Captive of the Cattle Baron (Selkirk Family Ranch Book 1) Read online

  He’d abducted her!

  Baron Selkirk ran his family’s vast Wyoming ranch with an iron hand, but he couldn’t control Addie Jelleff, his very reluctant “guest” who claimed she was a horse whisperer. She balked at being the captive of the seductive cattle baron who thought she had a drug problem.

  No way would she confide about her Hollywood past to Baron, or explain why she must return to Jackson Hole to testify at her TV star buddy’s trial. She could tame the wildest stallion, but could she tame her own growing attraction to the domineering rancher and keep him from breaking through her defenses?

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  Books by Irene Vartanoff

  Selkirk Family Ranch Series:

  Captive of the Cattle Baron

  Saving the Soldier

  Temporary Superheroine Series:

  Temporary Superheroine

  Crisis at Comicon

  Summer in the City

  A Daughter's a Daughter

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  The uploading, scanning, and distribution of this book in any form or by any means—including but not limited to electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the permission of the copyright holder is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions of this work, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Cover design by BookGraphics.net

  Formatting by Polgarus Studio

  Copyright © 2015 by Irene Vartanoff All rights reserved.

  Published by Irene Vartanoff

  www.irenevartanoff.com

  P.O. Box 27

  Gerrardstown, WV 25420

  ISBN: 978-0-9861252-2-5

  ISBN: 978-0-9861252-3-2 (ebook)

  This book is dedicated to all women

  Chapter 1

  Addie Jelleff tried not to stare at the handsome man standing so near, but she couldn’t resist a few discreet peeks. His black Stetson, which he’d touched in gentlemanly acknowledgment when she entered the hotel elevator, proclaimed him a local. Only a confident western man would wear a cowboy hat with an Italian suit.

  Tall, muscular, and dark haired, he had chestnut eyes and a strong chin. A manly man. He was the best-looking guy she’d encountered so far in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

  But there was no time for getting acquainted. She must hurry out of the public eye and get safely into Caz’s suite before the tabloid reporters cornered her. They had followed her all the way from her ranch to the hotel, where more were camped out. Anything to produce more sensational copy about the shooting. When they’d been distracted by a limo pulling up to the hotel, she’d rushed inside through the hotel garage. Luckily, the hotel wouldn’t allow the reporters to stake out the elevators.

  Suddenly dizzy, she lurched.

  Strong hands helped her remain upright.

  “Steady there,” came his deep voice.

  “Th-thanks,” she said, struggling to fight her body’s inexplicable weakness. Was it because she’d run so fast a minute ago?

  She leaned against the wall, breathing shakily. He remained next to her instead of returning to his side of the elevator.

  “I don’t know what hit me,” she said.

  His stare was noncommittal, as if he had an opinion but would not voice it. He still held her shoulders lightly. She was tall for a woman, but he was taller. His touch sent a warm sensation through her, but not enough to conquer the weird feeling that her body was almost weightless. As she tried to remain upright, she anchored her gaze on his face. A multicolored halo surrounded him, as if he was a special being and not just a stranger riding in the same steel box. Although with wood trim that matched the lodge’s rustic décor, the elevator didn’t look like a steel box. Oh, she was dizzy. Could this be the result of the allergy pill she’d taken?

  As she panted, she saw him examine her face. Finally, her breath steadied. Their faces were very close. His chest rose and fell. His lips parted, as if to say or do something. Was he about to kiss her? Would he dare do that to a stranger? Why was she fantasizing about this man when she felt her legs might not keep her upright another minute?

  A ding sounded.

  “Oh. Here’s my floor.” She moved to exit, trying and failing to walk normally. Instead of gliding out of the elevator, she nearly stumbled. “I’m okay now.”

  “You’re not,” he said. He still had one large hand on her arm.

  “I will be,” she replied with determination. Reluctantly, she moved away from his protective grasp. Only a few steps and she’d be hidden by a wall and out of sight. She must get to Caz’s suite. “Thanks again.”

  “It was my pleasure.” The deep, sonorous voice followed her as she staggered down the corridor.

  ***

  Baron Selkirk watched the beautiful blonde weave a meandering path until she turned a corner and drifted out of sight. Only then could he breathe again. The hot blood pounding in his veins finally began to cool off. He allowed the elevator doors to close.

  He punched the Door Open button. As the metal walls parted, he lunged between them. He charged down the hotel corridor. Sure enough, once he’d turned the corner, he found her leaning against the wall, half-fainting.

  “You’re ill,” he said. “I’ll call the desk for a doctor.”

  Her eyes widened at his words.

  “No, don’t,” she said. “Don’t call anyone.”

  Was that fear in her expression? What was she afraid of?

  “I’m not leaving you alone here to keel over,” he said. Although he wasn’t touching her, he stood close enough to catch her if she crumpled. Close enough to notice that her blue eyes were very dilated.

  She half-lifted one arm and pointed down the hall to double doors. “Help me to that suite?”

