“So what brings you to Blue Earth Valley, Sydney Wainsbrook?” he drawled into the silence.
She smiled, liking her audacious plan better by the second. She’d worried he might be obnoxious or objectionable, but he was a midnight fantasy come to life. Why some other woman hadn’t snapped him up before now was a mystery to her.
“You do,” she said.
“Me?”
She took a sip of her coffee. “Yes, you.”
“Have we met?”
“Not until now.”
He sat back, blue eyes narrowing. Then a flash of comprehension crossed his face and he held up his palms. “Whoa. Wait a minute.”
“What?” Surely he couldn’t have figured out her plan that quickly.
“Did my grandmother put you up to this?”
Sydney shook her head, relieved. “No, she didn’t.”
“You sure? Because—”
“I’m sure.” The only person who had put Sydney up to this was Sydney. Well, Sydney and a thousand hours of research in museum basements across Europe.
She moved her cup to one side and leaned forward, her interest piqued. “But tell me why your grandmother might have sent me.”
He tightened his jaw and sat back in purposeful silence.
Sydney wriggled a little in her seat. “Hoo-ha. I can tell this is going to be good.”
He didn’t answer, just stared her down.
“Dish,” she insisted, refusing to be intimidated. She had a feeling people normally gave him a wide berth. And she had no intention of behaving like normal people. Surprise was one of her best weapons.
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. It’s because she’s an incorrigible matchmaker.”
Sydney bit down on a laugh. “Your grandmother is setting you up?”
He grimaced. “That sounded pathetic, didn’t it?”
“A little.”
“She’s a meddler. And…well…” He seemed to catch himself, and he quickly shook his head. “Nah. Not going there. You tell me what you’re doing in Blue Earth Valley.”
Sydney wrapped her hands around her coffee cup. Right. Stalling wasn’t going to change a thing. She’d plunge right in and hope to catch him off guard. “I’m a curator from the Laurent Museum.”
He didn’t react. Didn’t show any signs of panic. That was good.
“I’ve just finished three months’ research in Europe.”
He waited. Still no reaction.
“It supplemented three years of previous research. My thesis, actually.”
“You wrote a thesis?”
“Yes, I did. On the Thunderbolt of the North.”
Okay. That got a reaction from him. His eyes chilled to sea ice and his jaw clamped tight.
“I understand you’re the current owner.”
His palms came down hard on the table. “You understand wrong.”
“Let me rephrase—”
“Good idea.”
She leaned in again. “I know how it works.”
“You know how what works?”
“The inheritance. I know it goes to your wife. And I’m here to offer to marry you.”
Two
Everything inside Cole stilled.
He opened his mouth, then he snapped it shut again.
He stared at the perfectly gorgeous creature in front of him and tried to make sense out the situation. Was this a joke?
“Did Kyle put you up to this?” he asked.
“Who’s Kyle?”
“My brother.”
She shook her head and all that auburn hair fanned out around her perfectly made-up face. “It wasn’t your brother, and it wasn’t your grandmother.”
“Then who?”
“Me.”
He paused again. “You seriously expect me to believe you came all the way from New York—”
“Yes, I do.” She reached into her clutch purse and pulled out a business card.
He read it. Sure enough, Laurent Museum. Okay, now he was just getting annoyed. The Thunderbolt wasn’t a commodity to be bartered. It was a trust, a duty. “So was that breakdown nothing but a setup?”
“What breakdown?”
“Your car.”
“My car is fine.”
“Your car is fried.”
“You know, I just proposed to you.”
He stood up. “And you thought I’d say yes?”
“I’d hoped—”
“In what universe?” His voice rose, bouncing off the cabin walls. He was offended, offended on behalf of his grandmother, his ancestors and his heirs. “In what universe would I agree to marry a complete stranger and give away a family heirloom?”
She stood, too. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean—”
“I have horses to shoe.” He was done listening. She could fix her own car for all he cared, or call a taxi or hoof it up to the main road.
“Right now?” she asked.
“Right now.” He scooped a battered Stetson from a hook on the wall and stuffed it on his head.
Sydney watched Cole march out of the small log cabin. Okay, that hadn’t gone quite as well as she’d hoped. But then again, he hadn’t really given her a chance to explain. She wasn’t trying to steal the Thunderbolt. She merely wanted to display it for a few months.
She was pulling together a Viking show exceptional enough for front gallery space at the Laurent. With the Thunderbolt as the centerpiece, she would thwart Bradley Slander and save her career. All she needed was the cooperation of one cowboy.
She moved to the cabin door and watched him head up a rise while she contemplated her next move.
The man had the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen. Solid as an oak tree, he had a confident stride and a butt that could stop traffic. She watched for a few more steps, then she forced her gaze away. His butt was irrelevant. The marriage would be in name only.
Her focus had to be on the brooch, not on the man. It wasn’t as if she could put Cole on display in the front gallery. Although…
She squelched a grin and glanced at the rental car.
A breakdown, huh? Car trouble could be her ticket to more time with him. Swallowing the dregs of her coffee, she made up her mind. If that baby wasn’t broken down now, it soon would be.
She waited until Cole disappeared over the hill. Then she popped the hood, yanked out some random wires and closed it up again, hoping she’d done some serious damage.
Dusting off her hands, she tucked her clutch purse under her arm and headed up the hill.
Three-inch heels were definitely not the best choice for the Erickson Ranch. Neither was a straight skirt and loose hair. By the time she closed in on Cole, she was disheveled