Reckless Promise Read online

  Reckless Promise

  By Jenny Andersen

  Copyright © 2010 Jenny Andersen

  (Previously published as The Other Woman)

  Revised Edition 2014

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any way without the written consent of the copyright owner and publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination.

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  This book is available in print at most online retailers.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  A Word from Jenny

  About the Author

  Connect With Jenny

  Other Books by Jenny Andersen

  Reckless Promise

  Chapter 1

  Welcome to the Wild, Wild West.

  Poppy slumped in the passenger seat of the hulking Chevy Suburban and stared at the steer horns mounted on the hood. "Tom, this is crazy. It'll never work."

  Tom glanced at her and returned his attention to the road. "It was your idea."

  "I was—upset." Drunk. And when she’d tried a practice ‘job’, she’d been all too effective. Instead of saving a marriage, she’d ended up with a jealous wife following her home and screaming at her. Tom’s response to her frantic plea to back out had been to slam down the phone before sending a plane ticket and a reminder that she’d promised.

  If she lived through it, she would never, ever do such a reckless thing again, and that was another promise she’d keep. She tried once more. "I can’t—"

  "Too late. You’re single and gorgeous. You're here. And Alice knows we’ve just spent a couple of hours alone together."

  "But—"

  "And Alice knows we met in Boston when I was there last month."

  "But—"

  "Anyway, we’ve arrived. You can’t back out now."

  Apparently not. She had promised, after all, and she believed in keeping promises. But her stomach did a half gainer at the thought of what she faced.

  The oversized vehicle jounced across some metal bars set in the ground between halves of a serious-looking fence and stopped at what must be the main ranch house, a long, low lodge built of rosy-coloured stone. Bright petunias and pansies tumbled from flower beds framing a welcoming porch, and the windows gleamed in the sunlight.

  Any other time she'd have thought it charming. Today it looked like doom.

  Tom heaved her bags onto the porch, narrowly missing a sweet-faced woman standing in front of a cluster of people. He ignored her, stopped beside Poppy to lean close and whisper, "You're on stage. Break a leg," before waving at everyone. "Trail ride. I'm outta here," he called and left.

  Poppy stood frozen, looking at the woman. Tom's wife? She gulped and tried to force a cheery "Hello," past her dry mouth.

  "Welcome to the Montana Blue Guest Ranch. I'm Alice Bailey," the woman said in a frosty voice.

  Yep. Tom’s wife. The woman he'd ignored. The one she was supposed to make jealous. Poppy gathered her courage and went up the steps, remembering to put some unaccustomed hip action in her walk.

  The people behind Alice turned out to be a family—tanned, relaxed people who had survived a vacation here and were waiting for a ride back to the airport. The father’s gaze focused on Poppy and his jaw went slack. His wife jabbed him with her elbow.

  Right reaction, Poppy supposed, but wrong target. She’d dressed to entice, in bright red Spandex and extra make-up. They sure did the job but she had to swallow a longing for her usual sensible, comfortable clothes.

  With an obvious effort to be a gracious hostess, Alice went on with her welcome-to-the-ranch speech. "—so glad you're here." It sounded almost sincere. "Let me just say goodbye to these folks and we'll get you settled in."

  Poppy leaned against the porch railing and watched Alice exchange hugs and handshakes with the adults, feeling worse with each passing minute. Alice picked up a little girl and kissed her cheek before handing her into the car to her mother. "You be sure to send me that recipe," she said to the woman. "Our cook can practice and get it just the way you like it by next summer."

  This was going to be awful. Poppy couldn’t do this to such a nice woman. But... She sighed. She had to.

  A hairy behemoth—he looked like a super-sized Hell's Angel in a cowboy hat—came out of the house, climbed in the driver's seat, and drove off with the departing guests.

  Alice turned to Poppy. Her smile faded. "Let's go inside and get you checked in," she said in a brisk voice. "I hope you'll enjoy your stay with us," she added with no eye contact whatever.

  Guilt stabbed Poppy right in the conscience. She doubted she'd enjoy anything about the next two weeks. But she'd pretend.

  Alice gave her a quick tour of the main building, pointing out the dining room, a door marked Private that led to family quarters, and a Great Room with overstuffed chairs and sofas ranged around a fieldstone fireplace that looked like it could roast a whole buffalo. "What a lovely room," she said. "Rustic. Just perfect. Did you...uh...shoot those..." She gestured at the stuffed dead things on the walls. "...deer?"

  "Antelope. Elk. That one's a buffalo. And yes, I shot some of them. That's what we eat during the winter."

  Poppy didn't want to think about Alice and guns in the same sentence. A glitter of blue caught her eye and she walked over to a cabinet in a dark corner. "Jewels?"

  Alice didn't slow down. "Montana sapphires. I'm sure you'll enjoy them." Her head came up at the sound of a loud engine and she stalked out the front door without another word.

  Poppy cast a last, nervous glance over her shoulder at the glassy-eyed animal heads and followed.

