas Callahan, remembering the arrival of a baby
brother after their parents had "gone to heaven."
"I have a proposition for you," Sam Callahan said as
he sat down in Seton McKinley's office in the Diablo,
New Mexico, courthouse. "A proposal, actually."
Seton looked at Sam as he lounged in the brand-new leather
chair she had situated in front of her brand-new pine desk.
It hadn't been an easy decision to return to Diablo and
hang out her shingle. Private investigator work in
Washington, D.C., had been lucrative.
She didn't expect to make a whole lot of money in
Diablo, but that wasn't the primary reason she'd
returned. The primary reason was across from her, hunky and
completely unaware of how he made her heart race.
At the word proposition, Seton's senses had
gone on full alert. "Are you aware that the Callahans
have quite the reputation for your propositions, proposals
and plots? And I wouldn't necessarily call it a good
one."
The handsome cowboy smiled at her, unperturbed. Their
relationship over the past couple of years had been what
Seton thought of as "friendly adversarial," with a
touch of romantic longing on her side, though she hadn't
breathed a word to anyone about her crush on the cowboy.
"Reputation isn't something that concerns me,"
Sam said, his tone easy.
Seton wasn't surprised. "Before you share your
proposal, be warned that I won't do any work for you
that involves Bode Jenkins. Or the Jenkins family in
general."
Sam's grin widened the deep clefts around his mouth.
"I'm not worried about Jenkins these days. He's
been pretty quiet since my brother married his daughter,
Julie."
"I spend quite a bit of time with Mr. Jenkins. I'm
fond of him," Seton said, just to let Sam know she felt
his comment bordered on disrespectful to the Jenkins family.
He shrugged. "Your problem, not mine, beautiful."
She frowned, studying the cowboy, from his dark, wavy hair
to his slanted cheekbones. He looked like a Native American
in a chalk portrait she'd seen in an art gallery.
Lawyers shouldn't be so handsome, she thought.
It masks the devil in them, fools the eye like a
mirage.
If there was one thing she'd learned from spending time
at Rancho Diablo, it was that the Callahans played for their
own team, and everyone else could get bent.
"I've got a meeting in twenty minutes," Seton
said. "Why are you here, Sam?"
He gazed at her in silence for a moment, during which Seton
felt as if he was trying to decide if he could trust her. Or
thinking how he might manipulate her into doing whatever it
was he had on his mind. She waited, tapping a pencil on the
notepad in front of her with some impatience.
"I don't really know who I am," Sam said, his
voice soft and husky.
Seton blinked. "Most people feel that way sometimes,
don't you think?"
He shook his head. "No, I really don't know
who I am."
She put the pencil down and leaned back. Potential clients
sat in the leather chairs, the only expensive elements in
her new office. She had a wooden swivel chair, which was
hard and kept her uncomfortable enough to focus. She looked
into Sam's navy blue eyes and saw that he was serious.
Very strange for him, because he had a tendency to be the
footloose charmer of the family. "You're Sam
Callahan. Last of six brothers. Family lawyer and head of
the legal team hired to defend Rancho Diablo from a takeover
by the state of New Mexico."
"By Bode Jenkins," Sam said.
"It's New Mexico v. Callahan," Seton
reminded him. "You have four married brothers, and one
older brother who calls my sister, Sabrina, occasionally.
I'm not sure why. She's not, either. Jonas seems to
be quite the chatterer since she moved to D.C."
"Jonas likes to keep tabs on everyone. He's weird
that way."
"Anyway, that's who you are." Seton folded her
hands on the desk. "Your aunt Fiona and uncle Burke
moved back to Ireland last year. You have one of the largest
ranches in all New Mexico. You rarely date, although the
ladies in town would love to show you a good time. And you
claim to be lazy."
"I am." Sam brightened. "That's my favorite
trait. I would describe myself as having a laid-back
personality. It's very important for a man to be relaxed
when he's only twenty-eight. I was twenty-six when the
whole lawsuit thing started."
Seton sighed. "I don't have a couch for you to lie
on if you're looking for a therapy session, Sam. And
I'm not really interested in learning more of your
history than I already know." She cast an eye over him,
realizing he probably wasn't completely aware of his
physical attributes. A dark brown cowboy hat had been thrown
on the chair next to the one he occupied. His jeans
weren't dress, but standard Wranglers. Under a black
leather jacket, a black T-shirt stretched across his
chesta T-shirt that appeared to be inside out. If he
took off his jacket, she'd be able to tell.
"So?" she pressed.
"My laziness is probably a good place to start." His
dark blue eyes twinkled. "I'd like to hire you in
the spirit of laziness."
She shook her head. "I can already tell I should
refuse."
"You haven't even heard what I want to hire you
for," Sam said. "There's no conflict, I swear."
"There's a conflict anytime a Callahan is
involved." Seton sat up. "I wouldn't be
comfortable working for you, considering my relationship to
the Jenkinses."
"An unfortunate relationship, considering that Bode is a
slimy dog," Sam said. "But I can overlook some of
your flaws."
Seton stared at him. "I don't want to work for
you." He waved a hand, dismissing her objection. "At
least hear me out. You might like what I'm offering
you."
"I doubt it." She sighed, then leaned back. "But
go on. Five minutes."
"Back to not knowing who I am," Sam continued.
"I think it's important for children to know these
things."
