Emily McKay: Blackmailed Into a Fake Engagement / Tempted Into the Tycoon's Trap: Blackmailed Into a Fake Engagement

“Oh, right,” Gwen said, remembering the occasional times when she’d also flown on a chartered flight. Those days were over since she’d left her film career behind. She rarely regretted the loss of the perks from her glamorous career. One exception was the service of a chef. Cooking had never been her forte.

She glanced inside the box and inhaled the scent of fresh bread. Heaven. She reluctantly met Luc’s gaze. “You’re sure you don’t mind sharing?”

“Not at all,” he said, amusement tugging at his sensual mouth. “I would have never dreamed you’d be so enthusiastic about carbs.”

She shouldn’t like him. He was powerful, oozed confidence and probably always got his way. She couldn’t help smiling in commiseration. “One of the top-ten wonderful things about leaving Hollywood is being able to indulge myself with forbidden foods more often. Thank you,” she said and took a bite of the fresh bread.

He pulled some containers from the refrigerator. “I noticed your refrigerator’s bare except for frozen dinners. Where’s your staff?”

“My uncle, who owns the ranch, offered to share his housekeeper with me, but I don’t want to cause any extra expense during the transition phase,” she said and put the food on a plate, then placed it into the microwave.

“So my chef wasn’t far off the mark,” he said, resting his hands on his hips.

“My focus right now is getting up to speed on managing the rescue operations of the ranch. I eventually want to add a summer camp for disadvantaged children. Cooking for myself isn’t a big priority. If you’re concerned about food, you can always stay in town. There’s a diner and fast-food restaurant, a motel and—”

He shook his head. “You and I have to be together in order to sell the story.”

The microwave alarm dinged and Gwen removed the food. Her mouth watered in anticipation. Just as she pulled a knife and fork from a drawer, her cell phone rang. Glancing at the Caller ID, she immediately picked up. “Hello?”

“Gwen, this is Robert Williams with the fire department. We have a report of a mare stuck in an icy pond on the McAllister property. If we can get her out alive, do you want to rescue her?”

The image of the trapped horse flashed through her mind, and her heart tightened. “She doesn’t belong to any of the ranchers who live close by?”

“No. They’re pretty sure she’s wild.”

“Wow,” Gwen said, adrenaline rushing through her veins. “Yes. I’ll call Dennis and the vet and bring over the trailer. Thanks.” She pushed the off button and speed-dialed Dennis, the operations manager for the entire ranch, but it went straight to voice mail. “Darn,” she muttered, remembering that Dennis had taken his wife into town to celebrate their anniversary. He’d probably turned off his cell.

“What’s wrong?” Luc asked.

“I need to go pick up a horse for rescue. Dennis usually goes with me.”

“I can help you,” he said.

She shot him a look of disbelief. “This is a wild horse. If the fire department can get her out of the freezing pond, she still may not be cooperative.”

“A close friend of my parents owns a ranch. I spent summers there when I was a kid and teenager. I worked with the trainer when he broke a couple wild ponies.”

“Really?” she said, surprised. As one of the privileged Hudsons, Luc struck her as the kind of man who would demand and receive only the best and most cutting-edge conveniences in his life. She would have bet money that the only physical challenges he faced were conducted in a temperature-controlled gym…or perhaps the bedroom. She immediately pushed that thought aside. Where had it come from anyway?

“Yes, really. Shouldn’t we be going?” he asked. “I’ll grab my coat, hat and gloves.”

Rattled by the intensity in his expression, she nodded. Without Dennis around, she would be a fool to reject Luc’s offer of assistance. “Okay,” she said and pulled out plastic wrap to cover the food and put it in the refrigerator.

“Bring that plate with you?” he asked over his shoulder as he walked toward the room where he was staying.

“I can’t eat and drive,” she called after him, but he didn’t appear to be listening.

Less than a minute later, he appeared in the hallway dressed for the outdoors. “I’ll drive. You can navigate in between bites.”

“That truck has a stick shift and an ornery clutch.”

“I can handle it,” he said with a level gaze that let her know he could handle a lot more than she’d suspected he could. He moved his athletic body with a sensual confidence that went deeper than skin, leaving no doubt that he could take care of a woman in every possible way.

Looking at him reminded her that it had been eons since she’d been held by a man, even longer since she’d made love. She’d told herself she didn’t miss having a man in her life. She didn’t miss having someone take her breath away with just a look, someone who could make her heart stop and start just by saying her name. She sure as heck didn’t miss the pain that followed when she made herself vulnerable.

She suspected he was a master seducer and lover, the kind of man to leave a woman begging for more. Gwen resolved not to be that woman.

Within minutes of when Gwen and Luc had arrived at the rescue site, Gwen knew she’d underestimated Luc Hudson. Standing at the edge of the pond with freezing water rising to the tops of his boots, he used a chainsaw to break up the ice that covered most of the pond.

Gwen’s apprehension rose with each passing second. As soon as the chill overtook the mare, the horse would lose a lot of her fight and the job of rescuing her would grow more difficult than ever. Colored chestnut-brown, with a white star on her forehead, the horse was drenched, her eyes wide with fear and distress. She wanted out, but she was afraid of the men.

The men looped a rope over the mare’s head. She fought the rope for a couple of minutes. Since she was wild, she didn’t understand that they were trying to help her. Luc helped spread a tarp over the ice he had pulverized.

When one of the men waded into the water wearing an orange suit and carrying another rope for the horse’s hindquarters, Gwen rushed to grab one of the ropes from the shore.

Luc shook his head. “You don’t need to be out here. Get the trailer ready.”

“The trailer’s ready,” she retorted.

“He has a point,” said Dan, the fireman holding the rope next to her. “This is a job for someone with more upper-body strength.”

Frustration twisted inside her, and she passed the rope to one of the other firemen. “I’ll back the trailer a few feet closer.”

“Good idea,” Dan said. “We’re going to need to get her inside as soon as possible.”

The wind sliced like a vicious whip, and sleet pelted her down jacket like tiny needles of ice. Gwen climbed into the truck and started the engine, then backed up a few feet until she heard one of the men yell. She exited the truck and checked the trailer again.

Luc waved for her to come to him. “Here,” he said, taking a digital camera from his pocket.

“What?” she asked in dismay. “You want me to take pictures?”

“No, I want you to shoot video,” he said. “Stand over there,” he said. “The light will be better.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“No,” he said. “Trust me. You’ll thank me later. Shoot the video. Press this button when I tell you to start.”

“This is ridiculous. I need to be helping that horse the second she gets out of the pond.”

“We’re going to take her straight into the trailer. There’s nothing else you can do. This will be great PR for your cause.”