  “Lean on me,” he said, putting an arm around her soft shoulders. The moment he touched her, a thrill shot through his body. He willed himself to concentrate on getting her to safety.

  When they reached the double doors, she disentangled herself and rested against the doorframe. “Thank you. I’ll be all right from here.”

  He frowned. “Where’s your key?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not my suite.” She knocked softly on the wood.

  Baron spotted a doorbell and reached over to jab it. He kept his finger on the bell until he heard someone approach the door.

  “Who is it?” a muffled voice asked.

  “It’s me,” the blonde said.

  The person inside must have used the peephole, for his next words were, “I can see you’re not alone. Who’s he?”

  She glanced up at Baron. “A hotel guest. I’ve been feeling weird. He helped me here.”

  “Make him leave.”

  She shrugged. “Thanks for your help,” she said to Baron, “but you’d better go now.”

  He got it. The door wouldn’t be opened until he left. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He angled his eyes at the door, indicating his doubts about who and what awaited her inside.

  “I’ll be okay,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Baron didn’t move. This was wrong.

  “Please,” she said.

  He tipped his hat. “Your call. Have a nice life.”

  Her
sudden look of dismay almost made him refuse to budge, but he turned and walked to the elevator, forcing himself to not look back. Once he was a few steps away, he heard the suite door open and muffled words. At the corner, he looked behind him. She was gone.

  Back in the elevator, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She’d smelled like flowers. His arms had ached to gather her close. Other parts of his male body had wanted more.

  Damn shame. She was ill, or possibly high on something. Like Julie. No, don’t go there. Why were all the beautiful women so messed up? Her casual cowgirl duds hadn’t hidden a terrific figure, and she’d smiled at him very sweetly. She’d needed help, leaning against the wall, practically fainting. Yet his body had urged him to possess her. Did he have no morals?

  He removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. His trip to town had been a bust. He’d planned to take a woman friend back with him, but she’d had an emergency at home and had not come to the geology conference after all. Discreet inquiry at the casino had failed to produce anyone who could play the part of his girlfriend credibly. He must have been desperate to even ask, given how much he despised the acting profession.

  The beautiful blonde was the only woman he'd seen in Jackson Hole who appealed to him, and no way would he consider getting involved with her—as long as his brain was in charge instead of some other part of his anatomy. Hard to believe he’d found a total stranger so viscerally exciting.

  Time was running out. Tess and Paula would arrive at the ranch in two days for the last surge of the roundup. Tess was messed up lately. Bad enough. But Paula was after him. For marriage, or just an affair? Why she did it was anyone’s guess. She was hung up on his brother, J. D. His brother. Damn. Try not to think about him. The geology conference was over and the ranch needed its substitute boss.

  He replaced the hat, cocking it just right, level with his forehead, not tilted. He should pack up, check out, and start for home after lunch.

  The elevator doors opened at the lobby. He’d been so bemused by the gorgeous blonde and her plight, he forgot to get off on his floor.

  He punched the elevator button again. This trip to Jackson Hole was a fool’s errand. Back in the ranch kitchen, when he announced his plan, he’d thought it was brilliant.

  “I’m heading for Jackson Hole. Geology conference. Coming back with a woman friend.”

  Hoot Hawkins, his elderly, semi-retired ranch manager, had fingered his beard. “Roundup’s not over yet, boss.”

  “You can oversee the next phase. I want someone here to run interference when Tess and Paula arrive.”

  Hoot frowned. “Your daddy worked with the roundup crew every day.”

  “I run the ranch my way, not his.”

  “Sure, boss.” Hoot nodded. “But your sister and her friend are plenty distracting at the end of roundup. We don’t need no other women.”

  “Nonsense,” replied Miss Betty, turning from the stove to give the older man a quelling glance. “He’s a grown man. Time he found him a woman of his own.”

  Baron drank his coffee, enjoying the bite of Miss Betty’s strong brew. “Tess has a right to come home, no matter what. But Paula has an agenda. She has her eye on me, maybe as her husband. I don’t want to spend their whole visit evading her.”

  “She ain’t the type to be happy on a cattle ranch,” Hoot said. “You know what that gal told me once? Said the horse I brought her to ride was the wrong color.”

  Hoot looked as if he wanted to spit in disgust, but didn’t dare in Miss Betty’s sparkling clean kitchen.

  “She was teasing you, you old fool,” Miss Betty said.

  “More coffee please, Miss Betty,” Baron asked. “I need to build up my strength.”

  She poured him a full cup. “Don’t you go bringing back no showgirl from a casino, you hear?”

  “Women today are no good.” Hoot added. “They’re all of them two-faced. ’Cepting you, of course, Miss B.”

  Miss Betty was not mollified by Hoot’s hasty addition of praise for her. She waved a wooden spoon at him. “You been meetin’ the wrong kind of gal. So’s the boss. Don’t go to honky-tonks expectin’ to find decent women.”

  “I don’t frequent honky-tonks,” Baron replied mildly.

  “Hoot does.”

