He’d moved forward to tell her just that when he saw Daniel Pearson and Margo Lawson entering the exhibition hall. Margo had her nose in the catalog, and by the time she pointed in their direction, Daniel had already spotted them.
Cash backed up, slipped one hand behind him, and tapped lightly on the wall of the booth. “Showtime, D.C.” Then he leaned back and prepared to enjoy himself.
Three hours of handling dealers and gawkers had brought color to Jordan’s cheeks. She looked perfectly at ease as Margo and Pearson reached her booth. Margo sent him a look, but then she leaned over the case to study the collection. Clearly, she was focused on business before pleasure.
Pearson barely glanced at the display cases before he took one of Jordan’s hands. The diamond on his pinky finger caught the light. “Lovely job. Our dinner reservations are for six-thirty here in the hotel. I thought after the show, you’d enjoy someplace close.”
And the sooner he could get her signature on the dotted line, the better, Cash thought. He’d been working Maddie for months. Why the sudden rush? Perhaps the answer to that question lay in the little charade they were about to enact.
When he realized his hands had fisted, Cash relaxed them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw D.C. making his way toward them. The only thing that Cash didn’t like about the little scenario Jordan and D.C. had finally decided on was that his job wasn’t a more active one. He was supposed to observe Pearson’s reactions.
“I have to have this one.” Margo pointed at the center piece in the second case. “You’ve never designed anything quite like it before.”
“No sense in bringing the same old, same old to a show,” Jordan said.
“You haven’t sold it. Tell me you haven’t.”
Jordan beamed Margo a smile. “I’ve sold three of them, as a matter of fact.”
Margo’s face registered disappointment. “But then they won’t be unique. My customers don’t want to see themselves coming and going.”
“But each one will be unique. The colors of the turquoise stones will vary. Look at the color variations in this other necklace.” She gestured to the other case. “So will the color of the beads in the necklace. And the shape of the pendant will vary also. I’ve made some sketches. See.”
Margo studied the sketches Jordan placed on the case. Then she turned her attention back to the necklace. Finally, she met Jordan’s eyes. “Yes, I can see. Brilliant. When did you come up with that marketing strategy?”
Jordan shrugged. “When three different dealers asked for a unique necklace.”
“Make that four.”
Cash bet it was Jordan who’d come up with the strategy and not Maddie.
Pearson had begun to fan himself with his catalog. Bored to tears, Cash thought.
D.C. was closing in. Cash bet that Pearson wouldn’t be fanning himself much longer.
“Ms. Farrell?”
The drawl was unmistakably Texas. The charm, Cash was beginning to suspect, was D. C. Campbell.
Jordan shook D.C.’s extended hand.
“I’m Greg Majors.” D.C.’s grin was apologetic. “Of course, you don’t know me from Adam, but I have a business card.” He fished it out of a pocket and passed it to her. “I’m here representing Majors Limited. My daddy owns a bunch of oil wells in Texas, and he’s always looking for ways to invest his excess cash flow.”
Jordan looked a little confused. “Does he want to invest in my jewelry business?”
D.C. glanced down at the display cases. “I could certainly suggest that to him.” Then he met Jordan’s eyes. “But I’m here to talk to you about your ranch.”
Every bone in Pearson’s body stiffened. Good, Cash thought.
“Now wait just a minute,” Pearson said.
D.C.’s good ol’ boy charm didn’t falter for a second. “And you are?”
“Daniel Pearson of Montgomery Real Estate.”
D.C. nodded. “Good to meet you. Are you representing Ms. Farrell’s interests here?”
“Yes.”
D.C. pulled out his notebook, flipped it open. “I’m sorry. Has she listed her ranch with you? I don’t see that in my notes.”
“No. She hasn’t. But—”
D.C. cut him off with a raised palm and turned back to Jordan. “Ms. Farrell, my daddy is interested in investing in a string of select properties and turning them into an elite group of vacation destinations. In your case, we’re thinking of a dude ranch. It wouldn’t interfere with the running of the ranch, nor would it change the landscape in any significant way. My daddy started out as a rancher, and that’s where his heart still is. But if it hadn’t been for the black gold that he discovered on his land…well, the Majors family wouldn’t be where it is today. We’ve done our research on you.”
