âNobody even has to know youâre advising me. Itâll be a secret,â Zach offered.
Abby was having none of it. âSo you can blackmail me with it later?â she challenged.
He gave an exaggerated eye-roll. âDonât be ridiculous.â
âHow is that ridiculous? Youâre blackmailing me now.â Her voice came out more shrilly than sheâd intended.
âThereâs only one thing I want from you, Abby.â
âDonât call me Abby.â That nickname was reserved for her family.
His gaze stayed on her, while he obviously regrouped. âHow can we make this work?â
âYou can go away and never come back.â
He strode toward her, his normally laid-back style instantly bold, confident, purposeful. âIâm definitely not going away, Abigail. And from everything Iâve learned in the past week, youâre the one person I need.â
Dear Reader,
Iâve always been fascinated by the differing roles of family members and how those roles impact peopleâs lives. It seems once expectations are set, brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers feel honor-bound to meet them.
In An Intimate Bargain, Abigailâs family expects her unconditional support on the family cattle ranch. As an orphan, Zach doesnât understand her obligations. He only wants her to be happy, so he pushes her to pursue her own secret dreams.
I hope you enjoy the further adventures of the Jacobs and Terrell families in book three of COLORADO CATTLE BARONS!
Enjoy!
Barbara Dunlop
The last time Zach Rainer felt this level of anxiety, he was walking out of a Texas group home on his eighteenth birthday. Twelve years later, there was more than just his future at stake.
Heâd been navigating the Interstate since dawn in his three-year-old Jaguar convertible with nothing but a stale truck stop sandwich and six cardboard cups of coffee to keep him going. His business partner, Alex Cable, had insisted the road trip from Texas to Colorado would clear his head. Zach should have known better. Thinking didnât solve problems, action did.
Now he checked himself into the Caspian Hotel in downtown Lyndon, Colorado, and accepted his key to an eighth-floor room. While he pocketed his credit card, his attention was drawn to the mezzanine level that overlooked the atrium lobby. Sharply dressed men and glittering ladies circulated at the top of a grand, curving staircase, while chamber music sounded around them.
He put the room key in his pocket and left his bags with the porter. Tugging the sleeves of his travel-worn blazer, he took the friendly clerkâs advice and started for a sports-bar down the hall. The woman had assured him it would be a lot less crowded there. Though, given his wrinkled shirt and dayâs growth of beard, he was guessing she thought heâd fit in better with the sports bar crowd. Not that he cared about making any kind of impression. He was too tired and too hungry to worry about anything more than a hot meal and a long nightâs sleep.
Tomorrow morning, heâd drive up into the hills behind Lyndon to the Craig Mountain Brewery and take stock of the place. Craig Mountain was the weak link in DFB Incorporated, the microbrewery conglomerate that he and Alex had grown over the past twelve years. At the same time, Craig Mountain had suddenly become the potential salvation of the entire corporation and the hundreds of jobs that went with it.
At the end of the hall, he entered the dimly lit bar through a lighted archway. He blinked to adjust his eyes, then he zeroed in on an empty table across from the wide-screen television. A basketball game was playing, the announcerâs words scrolling in closed caption across the bottom of the screen, while an eighties rock tune came through speakers high in the corners of the room.
It was Lakers versus Celtics. Neither were teams he followed, but watching the action would help his mind rest up for tomorrow. Production at Craig Mountain was currently ten thousand barrels per year. In order to save DFB, he needed to triple that in the next six months.
As he rounded the polished bar, his attention was snagged by a startlingly beautiful, auburn-haired woman. Perched on a leather chair, she was alone at a table and looked seriously out of place in the casual atmosphere. She wore a low-cut, black cocktail dress with spaghetti straps over her smooth shoulders. It clung to her body in a drop waist, then layered out into a full skirt, ending at midthigh.
Her graceful, lavender-tipped fingers were wrapped around the martini glass in front of her. She was obviously deep in thought, her attention fixed on a spot on the far wall. The flickering light from the television highlighted her compelling hazel eyes. They were streaked with gold, mesmerizing and undeniably sexy. Her hair was pulled back in a wavy updo, a few loose strands artfully arranged at her temples, brushing against dangling crystal earrings.