"You want me to look up information on your
parents?" Seton asked. "Won't your aunt Fiona
tell you everything you want to know? She was your guardian
since you and your brothers were very young, right?"
Sam shook his head. "I'm not so worried about me at
the moment," he said. "I'll figure myself out
one day."
"Okay," Seton said. "What do you want me to do
then?"
Sam's expression turned serious, which made him look
even more handsome, if possible. It was annoying.
"I'd like to hire you to be my wife," he stated.
"Although not in the traditional sense."
Seton held back a gasp. "I'm sorry. Not that I
expected anything about this conversation to be normal or
usual"
"I'm sure you're aware," Sam
interruptedjust like a Callahan, "that my aunt has
the ranch divided among the six of us. We get our portions
when we marry."
"Yes, I've heard of Fiona's wild plan to put
enough wives and babies on Rancho Diablo to keep it from
being taken over." Seton frowned. "It's
unorthodox."
"Maybe," Sam said, "but it's working."
She looked at him. "The only thing that's kept the
ranch in your family is your legal expertise." Seton
reconsidered her words. "Some call it your legal
maneuvers. I've even heard it referenced as shystering
and sleight of hand."
"That Bode," Sam said, shaking his head.
"He's such a die-hard fan of mine."
"Anyway," she said, "was that your proposal?
Because I have no intention of being involved in one of the
famous Callahan plots." She glanced at her watch.
"My next appointment should be here any moment."
"We'll worry about that when your victim
arrives," Sam said. "I'm offering you the chance
to marry into one of the greatest families around. We're
all really nice, contrary to what you hear from ol'
Toady Stinkens. But here's the catch, which may be a
problem for you. You won't have a shot at becoming a
mother, which is probably important at your age." He
winked at her. "I don't want children. I don't
even want the ranch, honestly. I could make that confession
to my family, but they wouldn't believe it, nor accept
it, anyway." Sam shrugged. "I've spent years
fighting for it, because they asked me to. At one time I
even let my brothers talk me into being the fall guy for
ownership of the ranch, which I would have then turned over
to them. I would have been a puppet owner," Sam said,
sounding pretty happy about being the figurehead winner of
Fiona's race-to-marriage-and-munchkins.
After a deep breath, he continued. "But control
isn't my thing. I'd rather slide away from the
responsibility, if you know what I mean. A wife like you
would make everyone think I was falling in with the plan.
Except I wouldn't be." His eyes glinted
mischievously. "After a while, when the lawsuit is
settled and my brothers are in full lockdown mode at the
ranch, you and I will quietly divorce. I plan to take off to
Alaska and do some flyfishing. Then again, I've got a
yen to see the Amazon rain forest. There's so much I
want to do," Sam said, his voice thoughtful, "and
none of it involves a wife, and definitely not children. As
I say, that may be a problem for you, since your biological
clock is probably set on high alert."
Seton debated taking off her black patent high heeled pump
and stabbing the crazy cowboy with it, deciding it
wasn't worth ruining the only pair of pretty shoes she
had. "I'll pass. And I think the shameful way you
refer to Mr. Jenkins hardly speaks well of your maturity.
Toady Stinkens, indeed."
Sam laughed, clearly amused. "Think about it," he
said, rising. He grinned and put his hat on. "Of course,
we would draw up a contract negotiating the assets you'd
receive from such a transaction. Our marriage would be,
after all, merely a business agreement."
Seton stared at him, astounded. All the other Callahan
brothers had romanced their women like princes of yore.
They'd practically thrown themselves at their lady of
choice, not content until they'd won her over with great
fanfare and a wedding at Rancho Diablo. The brides had all
worn the infamous and stunning magic wedding dress, and the
wives still glowed, as if marriage to a Callahan was the
best thing next to breathing air and drinking water.
"Are you insane? Certifiably insane?" she demanded,
reconsidering using her high heel to deliver his just deserts.
"No," Sam said, "just lazy, like I said." He
grinned the famous Callahan smile that made ladies swoon.
"Think about it, Nancy Drew. Let me know if you change
your mind."
"I won't," Seton said. "You can bet your
boots on that, Counselor."
"It's a good offer. Probably the best one you'll
ever get." He winked again.
"Like the offer you made Mr. Jenkins recently? That if
he dropped the lawsuit you wouldn't sue him for his land
and every last dime he had?"
"Aw," Sam said, walking to the door, "I was
trying to go easy on the old dog. I'd considered
bringing up charges for bribery, misuse of taxpayer funds,
et cetera, et cetera. There were about twenty charges I
could have brought, none of them frivolous, and some with
certain jail time attached. But at the end of the day, I
decided to give the old fart a break." Sam tipped his
hat to her. "I have a kind and generous soul."
He walked out, whistling as he went down the hall. Seton
moved to the window, watching him amble across the street to
Banger's Bait and Tackle. Several bachelor-ettes
accosted him, and Sam put his arm around them all. They
moved as a group into the restaurant, like an amoeba that
grew as it moved.
"The most annoying man on the planet," Seton
muttered. She locked her office doorthere was no
appointment, of course; she didn't have any scheduled
for the entire weekand took an aspirin. Then she sank
into her wooden chair, looked around her bare office and
wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake returning to
Diablo to see if there was anything between Sam and her.
"Take off to Alaska," Seton said, disgusted, and
closed her eyes. "More like slither off."
If that was the famous Callahan idea of romance, she wanted
no part of it.