“Yes.”
“No, but I am suffering from an incurable codicil.”
“Now I’m really perplexed.”
“Join the club.” He gestured toward the end of the lengthy barn. “Let’s go into the office. You’re going to need to sit down while I explain.”
That sounded like a good plan. Her knees were still weak from their mini make-out session and the bombshell proposal. “Lead the way.”
Paris followed Dallas into the office that was surprisingly simple and blessedly cool. She took a black-and-chrome chair situated in the corner while he leaned back on the industrial metal desk opposite her.
Dallas released a rough sigh as he centered his gaze on her. “Before I launch into this mess, I need to know I can trust you with the information I’m about to disclose.”
She braced for deep secrets, an all too familiar concept. “I promise I won’t say anything. Besides, I really don’t have anyone to tell, at least not around here. And I promise you I have no intention of mentioning any of this conversation to my mother and father.”
“No best friend?”
“Not really. I basically lost touch with my friends from college.” A sad commentary on the state of her life.
“Good, because some of my current predicament involves a scandal.”
Her curiosity was considerably piqued. “Go ahead.”
After looking away a few moments, Dallas finally regarded her again. “A few years ago, during the reading of my dad’s will, we discovered he had another family we didn’t know a damn thing about.”
“You mean Jenny?”
“Yeah, and the twins.”
Both shocking and scandalous. “I didn’t realize your dad and Maria divorced.”
“They didn’t.”
The cogs started spinning in her head as she added outrageous to the adjectives describing the situation. “You mean he was—”
“A bigamist.”
“How did he get away with that?”
“By leaving the state to screw around on Maria. He bought a horse farm in Louisiana when Maria was pregnant with my half brother Houston. He met Jenny in New Orleans, married her and proceeded to get her pregnant not long after my other half brother Tyler was born. For over twenty years he lived the lie and no one was the wiser.”
Paris felt as if she’d been thrust into a spaghetti Western soap opera. “I can’t imagine keeping a secret of that magnitude for weeks, much less decades.”
“J. D. Calloway was a conniving, cheating, lying son of a bitch,” he said, venom in his voice. “Pardon my French.”
She couldn’t believe he would be concerned about cursing in light of what he’d just told her. “No worries. My father speaks the language fluently.”
Her attempt at humor obviously fell flat when Dallas didn’t even crack a smile. “But that part of the sorry story isn’t even the worst of it.”
Paris had a difficult time believing it could get much worse. Then again... “Please don’t tell me he had another wife.”
“Not that we’re aware of, although I wouldn’t put it past him. But he did have it out for me.”
“Why is that?”
“Because he never could control me in life, so he decided to do it in death.”
She definitely didn’t think she’d care for the late Calloway patriarch. “How exactly did he manage that?”
“By using ownership of the ranch. He knew my grandfather insisted the controlling interest of the D Bar C be passed down to his first-born grandson, and my dad was forced to adhere to that request. But then he added a condition that would allow me to continue to run this place only if I did his bidding.”
She was almost afraid to ask. “Such as?”
“I have to get married before my thirty-eighth birthday. If not, controlling interest reverts to my half brother Fort who doesn’t give a tinker’s damn about this place. He’s so ate up with anger he’d like to see all of us fail.”
So now she knew why that milestone held so much importance with the mothers. And she suspected she knew the reason behind the spontaneous proposal. “Am I correct in assuming you want me to prevent that from happening by entering into a bogus marriage?”
He scowled. “When you put it that way, it makes me sound like a jerk. But after I met you yesterday and learned about your current situation, I figured it would benefit us both.”
“How am I going to benefit from a lie?”
“Financially.”
She’d begun to feel a bit like the prostitute Maria had believed her to be. “Marriage for money. Interesting. And out of the question.”
“Will you at least hear me out?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. But first, I have to know one thing.”
“Go ahead.”
“How could you put that much faith in this plan when you know so little about me?”
He paused for a brief moment. “Your parents are Howard and Sheila Reynolds. You were born in San Diego thirty-two years ago on November second. You graduated from a prestigious college, worked for an equally prestigious firm in Nevada and you married Peter L. Smith in Vegas eight years ago. I didn’t find any record of your divorce though.”
She was floored he’d gained so much information in such a short time. “I have the documents although they’re in Spanish, and a photo of the book where the registrar recorded the divorce. And exactly when did you do this background check on me?”
“I couldn’t sleep last night so I did an internet search. This morning I called a friend who’s in security. He took it from there.”
Security meant criminal history. Momentary panic set in. “Did he find anything interesting?”
“Nope. Not one felony or misdemeanor or even a speeding ticket.”
She relaxed for a moment knowing he hadn’t discovered her primary secret, but then no one knew about that. No one ever would, thanks to a nondisclosure order arranged by her attorney. “I’d expect you to thoroughly investigate someone you intend to hire, but not someone you intend to marry.”
“I’m a businessman, Paris, and this is a business proposition. Maybe that sounds kind of crass, but before we go any further, I wouldn’t want you to have expectations of it being anything else.”
For some odd reason that stung like a hornet, as if she was stupid enough to think it might be more. “Really? Again I ask, what’s in it for me? Aside from being wed to the object of many a woman’s lust, of course.”
He didn’t seem affected at all by her sarcasm. “First of all, you have a fairly substantial debt you’re dealing with.”
Had he somehow discovered the money she owed her former firm? Impossible. Or so she hoped. “Did you run a report on my finances?”
“No. I figured that out when you came begging for a job, and confirmed it when you mentioned your ex taking your money and cutting out of the country. I also recall some issue with staying in your apartment and possibly having to move to Idaho. Am I wrong?”
If he only knew the true magnitude of her problems. “No, you’re not wrong.”
“Exactly how much debt are you carrying?”
“That’s