  “Aw, don’t shame me like that, woman. A man can get lonely now and then.”

  “A man needs a wife, that’s what he needs. You should go to church sometime, Hoot. There’s good women there.”

  She turned to him. “You, too, boss. Go find a good woman. That would-be movie star who let you down ain’t the only woman in the world.”

  “Let’s not go there.”

  “Okay, sorry, boss. But she wasn’t right for you.” She pointed at the TV mounted on a cabinet. It showed an old sitcom. “There’s a nice young girl. I’m sure she growed up into a proper young woman.”

  “Probably became a typical Hollywood drug addict,” was his sour comment.

  “Now, boss, you got no call to say that. Adrienne Jelleff never got into no trouble. I hear that after the show ended, she even went to college.”

  Hoot cackled. “If she saved her TV pay, boss, you wouldn’t have to worry that she was after your money, neither.”

  Miss Betty stood up straight, indignant. “I do not mean for the boss to up and go to California and find him an actress. Been there, done that. He should bring home a normal girl who is nice, like the girl on TV.”

  He set his coffee cup on the table and stood up, taller than both long-time ranch employees. “I’m driving to Jackson Hole. I need to meet up with my colleagues. With luck I’ll bring back my woman friend to wave in front of Paula. Spike her efforts to hogtie me.”

  “Great idea, boss.” Hoot encouraged. “Discourage Miss Paula.”

  Miss Betty was less enthusiastic. “Don’t bring back a tourist who thinks this is a dude ranch.”

  Baron laughed. “If I do, then we’ll make Hoot sing cowboy songs by the chuck wagon.”

  ***

  Addie leaned against the suite door, panting, watching her would-be savior walk away. When that handsome cowboy had loomed so close, she’d wanted to sink into his broad chest and forget everything but the strength of his arms around her. He’d wanted it, too. There had been something in his eyes. Or was she fantasizing his interest was more than a stranger’s concern for someone who was ill?

  If only this weird faintness would abate, she could get safely into Caz’s suite before some sneaky tabloid reporter found her. But waves kept sweeping over her. She felt wretched. It had to be that allergy pill.

  “Caz, open up. He’s gone.”

  The other door opened. Caz cast a cautious glance around the deserted hotel corridor then dragged her inside.

  “You look terrible,” he said.

  “I feel dizzy.”

  “You do look pale. But you’re not wearing makeup. And what’s with the cowboy shirt and the boots? Where have those boots been? Your stable? You’re not on the horse farm now.”

  As he spoke, he led her through the entrance hall and into a spacious living room with an enormous chalet window.

  “It’s called a ranch in the west,” she replied. Then the panorama of the outdoors stopped her in her tracks.

  “Wow. What a great view.” His suite windows opened to the snow-capped mountains and wooded valleys and the Snake River below. “This is fantastic.” The windows overlooked the ski runs, but also caught the middle of town and the hills going north. Every part of Jackson Hole was visible.

  Caz didn’t even glance in the direction of the outdoors. He flung himself down on a couch. “I’m sick of being cooped up.”

  Addie lingered at the window, identifying local landmarks like her favorite western wear store, but mostly enjoying the comprehensive view of the hills and the river. She could even see the road leading to her small forty-acre spread, which was just barely visible if she craned her neck all the way to the far end of the huge vee-shaped chalet windows.


  “Did you come to visit me or the scenery?” he asked.

  She turned away from the mesmerizing beauty of Wyoming to face a stunning example of human genetic beauty. Caz was a golden god, his blond hair set off by piercing blue eyes, regular features, and a body toned in Hollywood gyms and California surf. Her brother, in all but blood.

  “Don’t be grumpy,” she said. “I’ve been trapped indoors a lot lately, too, because of the paparazzi.” Feeling shaky again, she collapsed into a deep chair opposite the couch. She yawned.

  Caz glared at her. “Don’t take a nap now. I need your help.” He leapt up and paced in agitation. “I sent the handlers away today. I’m sick of being cooped up here.”

  “Some prison,” she muttered. The suite was spacious, with a breakfast bar and a full kitchen, and what looked like a dining or conference room beyond. Plus multiple bedrooms and baths, no doubt, off the foyer where she’d entered. Caz’s accommodations were larger than most Los Angeles apartments. The rustic lodge theme of the hotel was carried out in the moose-antler lamps flanking the couches, sitting on yellow pine end tables, and a pine coffee table. The couches and chairs were buttery leather, in browns that toned with the highly varnished wood accents all through the rooms. And there was that amazing view.

  Yet it meant nothing to Caz, the ultimate city boy. He’d come to Wyoming to visit her, not check out the scenery or the lodge. Now he was in trouble.

  He had the television on. A cable crime talk show host notorious for turning tragedies into tabloid scandals held forth.

  Addie gestured toward the TV. “A classic movie would be more soothing.”

  He picked up the remote and clicked off the television. “They say my case will be the trial of the century.”

  “Exaggeration to incite the viewers. Anyway, there’s no such thing as bad publicity when you’re an actor.”