  A rackety old truck finished in dents and dull primer stopped in a cloud of exhaust fumes inches from the steps. The driver climbed out and glared at Alice. "I'm ready for my check," he said, sullen as a student denied extra credit on an exam.

  Alice's mouth flattened. "Excuse me," she said to Poppy. "Come with me, Brad. You have to sign for this." She stalked back into the house.

  Brad lingered long enough to look Poppy up and down before he followed Alice. She hunched her shoulders and turned away, but not before she saw his eyes brighten at her accentuated cleavage.

  Eventually Alice and Brad returned. "...sorry this didn't work out. I hope things will get better for you," Alice said as she came onto the porch.

  "Oh, right. Like firing me with no reference is going to make my life easier." His lip curled. "You're making a big mistake. You'll be sorry."

  He sounded like a toddler about to have a tantrum and Poppy cringed. She must have sounded just like that when she'd told Jase and Kate her Other Woman plan.

  "The only mistake I made was hiring you, Brad. Now get going."

  For a moment, Poppy thought he would ignore the order. But Alice met his gaze with a ferocious glar
e, hands on hips and chin lifted, so formidable that Poppy wouldn't have argued with her, and Brad climbed back into his truck and drove away.

  Alice turned back to Poppy. "Sorry about that," she said, apparently not at all upset.

  Poppy revised her initial impression of vulnerable sweetness and tried not to remember Jase's and Kate's protests about how dangerous this job might be. "You fired him," she said.

  Fired. The word tasted sharp, acrid, snapping her back four weeks to the day her career ended. The day she, professor, respected researcher, and cinch candidate for early tenure, had been fired. If there had been any reason, any hint it was coming... But no. She'd bounced into the dean's office expecting congratulations on her new grant, and boom, she was history.

  "What did he do?" she managed in a thin voice.

  "A little light thievery. Improper advances to guests. Not the kind of thing we want here. This is a family place." She looked at Poppy with a skeptical expression. "Let me show you to your cabin." She grabbed one of Poppy's bright red and orange flowered suitcases and led the way to a path that meandered down a gentle slope, past a weathered barn and some corrals, to a row of pine log cabins.

  Poppy hefted the other bag and followed, trying not to let the so not-urban scenery intimidate her. Her high-heeled red sandals wobbled on the gravel and she had to concentrate to keep from breaking an ankle. Hadn't these people ever heard of pavement?

  Alice marched into the second cabin and threw open a window, letting in crisp, sage-scented air. "I hope you'll enjoy your stay with us," she said with all the enthusiasm of a restaurant owner welcoming Typhoid Mary.

  Poppy turned a slow circle and surveyed the cabin with disbelief. Pine paneling, another rough stone fireplace, and more dead things on the walls. "I know I'm going to love it here. It's beautiful," she said, and winced at the insincerity in her voice. "Just as perfect as the lodge."

  Alice raised an eyebrow.

  "And the scenery," Poppy went on. "I worried when I got to Butte. Everything there is so—so—uh—and this is—the mountains are huge, and the sky is so high it makes me feel small." Even the untidy mountains had to be better than the endless scruffy grayish bushes and miles of unmowed grass that had greeted her at the airport in Butte. You asked for it, so no point in whining because it isn't Boston.

  "I'm glad you like it," Alice said. "We certainly do. Dinner's at six. Come up to the house whenever you like." She left, closing the door gently behind her.

  Poppy swallowed hard against homesickness. She'd imagined Montana as a gentle landscape of green, rolling hills and pastures. Instead… And where were the glossy horses and handsome cowboys? Family place didn't sound like her ideal vacation. Even supposing she survived fixing Tom's marriage so she could indulge in a vacation.

  After meeting Alice, she had her doubts.

  She paced the one room of her cabin, avoiding eye contact with a particularly dyspeptic-looking deer. Elk. Whatever. "I want to go home," she told the snarling bear standing in one corner. "I'm a professor. I have classes to meet. Research to do. Pretending to be a bimbo who hits on married men is just not me."

  The bear didn't comment.

  Poppy turned her back on him and went out to her small porch.

  What had she been thinking?

  Simple. She hadn't been thinking.

  She pulled out her phone only to find a dead battery. Great. What were the chances this place even had a telephone? She needed to talk to her best friends in the whole world, her lawyer and her roommate. Her gaze caught an old-fashioned black phone on a table in one corner and she sighed in relief at the sign of civilization. She grabbed it and dialed. Kate could supply moral support plus news from the legal front, the best deal Poppy had found all day.

  "Cunningham Law Offices," Kate said.

  "Fire your secretary again? I made it to the ranch. What's happening?"

  "No, good, and I'm kicking university butt. We have a meeting next week, and they're scared."

  "Good."

  "You will be reinstated," Kate said firmly. "They can't fire you."

  Poppy tried to laugh. It wasn't a success. "I don't have tenure."

  "I’ll fix it. But this crazy Other Woman scheme isn't good for your image."

  "I know. But I promised. Besides, no one will find out."

  After a pause that had Poppy's pulse jumping, Kate said, "Well, I promise you, whatever happens with your mess out there, the mess here will not stick."