And Pearson was doing research, too. His fingers were busy on the BlackBerry he’d pulled out of his pocket. Taking two easy steps forward, Cash was able to see that he’d pulled up the Majors Limited Web site. If Pearson decided to dig deeper, D.C.’s cover story would check out. He’d seen to it by contacting his old buddy on their way into town.
“You want to buy my ranch?” Jordan asked, doing her best to look confused.
“No, not at all. We want to invest in your ranch and in you.”
As D.C. elaborated on his plan, Cash began to relax. Her modification of D.C.’s initial plan was working. Not only was it driving Pearson into panic mode, but what D.C. was describing to her were all her ideas. Cash was beginning to think that she was serious about turning the Farrell Ranch into a working dude ranch. One thing he was certain of. She and D.C. should be nominated for some award. The Daytime Emmys?
“We’ll provide advice, financial support, advertising and marketing help,” D.C. was explaining. “We think that offering vacations on a working ranch will have great appeal.”
Jordan pressed hands to her temples. “Wait. I get to keep the ranch, run cattle, do everything I’m doing now?”
D.C. beamed a smile at her. “That’s the plan. And it will be just the attraction that draws your guests. Lots of dude ranches around. Very few offer a true ranch experience. Add quality accommodations and gourmet food…” He raised both hands and dropped them. “Daddy and I think it’s a win-win idea. Good for a small rancher trying to make ends meet. Good for us.”
“Maddie, we need to talk about this. You don’t know this man.” Pearson’s knuckles had turned white where he was gripping his BlackBerry, and there was a thread of panic in his voice.
Jordan gave him a distracted glance. “Of course. But not now.” Then she refocused her attention on D.C.
“My daddy and I have already opened a few. Our plan is to have a chain of them operating across the Southwest—Nevada, New Mexico, Colorado. But this isn’t the place to go into details. How about we meet after the show is over—say around six or six-thirty? I have a suite on the top floor. We can grab a bite to eat.”
Pearson nearly choked. “Maddie, we have dinner plans at six-thirty.”
Jordan’s eyes, her voice, were apologetic. “Daniel, I have to hear more about this. You know I don’t want to have to sell the ranch. I have to see if this could be a possibility for me.”
“Fine. But you’re making a mistake.” Pearson stalked away, and with an apologetic smile, Margo hurried after him. He was punching in numbers on his BlackBerry even as he detoured to the cluster of sofas at the far corner of the room.
Cash put some effort into staying right where he was. It would have been too bad to destroy their little charade now. But he’d been the only one looking at Pearson when Jordan had put their dinner meeting on hold. For one instant, the real estate broker’s smooth facade had cracked. Cash had caught a glimpse of the fury and panic, and it hit home that they might have put Jordan in even more danger.
“I’ll see you around six,” D.C. said, staying in his role. Cash noted that there were a few dealers around who’d become interested once Pearson had raised his voice.
“I’ll give you my suite number.” After scribbling something on a card, he handed it to her.
When Cash stepped forward, he read the two words D.C. had written. Be careful. He met the other man’s eyes for a moment and nodded. They were on the same page where Pearson was concerned. That was the problem with stirring up a hornet’s nest, Cash thought. There was always a chance that you’d get more trouble than you wanted.
With a final nod, D.C. moved slowly toward the door as if slowed down by his cane. He timed it perfectly, reaching the exit and turning back just as Pearson bolted toward it. The collision looked perfect. A man with a cane was knocked on his backside. Pearson made a hurried apology and with Margo following, he left the exhibition hall.
Since several people, a few of them security, had clustered around D.C., Cash stayed where he was. A moment later, D.C. had settled himself on one of the sofas and appeared to be making a call on his cell.
“Hopefully, we’ll have a clue.” Cash spoke softly to Jordan. “It would be too bad to waste a performance like that.”
Her eyes were on the display case, but her lips curved slightly. “I agree. In any case, I think I just canceled my date with Danny Boy Pearson.”