  "Thank you. I'm glad you're a lawyer."

  "You're glad I'm a shark," Kate said with a laugh.

  "I’m glad you’re my shark." Poppy hung up, feeling much better.

  What would she do without Jase and Kate? The night she’d been fired, that awful night...

  She’d walked in the apartment door, trembling with shock.

  "What happened?" Jase demanded.

  "I got fired."

  "But—but—why?"

  "Professor Harding's wife said—she said that I—that her husband—that we—Did. Had an affair. Slept together." She shuddered. The idea violated every principle she possessed. Even if Harding weren't a toad, she would never do such a thing.

  "And they believed her?"

  Poppy nodded. "Mrs. Harding threatened to sue."

  "And the dean caved." It wasn't a question. Jase had met the dean.

  "Like a pile of soft sand. The administration decided the easiest thing was to let me go."

  "Easiest for whom?"

  Poppy shrugged.

  The doorbell pealed. "Oh, darn. I forgot Tom is coming to dinner. Can you...?"

  She nodded, numb enough to agree to anything.

  But it was Kate, clutching her answer to any event—or life trauma that couldn't be fixed in the courtroom. She poured the brandy lavishly, and Poppy progressed from limp acquiescence through tears and anger to silence.

  "What is she thinking?" Kate whispered to Jase.

  "If you're going to talk about me behind my back, don't do it in front of me," Poppy said. "I'm thinking about what to do."

  "You might want to wait on that," Jase told her. "You're a little—uh—impaired right now."

  "I'm fine," she snapped.

  By the time Tom arrived, tall and handsome in jeans and a western shirt, she'd figured it out. Bolstered by her brandy haze, she barely waited for Jase to say, "Tom Bailey, ladies. Jerry and I met him when we were in Wyoming," before she made her announcement. "If they think I'm the other woman, I'm going to be The Other Woman." She laughed at the expressions of horror on Jase's and Kate's faces. Tom looked puzzled.

  "Not a good idea," Kate said, her brow furrowed. "You need to get your job back."

  "You sound like a three year old," Jase added. "Stamping your foot and swearing you'll show them all."

  "Well, I will." Poppy ignored the part about getting her job back. If they didn't want her, she wouldn't want them. She kicked the nearest table leg and tried not to hear the sulkiness in her voice. "I will show them. All." She hiccupped.

  "But—married men?" Kate said.

  "I can pretend. I'll pretend to be The Other Woman." It sounded better this time. Adventurous.

  "Other woman?" Tom asked.

  Jase gave him a brief explanation, then added, "I don't think so," to Poppy.

  Poppy looked down her nose at him. Her eyes crossed and she closed them. "It's going to be a service. A much-needed service. Remember that guy at the grocery last week?"

  "The one who kept following you?"

  "And pinching my grapefruit. Yes."

  "What about him?" Tom asked.

  "He was trying to make his girlfriend jealous," Poppy said.

  "And...?"

  "It worked. She got so upset when she saw him hitting on me—or my grapefruit—that she was wound around him like a feather boa when they left."

  Tom leaned forward, suddenly intent on the conversation. "And your point is?"

  "My point is that there's a market for a non-threatening Other Woman. Someon
e who can help men who want to save their relationships. A pretend Other Woman who doesn't require relationship work. One who is, in fact, no real threat. Isn't that a great idea?" Poppy looked from Kate to Jase and back to Kate, glowing with pride at her cleverness.

  "It's—" Jase and Kate said at the same time.

  "A wonderful idea," Tom said with enthusiasm. "And I'm your first client."

  * * *

  So here she was, in Cowboy Land, Montana, all alone with a hostile hostess and a reckless promise to keep. She dialed—how old was this phone, anyway?—the apartment and hoped Jase would be home.

  He answered so promptly she was sure he'd been waiting for her call. "So how's it going?"

  "Your sister says she’ll get me reinstated."

  "I meant with Alice, dummy."

  "I met her. She's no marshmallow. I'm nervous."

  "You ought to be. Give it up, babe. Come home and audition for my new play. I know you can act. You couldn't pull off this Other Woman business if you couldn't."

  "For the zillionth time, no. I have no interest in a career where I'm judged by my looks."

  "Actors are judged on their acting."

  "Sure they are. Anyway, I promised to do this."

  "And you always keep your promises. Blah, blah, blah." After a long pause, he added, "Well, maybe you can use this as a vacation. You haven't taken one since I met you. I’m not sure you know how to vacation."

  Vacation sounded good. "Tom did say I could stay on after...after things get fixed. I could try."

  "Good. And while you’re at it, try not to make any more impulsive decisions. No more reckless promises."

  "Like I made, might I remind you, to your friend." She put the phone down, reluctant to lose her last contact with the familiar, high-energy, urban world but intrigued with the idea of a vacation.

  No impulsive decisions, but cowboys. Montana meant nice, single, sexy cowboys, and it was past time for some sizzle in her life. She could have one little fling before she went home. After all, she was acting the part of an adventurous woman. Someone who would fling without a second thought.